Born: Jacopo Sannazaro, Italian poet, 1458, Naples; Joseph I,
Emperor of Germany, 1678, Vienna.
Died: Theodosius the Younger, Roman emperor, 450,
Constantinople; Pope Innocent VIII, 1492; Thomas
Cromwell, Earl of Essex, beheaded on Tower Hill, 1540;
John Speed, historical writer, 1629, Cripplegate,
London; Richard Corbet, bishop of Norwich, humorous
poet, 1635; Abraham Cowley, metaphysical poet, 1667,
Chertsey, Surrey; Conyers Middleton, philosophical and
historical author, 1750, Hildersham; George Bubb
Dodington, intriguing politician, 1762; William Wynne Ryland, eminent engraver,
executed for forgery, 1783;
Maximilian Isidore Robespierre, terrorist autocrat,
guillotined at Paris, 1794; Guiseppe Sarti, musical
composer, 1802, Berlin; Sultan Salim III,
assassinated at Constantinople, 1808; Andoche Junot,
Duc d'Abrantes, Bonapartist general, 1813, Montpelier;
Marshal Mortier, Bonapartist general, killed at Paris
by Fieschi's 'infernal machine,' 1835; John George
Lambton, Earl of Durham, Liberal statesman, 1840, Cowes, Isle of Wight; Joseph
Bonaparte, ex-king of
Spain, 1844, Florence; John Walter, proprietor and
conductor of The Times newspaper, 1847, London;
Charles Albert, ex-king of Sardinia, 1849, Oporto.
Feast Day: Saints Nazarius and Celsus, martyrs,
about 68. St. Victor, pope and martyr, 201. St.
Innocent I., pope and confessor, 417. St. Sampson,
bishop and confessor, about 564.
JACOPO SANNAZARO
Among the highest sums ever paid for poetical
composition, must be included the 6000 golden crowns,
given by the citizens of Venice to Sannazaro, for his
six eulogistic lines on their city, thus translated by
John Evelyn, the amiable author of
Sylva.
'Neptune saw Venice on the Adria stand
Firm as a rock, and all the sea command,
"Think'st thou, O Jove!" said he, "Rome's walls
excel?
Or that proud cliff, whence false Tarpeia fell?
Grant Tyber best, view both; and you will say,
That
men did those, gods these foundations lay."'
Howel's lines on the 'stupendous site and
structure' of London Bridge, are evidently imitations
of Sannazaro's on Venice:
'When Neptune from his billows London spied,
Brought
proudly thither by a high spring-tide,
As through a
floating wood, he steered along,
And dancing castles
clustered in a throng;
When he beheld a mighty bridge
give law
unto his surges, and their fury awe,
When such a shelf of cataracts did roar,
As if the Thames with Nile had changed her shore;
When he such massy walls, such towers did eye,
Such
posts, such irons upon his back to lie;
When such vast
arches he observed,
that might Nineteen Rialtos make,
for depth and height;
When the cerulean god these
things surveyed,
He shook his trident, and astonished
said:
"Let the whole earth now all her wonders count,
This bridge of wonders is the paramount!"'
THOMAS CROMWELL, EARL OF
ESSEX
English history boasts of two great men who bore
the name of Cromwell, each of whom was the instrument
of a great revolution, not only political, but which
affected the whole frame of society. The first of
these men, Thomas Cromwell, is said to have been the
son of a blacksmith at Putney, who, having saved
money, became, according to some, a brewer; or,
according to others, a fuller. His son Thomas received
a tolerable school education, after which he spent
some years on the continent, and made himself master
of several foreign languages. His original occupation
appears to have been of a mercantile character, but he
turned soldier, served in Italy under the Constable
Bourbon, and was present in 1527 at his death and the
sack of Rome. He afterwards resumed his original
calling of a merchant, and, returning to England,
embraced the profession of the law. He soon attracted
the attention of
Cardinal Wolsey, who made
him his
solicitor, and employed him as his chief agent in the
dissolution of the monasteries, which the pope had
abandoned to the powerful minister for the foundation
of colleges.
