Chapter XII: Part 12

See Prof. Airy’s _Six Lectures on Astronomy_.

Footnote 126:

See _Things not Generally Known_, First Series, p. 11.

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PHYSIOGNOMY.

Sir David Brewster, in his introductory Address to the University of Edinburgh, 1862-3, remarked that one of the characteristics of the age in which we live was its love of the mysterious and marvellous.

I refer (said Sir David) to the so-called science of physiognomy,
but more especially to that morbid expansion of it called the
physiognomy of the human form, which has been elaborated in Germany,
and is now likely to obtain possession of the English mind. In want
of any other arguments, our physiognomists assert that it is simply
probable that the outer form would be designed on purpose to
represent the mental character, and on this ground they dogmatically
declare that the expressions of rage, or grief, or fear have been
“divinely designed on purpose that the inner mind may be known to
those who watch the outer man.” The persons who use such arguments
and have recourse to such assumptions never propose to make any
inductive comparison of a certain number of well-measured forms with
the well-ascertained mental phases with which they are associated.
Were such experiments made, they would yield no result. No two
physiognomists, acting separately, would agree in measuring and
characterising the forms and indications of the head, the features,
the hands, and the feet of the patient; and no two men—neither the
sagacious judge on the bench, nor the shrewd counsel at the
bar—could determine his real character were they to conjure with all
the events of his life. In this new physiognomy, a head large in the
mid region indicates a predominance of the feelings over the other
faculties; a proneness to superstition and fanaticism is shown by a
little increase in the elevation; and a head large behind evinces
practical ability; and, as Dr. Carus says, characterises a race
which will give birth to great historic names! Small heads, however,
are not to be despised. They indicate talent, but not genius; while
very small ones belong, he says, to the excitable class, from whom
“a great part of the misery of society arises.” In the varying
expressions of the human face physiognomists find a better support
for their views. That the emotions of the past and the present leave
permanent traces on the human countenance is doubtless true, and to
this extent we are all physiognomists, often very presumptuous ones,
and, excepting accidental coincidences, always in the wrong, when we
infer from any external appearance the character and disposition of
our neighbour. In every class of society we encounter faces which we
instinctively shun, and others to which we as instinctively cling.
But how frequently have we found our estimates to be false! The
repulsive aspect has proved to be the result of physical suffering,
of domestic disquiet, or of ruined fortunes; and under the bland and
smiling countenance a heart deceitful and vindictive, and
“desperately wicked,” has often been found concealed.

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TRADE AND PHILANTHROPY.

In the Memoirs of Bulstrode Whitlocke, the following anecdote is told as illustrative of the erroneous notions formerly entertained as to the Employment of Machinery for purposes of economy. “The advantage of free competition, and the inexhaustible resources of new inventions, contrivances, and appliances were,” it is observed by the editor at that time (1658), “utterly ignored. The Swedish ambassador” (to the court of Oliver Cromwell) “seems to have had a gleam of the truth, a dawning consciousness of how desirable it was to economise human labour by introducing machinery whenever practicable. He told a pleasant story of the Czar and a Dutchman; and how the latter, observing the boats passing upon the Volga to be manned with three hundred men in each boat, who, in a storm and high wind, held the bottom of the sails down with their hands, offered to the former a mode of manning each boat quite as efficiently with thirty men instead of the three hundred, by which the cost of transport would be lessened. But the Emperor called him a knave; and asked him if a boat that now went with three hundred men should be brought to go as well with thirty only, how were the other two hundred and seventy men to get their living?”

Cromwell, it will be remembered, protected by Act of Parliament a sawmill erected in his time, it is imagined, on the site of the Belvidere-road, Lambeth; in which locality at this day there is probably more sawing by machinery than in any other part of England.

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World-Knowledge.

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MISCELLANEA.

ENERGY and force of character are among the first requisites essential to success in business. A man may possess a high degree of refinement, large stores of knowledge, and even a well-disciplined mind; but if he is destitute of this one principle, which may be termed resolution of soul, he is like a watch without a mainspring—beautiful, but inefficient, and unfit for service.

Never do too much at a time, is a good practical maxim. Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton gives the following history of his literary habits: Many persons, seeing me so much engaged in active life, and as much about the world as if I had never been a student, have said to me, “When do you get time to write all your books? How on earth do you contrive to do so much work?” I shall surprise you by the answer I make. The answer is this: “I contrive to do so much by never doing too much at a time. A man, to get through work well, must not overwork himself; or, if he do too much to-day, the reaction of fatigue will come, and he will be obliged to do too little to-morrow. Now, since I began really and earnestly to study, which was not till I had left college, and was actually in the world, I may perhaps say I have gone through as large a course of general reading as most men of my time. I have travelled much, and I have seen much; I have mixed much in politics, and the various business of life; and, in addition to all this, I have published somewhere about sixty volumes, some upon subjects requiring much research. And what time, do you think, as a general rule, I have devoted to study—to reading and writing? Not more than three hours a day; and when Parliament is sitting, not always that. But then, during those hours, I have given my whole attention to what I was about.”

Sir Benjamin Brodie says that “humility leads to the highest distinction, because it leads to self-improvement.” He adds—and the advice cannot be too often repeated—”study your own characters; endeavour to learn and supply your own deficiencies; never assume to yourself qualities which you do not possess; combine all this with energy and activity, and you cannot predicate of yourselves, nor can others predicate of you, at what point you may arrive at last.”

