Book 4 — CHAPTER VIII

Mr Holcroft soon after went abroad. On his arrival at Hamburgh, he went to lodge at the house of his daughter and her husband, Mr Cole, who was settled there in trade. He afterwards went to reside at the house of ——, where he paid five pounds a week; and as his 229remittances from England were often interrupted, he would have been reduced to great distress, had it not been for the generous exertions of a stranger, a Mr Schuckmacher. This gentleman, who was a merchant, advanced 250l. to Mr Holcroft, on his note of hand. The first literary attempt which Mr Holcroft made after he was settled on the continent failed. This was to set up a journal, (the European Repository) containing an account of the state of foreign literature, and anecdotes of celebrated characters. It only reached the second number.

It is certain that Mr Holcroft’s introductions, and his connexions with literary men abroad, would have afforded every opportunity for executing such a work well, had it met with encouragement. While at Hamburgh, he visited Klopstock, Voss, Sander, &c. &c. On his first introduction to Klopstock, the latter laboured to shew the superiority of the German to every other language in conciseness; and challenged Mr Holcroft to translate with equal conciseness into English. To which he replied, that Klopstock might be easily supposed to overcome Holcroft, but that the English language ought not to suffer on that account. He told Mr Holcroft a story of Voss, the celebrated classic; that at a time when he was too ill even to hear a scholar read and parse a few lines in the classics, familiar as they were to him, he was still able and desirous to continue his translation of Ovid in Hexameters, and found relief from this laborious task. When Baron Stolberg (the superintendant of the academy) came to visit him, he hid his papers, lest he should be accused of neglect of duty, or blamed for disregarding his health. Sander, a Dane by birth, informed Mr Holcroft that the Road to Ruin, and the Deserted Daughter, had been translated into the Danish language, and that the latter had been the most popular of the pieces brought out the preceding winter at Copenhagen.

The admiration of the Germans for English literature, and their contempt for the French, are well known. Molière is the only man among the latter, to whom they allow much genius. Their notions of excellence are indeed rather hypercritical than common-place. They seem in general to assign the highest stations to the greatest men, but their list of great men is short. There are only four whom they consider as poets, that is to say, inventors of a new style, namely, Homer, Dante, Shakspeare, and Goethe. Why the last should have this high rank assigned him, I do not know. He is placed by the Germans themselves far above Schiller. Mr Holcroft while abroad, translated his poem of Herman and Dorothea. A note from the author to the translator on this subject, will be found among the letters at the end of the volume.—Mr Holcroft also, while he was 230at Hamburgh, finished and sent over the comedy of ‘Hear both Sides,’ and his translation of ‘Deaf and Dumb,’ which were afterwards acted with success, at Drury-Lane.

On his departure from England, he had renounced all idea of picture-dealing, and connoisseurship. He however attended several picture-sales, but without attempting to bid. One day as he was strolling along the street, his attention was caught by a small picture, which lay among some lumber at a broker’s shop. He went in, asked the price of it, and was answered three guineas. Mr Holcroft made no bargain, but determined to go home, and get Mrs. Holcroft to come and look at it, to see whether any one else must not be as much struck with it as he was. On re-examining the picture, his confidence in its being an original increased, and he paid the money for it. As he was returning home in triumph with the picture under his arm, he met Mercier, (Mrs. Holcroft’s father) who had himself been a dabbler in pictures, and who, laughing, exclaimed, ‘A ce trait je connois mon sang.’

The first step being got over, they consulted together, how to turn this accident to advantage; they henceforward frequented auction-rooms, and ransacked brokers’ shops, to make mutual discoveries of original pictures, which might be had for a song. Mr Holcroft, in this manner, laid out between four and five hundred pounds, by which he expected to clear at least double the sum.

In this expectation he was once more wretchedly disappointed. Not that the pictures were in themselves bad, they were many of them excellent, and in general by the masters to whom they were attributed; but they were not the finest specimens of those masters, and with respect to second rate pictures, it requires either an acquaintance with the particular master who happens to be in vogue for the time, or regular connexions with other picture-dealers, to secure the purchaser against loss. The pictures which Mr Holcroft sent over to England, were fifty-seven in number. They were entrusted to the care of Mr Godwin. He prevailed on some professional friends, to go and look at them, who thought they would hardly sell for the amount of the custom-house-duties, which were a hundred-and-fifty pounds. A few of them were however brought away, and left in the care of Mr Opie. The following friendly letter to Mr Holcroft, was written on this subject.

‘December 5, 1799.

‘I am quite ashamed that your letter should have remained so long unnoticed; but being at Norwich when it arrived, I thought it better to wait till I came to town, and had seen the pictures 231mentioned in it, that I might at the same time I answered it, give you some account of them.

‘The pictures I found, through the care of Mr Gillies, safely lodged in my house on my return to town, which was only three days ago. With the sketch by Rubens, I am quite charmed; it is really a most exquisite thing. The portrait is a good one; but is not the likeness of Lord Stratford, nor painted by Vandyke. The other two are not at first view so much to my taste, nor am I convinced they were painted by the master to whom you attribute them; but I cannot speak decisively, till I have examined them with more attention. Care shall be taken of all, but the Rubens I have mounted into my painting room, as it contains a great deal worth studying.

‘You will do great injustice to the sentiments of esteem and friendship, which both Mrs. Opie and myself feel for you, if you do not rest assured that to hear of your health and welfare, will at all times give us pleasure; and we have only to beg that in your next, you will make no other use of your bridle, than to lay its reins on the neck of your affection, in the utmost confidence, that all that comes from you, will be received with a most hearty welcome.

‘I am, with the highest esteem,

‘Yours most sincerely,

J. OPIE.’

These pictures were all of them afterwards redeemed from the custom-house; and with those which Mr Holcroft had bought in at his first sale, and other purchases he made on the continent, sold for near 700l.

While at Hamburgh, Mr Holcroft met with one of those alarming accidents, of which, in the course of his life, a more than usual number fell to his share. He had been recommended to bathe his feet in hot water, and mix a certain quantity of aquafortis in the bath. As he was pouring the aquafortis into the tub, the steam of the water caused the bottle, which was of very thin glass, to burst; the aquafortis flew up to his face, burned his wrists to the bone; but luckily his spectacles saved his eyes. The state he was in was dreadful, yet not a single complaint escaped him. ‘Thank God,’ he exclaimed to his terrified wife, who just before the accident had wished to pour the aquafortis in, but was prevented from doing so, ‘You and the child (whom she held in her arms) are safe!’ His daughters, who were undressing in the next room, alarmed by the shrieks of Mrs. Holcroft, rushed into the apartment, which was filled with steam; and the distraction of the youngest at seeing the condition her father was in, deprived her of all presence of mind. 232‘For Heaven’s sake, Fanny,’ said her father, ‘calm yourself; and do you, Sophy, listen to what I say. Let Dr. Maclean be immediately fetched: he lives in such a street. Your violent grief, my dear girls, instead of good, does harm. Be collected, and act like rational beings.’ It was more than two hours before he was attended by his friend, Dr. Maclean. Till he arrived, Mr Holcroft supposed himself deprived of sight; and the joy which the assurance that he was not blind excited may be easily imagined. During a long and painful confinement, he was perfectly cheerful, and his mind always employed and active.

Two years before this accident, Mr Holcroft was so dangerously ill as to be given over by his physicians: and at that time his fortitude and presence of mind saved his life. One night the spasms, to which he was subject, were so violent, that he felt, if they continued, he could not live. Dr. Pitcairn had advised him to take a very small quantity of laudanum, beginning with five drops, which he might increase to fifteen or twenty at the utmost, should the pain become worse. Finding the pain grow more and more violent, he desired his amanuensis who attended him, to give him fifteen, then twenty drops at a time. This he took to the amount of 140 in the course of the night. Mr Ralph expostulated, and said he was afraid to give them; but Mr Holcroft insisted—‘If these pains continue,’ said he, ‘it is impossible I should live, and I can but die.’ This bold but dangerous experiment succeeded.

Mr Holcroft’s stay at Hamburgh lasted above a year. He had some difficulty in procuring a passport to Paris from the French minister at the Hague, (as we were then at war with France), but on a second application he succeeded. He had also met with some impediment in obtaining one from Mr Frere, before he went abroad. While he was at Hamburgh, a paragraph appeared in one of our morning papers, directly charging him with being a spy of the French government. To this paragraph he condescended to make a public answer.

