Part 134
I inquired after Lander, and Mrs. Hobart, and Taylor, of Craven-street, but found that none of them were surviving. Mrs. Hobart was thought to have a daughter married in the town, called Egerton; but it was not likely, from the distance of time, that she could impart any thing new.
Taylor told me, the late Dr. Dodd had applied to him several years ago for anecdotes and information relative to Thomson.
Park Egerton, the bookseller, near Whitehall, tells me, that when Thomson first came to London, he took up his abode with his predecessor, Millan, and finished his poem of “Winter” in the apartment over the shop; that Millan printed it for him, and it remained on his shelves a long time unnoticed; but after Thomson began to gain some reputation as a poet, he either went himself, or was taken by Mallet, to Millar in the Strand, with whom he entered into new engagements for printing his works; which so much incensed Millan, his first patron, and his countryman also, that they never afterwards were cordially reconciled, although lord Lyttleton took uncommon pains to mediate between them.
[440] It appears that this gentleman was very intimate with the author of the “Seasons,” but we know nothing farther respecting him.
* * * * *
AN OLD SONG RESTORED
“BUSY, CURIOUS, THIRSTY FLY.”
_To the Editor._
Sir,--In Ritson’s “Collection of Old Songs” are but two verses of this, in my estimation, very beautiful song. Going from this place, Liverpool, to Chester, it was my good fortune to hear a blind fiddler on board the packet both play and sing the whole of the following, which I procured from him at his domicile about two years ago. He was lost in the same boat with the captain and others, during a gale of wind off Elesmere port. If you think them worthy a place in your amusing _Table Book_, be pleased to accept from
Sir, Your most obedient servant,
J. F. PHŒNIX.
_Bold-street, Liverpool,_
_Oct. 15, 1827._
Busy, curious, thirsty fly Drink with me and drink as I; Freely welcome to my cup, Couldst thou sip and sup it up. Make the most of life you may, Life is short and wears away. Life is short, &c.
Both alike are thine and mine, Hastening quick to their decline; Thine’s a summer, mine’s no more, Though repeated to threescore; Threescore summers, when they’re gone, Then will appear as short as one. Then will appear, &c.
Time seems little to look back, And moves on like clock or jack; As the moments of the fly Fortune swiftly passes by, And, when life’s short thread is spun, The larum strikes, and we are gone. The larum, &c.
What is life men so prefer? It is but sorrow, toil, and care: He that is endow’d with wealth Oftentimes may want his health, And a man of healthful state Poverty may be his fate. Poverty may, &c.
Some are so inclined to pride, That the poor they can’t abide, Tho’ themselves are not secure, He that’s rich may soon be poor; Fortune is at no man’s call, Some shall rise whilst others fall. Some shall, &c.
Some ambitious men do soar For to get themselves in power, And those mirk and airy fools Strive to advance their master’s rule; But a sudden turn of fate Shall humble him who once was great. Shall humble, &c.
He that will live happy must Be to his king and country just; Be content, and that is more Than all the miser’s golden store; And whenever life shall cease, He may lay him down in peace. He may lay, &c.
* * * * *
HERMITS.
Mr. J. Pettit Andrews has two anecdotes concerning hermits, which exemplify the strength of the “ruling” passion, when the individual is “dead to the world:” viz.
ST. ROMUALD.
Born at Ravenna, of noble parentage; he embraced, towards the middle of the tenth century, the state of a hermit, under the direction of a solitary, whose severity at least equalled his piety. Romuald bore for a long time, without a murmur, the repeated thumps which he received from his holy teacher; but observing that they were continually directed to his _left_ side, “Honour my _right_ ear, my dear master,” said he, meekly, “with some of your attention, for I have nearly lost the use of my _left_ ear, through your partiality to that side.” Romuald, when he became master of his own conduct, showed that he could on occasion copy the rigour of his preceptor; for, hearing that his own father, who had embraced a monastic life, entertained thoughts of re-entering the world again, he hurried to the monastery, and, by the rhetoric of a very hearty drubbing, brought his unsteady parent over to a more settled way of thinking.
AMADEUS, DUKE OF SAVOY.
This prince, in the fifteenth century, took upon him to become a hermit; with how much abstinence and moderation he demeaned himself, may be judged from this circumstance, that the French make use of the expression “faire _ripailles_,” when they would speak of giving way to every indulgence and enjoyment; and they take the term from “Ripailles,” the name of this pious recluse’s hermitage.
Besides his attachment to every possible luxury, this holy anchoret had a peculiar pride in his beard, which was singularly fine and picturesque. Political motives made the cardinals seek him in his retreat, to confer on him the dignity of pope; but no persuasions nor representations would make him consent to part with that favourite beard, until the ridicule which its preposterous appearance under the tiara occasioned, brought him to agree to its removal. Even the pomp of the papal chair could not long detain him from Ripailles. He soon quitted the triple crown, that he might repossess his beloved retreat.