Among the empiric arts of gaining notoriety, that by engraved portraits has led to some curious results. When the late John Harrison Curtis, the aurist, came to town to seek his fortune, he had his portrait engraved in large handsome style, and offered the same to a printseller to publish. He demurred, as the original was unknown; but recommended Curtis to leave his prints at the different printshops “on sale, or return.” The sudden appearance in the shop-windows of a large portrait of the great unknown led to the question, “Who is _this_ Mr. Curtis?” The repeated inquiries laid the foundation of his fortune, and led to his living in good style for many years in Soho-square, and numbering royalty and nobility among his patients; but he outlived his professional reputation, and died in reduced circumstances.

Silence, says Boyle, discovers Wisdom and conceals Ignorance; and ’tis a property that is so much belonging to Wise Men, that even a Fool, when he holdeth his peace, may pass for one of that sort.

It is one thing to see that a line is crooked, and another thing to be able to draw a straight one. It is not quite so easy to do a good thing as those imagine who never try.

One of Sir Thomas Wyat’s common sayings was, that there were three things which should always be strictly observed: “Never to play with any man’s unhappiness or deformity, for that is inhuman; nor on superiors, for that is saucy and undutiful; nor on holy matters, for that is irreligious.”

A little grain of the romance is no ill ingredient to preserve and exalt the dignity of human nature, without which it is apt to degenerate into everything that is sordid, vicious, and low.[127]

One very common error misleads the opinion of mankind,—that, universally, authority is pleasant, submission painful. In the general course of human affairs, the very reverse of this is nearer the truth. Command is anxiety; obedience, ease.[128]

Lamartine has well observed: “Travelling is summing up a long life in a few years; it is one of the strongest exercises a man can give his heart and his mind. The philosopher, the politician, the poet, should all have travelled much. Changing the moral horizon is to change thought.”

“Begin at the Beginning” is an excellent maxim. The laborious pursuit of first principles brings its own reward. To begin at the beginning in the sciences, as well as in matters of fact, is the nearest and safest road to the end. Even sensible men are too commonly satisfied with tracing their thoughts a little way backwards, and they are, of course, soon perplexed by a profounder adversary. In this respect, most people’s minds are too like a child’s garden, where the flowers are planted without their roots. It may be said of morals and of literature, as truly as of sculpture and painting, that, to understand the outside of human nature, we should be well acquainted with the inside.

Such is the Waywardness of Fate, that one man sucks an orange, and is choked by a pip; another swallows a penknife, and lives: one runs a thorn into his hand, and no skill can save him (a fact of recent date); another has a shaft of a gig passed completely through his body, and recovers: one is overturned on a smooth common, and breaks his neck; another is tossed out of a gig over Brighton cliff, and survives: one walks on a windy day, and meets death by a brickbat; another is blown up into the air, like Lord Hatton, in Guernsey Castle, and comes down uninjured. The escape of this nobleman was indeed a miracle. An explosion of gunpowder, which killed his mother, wife, some of his children, and many other persons, and blew up the whole fabric of the castle, lodged him and his bed on a wall overhanging a tremendous precipice. Perceiving a mighty disorder (as he might expect), he was going to step out of his bed to know what was the matter, which, if he had done, he would have been irrecoverably lost; but, in the instant of this moving, a flash of lightning came and showed him the precipice, whereupon he lay still till people came and took him down.[129]

There is an almost prophetic meaning in the following passage from Berkeley’s “Essay towards Preventing the Ruin of Great Britain,” written soon after the affair of the South-Sea Scheme: “All projects for growing rich by sudden extraordinary methods, as they operate violently on the passions of men, and encourage them to despise the slow moderate gains that are to be made by an honest industry, must be ruinous to the public; and even the winners themselves will at length be involved in the public ruin.”

Theodore Hook was one of the most experienced exponents of the Town Life of his day: in habits, a bachelor, notwithstanding his industry as a man of letters, he saw more of the outside world than the majority of idle men. He has left many of these experiences in his novels, which, as pictures of life, are valuable.

Thus, in _Gilbert Gurney_, he gives this admirable bit of club criticism: “People who are conscious of what is due to themselves never display irritability or impetuosity; their manners insure civility—their own civility secures respect: but the blockhead or the coxcomb, fully aware that something more than ordinary is necessary to produce an effect, is sure, whether in clubs or coffee-houses, to be the most fastidious and factious of the community, the most overbearing in his manners towards his inferiors, the most restless and irritable among his equals, the most cringing and subservient before his superiors.” No man could utter such criticism with more complete safety from being answered with a _Tu quoque_.

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Footnote 127:

Swift.

Footnote 128:

Paley.

Footnote 129:

_New Monthly Magazine._

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PREDICTIONS OF SUCCESS.

A few noteworthy incidents have occurred in the early lives of great men, which have singularly accorded with their success in after-life.

The first notice of Lord Chancellor Somers as a boy is exceedingly curious. In Cooksey’s _Life and Character of Lord Somers_, the following is stated to be well authenticated. It is to the effect that the boy was walking with one of his aunts, under whose care he was placed at the time, when “a beautiful roost-cock flew upon his curly head, and while perched there crowed three times very loudly.” The occurrence was instantly viewed as an omen of his future greatness.

Pope, writing to Lord Orrery, after first witnessing Garrick’s performance of Richard III., said, “That young man never had his equal as an actor, and will never have a rival.” As yet the prophecy is unshaken.

A few weeks before Lord Chatham died, Lord Camden paid him a visit. Chatham’s son, William Pitt, left the room on Lord Camden’s coming in. “You see that young man,” said the old lord; “what I now say, be assured, is not the fond partiality of a parent, but grounded on a very accurate examination. Rely upon it, that young man will be more distinguished in this country than ever his father was.” His prophecy was in part accomplished. At the age of twenty-four he was Chancellor of the Exchequer; and before he had attained his twenty-fifth year, had been offered, and refused, the place of First Minister.

