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MEMOIR OF DANIEL MACMILLAN 



BY 



THOMAS^HUGHES, Q.C. 

ACTHOR or "TOM BROWN'S SOHOOLD.VYS," ETC. 



POPULAR EDITION 




LONDON : 

R CLAT, SONS, AND TAYLOR, 

BREAD STREET HILL, B.C. 



PREFACE 

THE following memoir tells the story of a young 
Scotchman born in a peasant home, who, with 
no schooling but what he could get in a small 
provincial town, before he was twelve, and in 
spite of want of means and wretched health, won 
his way to the front rank in a difficult business, 
and died at forty-four, the founder and head of 
a well-known firm of publishers. Such a career 
is rare, but not so rare as to call for any special 
commemoration. Many young Scotchmen have 
come south, and made fortunes, and founded great 
houses of business, in the book trade and in 
other trades, to whom no special interest attaches 
outside their family circle and personal friends. 
Besides, in our day, the self-made man has been 
somewhat too much glorified, and we are tired of 
worshipping the mere power of getting on. It 



vi PREFACE. 

needs some quality of a finer and higher kind 
than usual in the man himself, or something 
peculiar in his surroundings, or dramatic in his 
life, to make the world he has left desirous of 
hearing more of him than that he lies safely in 
such a cemetery or churchyard, and has left so 
many thousand pounds behind him. 

In the present instance, however, the fact stands, 
that after a quarter of a century, those who knew 
Daniel Macmillan best are not contented with 
what they know, and do desire something more. 
Now this desire cannot be accounted for by his 
surroundings, which were just like those of thou- 
sands of other Scotchmen of the same class ; nor 
by anything dramatic in his life, which was 
singularly free from incident. So we must fall 
back on the qualities of the man himself to 
account for it. And here we shall not have far 
to seek. Whoever glances at these pages cannot 
fail, I think, to admit that there was something in 
this man's personal qualities and character, apart 
from his great business ability, which takes him 
out of the ordinary category a touch, in fact, of 
the rare quality which we call heroism. 

No man who ever sold books for a livelihood 
was more conscious of a vocation ; more impressed 



PREFACE. vii 

with the dignity of his craft, and of its value 
to humanity ; more anxious that it should suffer 
no shame or diminution through him. And his 
ideal did not abide in talk, a fair image to be 
brought out and worshipped when the shop was 
not full of customers. He strove faithfully to 
realise it amid difficulties which would have 
daunted any but a strong and brave man. The 
chief of these was life-long illness of the most 
trying kind. The disease of which he died a 
quarter of a century later struck him before he 
was twenty, and he was never a really sound 
man from that day. Of all men I have known 
personally he was the one who lived most con- 
stantly and consciously eye to eye with death. 
He became aware when a young man that, at 
any time, in a few hours, some carelessness a 
chill, wet feet, an incautious meal might prove 
fatal to him ; and yet through it all, with blisters, 
setons, caustic always going, he was as full of 
interest up to the last in the books be was pub- 
lishing and dealing in as the authors and buyers 
themselves, and retained to the last a joyousness 
and playfulness in his intercourse with his family 
and friends, which made it almost impossible to 
realise upon how frail a thread his life hung. 



viii PREFACE. 

That his character made a strong impression on 
those who came across him, the large collections 
of his letters which are still in existence prove. 
Even in these all-preserving days, clergymen, 
lawyers, authors, and men of science, are not 
ordinarily in the habit of keeping anything but 
the receipts and business communications of their 
bookseller or publisher. In the case of Daniel 
Macmillan the practice has been all the other way. 
The difficulty has been, out of superabundant 
material, to make a selection which would let 
the writer tell his own story and paint his own 
portrait. If it does not prove one of sterling 
interest to readers the fault must lie with the 
editing. 