Mr Holcroft remained above two years at Paris. While here, he seems to have been chiefly occupied in collecting materials for the large work on the manners, &c. of this capital, which he published after his return, in 1804. Of this work (Travels in France, &c.) it is only just to say, that it is one of the most interesting and instructive books of travels in the language. Its fault perhaps is, that it bears too hard on the foibles of the French, which Mr Holcroft seems to have regarded too much with the eye of an Englishman. Their own self-sufficiency, it is true, is enough to provoke and justify considerable severity of criticism. With respect 233to the question itself of the difference between the two nations, all that can be said upon it, I think, amounts only to this, that the one has too much gravity, and the other too much levity. Our gravity frequently degenerates into phlegm, coldness, reserve, pride, obstinacy, and sullenness; as their constitutional levity is productive of frivolity, pertness, unmeaning loquacity, self-conceit, fickleness, and indifference to good or evil. The feelings of the French are more quick and lively; those of the English more deep and permanent: again, their apprehensions have more facility and nicety of observation; our own countrymen have shewn greater strength and comprehension of mind. France has, I am persuaded, produced more clever men than England; but that she has produced more great men than England, cannot be pretended. The mind of a Frenchman is, in general, more easily moved, and by slighter causes; an Englishman’s feelings are, for the very reason that they require a greater momentum to bring them out, more steady and more strong. I do not here inquire into the superiority of the French or English character. I only state what I conceive to be the difference with a view to those among the French, who, setting up an exclusive claim to certain qualities, will not allow others the superiority in things which are totally distinct, and who are ready to grasp all excellence, however incompatible, to themselves. Those who wish to be furnished with facts illustrative of the peculiar manners and character of the French, will find ample materials for this purpose, accompanied with refined and discriminating reflections, in the Travels of our author.

I shall insert only two examples, which may shew the pointed felicity with which Mr Holcroft has selected his traits of national character. ‘My wife,’ says Mr Holcroft, ‘was one day buying some fish; and while she was undetermined, the girl said to her—“Prenez cela, car votre mari est un brave homme.” My wife replied,—“Oui, cela se peut bien; mais comment savez-vous qu’il est un brave homme?” “C’est égal,” answered the girl, “cela fait plaisir à entendre.” This girl’s maxim is sound morality wherever I have been in France.’ The difference between words and things is certainly less marked in France than in England: how far this is an advantage or a disadvantage, I do not, for my own part, pretend to decide.

The other story is highly honourable to, as well as characteristic of the French. Their humanity, whatever else we may think of it, costs them less than it does the English.

‘A poor musician, who usually brought a small pianoforte in the afternoon to the Champs Elysées, and played, that those who were pleased might reward him by a trifle, having played in vain one 234evening, was sorrowfully retiring home. He was seen by Elleviou, (a famous actor) remarked, and questioned. The poverty and ill success of the wandering musician moved the pity of the actor, who desired the instrument might again be put down; and stepping aside, he said he would return instantly. His wife and friend had passed on, and he brought them back. It was nearly dark. Pradere, his friend, sat down to the pianoforte, and accompanied Elleviou, who began to sing, to the astonishment of numbers that were soon assembled. The men had drawn the hat over the brow: Madame Elleviou put down her veil, and went round to collect; the pleasingness of her manner, the little thankful curtsies she dropt to all who gave, the whiteness of her hand, and the extraordinary music they heard, rendered the audience so liberal, that she made several tours, and none ineffectually. Elleviou, however, could not long remain unknown; and finding themselves discovered, Madame Elleviou gave all, and it was supposed, more than all, she had collected from the crowd, to the poor musician: the sum amounted to thirty shillings; and among the pence and halfpence there were crown pieces, which no doubt were given by the actors. The feelings of the scene as the audience dispersed, are not easily to be described. The unexpected relief, afforded to the man who was departing so disconsolate, was great indeed: but it was forgotten in the charming behaviour of those who relieved him, in their almost divine music, and in the strangeness of the adventure. The surrounding people were scarcely less moved; so kind an act from a man in such high public estimation, excited more than admiration; and the tears of gratitude, shed by the musician, drew sympathizing drops from many of the spectators. This event gave birth to two new musical pieces, which were both successful.’

This was certainly an action of which an Englishman is incapable, but to which every Englishman will give his warmest tribute of applause. When people dispute and cavil about one another’s actions, it is only because there is something wrong or absurd on both sides.

The Travels through France, &c. were published by Phillips, and Mr Holcroft received 1500l. for the copy-right.

After Mr Holcroft’s return from the Continent, in the summer of 1803, almost the first undertaking in which he embarked was the establishment of a printing-house, in connexion with his brother-in-law, Mercier. Mr Holcroft found unexpected difficulties in this business, owing to the want of sufficient capital to carry it on. Meeting also with many heavy losses in publications which he undertook to print on his own account, he found himself under the necessity, in order to 235satisfy the pressing demands of his creditors, to dispose of the printing-office, having previously obtained his partner’s consent to do so.

Mr Holcroft brought out six dramatic pieces while he was abroad, or after his return to England: Deaf and Dumb, The Escapes, Hear both Sides, a Tale of Mystery, the Lady of the Rock, and lastly, The Vindictive Man. All of them, except the last, were successful.

Those which became the greatest favourites with the public, were, Deaf and Dumb, and the Tale of Mystery, a melo-drama. Both of these are certainly exquisite in their kind, but of the first it is not too much to say, that it is one of the most beautiful and affecting stories that ever was exhibited on any stage. It is taken from the French play of M. Bouilly, which was itself founded on an incident in the life of the famous Abbe de l’Epée, instructor of the Deaf and Dumb.

Julio, the heir of the lord of Harancour, who is born deaf and dumb, is left an orphan, when he is only eight years old; and the helplessness of his situation suggesting the possibility of getting rid of him, he is taken from Thoulouse to Paris by his guardian and maternal uncle, assisted by a servant in the family, and there lost in the streets at night. Dupre, the accomplice of his uncle Darlemont, swears to his death; and at their return home, Darlemont is invested with the estates and honours of the house of Harancour. Meantime, poor Julio is found in the streets of Paris in a coarse dress, which does not denote him to be any thing but a beggar; and it being discovered that he is deaf and dumb, he is taken to the asylum of the Abbe de l’Epée for children who are born with this defect. The melancholy observed in his countenance and manner, the delicacy of his complexion, and other circumstances, soon lead to a suspicion that he is the child of rich parents, and has been purposely lost by some person who wished to usurp his rights. He is taught the use of artificial signs, and learns to read and write. One day being with De l’Epée, when a judge is passing by dressed in his full robes, Julio is violently agitated, and makes signs to his instructor, that his father used to be dressed in this manner. Another time, passing through the Barriere d’Enfer, the recollection suddenly struck him that this was the very gate through which he entered Paris. This produced a conviction in the mind of L’Epée that he came from some city in the south of France, of which in all likelihood his father had been chief magistrate. Yet how to proceed in his behalf? The youth had never heard his father’s name, he did not know his family, or the place of his birth. After some ineffectual researches, De l’Epée resolves at last to take his pupil with him, and traverse in person and on foot the whole of the south of France. They embrace each other, invoke the protection of heaven, and set forward. After a journey, long, fatiguing, 236hopeless, they at length arrive at the gates of Thoulouse. Julio knows the place, seizes his benefactor’s hand, and uttering wild cries of joy, leads him quickly, here and there, through various quarters of the city. At last they come to the square in which the palace of Harancour stood; he stops, points to the mansion, shrieks, and falls senseless into the arms of L’Epée. This is the foundation of the story, the rest may be easily divined by the reader.—The Vindictive Man was the last, and certainly not the best of Mr Holcroft’s dramatic productions. It was condemned at Drury-lane. From the state of his circumstances at the time, this failure was felt as a severe blow, by the author. With what feelings he bore it, may be learned from a short, but beautiful dedication of the play to Miss Holcroft.

‘TO MY DAUGHTER FANNY.

‘To you, my dear, I inscribe this comedy, because you approved, nay, was partial enough to admire the scenes, progressively, as they were written, and the play, when it became a whole. I inscribe it to you, because you have dedicated your talents, by your literary efforts, to the cause of morality, and have need of that patient resignation to which every writer is doomed. I inscribe it to you, and in this sense to my whole family, with sympathetic tenderness, as a solitary testimony of true and ardent affection: as such, I am well persuaded you will all receive it, though it has been publicly condemned. You will remember the giver; and the gift, though barren, will be welcome.’

Besides the plays which have been enumerated, Mr Holcroft, after his return to England, published ‘the Theatrical Recorder,’ in two volumes, a small volume of Poems, called ‘Tales in Verse,’ and the novel of ‘Brian Perdue.’

Mr Holcroft, at the time of the failure of his last play, had several dramatic, as well as other manuscripts in hand, which, had he been allowed to finish them, would have easily relieved him from his temporary embarrassments. He had however a young and increasing family to maintain; and the ill health, with which he had long struggled, now encreased fast upon him, and rendered all his efforts vain.

Mr Holcroft had, for nearly a year, been so much troubled with an asthma, as to render walking difficult to him. He was not, however, confined to his house till about half a year before his death. His disorder was violent spasms, accompanied with spitting of blood, and an enlargement of the heart, occasioned, as was supposed, by continual anxiety. It was during the two last months of his illness, 237when he could no longer rise from his bed, and when every effort to speak was almost convulsive, that he dictated the account of his own life, which has been inserted in the beginning of these volumes. Let it remain a proof of the energy of his character, and of that superiority of the mind over the body, which was one of his strongest sentiments. Through the whole time he discovered a fortitude in suffering, which has rarely been equalled: nor did he till the very last relinquish the hopes of recovering. If any thing could exceed the patient courage with which he passed through this trying scene, it was the affectionate, unwearied assiduity with which Mrs. Holcroft attended him night and day, through the whole. For the last six weeks, she scarcely once quitted his bed-side for a quarter of an hour together. The task was one, to which duty and affection were alone equal. In any other circumstances, her strength would have failed under such exertions: but Mr Holcroft was not satisfied unless she was with him, and that consideration prevailed over every other. Colonel Harwood, his son-in-law, was with him from the Sunday evening before he died; on which day, his physicians, Dr. Buchan and Dr. Hooper, had given him over. Many of the following particulars are taken from Colonel Harwood’s account.