A HERMIT’S MEDITATION.
In lonesome cave Of noise and interruption void, His thoughtful solitude A hermit thus enjoy’d:
His choicest book The remnant of a human head The volume was, whence he This solemn lecture read:--
“Whoe’er thou wert, Partner of my retirement now, My nearest intimate, My best companion thou!
On thee to muse The busy living world I left; Of converse all but thine, And silent that, bereft.
Wert thou the rich, The idol of a gazing crowd? Wert thou the great, To whom obsequious thousands bow’d?
Was learning’s store E’er treasur’d up within this shell? Did wisdom e’er within This empty hollow dwell?
Did youthful charms E’er redden on this ghastful face? Did beauty’s bloom these cheeks, This forehead ever grace?
If on this brow E’er sat the scornful, haughty frown, Deceitful pride! where now Is that disdain?----’tis gone.
If cheerful mirth A gayness o’er this baldness cast, Delusive, fleeting joy! Where is it now?----’tis past.
To deck this scalp If tedious long-liv’d hours it cost. Vain, fruitless toil! where’s now That labour seen?----’tis lost.
But painful sweat, The dear-earn’d price of daily bread, Was all, perhaps, that thee With hungry sorrows fed.
Perhaps but tears, Surest relief of heart-sick woe, Thine only drink, from down These sockets us’d to flow.
Oppress’d perhaps With aches and with aged cares, Down to the grave thou brought’st A few, and hoary, hairs:
’Tis all perhaps! No marks, no token can I trace What, on this stage of life Thy rank or station was.
Nameless, unknown! Of all distinction stript and bare, In nakedness conceal’d, Oh! who shall thee declare?
Nameless, unknown! Yet fit companion thou for me, Who hear no human voice No human visage see.
From me, from thee, The glories of the world are gone; Nor yet have either lost What we could call our own.
What _we_ are now, The great, the wise, the fair, the brave, Shall all hereafter be, All Hermits--in the grave.”
* * * * *
CURIOUS ANECDOTES OF BIRMINGHAM MANUFACTURERS AND MANUFACTURES.
Birmingham, says the late Mr. William Hutton, (the historian of this large and populous town,) Birmingham began with the productions of the anvil, and probably will end with them. The sons of the hammer were once her chief inhabitants; but that great crowd of artists is now lost in a greater. Genius seems to increase with multitude. Part of the riches, extension, and improvement of Birmingham, are owing to the late John Taylor, Esq. who possessed the singular power of perceiving things as they really were. The spring and consequence of action were open to his view. He rose from minute beginnings to shine in the commercial, as Shakspeare did in the poetical, and Newton in the philosophical, hemisphere.
To this uncommon genius we owe the gilt button, the japanned and gilt snuff-boxes, with the numerous race of enamels. From the same fountain issued the painted snuff-box, at which one servant earned three pounds ten shillings per week, by painting them at a farthing each. In his shops were weekly manufactured, buttons to the amount of 800_l._, exclusive of other valuable productions. One of the present nobility, of distinguished taste, examining the works with the master, purchased some of the articles, among others, a toy of eighty guineas value; and while paying for them, observed with a smile, “he plainly saw he could not reside in Birmingham for less than two hundred pounds a day.” Mr. Taylor died in 1775, at the age of sixty-four, after acquiring a fortune of 200,000_l._
The active powers of genius, the instigation of profit, and the affinity of one calling to another, often induce the artist to change his occupation. There is nothing more common among us; even the divine and the lawyer are prone to this change. Thus the church throws her dead weight into the scale of commerce, and the law gives up the cause of contention: but there is nothing more disgraceful, except thieving, in other places. “I am told,” says an elderly gentleman, as he amused himself in a pitiful bookseller’s shop in a wretched market town, “that you are a stocking-maker by trade!” The humble bookseller, half confused, and wholly ashamed, could not deny the charge. “Ah,” cried the senior, whose features were modelled between the sneer and the smile, “there is neither honour nor profit in changing the trade you were bred to. Do not attempt to sell books, but stay at home, and pursue your own business.” The dejected bookseller, scarcely one step higher than a “walking stationer,” lived to acquire a large fortune. Had he followed the senior’s advice, he might, like a common foot soldier, have starved upon eight-pence a day. This humble and dejected bookseller was Mr. Hutton himself. He says, toy trades first made their appearance in Birmingham in the beginning of Charles the Second’s reign, in an endless variety, attended with all their beauties and their graces. When he wrote, he ranked, as first in preeminence, the
BUTTON.
This beautiful ornament, says Mr. Hutton, appears with infinite variation; and though the original date is rather uncertain, yet we well remember the long coats of our grandfathers covered with half a gross of high tops, and the cloaks of our grandmothers ornamented with a horn button nearly the size of a crown piece, a watch, or a John-apple, curiously wrought, as having passed through the Birmingham press.