One other reason has weighed much with me 
in undertaking this task. Daniel Macmillan was 
before all things a devout Christian, one whose 
faith THformed and coloured his whole life, and 
who was not ashamed of letting this be plainly 
known. This of itself is perhaps not yet so rare 
even in these days as to excite any special interest, 
but it does, I think, become so when we compare 
the narrow religious atmosphere in which he was 
reared with the Catholic freedom and breadth of 
that into which he rose. Examples are common 



PREFACE. ix 

enough of those who, bred like him in the strait 
Calvinism of the Scotch Church, have shaken off 
the whole system of theology grafted on the cen- 
tral truth which gives all its strength and vitality 
to that system the constant faith in a living 
God, to whom man may turn at any moment, 
and from whose presence and government he can 
never escape. But, in shaking off the system, 
they have for the most part thrown away the 
central truth, and in rejecting the idea of a 
despotic and self-willed ruler, predestinating the 
majority of mankind to endless misery, have 
never risen to that of a righteous and loving 
Father, educating His children for perfect com- 
munion with Him and with each other. Of that 
central truth Daniel Macmillan never lost his hold, 
and upon it his whole life was grounded. As 
he was also a man of wide reading and marked 
intellectual power deeply versed and interested 
in the revolution which was then already begun, 
and which is testing to their foundations all creeds 
and ecclesiastical systems the witness he bears 
to a faith in which his own intellect and heart 
could rest and rejoice, and that the old faith 
of Christendom, taken in its plainest and most 
obvious sense, may well bring some strength and 



PREFACE. 



comfort to those who are still engaged in the 
conflict in which he proved himself a conqueror, 
and bending under some of the burthens he had to 
carry. At all events it is one more instance, in a 
time which has sore need of such if ever time 
had, of how a belief of the old Pauline kind may 
still lay hold of a man of strong character, and 
of naturally questioning intellect, and, when it 
has laid hold, can bear him up triumphantly 
through a life of poverty and trouble, of constant 
bodily pain and mental anxiety. 

T. H, 

June 27, 1882. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

PREFACE ... vii 



CHAPTER I. 

ARRAN THE TACKSMAN'S HOME APPRENTICESHIP IN 

IRVINE. 1813-1831 . 1 



CHAPTER II. 

GLASGOW ATKINSON'S SHOP OVER-EXERTION AND 

BREAK-DOWN. 1831-1833 . 10 



CHAPTER III. 

SEARCH FOR EMPLOYMENT LONDON CAMBRIDGE. 

1833-1837 . 28 



CHAPTER IV. 
FLEET STREET. 1837-1843 6.1 

CHAPTER V. 
THE HARE CORRESPONDENCE. 1843-1855 . .116 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VI. 

PACK 

MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 1850-1856 178 



CHAPTER VII. 
CAMBRIDGE. 1843-1857 206 

CHAPTER VIII. 
LAST DAYS. 1857 289 

INDEX . . .303 



The, Portrait which forms the Frontispiece was Engraved on 
Steel by C. H. JEENS, after a Painting by LOWES DICKINSON. 



MEMOIR 



OF 



DANIEL MACMILLAN 



CHAPTER I. 

ARRAN THE TACKSMAN'S HOME APPRENTICESHIP 
IN IRVINE. 1813-31. 

DANIEL MACMILLAN was born at Upper Corrie, 
in the island of Arran, on the 13th of September, 
1813. Some two or three generations earlier the 
Macmillan family had migrated from the opposite 
coast of Argyllshire, where a picturesque tongue 
of land, known as North Knapdale, seems formerly 
to have belonged to the clan of that name. A 
notable cross, and a tower in the castle of Sweyne, 
still bear their name and support the tradition. 
At the time of the migration, the people of Arran, 
as of the West Highlands generally, were in a low 
spiritual and moral condition, maintaining the be- 
lief in witchcraft and kindred superstitions. But 



ELDER MALCOLM. [CH. i. 



households were occasionally found, such as that 
painted in Burns's " Cotter's Saturday Night," in 
which regular family worship prevailed, and the 
old covenanter's spi.it was still strong. Such was 
that of Malcolm Macmillan, grandfather of Daniel, 
who was tacksman of a farm, called " the Cock," 
towards the end of last century. He was an Elder 
of the Established Church, and a man of stern 
character, though with a softer side to him to 
which illness or misfortune rarely appealed in 
vain. He was tender to all in illness, and generons 
in his dealings with poorer neighbours. The tacks- 
nian of " the Cock " was in fact a sort of " chief 
peasant/' the purveyor of corn-food and peat fuel 
to the smaller cotters in the neighbourhood 
of Loch Eanza. "When the peasants came to buy 
their meal, Malcolm Macmillan would often, in 
cases of need, increase the measure, but any notice 
that he had done so was distasteful to him. 