On Wolsey's fall, Cromwell accompanied
him in his retirement to Esher; but he was soon tired
of inactivity, and he went back to court, determined
to push his own fortunes. As far as is known, he never
deserted his old master, but spoke eloquently in his
defence in the House of Commons, of which he was a
member, and where his talents for business were highly
commended. Cromwell now made his way into the royal
favour, which he secured by his bold and able counsels
in the king's final breach with Rome, and he soon
became the principal and confidential minister of the
crown.
To Cromwell, indeed, more than to anybody else,
we owe the dissolution of the monasteries, and the
establishment of the Reformation in England; and these
great measures were carried through entirely by his
great abilities, courage, and perseverance. Of course
the whole hatred of the Catholic party was directed
against him; but he was strong in the king's favour,
and was raised rapidly to wealth and honours. The
estates of the dissolved monasteries contributed
towards the former; and, besides holding some of the
highest and most lucrative offices of state, he was
raised to the peerage in 1536 under the title of Baron
Cromwell of Okeham, and three years afterwards he was
created Earl of Essex, having been invested with the
order of the Garter, and advanced to the office of
lord-high chamberlain of England. This great man
eventually experienced the fate of most of Henry's
confidential ministers, who were overloaded with favours so long as they pleased
him, but the first
loss of confidence was but a step to the scaffold. He
was actively instrumental in promoting the marriage
with Anne of Cleves, and the king, disappointed in his
wife, wreaked his vengeance upon his minister.
Archbishop Cranmer pled for him in vain, and Cromwell
was committed to the Tower on the 10th of June 1540,
attainted, after the mere shadow of a trial, of high
treason, and beheaded on the 28th of July.
A nephew of Cromwell, Sir Robert Williams, obtained
court-favour through his means, and assumed his name.
He received a grant from the crown of the lands of the
dissolved monasteries in Huntingdonshire, and
established his family at Hinchinbroke, in that
county. He was the great-grandfather of Oliver
Cromwell, the Protector.
RICHARD CORBET
Richard Corbet, successively bishop of Oxford and
Norwich, was one of the most eminent English poets of
his day. Born in the reign of Elizabeth, his wit and
eloquence recommended him to the favour of James, and
his advancement in the church was commensurate with
his abilities. Benevolent, generous, and spirited in
his public character�amiable and affectionate in
private life�he deservedly enjoyed the patronage of
the great, the applause and estimation of the good.
The following lines, found written on the fly-leaf of
a volume of Corbet's poems, convey an excellent idea
of his general character
'If flowing wit, if verses writ with ease,
If
learning void of pedantry can please;
If much good-humour joined to solid sense,
And
mirth accompanied with innocence,
Can give a poet a
just right to fame,
Then Corbet may immortal honour
claim;
For he these virtues had, and in his lines
Poetic and heroic spirit shines;
Though bright, yet solid, pleasant but not rude,
With wit and wisdom equally imbued.
Be silent, Muse,
thy praises are too faint,
Thou want'st a power, the
prodigy to paint,
At once a poet, prelate, and a
saint.'
ROBESPIERRE
The 10th Thermidor was the revolutionary name for
the day (the 28th July 1794) which brought the
termination of the celebrated Reign of Terror. While
pressing dangers from foreign invaders and internal
enemies surrounded the Revolution, the extreme party,
headed by Robespierre, Barrere, St. Just, &c., had
full sway, and were able to dictate numberless
atrocities, under pretence of consulting the public
safety. But when the Revolution became comparatively
safe, a reaction set in, and a majority in the
Convention arrayed themselves against the Terrorists.
A struggle of two days between the two parties
produced the arrest of Robespierre, Couthon, St. Just,
Lebas, and a younger brother of Robespierre; and
finally, in the afternoon of the 28th, these men, with
some others, their accomplices, mounted the scaffold
to which they had, during eighteen months, consigned
so many better men. Robespierre died at the age of
thirty-five.