When Horatio Nelson was a weakly child, he gave proofs of that resolute heart and nobleness of mind which, during his whole career of labour and of glory, so eminently distinguished him. When a mere boy, he strayed a bird’s-nesting from his grandmother’s house, in company with a cow-boy; the dinner-hour elapsed, he was absent, and could not be found; the alarm of the family then became very great, for they apprehended that he might have been carried off by gipsies. At length, after search had been made for him in various directions, he was discovered alone, sitting composedly by the side of a brook which he could not get over. “I wonder, child,” said the old lady when she saw him, “that hunger and fear did not drive you home.” “Fear! grandmamma,” replied the future hero; “I never saw fear—what is it?”

Arthur Wellesley, when at school at Chelsea, was a boy of indolent and careless manner, and rather than join in the amusements of the playground delighted to lean against a large tree, observing his schoolfellows when playing around him. If any boy played unfairly, Arthur quickly apprised those engaged in the game: on the delinquent being turned out, it was generally wished that he should supply his place; but nothing could induce him to do so: when beset by a party of five or six, he would fight with the utmost courage and determination until he freed himself from their grasp; he would then retire again to his tree, and look about him, as observant as before. Such was the love of fair play in the boy who became the great Duke of Wellington.

An incident in the life of Parry, the intrepid Arctic navigator, may also be related here. He left Bath, accompanied by an old and faithful servant of the family, with whom he travelled to Plymouth, and who did not leave him till he saw him finally settled in the _Ville de Paris_ man-of-war. To Parry all was new. He had never before beheld the sea, and his experience of naval matters had been confined to the small craft on the river Avon. He seemed almost struck dumb with astonishment at his first sight of the ocean and of a line-of-battle ship; but, after a while recovering himself, he began eagerly to examine every thing around him, and to ask numberless questions of all who were inclined to listen. While so engaged, he saw one of the sailors descending the rigging from aloft; and in a moment, before the astonished servant knew what Parry was about, he sprang forward, and, with his wonted agility, clambered up to the mast-head, from which giddy elevation he waved his cap in triumph to those whom he had left below. When he regained the deck, the sailors, who had witnessed the feat, gathered round him and commended his spirit, telling him he was “a fine fellow, and a true sailor every inch of him.” We can well imagine with what gratification the various members of his family would receive the account of this and every other incident connected with his first entry on his new career, and how eagerly they would hail his conduct on this occasion as a happy omen of future success.[130]

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Footnote 130:

_Memoirs of Sir E. W. Parry._

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Conclusion.

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EASE OF MIND.

IN order to enjoy Ease of Mind in our intercourse with the world, we should introduce into our habits of business punctuality, decision, the practice of being beforehand, despatch, and exactness; in our pleasures, harmlessness and moderation; and in all our dealings, perfect integrity and love of truth. Without these observances we are never secure of ease, nor indeed taste it in its highest state. As in most other things, so here, people in general do not aim at more than mediocrity of attainment, and of course usually fall below their standard; whilst many are so busy in running after what should procure them ease, that they totally overlook the thing itself.

Ease of mind has the most beneficial effect upon the body, and it is only during its existence that the complicated physical functions are performed with the accuracy and facility which nature designed. It is, consequently, a great preventive of disease, and one of the secret means of effecting a cure when disease has occurred; without it, in many cases, no cure can take place. By ease of mind many people have survived serious accidents, from which nothing else could have saved them, and in every instance is much retarded by the absence of it. Its effect upon the appearance is no less remarkable. It prevents and repairs the ravages of time in a singular degree, and is the best preservative of strength and beauty. It often depends greatly upon health, but health always depends greatly upon it. The torments of a mind ill at ease seem to be less endurable than those of the body; for it scarcely ever happens that suicide is committed from bodily suffering. As far as the countenance is an index, “the vultures of the mind” appear to turn it more mercilessly than any physical pain; and no doubt there have been many who would willingly have exchanged their mental agony for the most wretched existence that penury could produce. From remorse there is no escape. In aggravated cases probably there is no instant, sleeping or waking, in which its influence is totally unfelt. Remorse is the extreme one way; the opposite is that cleanliness of mind which has never been recommended any where to the same extent that it is by the precepts of the Christian religion, and which alone constitutes “perfect freedom.” It would be curious if we could see what effect such purity would have upon the appearance and actions of a human being—a being who lived, as Pope expresses it, in the “eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.” Goldsmith has beautifully said:

How small of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
Still to ourselves in every place consign’d,
Our own felicity we make or find.

Shakspeare observes: “There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.”[131]

Charles James Fox, who was, from infancy, a spoiled child, would spend night after night in gambling, and wasting his sweet nature in the orgies of Bacchus. Then he would flee away to the delightful scenery and refreshing air of St. Anne’s Hill, and there betake himself to gardening, in a blue apron; or to the learned leisure of his study, in the bosom of conjugal felicity and friendship.

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Footnote 131:

_The Original._ By Thomas Walker, M.A.

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THE LIFE OF MAN.

It is impossible to say what analogy exists between the race and the individual, and attempts to explain the history of the one by the stages which mark the life of the other are at best more ingenious than satisfactory; but almost every fact with which we are acquainted seems to suggest that some such analogy exists, though its particulars are altogether unknown, and though we cannot even say whether mankind ought to be compared to one individual or to several. It may, however, be allowable, in dealing with a subject which, after all, appeals rather to the feelings and to the imagination than to the reason, to point out the fact that the cessation of human society would present a striking analogy to the death of individuals; and that there would be the same contradictory mixture of completeness and incompleteness about a society eternally renewed, as there would be about a human being who never died. That the life of a man forms a moral whole, is a conviction which is so thoroughly worked into our minds and our very language, that no one doubts it. That it is a mysterious and utterly contradictory thing at its best estate, is the experience of every person who has even ordinary powers of reflection. It is hard to imagine the degree in which these mysteries and contradictions would be heightened if man were immortal. If, after arriving at that average degree of prudence and self-restraint which almost every one attains comparatively early in life, people lived on and on for centuries and millenniums, carrying on the same sort of transactions, settling the same difficulties, enjoying the same pleasures, and suffering from the same vexations, the question why they ever were sent into the world at all (which is even now sufficiently perplexing) would become altogether overwhelming; and the faith which people at present maintain in the Divine government of the world would have to be based on entirely different grounds, if it survived at all. It is perhaps not merely fanciful to suggest that a somewhat similar difficulty would exist if human society, after a long and laborious education, were to attain to a stationary state, and were then to go on indefinitely enjoying itself. Such a heaven on earth would be at best a sort of high life below stairs.