In Church matters of doctrine and discipline all 
his tendencies were conservative. The old ways 
were those in which he desired to walk with his 
whole household. So, when the Haldanes, the 
revivalists of that day, sent missions to Arran, they 
met with no encouragement from Elder Malcolm. 
He, indeed, looked on them with coldness and 
distrust, notwithstanding the obvious good effects 
which their work was producing amongst his neigh- 
bours. The belief in witchcraft was disappearing 
before the new preachers, and the moral tone of 



1813-31.] ELDER WILLIAM. 8 

the people improving under their teaching and 
control. It was, however, with reluctance and 
misgiving that he allowed, without expressly 
sanctioning, the attendance of his children at the 
revival meetings and preachings of the Haldane 
missionaries. 

Not so his friend and fellow Elder, William 
Crawford, a lowlander by descent, whose forefathers 
had came from Renfrewshire, and who occupied a 
small peasant farm not far from "the Cock." 
He too was a devout man, strictly attentive to 
religious duties in his family, but of a tempera- 
ment more open and favourable to new impres- 
sions. He became a strong supporter of the 
revivalists, and as Church Elder seems to have 
somewhat scandalised his more orthodox brethren, 
and notably Malcolm Macmillan, by his regular 
attendance at their meetings. 

If the new movement, however, somewhat 
estranged the Elders, it drew together the younger 
members of the households ; one of the results 
being, that Duncan Macmillan, son of Elder 
Malcolm, married ELatherine Crawford, Elder 
"William's daughter, towards the end of the 
century, and succeeded him in the occupation 
of the little peasant farm at Upper Corrie. 

A family of four sons and eight daughters were 
born to them in quick succession, of whom Daniel 
was the tenth child and third son. . From his 
earliest years he seems to have combined in a 

B 2 



4 MIGRATION TO IRVINE. [CH. I. 

striking manner the characteristics of his two 
grandfathers ; of Elder Malcolm, the man of order 
and duty, of Elder William, the man of progress. 

But it was his mother whose influence was 
strongest on him, and whose character fully 
justified the reverent affection with which he 
regarded her. The peculiar depth of tenderness in 
the relations between them was enhanced by a 
great sorrow the death within a year of his birth 
by some epidemic of the four sisters who came 
between him and his elder brother William. 

The surroundings of his early years were of 
the humblest; indeed from passages in his 
journals and letters it would seem that at times 
good and sufficient food was scarcely abundant 
enough in the household. The little farm was 
strenuously and intelligently cultivated by Duncan, 
but, poor in soil, and small in extent, could with 
difficulty be made to yield anything beyond the 
necessaries of life for his family. 

Daniel was in his third year when Duncan, his 
father, migrated from Arran to the little town of 
Irvine on the opposite coast, where he carried on 
a small business in farming till his death in 1823, 
when Daniel was ten years old. The elder brothers, 
Malcolm and William, had gone before to seek 
their fortunes as carpenters in .Irvine. During 
the building of the Academy a beam fell and 
broke Malcolm's arm. This accident led to the 
development of a previously cherished taste for 



1813-31.] APPRENTICESHIP IN IRVINE. .5 

intellectual pursuits, and both he and William 
took up the profession of schoolmasters. 

Malcolm, now master of a school in Irvine, 
and a young man of high character and ability, 
became the head of the family, and a worthy 
support to his mother in her hard life-battle. He 
devoted his earnings towards the household ex- 
penses and the education of his younger brothers 
and sisters. But with the utmost economy it 
was hard to find a margin for anything beyond 
necessaries out of the family earnings, so that 
Daniel, though a boy of rare ability and a vora- 
cious reader from his childhood, had to content 
himself with such learning as he could pick up 
in the common school, and from his elder brother 
at odds and ends of time. 