It is undoubted that many of the most frightful
outrages on humanity have been perpetrated, not in
wanton malignity, or from pleasure in inflicting pain,
but in the blind fervour of religious and patriotic
feeling. We do not charge St. Paul with cruelty when,
as Saul, he went about 'breathing threatenings and
slaughter,' and 'making havoc of the church.' St.
Dominic, who led on the massacre of the Albigenses, is
said to have been a kindly man, but for a heretic he
had no more heart than a stone. Indeed, the catalogue
of persecutors contains, some of the noblest names in
history.
Had Robespierre himself not been sent as deputy
from Arras to Paris, he probably would have lived a
useful citizen, respected for his probity,
benevolence, and intelligence. 'When an enterprising
spirit in Arras set up a Franklin lightning-conductor,
there arose a popular outcry against his impiety. 'What! shall we rend the very
lightnings from the hand
of God?' exclaimed the terrified people. Robespierre
defended Science against Superstition, and won a
verdict for the innovator. He was appointed a judge in
the Criminal Court of Arras, but he actually resigned
his office rather than sentence a murderer to death.
In Paris, he dwelt with Madame Duplay, who idolised
her lodger. His evenings he occasionally spent in
conversation with her and her daughter; sometimes he
read them a play from Racine, and sometimes took them
to the theatre, to see some favourite tragedy. Once he
proposed to leave the house, saying: 'I compromise
your family, and my enemies will construe your
children's attachment to me into a crime.' 'No, no,'
replied Duplay, 'we will die together, or the people
will triumph.'
Similar testimonies of esteem come from
others who knew Robespierre privately; yet we cannot
suppose he ever commanded any deeper feeling in any
human breast than respect. He had no geniality; his
virtues were all severe; he was a Puritan and
Precisian, and perhaps the most perfect type of the
fanatic to be found in biography. As Mr. G. H. Lewes,
in his Life and Correspondence of Robespierre,
observes:
All that is great and estimable in
fanaticism�its sincerity, its singleness of purpose,
its exalted aims, its vigorous consistency, its
disdain of worldly temptations�all may be found in
Robespierre; and those who only contemplate that
aspect of the man will venerate him. But there is
another aspect of fanaticism, presenting
narrow-mindedness, want of feeling, of consideration,
and of sympathy; unscrupulousness of means, pedantic wilfulness, and relentless
ferocity; and whose
contemplates this aspect also, will look on
Robespierre with strangely mingled feelings of
admiration and abhorrence.'
It was the intense unity and energy of his
character that carried Robespierre so quickly to
power. His mind was small but single; not any of its
force was wasted. When he first spoke in the Assembly,
he was laughed at; but, said Mirabeau, with the
prescience of genius: 'That man will do somewhat; he
believes every word he says.' It is to be remembered
that he ran the career by which he is infamous in the
short space of five years; he arrived in Paris as
deputy from Arras in 1789, and was guillotined in
1794.
Robespierre's person was in striking correspondence
with his mind. He was little, lean, and feeble. His face was sharp; his forehead
good, but
narrow, and largely developed in the perceptive
organs; his mouth was large, and the lips thin and
compressed; his nose was straight and small, and very
wide at the nostrils. His voice was hoarse in the
lower, and discordant in the higher, tones, and when
in a rage, it seemed to change into a howl. He was
bilious, and his complexion livid, and thus Carlyle,
in his French Revolution, always marks him out as 'the
sea-green.'
His wants were few and his habits simple. For money
he had as little desire as necessity; and at his death
his worth in cash was no more than �8. Thus as easily
as justly did he win his title of 'The
Incorruptible.' He drank nothing but water; his only
excess was in oranges; these he ate summer and winter
with strange voracity, and never did his features
relax into such pleasantness as when his mouth was
engrossed in one. His lodgings with Duplay were very
humble; his bed-room and study were one apartment.