The celebration of the triumphs of civilisation, which is at present in full bloom, produces on many minds an effect not unlike that which Robespierre’s feasts to the Supreme Being produced on his colleagues. “You and your nineteenth century are beginning to be a bore,” is the salutation which many a philosopher would receive in these days from a sincere audience. Weigh and measure and classify as we will, we are but poor creatures, when all is said and done. It would be a relief to think that a day was coming when the world, whether more comfortable or not, would at least see and know itself as it is, and when the real gist and bearing of all the work, good and evil, that is done under the sun, should at last be made plain. Till then, knowledge, science, and power are, after all, little more than shadows in a troubled dream—a dream which will soon pass away from each of us, if it does not pass away at once from all.[132]

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Footnote 132:

_Saturday Review._

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THE GOOD MAN’s LIFE.

Some are called _at age_ at fourteen, some at one-and-twenty, some never; but all men late enough, for the life of a man comes upon him slowly and insensibly. But as when the sun approaching towards the gates of the morning, he first opens a little the eye of heaven, and sends away the spirits of darkness, and gives light to a cock, and calls up the lark to matins, and by and by gilds the fringes of a cloud, and peeps over the eastern hills, thrusting out his golden horns, like those which decked the brows of Moses when he was forced to wear a veil, because himself had seen the face of God; and still while a man tells the story, the sun gets up higher, till he shows a fair face and a full light, and then he shines one whole day, under a cloud often, and sometimes weeping great and little showers, and sets quickly: so is man’s reason and his life. He first begins to perceive himself to see or taste, making little reflections upon his actions of sense, and can discourse of flies and dogs, shells and play, horses and liberty; but when he is strong enough to enter into arts and little institutions, he is at first entertained with trifles and impertinent things, not because he needs them, but because his understanding is no bigger, and little images of things are laid before him, like a cockboat to a whale, only to play withal: but before a man comes to be wise, he is half-dead with gouts and consumption, with catarrhs and aches, with sore eyes and a worn-out body. So that if we must not reckon the life of a man but by the amounts of his reason, he is long before his soul be dressed; and he is not to be called a man without a wise and an adorned soul, a soul at least furnished with what is necessary towards his well-being: but by that time his soul is thus furnished, his body is decayed; and then you can hardly reckon him to be alive, when his body is possessed by so many degrees of death.

* * * * *

But if I shall describe a living man, a man that hath that life which distinguishes him from a fool or a bird, that which gives him a capacity next to angels, we shall find that even a good man lives not long; because it is long before he is born to this life, and longer yet before he hath a man’s growth. “He that can look upon death, and see its face with the same countenance with which he hears its story; he that can endure all the labours of his life with his soul supporting his body; that can equally despise riches when he hath them, and when he hath them not; that is not sadder if they lie in his neighbour’s trunks, nor more brag if they shine round about his own walls; he that is neither moved with good fortune coming to him, nor going from him; that can look upon another man’s lands evenly and pleasantly as if they were his own, and yet look upon his own, and use them too, just as if they were another man’s; that neither spends his goods prodigally and like a fool, nor yet keeps them avariciously and like a wretch; that weighs not benefits by weight and number, but by the mind and circumstances of him that gives them; that never thinks his charity expensive if a worthy person be the receiver; he that does nothing for opinion sake, but every thing for conscience, being as curious of his thoughts as of his actings in markets and theatres, and is as much in awe of himself as of a whole assembly; he that knows God looks on, and contrives his secret affairs as if in the presence of God and his holy angels; that eats and drinks because he needs it, not that he may serve a lust or load his belly; he that is bountiful and cheerful to his friends, and charitable and apt to forgive his enemies; that loves his country, and obeys his prince, and desires and endeavours nothing more than that they may do honour to God:”[133] this person may reckon his life to be the life of a man, and compute his months not by the course of the sun, but the zodiac and circle of his virtues; because these are such things which fools and children and birds and beasts cannot have; these are therefore the actions of life, because they are the seeds of immortality. That day in which we have done some excellent thing, we may as truly reckon to be added to our life, as were the fifteen years to the days of Hezekiah.[134]

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Footnote 133:

Seneca, _De Vita Beata_.

Footnote 134:

Jeremy Taylor’s _Holy Dying_.

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PREDICTIONS OF FLOWERS.

To what excellent account have our thoughtful old writers turned these prophetic indications of changeful flowers! Bishop Hall, in his _Occasional Meditations_, has the following “On the Light of Tulips, and Marigolds, &c. in his Garden:” “These flowers are the true clients of the sun; how observant they are of his motion and influence! At even, they shut up, as mourning for his departure, without whom they neither can see nor flourish; in the morning, they welcome his rising with a cheerful openness; and at noon, are fully displayed in a free acknowledgment of his bounty.