The marvellously few pounds which seem to be 
sufficient to maintain a Scotch lad at a Scotch 
University were not forthcoming in his case ; and 
at the age when he should have been tramping to 
Glasgow to enter himself as a student, Daniel had 
already served his apprenticeship and was in full 
work at his trade. 

On January 1, 1824, with the aid of his brother 
Malcolm as cautioner for him, he bound himself 
to Maxwell Dick, bookseller and bookbinder of 
Irvine, to serve him faithfully for seven years, for 
the wage of Is. Gd. a week for the first year, with 
a rise of Is. a week for each of the remaining 
six years. 



6 THE APPRENTICE ASSERTS HIMSELF. [CH. I. 

The arrangement answered thoroughly on both 
sides. The young apprentice soon won the esteem 
and friendship of his master, and of many people 
in the town-. About the year 1829, his master, 
Maxwell Dick, invented a suspension bridge, and 
went to London to take out a patent for it, 
leaving the care and management of the business 
almost entirely in the hands of his youthful 
apprentice, who rose to the situation, and showed 
a capacity for business, very rare in a boy of 
his age. 

His natural vehemence and fiery temper how- 
ever, were not always under control at this time, as 
may be gathered from one characteristic episode. 
One evening the young apprentice did not 
return home after his day's work. Night came 
on, and he was still absent. His mother was 
in great alarm at so unusual an incident, when 
his master appeared and added to the family 
distress by his explanation. He had in the course 
of the day discovered some small misfeasance in 
the shop, and had accused his apprentice of it 
perhaps without sufficient inquiry, or evidence ; 
this he was bound to admit. But the boy had 
resented the accusation with a vehemence amount- 
ing, in his judgment, to insubordination, which He 
had punished by a blow. Whereupon his hitherto 
obedient and respectful apprentice, blazing into 
open revolt, had seized his cap from the peg on 
which it hung, and hurrying from behind the 



1813-31.1 RECONCILIATION. 



counter, had caught up the day-book and hurled 
it at the head of his astonished master, as he 
shook the dust from his departing feet at the 
shop door. What had become of him Mr. Dick 
could not say. On inquiry, it appeared that the 
boy had started at once for Saltcoats, a distance 
of six miles, whence he had managed to obtain a 
gratuitous passage in a fishing-smack to Arran. 
After due explanation and apology on both sides, 
the old relations of loyalty and esteem were 
re-established, and continued unbroken for the 
rest of the specified term. 

Daniel at the end of the seven years had learnt 
all his master or his master's shop could teach, 
and on the other hand Maxwell Dick testifies, by 
an indorsement on the indenture of apprentice- 
ship, dated February 14, 1831, that " the said 
Daniel has served me with diligence, honesty, and 
sobriety, and it is with the utmost confidence I 
can recommend him as possessing these qualities 
in a very high degree. " 

"With his apprenticeship ended also his home 
life. In a few weeks he left Irvine, and his 
mother's roof, to return only for short visits, and 
at rare intervals. But her teaching and example, 
which had been the most powerful of all in- 
fluences on his boyhood and youth, retained their 
hold on him throughout life. In a letter given in 
the next chapter he draws her portrait with the 
enthusiasm of a boy lover, and on his death-bed 



8 HIS MOTHER. [CH. i. 

her image was still uppermost in his thoughts. 
And she had well earned the devotion which he, 
and her other sons, paid her. The wife and 
widow of a poor peasant, doing all household 
work with her own hand, and with only the 
most scanty leisure for reading or society, she 
yet managed to hold her own with her richer 
neighbours, with whose children hers were on 
terms of intimacy. She had a fine voice and 
ear, and sang ballads and hymns with a pathos, 
which made the promise of a song from her 
the reward which had most weight with her 
sons. To her Daniel owed in great measure 
both the earnestness of his early faith, and the 
breadth of that of his mature years. Without 
any speculative liberality she had a remarkable 
openness of mind which expressed itself in such 
phrases as " puir body, he has nae room in him," 
when she heard over zealous persons speaking 
bitterly of opponents ; or when, to the scandal of 
many in Irvine, she stated that to her thinking 
such of them as had the good fortune to reach 
heaven would have to put up with the company 
of many Romanists. 