There might be seen a bedstead, covered with blue
damask and white flowers, a table, and four
straw-bottomed chairs. The walls were studded with
busts and portraits of himself; and two or three
deal-shelves contained the few books he cared to read,
and his manuscripts carefully written, and with many
erasures. On the table there usually lay a volume of
Racine or Rousseau, open at the place he was reading.
He went to bed early, rising in the night to write.
His recreation was a solitary walk in the Champs
Elys�es, or about the environs of Paris, with his
great dog Brount, who nightly kept guard on the mat at
his master's door. A striking picture might be made of
the lean, anxious, bilious, precise tribune, playing
with his colossal mastiff.
Considering the extent of his infamy, there are
singularly few anecdotes preserved of Robespierre. Mr.
Lewes describes, in the words of a certain M. Legrand,
who was living in Paris in 1849, an interview with
Robespierre, at which you are puzzled whether to laugh
or shudder. 'M. Legrand,' writes Mr. Lewes, 'boasts
of his acquaintance with Robespierre, whom he regards
as the best abused man of his acquaintance. To him
Robespierre was a very agreeable man in society. He
only thinks of him in that light. The Reign of Terror
is a sort of nightmare�he no longer thinks of it.
There is one story he always tells, and I regret that
I must spoil it in the telling, wherein so much of the
effect depends upon the gesture and the quiet senile
tone of voice; but such as it is, it will, I think,
amuse the reader.
' M. Legrand speaks� 'I recollect one
time being at Lebas . . . . where he went very often .
I heard a noise upon the stairs. "Stop," cried I. I
thought it was that farceur (jester) Robespierre ....
for he was very merry in society [This epithet of
farceur is very piquant]. In fact, it was he. He came
into the parlour . . . . I go up to him, and say: "Citizen, you know . . .
. or you ought to know . . . .
that M. Legrand, my kinsman�alas! he is condemned, and
tomorrow morning . . . [Here a very significant
gesture imitative of the guillotine completes the
sentence] . . . . A man, citizen, whose innocence is
certain! for whom I can answer as for myself! And the life of an innocent man,
citizen, it is of
some account!" Then he answers me: "Let us see, let us
see, what is your business?" (for he was very agreeable in society�M. de
Robespierre). I tell him the tale; then he asks me,
"At what hour does your friend die?" (for he was very
agreeable in society�M. de Robespierre). "Citizen," I
reply, "at nine o'clock precisely! "�"At nine o'clock!
that is unfortunate! for you know I work late; and as
I go to bed late, I rise late. I am much afraid I
shall not be up in time to save your friend . . . .
but we shall see, we shall see I" .... (for he was
very agreeable in society�M. de Robespierre). [After a
snort pause the old gentleman continues.] It appeared
. . that M. de Robespierre had worked very hard that
night; for my poor friend! [Here again he makes the
guillotine gesture]. It is all the same! I am sure
that if he had not worked so late, he would have saved
my poor friend; for he was very agreeable in
society�M. de Robespierre.
MARSHAL MORTIER: FIESCHI'S
INFERNAL MACHINE
It was on the 28th July 1835, that this infernal
machine was discharged, with intent to destroy the
French king, Louis Philippe, as he rode along the
lines of the National Guard, on the Boulevard du
Temple, accompanied by his three sons and suite. The
machine consisted of twenty-five barrels, charged with
various species of missiles, which were fired
simultaneously by a train of gunpowder. The king and
his sons escaped; but Marshal Mortier, Duc de Treviso,
was shot dead, and many other persons were dangerously
wounded. Such were the circumstances under which one
of Napoleon's marshals,
after escaping the perils of
the battle-field, perished in a time of peace, in the
streets of the capital, while in the service, suite,
and favour of a king of the Orleans branch of the
Bourbons! It is as an introduction to some little
known facts of his earlier life, that we have thus
briefly stated the circumstances of his death.