There was not the shortest interval in which he was not in complete possession of himself. The only slight indication to the contrary was that he once said to the Colonel, ‘I have great difficulty sometimes in rousing my mind; therefore, if at any time I stop in speaking to you, do you remember my last word, and join it to the next that I shall afterwards say to you.’ This however rather implied his strong efforts to preserve his intellects, than the failure of them. His stopping at any time in the midst of a sentence appeared to be always owing to the difficulty of articulation, rather than the loss of memory. When he was so far gone, that it was difficult to understand him, he desired those who were with him to repeat his words, that he might be sure they were heard, and then nodded assent.

On Sunday he expressed a wish to see Mr Godwin, but when he came, his feelings were overpowered. He could not converse, and only pressed his hand to his bosom, and said, ‘My dear, dear friend!’ On Monday, he again wished to see Godwin, and all his friends that could be sent to: but he had not strength sufficient to hold a conversation: he could only take an affectionate leave, and then he said, he had nothing more to do in this world. He afterwards frequently spoke, or moved his lips, as taking a most affectionate leave. A little before he died, he called for wine, and refused it from every hand that held it to him, till his eldest daughter took it into hers, he then bowed his head to her, and drank it; thus, in some way or other, shewing 238signs of regard to all, till his last moments approached. Hearing a noise of children on the stairs, he said to his wife, ‘Are those your children, Louisa?’ as if he was already disengaged from human ties. On Thursday night, about half past eleven, he seemed in great pain, and said to Mrs. Holcroft, ‘How tedious, My affections are strong.’ It was thought from this that it would be a relief to his feelings, that they should retire: they all went into the next room, Colonel Harwood still keeping his eye upon him; but seeing his struggles increase, and being desirous to spare his wife and daughter a sight they could not have borne, he returned into the bedroom, and gradually shut and fastened the doors, which Mr Holcroft observing, shewed evident signs of satisfaction. And seeming then easier, he smiled, and fixing his eyes on his friend, took them no more from him, till they were closed for ever.—Thus died a great and good man, who shewed in the last and most trying scene of all the same firmness of mind, and warmth of affection, which had distinguished him through life.

Mr Holcroft died on Thursday, the 23rd of March, 1809, at the age of 63.

The following is the report which Dr. A. P. Buchan, and Mr A. Carlisle, favoured Colonel Harwood with, who also attended the examination.

‘London, March 24th, 1809.

‘Statement of the Anatomical Inspection of Mr Thomas Holcroft, aged 63.

‘The examination took place twenty-four hours after decease. The body was considerably emaciated, and slightly anasarcous throughout. An extensive cicatrix at the upper part of the sternum, and at the junction of the neck with the breast, indicated some long continued chronic abscesses. The cavity of the abdomen contained about a pint of dropsical water. The stomach, intestines, mesenteric glands, kidneys, and bladder, were free from diseased structure. The liver was about twice the natural bulk, hard and tuberculated on its surfaces. The peritoneal covering of this viscous substance was marked by numerous opake spots, where the membrane was drawn into folds, and this appearance seemed to characterize a series of inflammations. The interior texture of the liver was tuberculated. The gall-bladder was much distended. The outer surface of the spleen had much of the appearance displayed by the liver. The cavities of the thorax contained about two quarts of dropsical water. The lungs were soft, and their air-cells free. The heart was large, and bore the relaxed character which often occurs after a long-continued laborious circulation. The coronary arteries had begun to 239ossify. The arch of the aorta was dilated, approaching to aneurism, and the texture of its coats had become hard and inelastic. The descending aorta and the primary iliac arteries had become completely ossified in several parts, and were unduly dilated. From the facts here adduced, it may be considered, that the diseased structure of the liver, and of the heart, and its principal arteries, led to the dropsy of the chest, which might be the Immediate cause of death, although in a frame so disorganized, life could not have been much longer protracted. Whether the disease of the liver preceded that of the heart and its vessels, or the contrary, and whether they were distinct diseases, and which of these led most decidedly to the fatal event, are subjects for uncertain speculation.’

240

LETTERS TO AND FROM THE AUTHOR

LETTER I

To a Friend. 1799

You, and many other of my friends, were informed of my motives for quitting my native country, and residing some few years abroad: till more peaceable times should again render that country to me what it once was; admirable for its general industry, manners, and morality; and undisturbed by the suspicions and persecutions, with which other countries were, and too often still continue to be, afflicted. Nothing but the strange terror which had seized the public mind could have engendered that spirit of individual rancour so foreign to the English character, which suddenly spread through the nation; and nothing but the stupor of mind, under such an impulse, could have made me suspected as one of the heads of the abominable Hydra, to extirpate which every Englishman was summoned. The fear was itself ridiculous: but, in their consequences, such fears have been fatal to many a worthy man.

I cannot recollect these things unmoved: neither can I hear various false reports of my being obliged to quit England, and of my not being suffered to return, without wishing that those who give them credit may be undeceived. My departure from England was voluntary; as is my absence. I cannot live in danger from Laws which I have not violated, or power with which I do not contend. I carefully shun the acrimony of political dispute, and the circles in which it is indulged. To the utmost of the little ability I have, it is my desire to inform, with the hopes of benefiting mankind; and this end cannot be attained by making them angry. In action, heart, and principle, I am, or would become, the friend of man. The only enemy I encounter is error; and that with no weapon but words: my constant theme has been, let it be taught, not whipped.

The letters I mean to address to you are intended for the public; and of these facts I wish the public to be informed and reminded. 241You must not, therefore, be surprised that I speak of them in this place. Whatever fable may invent, or credulity believe, I pledge my veracity to the world, that what I have above said is literally true: and may the world treat my memory with that ignominy, which a falsehood so solemn and gratuitous would deserve, if I prevaricate.

Avoiding the pursuit of this painful subject, the busy memory recurs to another, equally ungrateful: I did not quit the circle of friends, in whose intercourse I found so much benefit, and took so much delight, but with the bitterness of regret. I could not sit in apathy; and see the few effects I had collected become the scattered prey of brokers and dealers; and chiefly my library, on which so much of my money and time had been bestowed, squandered, twenty and more books in a lot: several of them individually of greater worth than the price paid for the whole. It seemed the dissolution of my social life; and something like the entrance into a wild and savage state. What multitudes of such thoughts did my afflicted heart suffer without giving them utterance! It would but have communicated and increased affliction.

I wish not to dwell on these dark parts of the picture. Who quits the country of his fathers without a sigh? Yet, who journeys forward to lands unexplored without hopes of strange and unexpected pleasures? It is a season full of apprehensive emotions, flutterings of the heart, and hopes and fears too numerous to be defined. At least it is such to those to whom travelling is not become a habit.

Some people have asked, why are books of travel so much read? It is because they are so often entertaining. Customs, when they differ but little from our own, seldom fail to excite our surprise, our laughter, or our contempt. Without crossing the seas, a man who has the faculty of noticing the remarkable, the whimsical, and the absurd, in his daily walks at home, never fails to entertain, if he think proper to narrate and to comment; and the traveller who wants this faculty of observation journeys to little purpose, and is heard with little pleasure. He sometimes even endeavours to falsify the true reports of his predecessors; and to offer the dulness of his discernment as a proof of his impartiality. Thus much by way of introduction.

LETTER II

Let us begin our journey; and whet your imagination to fill up the narrative.

We were sufficient in number to occupy a small cabin; and various reasons determined us to sail down the river, instead of posting by 242land to Yarmouth. Wind and weather out of the question, he that depends on the word of a captain, for the day that his vessel will be ready to sail, will be deceived ninety-nine times in a hundred: a week of additional latitude is often too little. Not thoroughly aware of this, we left the polite parish of Mary-le-bone, and removed to the purlieus of London-Bridge. How many thanks are due to our worthy and liberal friend, G——, for the many invitations he gave us to his table, and the pleasant urbanity with which we were there treated. But these, you well know, are not the only acts of kindness for which we are indebted to this free-hearted, worthy man.

About two days before we went on board, a sudden difficulty seemed to start. We were told we should be stopped at Gravesend, if we had not a passport. This seemed incredible: we inquired, and some affirmed, and others denied the necessity of such a document. Could an Englishman want a passport, to go wherever his business or his pleasure might invite him, within the British domains, or to a neutral state? By many the idea was scouted, and as it proved, justly. Yet others were so positive in affirming the reverse, that I thought it prudent, for full security, to go to Gravesend, and inquire.