This inheritance from his mother, was specially 
valuable as moderating the impatience and vehem- 
ence which came from his Celtic fathers. Such 
a change as that from the retirement of a country 
home to the crowded life of a great commercial 
city, in which he finds himself alone for the first 



1813-31.] HIS MOTHER. 



time, with no monitor but his own conscience, and 
the paths of pleasure and duty open to his choice, 
is a crisis in the lives of most youths in our 
time and one through which few pass unscathed. 
That Daniel Macmillan did so was owing mainly 
to his mother. How deeply the danger of the 
crisis impressed itself on his mind we shall see 
later on. 



CHAPTER IT. 

GLASGOW ATKINSON'S SHOP OVER-EXEKTION AND 
BREAK-DOWN. 1831-33. 

IN 1831, when his apprenticeship ended and he 
had the world before him, and was looking out on 
it with the confident eyes of strong youth, his 
brother Malcolm had become the minister of a 
Baptist congregation at Stirling, one effect of the 
Haldane missions having been to carry the family 
out of the Established Church. Malcolm had 
already found an opening for his young brother 
in that town. But the place was too small and 
the boy too big. The outline of this stage of his 
life, covering the years comprised in this chapter, 
may be here best given in his own words, written 
twenty years later to his betrothed. 

" When I had finished my apprenticeship I set off 
for Stirling, where Malcolm had found a situa- 
tion for me. I had not enough to do and felt 
the place dull. I wished to go to Glasgow or 
Edinburgh, or some large town, where there would 



1831-33.] FIRST ABSENCE FROM HOME. 11 

be more room and better chances of rising. My 
brother was anxious that I should remain with 
him. I did not wish to oppose him, but yet the 
thing worried me. I felt ' cribbed, cabined, and 
confined.' The result was a most violent brain 
fever. The most scientific of the Stirling doctors 
was called in, and by lancing and leeching the 
fever was cut down and I soon recovered. Soon 
afterwards I went to Glasgow, where I had quite 
enough to occupy my mind. I hoped for a partner- 
ship in the business. I worked hard and closely 
from early till late. I was always at work at 
seven, and never or hardly ever away before nine. 
It was often ten, eleven, and twelve before I got 
away. Mr. Atkinson, my master, had very bad 
health, and was anxious that I should be able to 
manage the whole concern ; and he promised that 
if he found that he could leave the business in my 
hands while he went to the West Indies for the 
recovery of his health I should have a share in 
the business ; and it was a first-rate one. In my 
eagerness to make myself fit for this I used to 
read all the weekly, monthly, and quarterly period- 
icals of any mark- a queer mass of rubbish to 
lie lumbering in any one's brain, but, as it seemed 
to me valuable for the purposes of business, very 
often it was three and four o'clock of a morning 
before I got to bed. The upshot, as was natural, 
was the most wretched health. It appeared 
to every one that I was dying. I would not 



12 WORK IN GLASGOW. [en. n. 



allow myself to think so. My mother heard 
how ill I looked, and wrote to me, insisting that 
I should throw up my situation and go home. 
Just at this time Mr. Atkinson went to London 
to consult Dr. Elliotson and others, leaving the 
whole business in my hands for a month. I 
strove with all my might against the weakness 
of my body. When Atkinson returned, he ex- 
pressed himself \\ r ell pleased ; and he gave me a 
handsome present. A fortune seemed glittering 
before me. I was full of hope. I strove with all 
my might against the weakness of my body. It 
was no use. I could bear up no longer. My 
mother came to Glasgow and determined not to go 
home without me. I consulted a physician, and 
he did his best to frighten me. I went home and 
was blistered, and all the rest. I soon got stronger. 
My sister Kate often lent me her husband's horse. 
I then went to Arran for a month. That quite 
restored me. I used to climb the highest hills. 
My body and mind had a complete rest, and I 
had time to meditate on many things. After that 
my brother William and I went to Stirling and 
Loch Katrine together. That I greatly enjoyed. 
He was in the finest health and spirits, and I well 
remember his kind anxiety about me. After that 
tour I came to England. You know all the rest." 