Biography, like history, is at times written after
a strange fashion. Like the fabled shield, gold on one
side and silver on the other, not only the colouring
but the facts of a life seem to depend on the
stand-point of the writer. Before us lies a little
publication of the year 1813, professing to give An
interesting Account of Buonaparte and his Family; with
the Original Name, Pedigree, and present Title of the
Marshals and Generals who fought his Battles in Spain,
Portugal, Russia, Germany, chiefly extracted from the
Literary Panorama, with Additions to the present Time,
by the Editor. Some idea may be formed of the
character of this brochure, from the fact that it
charges most of the family of Napoleon, and many of
his marshals and generals, with the foulest crimes; as
murder, incest, adultery, forgery, wholesale
robberies, &c. In an introductory note, its editor
says: 'Nor perhaps will it be believed that Brissot,
who dethroned Louis XVI, had been employed in a
printing office in London, at the rate of 30s. per
week, as corrector of the press!' We have not
elsewhere seen this statement, and of course cannot
pronounce it either true or false. But if true, it is
noteworthy that Brissot was not the only one of those
bespattered with abuse by the editor' aforesaid, who
passed some time in England. This is what he writes on
the subject of our sketch:
'Marshal Mortier, Duke of Treviso, was clerk to a
merchant at Dunkirk, Mr. James Bell, now of Angel
Court, Throgmorton Street, London, who took him to
Alicante, at �25 per annum. There he learned the
Spanish language, and behaved remarkably well. He then
left his situation at the beginning of the French
revolution, and went back to France, where he was made
a sergeant in the National Guard. He committed great
depredations in Hanover. The Duchess of Treviso is an
inn-keeper's daughter.'
Looking at most of the other portraits in this
wretched picture-gallery, it seems clear that the
limner had not been able to find any of his darker
hues with which to smear the character of Mortier.
But, leaving this statement with the expression of a
doubt as to its veracity in two or three important
features, we turn to a much more pleasing sketch from
another English pen.
In that amusing book, entitled Music and Friends,
by the late Mr. Gardiner, of Leicester, the author
gives the following account of a visit he made to
Paris in July 1802:
'One of my first objects in Paris
was to be present at the fete on the 14th of July, the
anniversary of the revolution, and for this purpose my
friend, Mr. Cape, procured one a letter of
introduction to General Mortier from Mr. Sylvester, of
Manchester, with whom. Mortier had served his
clerkship as a merchant. On my arrival I found the
general was commander of the city, residing at the
Etat Major, what we should call the Horse Guards of
Paris. . . . I had received a note from General
Mortier, afterwards Duke of Treviso, to dine with him,
and bring my friend. This was very agreeable to me, as
Mr. Fichet spoke the language like a native. My friend
was overjoyed at the thoughts of this visit, and was
in a hundred perplexities how he should dress for the
occasion.
The first article laid out was an embroidered shirt
that cost twelve guineas, with loads of rings, chains,
and trinkets. When attired, I confess we did not look
as if we belonged to the same species. Having driven
to the Etat Major, we were received by a file of
soldiers at the gate, who presented arms. We were
ushered into the drawing-room, and introduced to the
general, to Madame Mortier, another lady, and the
general officers, Menou, Soult, and Lefevre. The coats
of these warriors were covered with gold upon the arms
from the shoulder to the wrist; you could scarcely see
the scarlet cloth for oak-leaves and acorns wrought in
gold. When we had sat down to dinner, I noticed two
vacant places at table, which were soon filled up by
the sergeant and corporal upon guard, who had just
received us at the door.
This was one of the outward signs of liberty and
equality; they behaved well, and retired just before
the dessert was brought in. We had an elegant dinner;
some things surprised me�the eating of ripe melon to
boiled. beef, and drinking sixteen sorts of wine at
dinner. A fine embroidered garcon was incessantly
bawling in my ear some new sort he had upon his tray.
I satisfied him by tasting all, and it was well I did
so, for you get no wine afterwards. My friend was the
admiration of the ladies, and had the whole of their
conversation�a sort of small-talk in which he greatly
excelled. For my part, I was compelled to be silent,
not having that enviable fluency; and my taciturnity
excited the attention of Menou, who asked me "What the
English thought of the French?"