It happened to be at the hour when the tide served, and the common passage-boats were ready to sail; and, as this was a cheap, an expeditious, and to me a novel conveyance, it was in every sense acceptable. Those who have made the experiment, know with what solicitations they have been invited to step on board first one boat and then another. On this occasion, it happened that the Queen Charlotte, and the Prince of Wales, were rivals: but, as I was first harangued by the orator of the Charlotte, and had no other preponderating motive, the right seemed to be in her; and I was escorted, with great eagerness and civility, to my seat.

I had heard so much of Gravesend passengers, and the peculiar rhetoric in which they indulge, that I thought it probable they would detect something ridiculous in the cut of my coat, the colour of my hair, or some other feature or appurtenance about me. I was not deceived. The shortsightedness that obliges me to wear spectacles, has often subjected me to the derision of the working community; who never suspect there can be a rational motive for walking the streets with what they generally regard as a badge of supreme folly. I had not taken my place five seconds, before I saw the leer and the wink go round. The weather being fine, every body was on deck; and the assumed gravity of my look, at first checked risibility. But the pause was short. An impudent fellow opposite to me, looking in my face, said—‘The next time I go to court, I will get a saddle for my nose; because I see it is all the go.’—‘You had better get a 243handle to your hat,’ said the man at the helm, whose invitation to come on board I had followed; and who therefore, I suppose, thought proper to be my champion. My assailant knew his man; and, without noticing this retort continued.—‘I’ll ask my granny to leave me her barnacles. Pray, Sir, how many candles may you see in the dark, when only one is lighted?’ ‘How many fools did you meet, when you last dipt your pate in a pail of water? Who gave you that coarse net-work, to cover your face? Why did not you ask your wife to wash it before you came out?’ [The man was scarred with pock-marks, and the river tar continued.] ‘You’re a pretty fellow to hoist the slang-flag! Where did you learn gull shooting? you are an apt scholar! You could eat a giblet-pye before you could spell goose *****.’ Enough of these vulgar but merry kind of combats. Would that the well-bred duellist were as harmless!

I believe it was here I first remarked one of the many superstitious habits of seamen; that of whistling for a wind. I find it is common to them all; from the captain to the cabin-boy. The day was more calm than either the passengers, or the boat-men wished; and, to beguile the time, a man sang the beautiful ballad of Black-Eyed Susan. Having ended, another told us a tragical tale, which the song no doubt had brought to memory.

The mate of a ship had a sweetheart; who came on board the evening he was to sail. She was a pretty girl, and deeply affected. Her love was strong, or rather violent. Having drawn him aside, she told him, if they parted, she was certain they should never meet again; and that she had not the power to leave the ship. He remonstrated on the impossibility of her stay; but she could listen to nothing but her passion, fears, and forebodings. She wept, intreated, went on her knees; and, if he would but consent, said she would hide herself in the forecastle, till the ship should be under way. The mate, who could not comply, at length reproved and left her in anger; while she threatened her own destruction. He went below; and, not seeing her when he returned on deck, he concluded she was gone. Alas! the poor agitated, and despairing creature, had thrown herself over-board. She had done it unseen; and the mate, immediately afterward perceiving that the boat in which she came was waiting, began to inquire: but no one knew what was become of her. He recollected her proposition to hide herself, and went in search: certain, as he supposed, she had made the attempt. She was no where to be found: his alarm increased; his cheeks became pale. One man said ‘he had heard something fall into the water; and to be sure it must be she. Who knew but she might have been thrown over-board?’ Suspicions arose: the pallid hue and wild terror of 244the poor mate, gave them strength: he was taken into custody, tried for the supposed murder, and in great danger of suffering death; so strong did the circumstances against him appear to be, in the opinion of his judges. One witness, however, was very clear in his testimony, that he saw the mate go under hatches, and leave the deceased on the deck; that he likewise saw him return; and that it was during this interval, the accident must have happened: for that he and others had accompanied the mate in his search to find her. Thus the positive and accurate evidence of this witness, saved his shipmate from an ignominious death.

The life of a man, in a court of law, depends upon a breath. Remember it, you who sit in judgment on the lives of your fellow creatures!

Another told us how his cabin-boy (he was himself a sea-captain) jumped over-board in a rough sea, to recover a mop; which he had accidentally let fall. He succeeded; but it was at the risk of his life. ‘I asked him,’ said the captain, ‘how he came to do such a thing? and the little hell-spawn told me, “he was afraid I should give him the cat; if the mop had been lost.”—I’ll give it you to some tune, lubber, said I, if you do such a thing again.’—So much for a captain’s humanity. This is no bad instance of the general despotism exercised on board of ships.

Fine writing will object to the coarseness of phraseology in this letter; and, under other circumstances, I would not give fine writing such cause of complaint: but, were it changed in this place, we should no longer be in company with sea-captains and passengers from Billingsgate in a Gravesend boat.

LETTER III

We parted during a calm, in my last; but remember we are not yet at Gravesend. In wit, vulgar or refined, puns are more frequent agents than wits generally suppose. Hearing a child cry in a woman’s arms, a sailor exclaimed—‘So! We have a squall: we shall soon have a breeze.’—‘Yes,’ replied a second, ‘I hope another hand will be put to the bellows.’

It so happened that the punster was a prophet. The sails swelled; and the steersman told us ‘we could not have a better wind, if we had bought one.’ To which another added—‘he wished he could find the way to the weather-office.’

I doubt if there be a nation existing more skilful and alert, on the 245water, than the English. The Thames in particular, has vessels so numerous, and of such various kinds, riding and traversing its waves in such endless directions, that the unaccustomed eye is confused in its attempts to distinguish and individualize the moving multitude. Ships, snows, brigs, sloops, cutters, barges, lighters, boats, vessels of every form and size, and from all regions of the Earth! My heart beat, while I watched the dexterity with which they mutually shunned the shocks, that at every returning moment, threatened each other with oversetting. Of this we were once in danger. The steersman of a heavy barge, had his attention called away, perhaps not three-seconds, from his duty; and it was with the utmost exertion, and presence of mind, that the active fellows on board the Charlotte kept her from running foul of the barge. The danger past, they were enraged; and began to rate the barge-man: who, angry with and ashamed of himself, bade them in a surly tone ‘mind their own business.’ ‘You don’t mind yours,’ aptly retorted one of them. ‘I’ll be damned if you are he that set the Thames on fire.’

I was not a little amused by an itinerant bookseller, one of the passengers; who opened his pocket, and spread his wares upon deck: and, to astonish and invite customers, among other things, exhibited a small quarto, on botany, with coloured plates; which, he told us, was for a surprising learned gentleman, at West Thurrock. (Apropos of Thurrock. All book-men are addicted to etymology. Pray was this the rock of the gothic god, Thor?) Among his literary treasures was a sixpenny description of the passage, by water, from London to Gravesend; by the erudite Bibliopole Pocock, of the latter place: from which, if you have the patience to read it, you may discover how many reaches, or windings, are in this traject. Pillaging this boatman’s history, and pointing to the shore, our sagacious tradesman told us, ‘all those houses were built in one day’s time.’ The prevaricating knave ought to have given a different emphasis; and have said “in one day’s time.” But wit was always a shuffling fellow, and seldom a friend to truth. The hawker’s jocularity, from the same source, was next exerted on a church, of which we had a prospect: which he said was as light by night as it was by day! Of the truth of which quaint pun the inventor had no doubt. Yet the unvarying force of gravitation is not perhaps absolutely certain. But I am now getting out of my depth; and will therefore hasten on shore to Gravesend. In despite of the noble stream that washes the banks, this said Gravesend is a dirty, disagreeable place; and for pitiful extortion unrivalled. If you have but little money in your purse, or if you feel indignation or sorrow, 246at beholding man in the daily practice of petty theft, till the confirmed habit, makes him believe thieving to be justice, and necessary to his happiness, arrange your affairs, so as to make but a short stay at Gravesend. It was my good fortune to remain there only one night. My journey was unnecessary: no pass was required. But of this I was ignorant. The expense and trouble were trifling, the characters and scene of action new, and the pain of uncertainty was relieved. And now thank your benignant stars, that you have escaped from a Gravesend-boat, and have only paid so trifling a tax on good sense, and good manners. The potentate of the North, at whose breath all things shake, having honoured a yatcht by his presence, issued an edict, commanding that it should no longer remain a paltry yatcht, but become a glorious frigate. Peter was not so great as Paul; for Peter could only change a brown loaf into Banbury mutton.

LETTER IV

And now comes the day of departure: and now farewel for a time to London, that hive of souls; itself the soul of Britain, the seat of action, the city of great events! Farewel to many pleasures, and to many pains! to friends in whom the heart delighted! to foes that persecuted they knew not why! we go in search of better days.

Before we embark, suffer me to make an observation, and tell a story. Fortune is a capricious jade; she flies from those who pursue; and pursues those who shun her. The remark is old; but not, I believe, the tale to which it leads.