Mr. Atkinson, his Glasgow employer, was a 
man of considerable mark, who took a warm 



1831-33.] ATKINSON. 13 



interest and active part in the political and social 
life of the city and neighbourhood. His shop was 
the centre of the literary society of Glasgow, 
comprising, amongst others, Mothenvell the ballad 
collector, and himself a writer of songs of some 
merit, Macnish, one of the early contributors to 
lackivood's Magazine, and others. Atkinson him- 
self was editor of, and a constant contributor of 
some mark, to a local periodical, the Chameleon, 
from, which a selection of his essays and verses 
was published by Longman in three volumes. A 
press copy of these was presented by the author 
to Daniel Macmillan, with an inscription marking 
the author's esteem. The contents range from 
serious subjects, such as the law of copyright 
and the influence of commerce on civilization, 
to comic dialogues and rhapsodies in praise of 
tobacco. One of these, iii verse, commencing 

" The sky was dark and the way was long 

As I mounted His Majesty's mail, 
And I tried to chirrup a cheerful song 

In the teeth of wind and hail. 
But it wouldn't do ; so ou night's dark face 

I said there should twinkle one star, 
So I took from snug sleep in its cozy case, 

And lit into life a cigar " 

gained some temporary popularity, and may have 
induced Daniel Macmillan to make his one experi- 
ment in smoking. In any case, the experiment 
and its ending were thoroughly characteristic of 



14 OVERWORK. [CH. n. 

the man. One evening on leaving the shop he 
bought and lit a cigar and found the experience a 
pleasant one. But on his road home the question 
of the 2d. he had expended began to trouble him, 
and finally he threw away the end resolving never 
to smoke again, a resolution to which he adhered 
with his usual steadfastness. 

In addition to his literary work, Atkinson was ' 
also a leader in the Reform agitation, which was at 
its height in those years. These pursuits occupied 
much of his time, and made attention to the 
routine and details of his large and flourishing 
business somewhat onerous. He was glad, there- 
fore, to leave them to others, and soon found that 
his new assistant, though but a boy in years, was 
one to whom they could be safely entrusted. The 
young assistant met his employer's views more 
than half way, with characteristic eagerness. From 
the first he strained his powers to the uttermost, 
and the strain began to find out his weak places 
by the end of the first year. His spirit was will- 
ing, but the responsibility was too great for a youth 
under twenty, already much exercised by the 
mental conflicts incident to his time of life and 
temperament. A sense of loneliness and want 
of appreciation, and a craving for sympathy, in 
this his first absence from home, added greatly 
to his troubles. Altogether the struggle was too 
severe, and the vehement and sensitive nature 
broke out again and again in the midst of the 



1831-33.] THREATENING SYMPTOMS. 15 

day's work, carried out all the time with rigorous 
faithfulness and punctuality. 

" December 2, 1832. How ill I am. I feel as if 
I were dying. I have no one to sympathise with 
me ; no one to mitigate my suffering ; no comfort 
but what my paltry salary can procure. If I were 
rich, how many would be kind to me, ask what I 
needed, and anticipate my wants. But why do I 
shed tears ? I cannot help them. They are not 
in vain. They do good to myself. They relieve 
my feelings. They soften my heart." 

He becomes much interested in Millenarian 
views. " Personal reign, or anything that -would 
put an end to the reign of humbug, is most cheer- 
ing to me," and finds relief in such out-pourings 
as the following : 

" April 18, 1833. procrastination ! Thou art 
the very deuce to every one except the lawyers. 
They are the only people in the world that gain 
by thee. Thou takest multitudes to the devil. 
The Bible and all the moralists are against thee ; 
still thou art as powerful as ever. It seems 
impossible to eradicate thee ; so deeply art thou 
rooted in our nature." 

His family get anxious, visit him, and try to 
get him to relax a little, but without success. 
As his health gets worse the prospects brighten 



16 FAMILY REMONSTRANCES. [t-n. it. 

before him. if he could only grasp them as he 
longs to do, but they evade him like will-o'-the- 
wisps. 

Thus he writes to his brother Malcolm 

"June 1, 1833. 