Though, continues Mr. Hutton, the common round button keeps on with the steady pace of the day, yet we sometimes see the oval, the square, the pea, the concave, and the pyramid, flash into existence. In some branches of traffic the wearer calls loudly for new fashions; but in this, the fashions tread upon each other, and crowd upon the wearer. The consumption of this article is astonishing: the value in 1781 was from three-pence a gross to one hundred and forty guineas.
In 1818, the art of gilding buttons was arrived at such a degree of refinement in Birmingham, that three pennyworth of gold was made to cover a gross of buttons: these were sold at a price proportionably low. The experiment has been tried to produce _gilt_ buttons _without any gold_; but it was found not to answer, the manufacturer losing more in the consumption than he saved in the material. There seems, says Mr. Hutton, to be hidden treasures couched within this magic circle, known only to a few, who extract prodigious fortunes out of this useful toy, whilst a far greater number submit to a statute of bankruptcy. Trade, like a restive horse, can rarely be managed; for, where one is carried to the end of a successful journey, many are thrown off by the way.
The next to which Mr. Hutton calls our attention, is the
BUCKLE.
Perhaps the shoe, in one form or other, is nearly as ancient as the foot. It originally appeared under the name of sandal; this was no other than a sole without an upper-leather. That fashion has since been inverted, and we have sometimes seen an upper-leather nearly without a sole. But whatever was the cut of the shoe, it always demanded a fastening. Under the house of Plantagenet, the shoe shot horizontally from the foot, like a Dutch skate, to an enormous length; so that the extremity was fastened to the knee, sometimes with a silver chain, a silk lace, or even a packthread string, rather than avoid _genteel taste_.
This thriving beak drew the attention of the legislature, which determined to prune the exorbitant shoot; for, in 1465, we find an order of council, prohibiting the growth of the shoe toe beyond two inches, under the penalty of a dreadful curse from the priest--and, what was worse, the payment of twenty shillings to the king.
This fashion, like every other, gave way to time; and, in its stead, the rose began to bud upon the foot, which, under the house of Tudor, opened in great perfection. No shoe was fashionable without being fastened with a full blown rose. Ribbons of every colour, except white, the emblem of the depressed house of York, were had in esteem; but the red, like the house of Lancaster, held the preeminence. Under the house of Stuart the rose withered, which gave rise to the shoestring. The beaux of that age ornamented their lower tier with double laces of silk, tagged with silver, and the extremities were beautified with a small fringe of the same metal. The inferior class wore laces of plain silk, linen, or even a thong of leather; which last is yet to be met with in the humble plains of rural life.
The revolution was remarkable for the introduction of William, of liberty, and the minute buckle, not differing much in size and shape from the horse bean.
This offspring of fancy, like the clouds, is ever changing. The fashion of to-day is thrown into the casting-pot to-morrow.
The buckle seems to have undergone every figure, size, and shape of geometrical invention. It has passed through every form in Euclid. The large square buckle, plated with silver, was the _ton_ of 1781. The ladies also adopted the reigning taste; it was difficult to discover their beautiful little feet, covered with an enormous shield of buckle; and we wondered to see the active motion under the massive load.
In 1812, the whole generation of fashions, in the buckle line, was extinct; a buckle was not to be found on a female foot, nor upon any foot except that of old age.
GUNS.
King William was once lamenting, “that guns were not manufactured in his dominions, but that he was obliged to procure them from Holland, at a great expense, and with greater difficulty.” Sir Richard Newdigate, one of the members for the county, being present, told the king, “that genius resided in Warwickshire, and that he thought his constituents would answer his majesty’s wishes.” The king was pleased with the remark, and the member posted to Birmingham. Upon application to a person in Digbeth, the pattern was executed with precision, and, when presented to the royal board, gave entire satisfaction. Orders were immediately issued for large numbers, which have been so frequently repeated, that they never lost their road; and the ingenious artists were so amply rewarded, that they have rolled in their carriages to this day.
It seems that the word “London” marked upon guns is a better passport than the word “Birmingham;” and the Birmingham gun-makers had long been in the habit of marking their goods as being made in London.
In 1813 some of the principal gun-makers of London brought a bill into the House of Commons to oblige every manufacturer of firearms to mark them with his real name and place of abode. The Birmingham gun-makers took the alarm; petitioned the house against the bill, and thirty-two gun-makers instantly subscribed six hundred and fifty pounds to defray the expense of opposing it. They represented that they made the component parts of the London guns, which differed from theirs only in being put together, and marked in the metropolis.