In the town of Halberstadt, not long ago, there lived a tanner, remarkable for having been made enormously rich against his will. During the seven years’ war, the French, being at this place, had collected all the cattle in the environs, the skins of which they had to sell. The tanners of Halberstadt had but little power to buy, one alone excepted. To him the French applied; but, not understanding speculation after a certain quantity, he absolutely refused any more. Conquerors are not to be trifled with; and finding that their persuasions, which indeed were numberless, could not prevail, they resorted to the argumentum baculinum, and the tanner was at last beat into compliance. It was however under the condition that the other tanners would, at a fair price, lend him their tan-pits; and for this the argumentative French very readily undertook. The tanners were summoned, refused, and the rhetoric of the bastinado was again employed. It was resistless; the tanners let out their tan-pits. The 247tanner, who bought the hides at one-sixth of their value, parted with the dollars he had been so desirous to retain; and, in a few years afterward, became the wealthiest tanner in Germany.

I will give you another example of the caprice of this said Madam Fortune.

In Germany there are lotteries of various construction. Of one of these the law is, that he who draws a first prize, a second, and a third, shall the fourth time be one of the five that are to draw for the capital lot of I know not how many thousand dollars. A cooper, who loved to tap the barrels he hooped, bought a ticket, which came up a prize once, twice, and thrice; but the foolish fellow was thirsty; and being offered drink for the present, and money to buy more for a fortnight to come, he could not resist the temptation, and sold his ticket, which was a fourth time the fortunate number. He comforted himself with his can; and made a second venture, with exactly the same good and ill success. To another man this would have been horribly vexatious; but the jovial cooper let it pass; and when the next lottery came, made another purchase. The third time it had arrived at the third stage of winning, and he was again on the point of parting with his chance. By something of persuasion, and something of force, the reckless fellow was prevented. ‘Fortune,’ said his friends, or perhaps his wife, though this is the kind of husband a wife knows least how to manage, ‘Fortune absolutely persecutes you to accept her favours: why do you so perversely cast them from you?’ For once the sot heard reason; and the doctrine of chances proved how dangerous it is to lay the long odds; for the cooper’s ticket again gained the great prize.

From us Fortune is flying; and we are now in pursuit. The sequel will shew how perverse a jade she is, and how determined not to be overtaken.

On the first of July, 1799, we went on board the Kennet, Captain Thomson. All was confusion, all hurry. Barges, loaded with prodigious bales, lay beside her; a dozen men were straining every nerve to raise them over her side, and stow them between her ribs. It excited attention and surprise to see these cumbrous packs wedged with such contrivance as scarcely to leave a vacancy. Every thing that suppleness of limb, thews, sinews and muscular force could effect, was in continual exertion. The vessel was to fall down the river the next tide; which seemed incompatible with the labour to be performed.

With what additional wonder do I recollect scenes like these in my native country, having compared them with the inattention I since have witnessed. Here every man was active and intelligent; and 248one even supremely above the rest. Indeed it was prodigious. He was the mate; he directed the whole; his eye was every where; and his arm seemed to work miracles. He was full six feet high; and when the ponderous load seemed to defy their collected strength, he came, applied his giant force, and, at the first pull, it began to move. His agility was no less surprising, and almost irreconcilable to such bulk; for his wrist would doubly measure that of an ordinary man. His understanding was equal to his bodily power; he instantly saw what was wrong, and the way in which it was to be rectified. Give but his faculties another circle of action, and an epic poet might have made this man his hero: yet he was but the mate of a ship, subject to a captain who, though no fool, was far indeed from his equal; and when I asked him if he did not mean to be a captain himself, answered with a sigh—‘I wish, Sir, I may ever have so much good fortune.’

In what a traverse and frequently ludicrous manner does accident arrange the place and office of man, and the affairs of this poor world!

The mate’s name was Baird; and he and his commander were both Scotchmen. In the invoice, he was written captain, and the captain supercargo; a falsehood to which the infamous practice of pressing has given birth; a mate, like a foremast man, being liable to be pressed.

When I came on board, and saw the work that was still to do, I concluded it was impossible it should be accomplished. The mate himself doubted, but hoped, and worked like legion. Yes; we were at Gravesend the next day, where we were examined at the Alien Office; and on the evening of the third, anchored at the Nore.

The ocean was before us; the evening was calm; the expanse vast; the shores of Essex and of Kent were to the right and left; and the fleet with which we were to sail, with our convoy, and the admiral’s ship that guards the Nore, were all in view. The silence that reigned was suddenly interrupted by the eight o’clock bell, that rang from vessel to vessel; and, much more agreeably, by the admiral’s military band. We were at a proper distance; and the music came so softened to our ears that it was delightful.

The captain went on board our convoy; received his sailing instructions; and the next morning the fleet, about thirty in number, was under weigh.

Owing to the closeness with which the ship was stowed, the decks were so belumbered, that it required the catlike activity of a sailor to pass, without a fall, to the forecastle. I supposed they were so to 249continue. How much was I mistaken! No sooner was the business of setting the sails performed, than the active Baird began a clearance. All hands were at work; the hatches opened; room for stowage still was to be found; cables were coiled; and, in less than half an hour, no signs of disorder or incumbrance were to be seen. In some things, how full of caution is a sailor! How active is he, and how orderly on the approach of storm or battle! What contradictions are there in his habits! The least appearance of defect in his shrouds, braces, or rigging, must be repaired: his decks must be daily washed; to every thing that regards the safety of the ship, the strictest attention must be paid. He must not sleep more than four hours at a time, and never soundly: the least alarm must bring him upon deck. His eye must alternately be upon the watch; his apprehension of danger must never cease. Meanwhile, his own convenience is utterly neglected. Being at sea, he puts on any dirty or ragged jacket, sleeps upon boards or ropes, and feeds on the coarsest fare. Our cook was half covered with grease and tar; his hands were uncommonly large, and chapped; and he washed his dishes with a cable’s end. It often happens that the sailor’s beef is half putrid, his butter and cheese the same; his biscuits swarming with maggots; and his water stinking. To this he is sometimes by necessity reduced; and the landsman is astonished at the habits which such hard necessities have taught. But a voyage to Hamburgh is seldom of so much severity; and the pampered passenger as seldom goes to sea unprovided.

LETTER V

Our convoy was sluggish, and we were off the Norfolk coast on the fifth. We gave it some few parting sighs, remembering the relations and friends that were there; and who, perhaps, had they known the incident, would have brought down their telescopes, to have taken a last view. Was it affection or vanity that gave me this thought? Let it be permitted to hope the best.

He that makes a voyage and meets with no adventures, using the common phrase, must be greatly in or greatly out of luck; unless indeed we suppose him fast asleep, which, with the convenience of a close carriage, is the way that most travellers see the world. A watchman, shut up in his box at midnight, without the aid of his candle and lantern, sees it as well. We were willing to keep awake, and were not in want of stimulants. I had been to sea before more than once, yet had numberless things to remark: especially as I had 250never before sailed with a convoy. The Kennet was a good sailer; but if we ran before our guardian, we were liable to have a ten-pounder sent, with a possibility of hitting us, as a warning order to keep astern. If we were too close, the peril was that of running foul of the ships under the Commodore’s lee. If the weather fell hazy, this danger increased. If it was a calm, we must no less carefully keep our distance. Should you have supposed that, being on the boundless ocean, you must always have sea room enough, the above hints may help to rectify your mistake.

On the sixth, we were off the Texel; on the seventh saw Lord Duncan’s fleet; and on the eighth were still upon the Dutch coast. I repeat what the mariners and their charts told me; for I could not see land. The sailing under the protection of cannon balls, the look-out that was kept for the approach of an enemy, and the hostile fleets of Britain proudly riding on a threatened shore, inspired thoughts which——I will take another time to tell you what these thoughts were. We caught gurnels, a pretty but cruel warfare. The wretched animal was generally an hour gasping for the medium in which, till then, he had breathed, and dying with difficulty.

A more animating incident occurred. Perhaps you are ignorant that smugglers, if pursued, will sink their cargoes of gin, and leave a buoy; by the aid of which they are sometimes recovered. From one of these, as it was supposed, a keg was seen to come swimming among the fleet. The sight awakened two passions at once—drunkenness and ambition. To what dangers do they expose the thirsty, the daring, and the rash! The fleet was under sail; and the keg swam in a contrary direction. We perceived a consultation was held on board a ship but little distant. In a moment, one of the sailors began to strip. We watched his proceedings with surprise and apprehension; we saw him plunge into the sea, and stem the waves with such eagerness that it seemed impossible for his strength not to be presently exhausted. How impatiently did the eye pursue him, his head now hidden, and now seen dancing among the waves, till we could no longer catch a glimpse. It was a fearful distance. There was something so daring in the attempt, and so vigorous in the execution, that he became a kind of hero; in whose dubious fate every heart was interested.

Meanwhile the sailors, who first discovered the prize in question, lay to; that is, turned the ship so that the sails did not catch the winds: and hoisted out their boat. In this they went in search of the swimmer and the keg. We could not discover their proceedings; but we learned, after their return, that the sailor had overtaken and seized the object of his wishes; and they brought him and his 251prize once more on board of the ship to which he belonged in triumph.