" The doctor advises Atkinson to go to the 
West Indies. Now if I were well there would be 
an excellent chance for me. Atkinson promises 
me a third share if I would stay and manage 
the business for him. He seems to be giving 
me practice, for now, after a month's visit to 
London, he leaves the whole care of things on 
my shoulders, he never looks in above an hour 
a day. He has gone to Edinburgh now. I don't 
know what to make of him. Keep mother till 
the end of next week. I am a great deal better 
than when she was here. I look better. I feel 
better. Mother will not believe this. I know 
she will not, nevertheless it is quite true. I don't 
know but it would be right for me to stay here 
altogether. I should like to stay." 

Malcolm, watching anxiously from Stirling, has 
been writing with some plainness on his over-haste 
in his career. To which he at last replies 

"June 15, 1833. 

" You seem rather to like twitting me about 
being ambitious, and this is the third or fourth 



1831-33.] DANIEL'S PROTEST AND VINDICATION. 17 " 

time you have said, 'What are you, or your 
father's house, that you should be ambitious ? ' 
I have once or twice thought of giving you 
an answer. I shall do so now. You must 
not think me angry though I should speak 
warmly. I have too much respect for you 
to speak disrespectfully. So you must not 
mistake me. 

" What am I ? A very humble person who has 
no objection to raise himself if he could do it 
honourably. If all my relations were slaves, I 
should not feel that I was bound therefore, to be 
a slave, that is, if I could purchase my freedom. 
I do not feel bound to follow in the footsteps of 
any of my relations. I am here to act for myself. 
None of them can stand in my stead in any very 
important matter. The -most important things 
must be done by myself alone. Indeed, I don't 
feel at all bound to make my relations my friends, 
or even my acquaintances, unless I choose, unless 
there should be some real sympathy between us. 
I have a whole swarm of uncles, aunts, cousins, 
and half-cousins ; among them I have few acquaint- 
ances and still fewer friends, and if I should 
leave this country I shall shake them all off, 
except Uncle and Aunt McKay. Very likely the 
whole of my relations feel in the same way to- 
wards me, if they ever even think about me. I 
hope so. I should be sorry if it were otherwise. 
These are my feelings, my ways of looking at such 

c 



18 DANIEL'S PROTEST AND VINDICATION. [OH. n. 

matters. I don't know that you will approve of 
them, but they are not adopted without thought. 
Your frequently-repeated question has obliged 
me to think about this matter more than I wished, 
more than is good for me. I shall now tell you 
what I think of the second part of the question, 
' What is my father's house ? ' 

" I shall not begin imprudently. I shall not 
begin by saying it is precisely the same as yours. 
I shall not say anything of that kind. I shall 
not say, ' What do you mean by my father's 
house?' I suppose in asking that question you 
don't mean to go further back than father and 
mother. 

" Well, to begin with father ; though I was very 
young, only ten, when he died, I have the 
deepest reverence for him. He was a hard-working 
man, a most devout man, and as I have heard 
mother say, cared for nothing but his family, that 
is, did not care what toil he endured for their 
sakes. You knew him better than I did, you can 
value him more highly. I now remember with 
pleasure, and with something better than .pleasure, 
the manner in which he conducted family worship. 
Though I did not understand a word of his prayer, 
the very act of bowing down on my knees did me 
good, at least I think so. 1 

1 Duncan Macmillan used to conduct family worship in 
Gaelic, reading the Gaelic Bible and praying extempore in that 
language, which was still the familiar tongue of Arrau. 



1831-33.] PORTRAIT OF HIS MOTHER. 19 

" Of my mother I can speak what I do know. 
I know her as well as ever a son knew a parent, 
and my persuasion is that she is the most perfect 
lady in all Scotland. With so little knowledge 
derived from books, with so very little intercourse 
with the higher ranks of society, with so little 
care or thought on what is most pleasing in exter- 
nal conduct, was there ever a lady who, so instinc- 
tively, so naturally, did what was right, acted with 
so much propriety in all cases ? She has such 
high and noble notions that no one ever heard 
her say, or knew her do, a mean thing, no one 
could ever venture to say an impudent thing 
to her, or talk scandal in her presence. If any 
one did so once, it never was repeated; some 
quietly spoken but most bitter and biting saying 
put an end to such garbage. Few appreciated 
her, but no one could despise her. You will say 
that I am writing ' an doge' You will call me 
the 'pet son.' No, you cannot do this. You 
have mother with you now. You will have seen 
her in comparison with the best of your friends, 
and you- will see, if you open your eyes, that she 
is more of a lady than any of them. I think she 
has one of the finest, I mean the most refined, 
minds I ever came into contact with, and yet she 
is far from being deficient in strength a most 
strong and deep nature, yet a woman's nature. 
No one could be more deeply religious than she is, 
and yet how little she talks about it ! I know no 