Government authorized the gun-makers of Birmingham to erect a proof-house of their own, with wardens and a proof master; and allowed them to decorate their guns with the ensigns of royalty. All firearms manufactured in Birmingham and its vicinity are subjected to the proof required by the Board of Ordnance: the expense is not to exceed one shilling each piece; and the neglect of proving is attended with a penalty not exceeding twenty pounds.
LEATHER.
Though there is little appearance of that necessary article in Birmingham, yet it was once a famous market for leather. Digbeth not only abounded with tanners, but large numbers of hides arrived weekly for sale, and here the whole country found a supply. When the weather would allow, they were ranged in columns in the High-street, and at other times deposited in the leather-hall, at the east end of New-street, appropriated for their reception. This market was of great antiquity, perhaps not less than seven hundred years, and continued till the beginning of the eighteenth century. Two officers are still annually chosen, who are named leather sealers, from a power given them by ancient charter to mark the vendible hides; but now the leather sealers have no duty, but that of taking an elegant dinner. Shops are erected on tan-vats, the leather-hall is gone to destruction, and in 1781 there was only one solitary tanner in Birmingham.
STEEL.
The manufacture of iron, in Birmingham, is ancient beyond research; that of steel is of modern date.
Pride is inseparable from the human character; the man without it, is the man without breath. We trace it in various forms, through every degree of people; but like those objects about us, it is best discovered in our own sphere; those above and those below us rather escape our notice; envy attacks an equal. Pride induced the pope to look with contempt on the European princes, and it now induces them to return the compliment; it taught insolence to the Spaniard, selfishness to the Dutch; it teaches the rival nations of France and England to contend for power. Pride induced a late high bailiff of Birmingham, at the proclamation of the Michaelmas fair, to hold his wand two feet higher than the usual rest, that he might dazzle the crowd with a beautiful glove hanging pendant, a ruffle curiously wrought, a ring set with brilliants, and a hand delicately white. Pride preserves a man from mean actions; it throws him upon meaner. It whets the sword for destruction; it urges the laudable acts of humanity. It is the universal hinge on which we move; it glides with the gentle stream of usefulness; it overflows the mounds of reason, and swells into a destructive flood. Like the sun, in his milder rays, it animates and draws us towards perfection; but like him, in his fiercer beams, it scorches and destroys.
Money is not the necessary attendant of pride, for it abounds nowhere more than in the lowest ranks. It adds a sprucer air to a Sunday dress, casts a look of disdain upon a bundle of rags; it boasts the _honour_ of a family, while poverty unites a sole and upper leather with a bandage of shop-thread. There are people who even _pride_ themselves upon humility.
This dangerous _good_, this necessary _evil_, supports the female character; without it, the brightest part of the creation would degenerate. It will be asked, “What portion may be allowed?” Prudence will answer, “As much as you please, but not to disgust.” It is equally found in the senate-house and the button-shop. The scene of action is the scene of pride. He who makes steel prides himself in carrying the art one step higher than he who makes iron.
This art appeared at Birmingham in the seventeenth century, and was introduced by the family of Kettle. The name of Steelhouse-lane will convey to posterity the situation of the works; the commercial spirit of Birmingham will convey the produce to the antipodes.
From the warm but dismal climate of this town issues the button which shines on the breast, and the bayonet intended to pierce it; the lancet which bleeds the man, and the rowel the horse; the lock which preserves the beloved bottle, and the screw to uncork it; the needle, equally obedient to the thimble and the pole.
BRASS WORKS.
The manufacture of brass was introduced into Birmingham by the family of Turner about 1740. They erected those works at the south end of Coleshill-street; then near two hundred yards beyond the buildings, but now the buildings extend half a mile beyond them.
Under the black clouds which arose from this corpulent tunnel, some of the trades collected their daily supply of brass, but the major part was drawn from the Macclesfield, Cheadle, and Bristol companies.
“Causes are known by their effects;” the fine feelings of the heart are easily read in the features of the face; the still operations of the mind are discovered by the rougher operations of the hand. Every creature is fond of power, from that noble head of the creation man, who devours man, down to that insignificant mite who devours his cheese: every man strives to be free himself, and to shackle another. Where there is power of any kind, whether in the hands of a prince, a people, a body of men, or a private person, there is a propensity to abuse it: abuse of power will everlastingly seek itself a remedy, and frequently find it; nay, even this remedy may in time degenerate into abuse, and call loudly for another.
Brass is an object of some magnitude in the trades of Birmingham, the consumption is said to be a thousand tons per annum. The manufacture of this useful article had long been in the hands of few and opulent men, who, instead of making the humble bow for favours received, acted with despotic sovereignty, established their own laws, chose their customers, directed the price, and governed the market. In 1780 the article rose, either through caprice or necessity, perhaps the former, from seventy-two pounds a ton to eighty-four pounds. The result was, an advance upon the goods manufactured, followed by a number of counter-orders, and a stagnation of business.