“Thus doth the good heart turn unto God. ‘_When thou turnedst away thy face, I was troubled_,’ saith the man after God’s own heart. ‘_In thy presence is life; yea, the fulness of joy._’ Thus doth the carnal heart to the world: when that withdraws its favours, he is dejected; and revives with a smile. All is in our choice. Whatsoever is our sun will thus carry us.

“O God, be Thou to me such as Thou art in Thyself: Thou shalt be merciful in drawing me; I shall be happy in following thee.”

The use of Perfumes in the last century exceeded that in the present day. Possibly the old notion that they were employed to mask the exhalations from diseased persons may have driven perfumes out of fashion in our day; we recollect _musk_ to have been specially so considered. Bishop Hall, in his _Occasional Meditations_, adverts to this use of perfumes in a meditation illustrative of a custom which is associated with the symbolic character of “flowers and redolent plants, just emblems of the life of man, which has been compared in Holy Scriptures to those fading beauties, whose roots, being buried in dishonour, rise again in glory.”[135] The Bishop’s meditation is “On the Sight of a Coffin stuck with Flowers:”

“Too fair in appearance is never free from just suspicion. While there was nothing but wood, no flower was to be seen here; now that this wood is lined with an unsavoury corpse, it is adorned with this sweet variety. The fir, whereof that coffin is made, yields a natural redolence alone; now that it is stuffed thus noisomely, all helps are too little to countervail that scent of corruption.[136]

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Footnote 135:

Evelyn.

Footnote 136:

See “Flowers on Graves,” in _Mysteries of Life, Death, and Futurity_.

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THE WORLD’S CYCLES.

There is a Revolution of History as of Knowledge: who does not remember how often the same succession of events has happened in his memory! Dr. Newman has well expressed this truth in a poem in the _Lyra Apostolica_, entitled “Faith against Sight,” with the motto, “As it was in the days of Lot, so shall it be in the days of the Son of Man:”

The World has Cycles in its course, when all
That once has been, is acted o’er again:
Not by some fatal law which need appal
Our faith, or binds our deeds as with a chain;
But by men’s separate sins, which blended still
The same bad round fulfil.

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DEATH ALL-ELOQUENT.

Death and I have met in full, close contact;
And parted, knowing we should meet again;
Therefore, come when he may, we’ve looked upon
Each other far too narrowly for me
To fear the hour when we shall be so join’d,
That all eternity shall never sever us.—_F. Kemble._

What solemnity is there in the following passage, with which Sir Walter Raleigh concludes his _Marrow of Historie!_ “O eloquent, just, and mighty Death! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none have dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world have flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and despised: thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, HIC JACET.”

Finis.

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APPENDIX.

_Generations (page 71)._

MR. HATSELL TO LORD AUCKLAND.

Morden Park, Sunday, Nov. 23, 1813.

MY DEAR LORD,—I must correct the conclusion of your last letter,
"and so the world goes on," to "and so the world goes off." In the
same Marlborough family I have lived to see eight[137] generations:

1. Sarah Duchess of Marlborough.
2. Lady Sunderland.
3. Jack Spencer.
4. The first Lord Spencer.
5. The present Lord Spencer.
6. The Duchess of Devonshire.
7. Lady Morpeth.
8. Her children (the present Lord Carlisle and Duchess of
Sutherland).

I saw Sarah in Lincoln’s-inn consulting Mr. Fazakerly, who stood
close to her Grace’s chair; so, you see, I beat history out and
out.[138]...—From the _Auckland Correspondence_, vol. iv. p. 401.

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Footnote 137:

Only seven; the name of the second Lord Spencer ought to be omitted.

Footnote 138:

Mr. Hatsell died 1820.

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_Memory_ (_page_ 75).

Professor Faraday, at the close of a Lecture on Gas Glass-house
Furnaces, delivered at the Royal Institution in 1862, alluded, in an
affecting manner, to his increasing loss of memory. There was a
time, he observed, when he inclined to think that Memory was a
faculty of secondary order; but he now feels its great importance;
and the deficiency of that power, he said, would prevent him from
again bringing before them any thing that was new; for he was often
unable to recollect even his own precious researches, and he could
no longer trust himself to lecture without notes.

----------------------------

_Great Ages_ (_page_ 114).

An old woman who died in 1858 in St. Patrick-street, Dublin, at the
age of 110 years, distinctly remembered and described the appearance
of Dean Swift, and added, that he never went outside the
Deanery-house that he was not attended through the streets by a vast
crowd of washed and unwashed admirers.

Mrs. Keith, of Newnham, Gloucestershire, who died in 1772, aged 133,
left three daughters, aged 111, 110, and 100.

In 1862, a lady residing at Cheltenham received a second donation of
5_l._ from her Majesty the Queen, for an old man of 107 years of
age, named William Purser, a native of Redmarley, but living in
Cheltenham.—_Worcestershire Chronicle._

In 1862, a curious fact occurred at Downton, showing how few
individuals are required to connect distant periods of history with
the present time. A man was buried in this parish whose father was
born in the reign of William III., and that father lived in three
centuries, having been born in 1698 and died in 1801.—_Salisbury
Journal._

In 1853, the Irish newspapers announced the death of Mrs. Mary
Power, aunt of the celebrated Mr. Shiel, at the Ursuline Convent,
Cork, at the age of 116 years; but this statement lacks legal
evidence to prove it.

The obituary of the _Times_ of January 21, 1863, records the decease
of persons who had attained the following advanced ages, viz.: 92,
90, 82, 82, 82, 80, 78, 78, 76, 74, 72, 72, 72, and 70 years
respectively.

Dr. Mead, grandfather of the celebrated physician and antiquary,
died at Ware, in Hertfordshire, 1652, aged 148.

In Scawen’s _Dissertation on the Cornish Tongue_, written in the
reign of Charles II., is mentioned a woman recently deceased, who
was "164 years old, of good memory, and healthful at her age; living
in the parish of Gwithian. She married a second husband after she
was 80, and buried him after he was 80 years of age."