A rash action, when successful, never fails to be admired. To people who live on shore, the remarks, language, and adventures of mariners are often amusing. The answers, however, which the latter return to passengers, are frequently surly, and expressive of contempt. Sailors, I assure you, are as pragmatic, and full of pedantry, in their way, as any Doctor the Universities can afford. Men are always surprised at, and diverted by each other’s ignorance; forgetting their own.

The seaman, however, has a feature common to us all; he is pleased with those who will listen to his complaints. One of our men told me how long he had served on board a man of war, the sufferings he there endured, and painted the despotism of naval officers, in the anecdotes he related. A Captain, who perhaps had read Culpepper, or some such erudite author, thought proper to physic his crew regularly once a month; and to take care the doses he prescribed were actually swallowed. This was not all; if the men were sick afterwards, they were put in the bilboes, to convince them they were well; and one poor fellow, who was extremely weak, was flogged for not running fast enough up the shrouds.

Another of these commanders having given a man three dozen lashes on the starboard of the vessel, ordered him two dozen more on the larboard; that, as he said, one side might not laugh at the other.

The man cited many more incidents of a like kind; adding, that when on board a king’s ship, he many a time wished himself dead. Observe, I can only be answerable for my own veracity; I faithfully repeat what I was told.

I shall be equally accurate in what I am going to relate; though it is on a subject which some naturalists have treated as absurd. The Captain and Mate of the Kennet, had both navigated the Coast of Norway, the Northern Ocean, and the Atlantic; and I questioned them concerning the Kraken. They neither of them pretended to have seen this supposed stupendous monster of the waters: but they immediately expressed their firm conviction of its existence. I asked their reasons; and they affirmed it had been twice seen within the last four years.

The first instance they cited was that of a Captain coming from Archangel, or Greenland, through the Atlantic; who was surprised at the appearance of rocks unknown to the chart of mariners, and immediately ordered out his boat, to have them examined; meanwhile the Kraken, that is, the imaginary rocks, disappeared, and 252he sailed over the place; but forgot, during his astonishment, to sound.

Their second instance was more circumstantial. About two years and a half before the time at which they spoke, a Dane, sailing through the Firth of Forth, on the coast of Scotland, was so terrified, at the appearance of rocks in such a place, that he lay to; being for some time persuaded that he had lost his reckoning, and had arrived he knew not where. After consideration, he took courage, and sailed past them; and when he arrived at Dundee, gave a relation of what he had seen. Finding himself at first disbelieved, he and his crew made oath of the fact; either at the Custom-house or before a Magistrate of Dundee. The narrators were both Scotchmen; and affirmed they spoke of the attestation being thus made from their own knowledge. Persons, who shall deem it worth their trouble, may easily make an inquiry whether any such attestation exists at Dundee.

My informants confirmed, unquestioned, the usual accounts, fabulous or not, that fishermen find plenty of fish on the back of the Kraken; as they do on sand banks, at a certain distance below the surface; and that these fishermen hasten away, as soon as they perceive the Kraken beginning to rise; because when it goes down, it occasions a dangerous whirlpool. These, you will recollect, are the old stories of Pontoppidan.

Finding this Leviathan so familiar to their belief, I next inquired if they had heard, or knew any thing of the sea-snake, by some called the sea-worm? To this question I received a still more direct answer. The Mate, Mr Baird, who certainly was not a liar by habit, whatever mistake or credulity might make him, assured me that, about the midway in a voyage to America, in the Atlantic, he had himself seen a fish, comparatively small in the body, of from forty to fifty fathoms in length; and that it had excited great terror in the Captain, who was well acquainted with those latitudes, lest it should sink the ship.

They both related other stories, concerning the appearance of this sea-worm: asserting that it will rise out of the water as high as a common main mast.

Should you ask, do you repeat these things because you think them credible? I answer, no. But who can affirm he can mark out the boundaries of possibility? Some mariners treat these tales as absolutely false and ridiculous: others seriously affirm them to be true; and I think it a duty to collect evidence, and to remain on this question as on many another, in a certain degree of scepticism.

They spoke of another fact; which, supposing them to speak 253truth, deserves attention. The waves in the Western Ocean are sometimes so oily, from dead whales, as it is imagined, that they are not much disturbed by a brisk gale. The sailor’s brisk gale, observe, by you and me would be called a high wind.

LETTER VI

Remember I left you in a gale at sea, and a high wind on shore: but what would you think of a stiff breeze? I heard one described by a sailor, who swore that it shaved him; that he could not keep his hair safe on his head; and that it made the ship sneeze. His metaphors, and the composure with which he spoke of a tempest, that to a landsman would have been so full of terror, were amusing.

Our voyage was performed by the aid of gentle gales; and we got in view of Heligoland on the morning of the 9th. Being now out of danger from an enemy, the ships were allowed to part company, and each make the best of her way. To people weary of the qualms and inconveniences of a sea-voyage, and impatient to arrive at the place of their destination, with the latent hope of unknown pleasures from unknown sources, this was welcome news. The Captain was teazed with our questions; and we were much disappointed to find there was little hope we should yet see Hamburgh, within four and twenty hours.

It was late in the day before we arrived at the red buoy, where usually the pilot comes on board. We now entered the Elbe, the navigation of which is both difficult and dangerous, if circumstances are unfavourable; and I could not but admire and most sincerely applaud the precautions taken for safety, and augur favourably of the industry and understanding I should find in Hamburgh. These, however, are the labours of sea-faring men; and such are the dangers of the waters, that sailors, who speaking of them as a class, are far from being the most intelligent, exert very sagacious means to guard against these dangers. The apparent width of the Elbe is great; but the bed of the navigable channel is comparatively small: buoys therefore have been placed, and distinguished by colour and numbering, to mark out the course of the stream, which winds exceedingly.

The eye of the traveller is always caught by those objects which differ greatly from such as he has been accustomed to see; and the appearance of our pilot was to us highly original. His figure was diminutive, yet so bundled up in jackets and breeches, that it was 254swelled out to a very respectable bulk. His breeches, far from being small clothes, were large and loose, and had pockets, or rather paunches, at the sides, in which he put his pipe, his tobacco, his bread and cheese, and other necessaries. I suppose he wore half a dozen pair; for he unbuttoned three, with great unconcern, before us all, to come at a fourth. His face was thin, his forehead contracted, his chin peaked, his nose large, his mouth wide, his teeth black and decayed, and his eyes small and red. Having given his directions, as soon as he had leisure he dressed, or rather undressed himself, that he might look respectably before the ladies; that is, he pulled off two jackets, the first exceedingly thick and weather proof, two pair of trowsers, and his boots, which hung loose about his legs. He then appeared in a grey damask doublet, made probably from his great grandmother’s holiday gown, long quartered shoes, and a pair of pewter single-tongued buckles, extravagantly large, and diamond cut. He had a gigantic kind of sleeve-button to fasten his waistband, and another of the same form but less, at his shirt collar; these, by their embossing, equalled his buckles in splendour: and in his now reduced size, he accurately resembled the wooden men cut in Dutch toys. I found amusement in studying this figure, it being the first of the kind I had seen. His language was low Dutch, but he spoke broken English; and I endeavoured to make him talk: but as he knew nothing, he could say nothing. The office of pilot frequently requires great presence of mind, activity, and courage: this man had certainly no such qualities.

Under his guidance, however, we entered the Elbe; and the shores of Holstein on the left, and Hanover on the right, began to close upon us. I know not when or how it came there, but the picture I had in my mind of Holstein, was that of one of the rude and naked countries of the North; and I felt surprise as we approached its banks to see them frequently adorned with houses built of brick, and the gable ends painted green. This, however, as I afterwards found, is by no means the general style of building in that province; but it appears that men every where take delight in having pleasant habitations on the banks of rivers. At this part of the Elbe the left hand shore had a flat and low appearance; while in Hanover we could see, not mountains, for there are none in these parts of Germany, but high lands. I know not why, but the traveller appears to have a latent expectation that every thing which he is to see, is to be unlike every thing he has seen; and is almost disappointed to find that trees are trees, and that the banks of rivers, in foreign countries, are as verdant as those of his native land. It is true, there are in reality marking differences; but these must be sought for in the minuter 255parts, and not in the grand features of Nature; some few and singular instances excepted.

The Elbe cannot be navigated in the dark; for the buoys and pilot marks cannot be discerned; and at twilight we cast anchor. At this the sailors did not repine; it was a necessity to which they knew they must submit; but we, impatient passengers, heard with regret that the wind blew peculiarly fresh and fair. In the middle of the night it strengthened, and opposed the tide; in consequence of which the waves rose, and the ship rolled violently. Doors flew open, boxes and bottles tumbled from their places, and there was a great clatter in the cabin. It seemed strange to be so much disturbed, having now passed the sea, and safely arrived in the river. Trifles, to which we are unaccustomed, excite surprise.

LETTER VII

The anchor was weighed as early as possible; for it was still doubtful whether we should arrive at Hamburgh before the close of day.