Mortier, who spoke our
language perfectly, was kind enough to be my
interpreter, and I replied: "We thought them a fine
gallant nation, great in science and in arms." This
produced a smile of satisfaction, and was probably the
first sentiment of the kind they had heard from an
Englishman. "We have the same opinion of you," replied
the Egyptian general; "you are as great upon sea as we
are upon land. What folly is this fighting! Could we
but agree, the world might be at peace; England and
France could govern Europe. What do you think of the
Consul?" continued he. "Why, we think him rather an
ambitious gentleman; we have a notion that he will not
long be satisfied with being Prime Consul, but will
declare himself sole Consul; and, if you wish for my
private opinion, I think shortly he will make himself
king? "The general turned round with a supercilious
smile, and addressing himself to the company, said the
credulity of the English was a proverb all over
Europe.'
From this narrative, it appears that Mr. Gardiner
had not been introduced to Mortier before July 1802,
and that it is only on hearsay that he states that the
marshal had been a clerk in the establishment of a
Manchester merchant, named Sylvester. This is an
error, which the present writer is enabled to correct.
In the year 1786, an academy was established in
Manchester, entitled the Manchester Academy, chiefly
in connection with the Presbyterian or Unitarian
denomination of dissenters. Its principal was the Rev.
Thomas Barnes, D.D., then the senior minister of the
Manchester Presbyterian Chapel, Cross Street. Its
tutor for the Belles-Lettres, &c., was Mr.
Lewis Loyd,
then a dissenting minister, who preached at Dob Lane
Chapel, Failsworth, about three miles from
Manchester. He subsequently married Miss Jones, the
daughter of a Manchester banker, and became a partner
in the since well-known firm of Jones, Loyd, & Co., of
London and Manchester. His son, Samuel Jones Loyd,
was, a few years ago, elevated to the peerage by the
title of Lord Overstone. When it is added that the
mathematical tutor at the Manchester Academy, at the
same period, was Dr. Dalton, afterwards so
celebrated
for his chemical discoveries, and especially for what
has been termed the law of definite proportions, or
the atomic theory�enough has been said to shew that
this provincial academical institution of the last
century was worthy of its high reputation.
Some years ago, the writer had several
conversations on the subject of this academy, its
principal, its tutors, and alumni, with a venerable
survivor of the latter body, the late John Moore,
Esq., F.L.S., in whose words is the following too
brief account of the subject of this notice: 'Another
student of the Manchester Academy, whose military
talents advanced him to high rank in the service of
his country, was the celebrated Marshal Mortier. He
was the son of a merchant at Lyons, who, being
desirous that his son should acquire an insight into
the English methods of manufacturing and of doing
business, sent him over to Manchester, and he was
placed in the academy, but some time before I entered
it. It has been erroneously stated that Mortier was a
clerk in the house of Messrs Sylvester & Co., and
Colonel Sylvester (of the volunteers) has been
mentioned in connection with him. But it was the
colonel's brother with whom Mortier was intimate, and
there was no commercial connection whatever�nothing
but personal friend-ship between them. It is supposed,
however, that Mortier was, for a short time, in more
than one Manchester house; not, however, as a clerk,
but as a young gentleman seeking to obtain information
as to their modes of doing business. Mortier did not
remain long in Manchester, but returned to France when
the war broke out. He joined the army, where his
military talents led to his rapid rise, now a matter
of history. It is to his honour that, learning, after
he had risen to a high military rank and position,
that his old friend James Sylvester was in embarrassed
circumstances, he wrote to him; intimating that he
could never forget his friendship while in Manchester,
and (it is believed) sent him some very substantial
present, to enable him to improve his fortunes.'