A Philadelphia Correspondent of _Notes and Queries_, No. 213, 1853,
records the death of "Aunt Polly" (Mary Simondson), near
Shippensburg, Pennsylvania, at the age of 126 years.

Among the legacies bequeathed to the Middlesex Hospital in 1863, was
one which is deserving of special notice, inasmuch as the donor, Mr.
Cropper, exhibited a singular instance of rigid economy in his
personal expenditure, combined with a bountiful and almost princely
benevolence towards the poor. Mr. Cropper, who was 90 years old when
he died, had, it appears, survived all his relations. He was a
barrister-at-law, and lived in the most frugal manner in his
chambers at Gray’s-inn. The amount of his property at the time of
his decease is estimated at about 4000_l._ per annum, and 10,000_l._
in money, the whole of which he has bestowed on London charities,
selecting Middlesex Hospital as his residuary legatee.

In the _Express_ of February 11, 1863, it is recorded: Two
octogenarians, named Joseph and John Fitzwalter, brothers, lived
together with their sister in a house in Parliament street for a
great number of years. The brothers had been brought up to the
business of lace-designing, and the sister had acted in the capacity
of housekeeper. Joseph, the elder one, was a short time ago attacked
with bronchitis, under which he lingered for some time in much pain.
On Wednesday last (February 4), however, he died, at the ripe old
age of 84 years. The brother and sister of the deceased were much
affected by his death, the brother showing excessive signs of grief.
His grieving, however, was not long, for he expired in one hour
after his brother. The death of two brothers, to whom she was
devoutly attached, was a shock which the sister was unable to
withstand; and on the morning fixed for their interment she also
expired, at the age of 88 years.

----------------------------

_Baron Maseres_ (_page_ 149).

Baron Maseres long resided at Reigate, in a fine old brick mansion,
about midway between the church and town. His remains rest in a
vault in the churchyard towards the north-east; upon the tomb over
which Dr. Fellowes has inscribed an epitaph in elegant Latinity,
terminating thus: "Vale, vir optime! amice, vale, carissime; et
siqua rerum humanarum tibi sit adhuc conscientia, monimentum, quod
in tui memoriam, tui etiam in mortuis observantissimus Robertus
Fellowes ponendum curavit, solitâ benevolentiâ tuearis."

On Sundays the Baron, bent with age, might be seen advancing up the
nave of Reigate church; for he was a sound churchman, and testified
his sincerity by making an Endowment for an Afternoon Sermon to be
preached on Sundays, with this proviso, that, in case of
non-observance of the bequest, the endowment should be given in
bread to the poor. The chancels, with their faded pomp of effigied
monuments, hatchments, and armorial glass, have little attraction
compared with this interesting memorial of practical piety.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

INDEX.

Adam, Death before, 117. Advice to the Student, 138. Age, our Unimaginative, 239. Ages, great, 81, 82. Airy, Prof., 241. Alarum, ancient, 14. Albert, Prince Consort, Death of, 228. Albert, Prince Consort, on the Progress of Knowledge, 227. Alderson, Baron, on Education, 138. Alfred’s Time-Candles, 13. Antiquaries, long-lived, 111. Aphorisms on Time, 2. Archbishop Sancroft, 104. Architects, aged, 113. Argument, What is it? 144. Aristotle’s Philosophy, 134. Artists, aged, 112, 113. Authors and Artists, Working, 204. Average of Life, 71.

Babbage, Mr., on Life Assurance, 71. Bacon, Francis, on Longevity, 80. Bailey’s _Records of Longevity_, 96. Baily, Francis, 208. Banks, Sir Edward, 182. Barrow, Sir John, 164. Beckford, William, 189. "Begin at the Beginning," 246. Bentham, Jeremy, Age of, 109, 110. Bentinck, Lord George, 217. Berry, the Misses, 92. Bidder, George, the engineer, 186. Birch, Alderman, 200. Blake, Captain, 174. Books for the Young, 141. Booth, David, 205. Brassey, Thomas, 185. Britton, John, Rise of, 207, 208. Brodie, Sir Benjamin, _note_, 59, 60. Brougham, Lord, 214, 215, 216. Brougham, Lord, on Oratory, 170. Bruce, John, on Longevity, 83. Brunel, I. K., 182, 183. Brunel, Sir I. M., 181. Buckingham Family, the, 193, 194. Buffon, on growing Old, 77. Burke, Oratory of, 169. BUSINESS-LIFE, 152-217. Business, Men of, 174. Byron, Lord, 206.

Carlyle’s Signs of the Times, 11. Centenarians in 1800, 101. Chambers, Robt., on Old Age, 99. Chantrey the Sculptor, 209. Character the best Security, 176. Chatham, Lord, 170. Cheyne, Dr., on Old Age, 109. Childhood’s Pastimes, 72. Children, Young, Teaching, 120. Circumstances and Genius, 238. Civic Hospitalities, 203. Civic Worthies, 199. Clark, "King of Exeter ’Change," 189. Clark, Chamberlain, 95, 208. Classics, Dr. Arnold on, 124. Clergy, Great ages of, 104, 105. CLOCKS AND WATCHES: Anne Boleyn’s Clock, 35; Cannon Clock, 37; Chronometers, 37; Clocks striking twice, 32; Electric Clocks, 39; Harrison’s improvements, 36; Horologe, 29; Horse-Guards Clock, 31; Kensington-palace, 36; Minute-Jacks, 33; Pendulum Experiments, 38; Rabelais on, 29; St. Dunstan’s Clock, 32, 33; St. James’s-palace Clock, 31; St. Magnus Clock, 32; St. Paul’s Cathedral Clock, 31, 35; St. Paul’s, Covent-garden, Clock, 31; Scott and Shakspeare on, 30; Watch, to choose, 39; Watch, Lord Herbert to his, 40; Watch-face at Somerset-house, 36; Water-clocks, 30; Westminster-palace Clock, 30, 35. Colburn, Henry, 197. Coleridge, _note_, 62. Coleridge, Sir John, on Education, 130, 140. CONCLUSION, 250-256. Consolation in growing Old, 76. Cooper, Durrant, on great ages in Yorkshire, 97. Cornaro, Great age of, 92. Court letter, Model, 165. Courtesies, Small, 221. "Cramming," 132. Cubitt, Thomas and William, 185, 186. Cunningham, Allan, 210. Cuvier on Life, 65.