According to regulation, the pilot from the red buoy has a right only to proceed to a certain distance; after which another, if he be in readiness, comes on board and takes charge of the vessel. Our little man was very anxious in his hopes that a successor would not appear; and that he should have the whole profit of proceeding to Hamburgh. But he was disappointed. At the proper station his rival came; and he returned. The second pilot was no less characteristic in manner and appearance than the first; though very different. His dress, indeed, was nearly the same; but instead of the insignificance of the former, he had an assuming deportment; which, agreeing with the costume, made me imagine I was actually in company with ancient Pistol. With his pipe in his mouth, his wide, straddling gait, and his hands in his breeches’ side-pockets, commanding with a kind of bluff authority, and speaking a half unintelligible jargon, the picture was almost complete. His son was with him; a young boy, the likeness and the ape of his father. The decayed state of this man’s teeth, made me conjecture that smoaking might be a principal agent in producing this defect; which I afterwards found to be common among the Germans.

This man, however, had activity in his profession; and it was fortunate that he, instead of the former, was our pilot: for, in going up the river, had not he and all the crew strongly exerted themselves, 256we might have been run down by the sluggish neglect of a Dane; which danger we escaped with great difficulty.

As we proceeded, the appearance of the opposite shores considerably varied; we lost sight of the distant high lands in Hanover, and saw nothing but a dead and low flat; while the Holstein bank became elevated, the number of the green-ended houses increased, and the town and fortifications of Gluckstadt came in view. It is low, and we could see little of the palace of which our pilot vaunted. We discerned nothing that in the least approached magnificence; but saw many things that had a charming air of rural calm and cleanliness. These pleasing appearances became more frequent as we approached Altona; but we could not sufficiently enjoy them, for it was now once more the close of day. Being at Altona, we were glad, though surprised, to find ourselves within a gun-shot’s distance of Hamburgh: but our joy on this occasion was short; for we heard, with vexation, that the gates of Hamburgh, as well of the port as of the city, were regularly shut at dusk; and that admission, even for a prince, was then impossible.

Altona, like Hamburgh, is a seaport town; and it may safely be prophesied, that at no very distant period, they will form but one place. The number of shipping at Altona, was considerable, though small, when compared to those that crowded the harbours of Hamburgh. But the appearance that catches the eye, and distinguishes these cities from all that I had before seen, was the excessive quantity of windows in the houses; the front surfaces of which are nearly one half of glass. I had remarked the upper stories of certain manufacturing houses in London, that have rows of windows in the same manner; and inquired if the houses I now saw were all manufactories? It was a question the sailors could not answer, but I afterwards found that every house was thus constructed.

About nine o’clock, we came to moorings in the river, without the harbour; exceedingly mortified at being obliged to sleep another night on board; knowing that every thing to give us a pleasant reception had been prepared by our friends on shore. Expectation is whetted by difficulty and delay: yet expectation, without these stimulants, is generally too high. We were soon to be on German ground; and Germany is one of the grand divisions of Europe; renowned for its ancient resistance to the Roman arms, and claiming in modern times, not only the destructive honours of war, but a high rank in every department of science and belles lettres; we should therefore find it peopled with the learned, the polite, and the brave. With these, and a thousand other grateful images, we appeased our impatience, and once more waited the return of day. How eager 257is man for the future,—how insensible to the present!—Had he the power, how would he lend wings to time, and wish his life away!

LETTER VIII

The morning came, the Captain ordered out his boat, and we had scarcely patience to descend into it with care. The fleet that had arrived had to find berths in the harbour: ships must change their stations; some to depart, others to load, or unload: the boats and barges employed seemed almost as numerous as the ships themselves: multitudes of the peasants that inhabit the banks of the Elbe, who, from necessity, are both watermen and farmers, were arriving, male and female, in their skiffs, to provision the devouring city: all was life, all was motion; and we, rowing in the midst of the scene, had our faculties wholly absorbed by the countless novelties that at once invaded them. The animation of the Elbe cannot indeed be said to equal that of the Thames: but then the objects were so different, and their appearance generally was so uncouth and boorish, that the eye was bewildered, and unable to examine them individually.

We were stopped at the entrance of the harbour by the voice of a sentinel, and questioned concerning who we were, and what our trunks contained; but this is rather a form than a scrutiny; for few ports are so free of access, or give so little trouble with respect to Custom-house duties, as that of Hamburg. The government of Hamburg, comparatively, has laid but few restraints upon trade: that is, it has practised fewer of the vices of finance, common, more or less, to all governments; which absurdly rob, by their endeavours to enrich themselves. We landed on the Vorsetzen, at the principal stairs of the harbour, and were immediately struck by their inconvenience: they were narrow, steep, and dangerous, especially to persons carrying luggage. The krahnziehers, or city porters, perceiving we were English, and unacquainted with the place, pressed their service upon us, which we eagerly enough accepted; and having landed our trunks on the quay, one of them went for a coach, and another for a car, to remove us and our effects. We intreated them to make haste, which they promised; and though they kept us waiting in vexation above half an hour, they might still be said to keep their word: as Germans, they were quick. We had indeed heard much of the inflexible phlegm of this people, but as yet we were novices in its practical effects. While we stood watching 258our luggage, gazed at and gazing, the appearance of those around us strange to us, and ours to them, among other things that attracted attention were two waggons, if they might so be called, that met; and though the street, speaking of Hamburg, was tolerably wide, could scarcely pass. Each was drawn by four horses, two abreast, the driver riding on the near or left hand shaft-horse; each had four wheels, and not two feet broad at the bottom, though both were uncommonly long, the axle-trees projected above a foot on each side; in short, nothing could be more ill constructed for turning and passing in narrow streets. The convenience which would have resulted from their small width, was wholly destroyed by the projecting axle-trees; the rope harness was so long, and the horses drew at such a distance from each other, as at once to employ the space of drawing abreast, and what was nearly sufficient to have drawn lengthways. This, added to the length of the waggon, the awkwardness of the drivers, and the lazy unconcern with which they sat and looked, when they had embarrassed each other, before they determined how they would act, combining and harmonizing with other appearances around us, immediately gave birth to much surmise and meditation on national character. It was heightened too by the contents of one of the waggons, which was loaded with the filth and ordure of the city, as offensive almost to the sight as to the smell. Let us not, however, be too hasty in our conclusions, the detail of facts as they arise will best explain the real state of things: individually they may mislead, but collected and compared, they must elucidate.

It is true the next I have to relate is of the unfavourable kind. Three of the krahnziehers harnessed themselves to the car that drew our luggage; the distance they had to take it might be six or seven hundred yards, and a porter in London would willingly have done the whole work for three shillings; but their demand was twelve. It is true three of them thought proper to employ themselves, and they rendered that which might have been easy and expeditious, laborious and slow. Neither was their demand complied with; one third was abated: but then they supposed themselves paid no more than their due, and were dissatisfied that strangers were not taxed higher. It is said indeed, and I suppose truly, that throughout Germany labour is no where so extravagantly paid as in Hamburg: but a comparative estimate of the rate of labour is much wanted; for it is a subject on which there are many and gross mistakes. In proportion as the inhabitants of the country are ignorant, labour is supposed to be cheap: the very reverse is generally the truth.

259To Mr Freeman,

Bath.

Sir, I had once the pleasure of receiving a very humane and sensible letter from you on the part of my father. After the character he has given of you, I do not wonder at it. Benevolence and wisdom frequently are, and ought always to be united. I am now to address you on his behalf. He informs me he is indebted to you to the amount of ten pounds, which was lent to him in necessity, and which I assure you is remembered by him with gratitude: it is an affair, that if I am not mistaken, does honour both to you and him. He is very anxious to have you satisfied that you shall not suffer for your generosity. I have it not in my power without great inconvenience to discharge the debt just at present, though it is a burthen which I wish to take from my father. I shall be enabled within this year, that is, at the beginning of next November, to pay it. I am secretary to a society which allows me that sum; and which, if you will accept of my note, or a draft payable at that time, shall be appropriated to this use. I shall be glad if you will favor me with a line respecting the affair, and after begging you will accept my most sincere thanks for the obligations I owe you on my father’s account, take the liberty to subscribe myself, &c.

January 9, 1779.

To Mr Richard Hughes.

Barnstaple.

Sir, I shall execute with pleasure any little commands you will please to favour me with, and beg you will not suppose it any obligation. I have enquired concerning a first singer, but hear of none except Mr Cubit. I have not applied to him, because I am told he has been with you before, and that he seldom visits one company twice. If you want a capricious hoyden, who values herself upon her character and virtue, yet walks about the town in men’s clothes, with a long stride, and a fierce cocked hat; who has more spirits, and as many antics as an ape or a tumbler; who is a coquet this minute, and a prude the next; raps out a great oath now, and anon reads you a lecture upon propriety and decorum; talks to herself, at herself, of herself, and never for five minutes together upon any other subject; who affects the girl, and whose wrinkles are as apparent as her vanity; who yet does every manager she is with, considerable service, by the 260singularity of her character, and the free airs she gives herself among the men; who on the stage, has considerable merit in breeches’ parts, coquets, etc., but who will be Wall and Moonshine, or haunt you both sleeping and waking; in short, if you want a person who is sentimental, dissipated, reserved, obliging, talkative, sullen, laughing, pouting, and all in less time than I could copy this period: who has many indications of strong sense, and more of absolute insanity: whose heart would direct her to do right, but whose vanity will not permit her: I say, if such a person pleases you, then take Mrs. H——. If you suspect me of pique or ill-nature while I have been painting this picture, you wrong me. I have not, nor is it probable I ever should again have, occasion to associate with Mrs. H——. If she should say it were a bad likeness, I will mend the copy when she mends the original. We have a new afterpiece of Mr Sheridan’s coming out this evening, ‘The Critic,’ from which we expect great things. Pray give my best respects to Mrs. Hughes, and believe me to be sincerely yours.