From another friend in Manchester, the writer
derived the following interesting anecdote of Mortier:
'I knew a young man named Wild, in the volunteers�a
very modest, shy lad; but he afterwards joined the
army, rose by merit, and became lieutenant. He was
with the British army in Spain, where he was appointed
adjutant of the 29th Regiment, and was in that
slaughtering affair �I think Salamanca�where Colonel
White was shot; Wild being wounded at the same time.
Colonel White became delirious from the effects of the
wound, and as he was being carried to the rear, he
began singing. The Duke of Wellington, passing at the
time, stopped, and when he saw poor White's condition,
tears came into the eyes of the man who has been
called "The Iron Duke."
Subsequently, Wild being at an outpost, was taken
prisoner with some of his men, by the French troops,
and they were marched up the country. The officers
were very civil to Wild, and, as it was their custom
to march at the head of their men, in order to avoid
the dust, they invited him to join them. After some days' march they reached
head-quarters, and on reporting themselves, received
the honour of an invitation to dine with Marshal
Mortier, then commanding a garrison town. The
invitation contained the words: "Bring your English
prisoner with you." Poor Wild was in no plight to dine
with a marshal of France; but his captors were most
considerately kind. One lent him a shirt; another some
other article of attire; and by their courteous aid he
found himself at length presentable. The dinner was
recherche, everything en grand regle; and at length,
after coffee, the guests rose to retire. The marshal
requested them to leave their prisoner with him; and
when the French oflicers had withdrawn, Wild was
astonished to hear himself addressed in plain English:
"Well, and where do you come from?" His reply was,
"From beyond Rochdale, in Lancashire." "Well; and
how's Dick Crompton?" In this familiar style Mortier
chatted with his astonished guest, naming Smithy-door
and other well-remembered localities, and appearing
much amused to learn that his old acquaintance, Dick
Crompton, was then town-major of Lisbon.
After a
pleasant conversation on Lancashire men and places,
Wild was reconducted to his quarters, and remained
some time in prison. He succeeded, with the aid of a
kindly girl, in effecting his escape, and long rambled
about the country, under great risks, till at length,
by the aid of friendly contrabandistas, he made his
way back to the head-quarters of the British army.
After attaining a captaincy he was placed on half-pay;
returned to Manchester; took the White Lion Inn, Long
Millgate; and subsequently went to keep what were then
called Tinker's Gardens (afterwards
Vauxhall Gardens), Collyhurst. He
married a very beautiful girl, who did
not assist him in the inn; all went wrong; and poor
Wild was taken as a debtor to Lancaster Castle.
Hearing a bell ring in the evening, he asked what it
was, and was told it was the time for the prisoners to
be locked up. He fell down, and expired on the spot.
Dick Crompton became Captain Crompton, and on my
telling him about Mortier asking after him, he said,
"Oh, I knew Mortier very well in Manchester."'
JOHN WALTER, OF �THE TIMES'
The perfection of literary success involves the
conjunction of the man of letters with the man of
business. Next to the author is the publisher, who
carries the author's wares to market, and suggests to
him what ought to be produced, and indicates what can
be sold. A publisher is often a mere seller of books
irrespective of their contents, but it must be obvious
that for the due fulfilment of his functions, a taste
for and delight in literature are essential. It was
through a happy union of business tact with literary
taste that the House of Murray was crowned with honour
and fortune; and the same truth we find illustrated
with equal brilliancy in the story of the House of
Walter.
As there have been three John Murrays, there have
been three John Walters�father, son, and grandson.
John Walter, the father, was born in 1739, and was
known as the ' logographic printer.' He held a patent
for Logography, or the art of printing with entire
words, and their roots and terminations, in addition
to the use of types for single letters; and persevered
with his scheme through much opposition and many
difficulties. In joke it used to be said that his
orders to the typefounder ran in this fashion: 'Send
me a hundredweight of type made up in separate pounds,
of heat, cold, wet, dry, murder, fire, dreadful,
robbery, atrocious outrage, fearful calamity, alarming
explosion, honourable gentleman, loud cheers, gracious
majesty, interesting female,' and so on. He brought
out, in 1785, The Daily Universal Register, the title
of which he changed on the 1st of January 1788, to
(world-famous name!) The Times. The heading of the
early numbers was as follows: The Times, or Daily
Universal Register, printed Logographically. Its price
was 3d. For many years the Times existed in quiet
equality with its daily brethren; now and then falling
into trouble from actions at law through incautious
writing. In 1790, Mr. Walter was fined �200 for a
couple of libels on the Prince of Wales, and the Dukes
of York and Clarence, but was released from Newgate at
the end of sixteen months by the intercession of the
Prince of Wales. John Walter I. died in 1812.