Davy, Sir H., on Time, 8, 9. Day and Martin’s Blacking, 194. Death before Adam, 116. Death, Eloquent, 256. Death, Preparatory to, 115. Debating Society, 169. Demosthenes’ Oratory, 166, 167. Denisons, the, 196. Desmond, Old Countess of, 88. Dials: see Sun-Dials. Dickens, Charles, and Yorkshire Schools, 141. Diplomatic Handwriting, 166. Discipline, Practical, 132. Disraeli, Isaac and Benjamin, 211, 212. Distance reckoned by Time, 16.

Early Rising:
Albert, Prince Consort, 51;
Burgess, Bishop, 47;
Burghley, Lord, 41;
Cambridge University, 41;
Chatham, Lord, 47;
Cobbett, William, 48, 49, 50;
Coke, Sir Edward, 42;
Cooper, Sir Astley, 47;
Doddridge, 45;
Eton College, 41;
Gibbon, 46;
Kant, 46;
Ken, Bishop, 42, 43;
Rubens, 44;
Thomson, the poet, 46;
Webster, Daniel, 50;
Wesley, John, 44, 45.
Earthly existence, Future of the Human Race, 117.
Ease of Mind, 250.
Education Alarmists, 140.

Education, the best, 137. Education, Business of, 123. Education at Home, 121. Education, Liberal, 126. Education, Unsound, 128. Education, What is it? 119. Educations, Two, 131. Energy, Worth of, 154. Engineers, aged, 112. Engineers and Mechanicians, eminent, 177. English Character, the, 153.

Family Portraits, 219. Farming, Scientific, 187. Fate, Waywardness of, 246. Flood, Mr., Oratory of, 170. Flourens, M., on Longevity, 79. Floyer, Sir John, his age, 108. Fontenelle, on growing Old, 78, 103. Fortunes, Large, 188. Fox, C. J., 249. Fox, C. J., Oratory of, 167. Friends, How to Keep, 220. Friendships, Lasting, 221.

Garrick’s Talent predicted, 248. Generations, Passing, 68-71. Geology in Education, 135. Gibson, Sidney, on Longevity, 82. Good Man’s Life, the, 253. Grace, Dr. Whately on, 121. Greatness, Test of, 156. Grief and old Age, 108. Growing to the spot, 103. Grub-street and Criticism, 110.

Haller on Age, 79. Handwriting, Character in, 145. Hardwicke, Dowager Countess of, 91. Hard workers long livers, 106. Herschel, Caroline Lucretia, 90. Herschel, Sir John, 240. Hill, Thomas, 205. Historians, long-lived, 111. Historic Traditions through few Links, 82. History and Geography, Teaching at Home, 121. Home, Love of, 218. Home Thoughts, 225. HOME TRAITS, 218-226. Hook, Theodore, 247. Hooke’s Magnetic Watch, 14. Hour-glass, the, 27, 28, 29. How, Hon. Chas., on Life, 68. Hudson, "the Railway King," 196. Humanity to Animals, 123. Humility and Self-Improvement, 244.

Journalists, Ages of, 111.

Keith, Viscountess, Great age of, 92. Kelly, Alderman, 202. Ken, Bishop, and Early Rising, 42, 43. Knowledge, too much, 151. Knowledge and Wisdom, 139.

Lansdowne, the late Lord, on Public Speaking, 169. Lawyers, aged, 111. Length of Days, 80, 97. Letter-writing, 148. Life of Man, 251. Life—a River, 65. Linwood, Miss, her great age, 91. Liverpool, Lord, Origin of, 163. Locke, Joseph, the engineer, 184. London, long life in, 101. Long Livers, noted, 96. Long Services, 107. Longevity and Diet, 92-95. Longevity, Female, 88-92. Longevity and Localities, 96-102. Lord Mayors of London, 199. Lytton, Sir Bulwer, on Office, 161. Lytton, Sir Bulwer, on Oratory, 169.

Macaulay, Lord, 213, 226. Marshall, Sir Chapman, 202. Marvels of the Universe, 240. Maseres, Baron, and Anti-Newtonian, _note_, 149, 258. Mathematics, Lord Rosse on, 133, 134. Mechi, Alderman, 187, 203. Memory, What is it? 75. Method in Books, 150. Midhurst, Great ages at, 101. Misadventure, Colonial, 235. Montaigne on Education, 139. More, Hannah, 74. Morison, James, 195. Morris, Capt., Great age of, 95. Morrison, James, M.P., 198. Musical Composers, aged, 112.

Negroes, aged, 113, 114. Nelson, his boyhood, 248.

Official Life, 161. Official Qualifications, 164. Old Man, the Happy, 114. Opportunity, 174. Oxford, Great ages in, 100.