T. H.

Oct. 30th, 1779.

To Mr Holcroft.

My dear Father, I am glad the trifle I sent came safe to hand. Mr Freeman’s receipt is sufficient. You did not mention whether Mr Freeman still continues your friend. I wish you would be kind enough to let me know whether you have all your garden ground, and your bed of asparagus still, and what you chiefly depend on for your livelihood. Let me beg of you not to be unhappy. When you can no longer make up your payments, give up your all and come to me. I have told you frequently, and I cannot repeat it too often, I will never see you want. I am afraid you think the little I have hitherto done for you an obligation: I think I discover it in your letters. Let me intreat you, do not consider it in this light. You cherished me in infancy, and I should be very wicked to see you perish in age: you loved me then, and I love and reverence you now. I will shew you how sincere I am in my professions, the moment I have it in my power. I am exceedingly concerned for my poor mother’s afflictions, I hope she endures them with patience and fortitude, which alone can alleviate and make them lighter. I was not at home when your friends from Bath called, I should have been happy to have seen them, but they never came again. I hope you bear the burthen of old age cheerfully: nothing but indifference to the accidents of life can make them supportable. Life itself is to 261the wisest, happiest, and longest lived, short, uncertain, and chequered with good and evil; a kind of dream that ends in a profound sleep. You are travelling towards the grave, and I am following you very fast, nay, possibly may finish the journey before you; but let us not be unhappy on that account: we shall rest from our labours, while our sons and daughters in numberless succeeding generations shall toil in the same steps, have the same hopes and disappointments, and sink at last into the same forgetfulness. Life is an April day; if we are impatient and out of humour, it is overcast with tempests, clouds, and rain; but if we bound our desires and are cheerful, sunshine and serenity prevail. Mrs. Holcroft and the three little ones are all well, as are all friends, who frequently inquire after you. You would be delighted with the children, especially the boy, who is a fine little fellow, reads well, and is learning French and Latin.

To Mr Holcroft.

King’s Mead Square, Bath.

My dear Father, I take great pleasure in hearing of your welfare, and that you are not likely to become unsettled again, which, if I had not a house to invite you to, would give me great pain to reflect on, more especially at your time of life. I cannot tell you how much I respect Mr Freeman, he certainly must be a very benevolent, worthy man, and I beg you will assure him from me that he shall be certain not to lose the least part of the sum he has lent you: and that I am ready to give him my notes, if he pleases to accept of them, for the payment at such stated periods, as I find myself able to pay them at. Your property in your garden, and your own integrity, dear Sir, are sufficient security; but I would willingly remove every burthen from your shoulders, as well as give Mr Freeman every certainty in my power. I am every day more esteemed, and I believe, if I have life and health, there is little doubt of my success. I hope, Sir, you will not think me rude in cautioning you not to be too eager in increasing your stock; as by having more affairs on your hands than your small capital can supply, you may easily lose the whole; besides that you bring a degree of trouble and anxiety on your mind that your health cannot now support perhaps. I am exceedingly glad to hear that my mother is better. We are all in good health, our relations dine with us on Sunday, and we always speak of you. Mr Marsac is not arrived. My comedy is to be played next season. God bless you both, and make you happy. I am, dear father, etc.

March 31st.

262To Fulke Greville, Esq.

Sir, Before I proceed to any other subject, permit me to assure you that I not only think myself greatly honoured by your correspondence, but greatly obliged by your remarks, and more especially by the candour and liberality with which they are made. Indeed, Sir, these sensations have made too powerful an impression to be soon, or easily forgotten. Your ideas of consistency, however I may have failed, agree entirely with mine; for which reason, whenever you find absurdities or inconsistencies, I shall be glad if you will freely point them out. Your objection to the Two Knights is well founded. I will make Sir Harry, a Lord, or Sir Hornet, a Mr ——. Vandervelt is in the same predicament. A large fortune, and the illiterate manners of Turnbull, are sufficiently improbable, unless what Osborne says, when he draws his character in the first act, reconciles it to truth. I think your hint, however, a good one, and worth attending to. If any phrases, words, or other alterations of that nature, occur to you in reading, I beg you will not scruple to write them on the blank leaf, being convinced that you have too much candour to take offence if I should happen to differ with you occasionally. If you understand that Sir Hornet sends the Turnbulls to his nephew’s house as a residence, I have erred in expressing myself, and must correct. The last thing you have noticed I confess affects me a good deal. I thought I had contrived the plot so as to keep the audience in suspense relative to the real character of Osborne; if I have failed in this the error is a capital one indeed. It is true I could not make Osborne a rascal so palpably as to take away all probability of the contrary, because the mind would have been too much shocked at the want of poetical justice in the denouement; the point to be hit was that perplexity which must arise in the mind on seeing a worthy person likely to be betrayed by an unworthy one; but yet to preserve a possibility of his salvation by having a possibility of your suspicions of the supposed unworthy one ill founded. Now to certain minds who are intimately in the mechanical secret of plot and catastrophe, &c. I hardly know how this is to be effected. You, Sir, know that a comedy must end happily, because critics have made it an inevitable rule. You see as you proceed there is no way of doing this, but by making a certain character (Osborne for instance,) not what he appears to be: you foresee, therefore, this will happen, and your concern for the distress of another vanishes. But in what labyrinth shall the poet bewilder you, Sir, who are possessed of this clue. If the whole audience see as far as you, Sir, my play loses half its merit. 263The work in question was to be a comedy, the auditors were to laugh; wit, humour, variety of character, of manners, of incident, were absolute requisites for a good comedy, and as entirely so as instruction and reformation from the fable and moral. The poet’s attention must, therefore, inevitably be divided; he must bestow a part on each. If the catastrophe of my play is not more moral, more forcible, and more affecting, than that of any late production, it is worse than any of them, because the plot has greater capabilities, but the nature of the work would not permit it to be as much so as if it had had but one whole and undivided intention, that is, as if it had been a Tragedy. Do not imagine, Sir, that I am seized with the irritability of authorship; whenever I am chagrined it will be at myself for committing errors, not at others for telling me of them. I am afraid there is truth in your objection, though I confess I have been told by some readers they were entirely at a loss concerning the catastrophe till it happened: but it is evident they either said false, or were less discerning than you. Continue, Sir, to tell me truth. They will not flatter me at the Theatre. I will retrieve my errors where I can. I am concerned, however, Sir, at giving you the labour of writing, you will be in town soon; or at Petersham, I shall be proud to wait on you; you will give me your opinion with greater ease: I find already it will be of much service to me, and I repeat, I think myself greatly honoured, and indebted to that philanthropy which could prompt you so cheerfully to the present undertaking.

I am, Sir, &c.

September 4th.

To Fulke Greville, Esq.

Sir, I have this moment received and read your last letter: your attention to me is not only an honour to me, but to yourself, Sir; it expresses the anxiety of a generous mind. I continue to think that your suggestion of Osborne’s gratitude is a very happy improvement, and as such have endeavoured to give it all the expression and force I could from the mouth of Osborne. As to Sir Harry, he appears to me to be so overflowing with passion, that is, the turn is so sudden and unexpected, and he is so affected with Osborne’s friendship and virtue in disguise, and at the hideous danger he had just escaped, that, if I feel right, he cannot speak, except in exclamation. The difficulty of making impassioned characters say neither too little nor too much is, as you observe, exceedingly great: and the plot frequently obliges the author to say too much; but it never fails in some degree to offend. I confess, Sir, you almost 264terrify me about the loss of Melissa’s fortune, but I have no remedy; the reason is what I gave you in our last conversation. Mr Nicholson says, were it not done, he confesses he would not do it; and yet, as it is at present managed, the effect is such that he can scarcely wish it undone; nor does he seem to think there is much risk in it. He approved your before-mentioned hint concerning Osborne’s gratitude, exceedingly, and thought it very happy. I don’t know how enough to thank you for your kind offers concerning the prologue; but Mr Nicholson is at present about one, and had begun it before I received your letter; how far it may succeed in mine or Mr Harris’s opinion, I cannot yet predict; but I am under no disagreeable concern on that subject, because I know Mr Nicholson’s candour and good sense so well as to be certain, should it not chance to be happy, he will not suffer the least chagrin; not to mention, Sir, that I should be exceedingly sorry again to subject your performance to the caprice, or ill taste, of others, to which I myself, in this business, am entirely subjected. I have not yet seen Mr Henderson: he was out of town.