It was under John Walter II, born in 1784, that
the Times rose to the place of the first newspaper in
the world. Whilst yet a youth, in 1803, he became
joint-proprietor and sole manager of the Times, and
very soon his hand became manifest in the vigour and
independence of its politics, and the freshness of its
news. Free speech, however, had its penalties. The
Times denounced the malpractices of Lord Melville, and
the government revenged itself by withdrawing from the
Walters the office of printers to the Customs, which
had been held by the family for eighteen years. During
the war between Napoleon and Austria in 1805, the
desire for news was intense. To thwart the Times, the
packets for Walter were stopped at the outports,
whilst those for the ministerial journals were hurried
to London. Complaint was made, and the reply was given
that the editor might receive his foreign papers as a
favour; meaning thereby that if the government was
gracious to the Times, the Times should be gracious to
the government; but Walter would accept no favours on
such terms. Thrown on his own resources, he contrived,
by means of superior activity and stratagem, to
surpass the ministry in early intelligence of events.
The capitulation of Flushing, in August 1809, was
announced by the Times two days before the news had
arrived through any other channel. In the editorship
of the paper he spared neither pains nor expense. The
best writers were employed; and wherever a
correspondent or a reporter displayed marked ability,
he was carefully looked after, and his faculty utilised. Correspondents were
posted in every great
city in the world, and well-qualified reporters were
dispatched to every scene of public interest. The
debates in parliament, law proceedings, public
meetings, and commercial affairs were all reported
with a fulness and accuracy which filled readers with
wonder. What a visionary could scarcely dare to ask,
the Times gave. To other journals, imitation alone was
left. They might be more consistent politicians, but
in the staple of a newspaper, to be nearly as good as
the Times was their highest praise.
The public were not slow to appreciate such
service, and to reward the Times with a yearly
increase of circulation. Next to Mr. Walter's desire
to occupy its columns worthily, was his anxiety to
print it off so rapidly as to be able to meet any
demand. The hand-press was of course inadequate. As
early as 1804, he assisted Thomas Martyn, an ingenious
compositor, in devising a new machine, and only gave
up when he had exhausted his available funds. Shortly
after, Frederick K�enig, a German, came to England
with some novel ideas about printing, which met the
approval of two or three enterprising London
tradesmen; and after several years of patient and
expensive experiment, K�enig and his patrons were
gratified by success. Mr. Walter gave an order for two
of K�enig's machines, to be worked by a steam-engine.
The Times' pressmen were enraged at the innovation,
and Mr. Walter had actually to set up the new
apparatus in adjoining premises, to be safe from their
violence. On the 29th November 1814, a memorable day,
the Times was printed for the first time by
steam-power. The number impressed per hour was 1100.
Improvement on improvement followed on K�enig's
invention, until at this day 15,000 sheets of the
Times are printed off in a single hour!
Mr. Walter acquired a noble fortune through his
enterprise, and purchased a fine estate in Berkshire,
for which county he was returned as member of
parliament in 1832; he resigned his seat in 1837, in
consequence of a difference with his constituents on
the question of the new Poor Law. He died on the 28th
July 1847, at his house in Printing House Square, Blackfriars, the scene of his
labours and triumphs.
Mr Walter was succeeded by his son, John Walter
III, born in 1818. He has sat in the House of
Commons, as member for Nottingham, since 1847, and
under his care the Times has flourished in
undiminished vigour.