Painters, aged, 112. Parr, Old, Diet of, 93. Parry, the Arctic Navigator, 249. Patten, Margaret, great age of, 89. Peel, Sir Robert, 235. Periods of Rest, 15. Phillips, John Pavin, on Longevity, 83. Phillips, Sir Richard, the Vegetarian, 69, 94. Philosophers, Great ages of, 102, 103. Physiognomy, Sir David Brewster on, 242. Pianoforte-making, Fortune by, 195. Pirie, Alderman Sir John, 202. Pitt, his political Life predicted, 248. Pleasures of the Imagination late in Life, 73. Poets, aged, 111. Poetry of Time, 1-8. Polite Writing, True Tone of, 223. Predictions of Flowers, 255. Present and the Past, 238. Pride and Meanness, 224. Profession, Choice of, 157. Progress of Knowledge, 227, 229. Public Speaking, 166. Pursuit, Want of, 152.

Quakers, Great ages of, 106.

Red Tape, 62. Rennie, John, the Engineer, 180. Rest, Periods of, 15. Restlessness and Enterprise, 235. Restraint, Early, 124. Rogers, Samuel, Age of, 85. Room, the best to speak in, 169. Rose, Rt. Hon. George, 163. Routh, Dr., Great age of, 86.

School-Indulgence, 128. School-Reform, Arnold’s, 127. Scientific Men, aged, 112. Scientific Progress, 229. Scotland, Longevity in, 98, 99. Scott, Sir Walter, 211. Scott, Sir W., on Presidency, 173. Sculptors, aged, 113. Self-dependence, Mr. Sharp on, 159. Self-formation, 131. Shaw, Sir James, 200. Shoreditch, St. Leonard’s, and Longevity, 80. Short-hand, Antiquity of, 147. Sidmouth Peerage, the, 162. Sinclair, Sir John, on Long Life, 96. Smith, Sidney, on Education, 131. Soldiers, Great ages of, 105. Somers, Lord, Omen to, 247. Southey, on English Style, 147. Southey, Letters of, 206. SPIRIT OF THE AGE, 227-243. Spring-time of Life, 66. Stanhope, Lord, on the Progress of Knowledge, 230. Statesmen, aged, 111. Steele, on the Choice of a Profession, 158. Stephenson, George and Robert, 178, 179. Stothard, the Painter, 112. Strahan, William and Andrew, the Printers, 191, 192. Strangford, Lord, on Time, 11. Style, English, 147. Suffolk, Great ages in, 99. SUN-DIALS: Bowles, Canon, on, 17, 18, 24; Boyle, Robert, on, 22; Bremhill, 17, 18; Hall, Bishop, on, 25; Lamb, Charles, on, 21; London, Inns of Court, 20; Mackay, Charles, Lines by, 26; Mottoes for Dials, 24; Mary Queen of Scots’ Dial, 27; Oxford, 17; Pyramids of Egypt, 25; Ring Dials, 23; Seven Dials, 21, 22; Temple, 21; Whitehall, 19. Surgeons, aged, 111.

Talkers, Profuse, 57. Teaching, Unsound, 128. Telford, the engineer, 179. Thackeray, W. M., 226. Tilt, the late Charles, 176. TIME, ART OF EMPLOYING: Aguesseau, 55; Boyle, Robert, 58; Brodie, Sir Benjamin, 59;

Coke, Sir Edward, 53;
Coleridge, 61;
Curran and Grattan, 62;
Elizabeth, Queen, 55;
Erasmus, 54;
Fuller, 52;
George III., 58;
Hale, Sir Matthew, 56;
Harrington, Sir John, 58;
Johnson, Dr., 53;
Jones, Sir W., 53;
More, Sir Thomas, 64;
Paley, 59; Sandwich, Lord, 58;
Scott, Sir Walter, 61;
South, Dr., 53;
Sterne, 59;
Thomson, the poet, 59;
Wellington, Duke of, 63;
Woodhouselee, Lord, 55.
Time’s Garland, by Drayton, 6.
Time and Eternity, 64.
Time and Improvement, 231.
Time, Management of, 244.
Time, Measurement of, 12-15.
Time, painted by the Poets, 1-8.
Time, Past, Present, and Future, 9.
Time-balls, London and Edinburgh, 34.
Time-wasters, 57.
Trade, the nobility of, 189.
Trade and Philanthropy, 243.
Translation, Free, 150.
Truth, Speaking the, 234.
Twenty Years, First, of Life, 67.
Tying-up Thoughts, 62, 63.

Vegetarians and Long Life, 94.

Waithman, Alderman, 201. Walker, Jas., the Engineer, 186. Ware, the Architect, 174. Watson, Bishop, _note_, 136. Wear and Tear of Public Life, 217. Webster, Dr., on Longevity, 91. Wellington, Duke of, his boyhood, 248. Wellington, Duke of, 63, 64, 234, 235. Widows, aged, 90. Wilson, Professor, 216. Wire, Alderman, 203. Wood, Sir Matthew, 200. Woodstock, Great ages in, 100. World’s Cycles, 256. WORLD-KNOWLEDGE, 244-249. Wrecks of Time, 7. Writing, Art of, 149. Writing, Learning, 147.

Yorkshire Schools, 141. Youth, Tenderness of, 122.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

_By the Author of the present Work, with a Coloured Title, 5s. cloth, pp._ 320,

SOMETHING FOR EVERYBODY;

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BY JOHN TIMBS, F.S.A.

CONTENTS: Memorable Days of the Year; its Fasts and Festivals and Picturesque Events.—Recollections of Brambletye.—Domestic Arts and Customs.—Glories of a Garden.—Early Gardeners.—Bacon, Evelyn, and Temple.—A Day at Hatfield.—London Gardens.—Pope at Twickenham.—Celebrated Gardens.—Curiosities of Bees, &c.

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SIN AND PUNISHMENT.
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THE DAY OF JUDGMENT.
THE FUTURE STATES, ETC.