c 2 



20 PORTRAIT OF HIS MOTHER. [CH. n. 

one to compare with her in this. Mrs. Wilson of 
Edinburgh comes the nearest. I love and respect 
her so much that I cannot say anything invidious 
about her. Mother and she have many things 
alike, in many they differ very much. Mrs. 
"Wilson has many advantages. Her father was 
rich, and though she was somewhat neglected 
in her youth, yet for many many years she has 
had books, and time, and company which mother 
never had. They have had, both of them, 
serious heavy trials. Both of them have borne 
them nobly. 

" The end of the whole matter is, that I think 
there is nobody like mother in the whole world. 
If ever I saw any one with the same tenderness, 
strength, and calmness, the same joyousness of 
heart, with the same depth, I should instantly fall 
in love with her, that is if there was any chance of 
its ever coming to anything! But at present a 
grave seems the most likely place for me. Pray 
send mother to Glasgow. I want her to cheer me. 
No, I can cheer myself. But to go back to the old 
subject. I tell you that I am proud of my parentage. 
I had a perfect lady for my mother. Besides, I 
am very glad that my mother is a Teuton. From 
her we take any mental superiority we may have. 
What a most beautiful forehead she has ! What 
an eye ! What a face, take it all in all ! A noble 
temple for her noble soul ! I am rather glad to 
have some of the Celt in my nature, but glad that 



1831 33.] A BREAK-DOWN IMMINENT. 21 

the Teuton stands uppermost as I think it does. 
I desire to keep the Fifth Commandment." 

The enemy is now pressing on him more and 
more relentlessly, but he still keeps a brave front. 
The battle is recorded in his journal, in which 
notes on the books he is reading are inter- 
spersed day by day with the chronicle of failing 
health. 

" June, 17, 1833. The doctor looked very grave 
to-day. What does he mean ? This is a bad cough. 
I don't like this blood- spitting. I don't like this 
weakness in my limbs. 

"Byron said, 'Death laughs.' But I daresay 
he found it ho joke to fall into his hands ; that 
he laughs at other people's expense if he does 
augh. 

" Of course I must die ; and if I die with my 
sins unpardoned, I shall sink lower than the 
grave. At least, the Bible says so ; Bunyan and 
other theological writers say so ; and I hear it 
from Sabbath to Sabbath. If I am not mistaken, 
my conscience for I think that I have got a 
conscience says so too. Since this is true, and 
acknowledged by saint and sage, by preacher and 
by poet, it would be as well to be prepared for 
Death who, coming in the rear of all our pleasure, 
and wealth, and fame, befools them exceedingly. 
But death is not all, after death the judgment. 
A serious matter that." 



22 THE BREAK-DOWN. [CH. :r. 

"June 26, 1833. lam exceedingly pleased with 
Scott's tales. They are very fascinating. Every 
child must be delighted with, them. I don't like 
his attempts to palliate the conduct of such men 
as Graham of Claverhouse. He was certainly a 
man of talent, but that is no apology for his 
cruelties. 

"Cromwell exhibits in his government a 
firmness, energy, and wisdom far beyond any 
other statesman of. whom I have read in these 
volumes." 

"June 29, 1833. I have a bad habit of arguing 
witli people on difficult points, just for my 
amusement; to see how they like dust in 
their eyes. I must give that up. It does no 
possible good; and it gains me nothing but 
marked hatred." 

The next day brings the struggle to its close. 
His mother carries him home, and native air 
works wonders, as he hastens to inform Malcolm 
a week later. 

" I can now write. The blistering work is all 
over. You know I have been obliged to lie in bed 
for the last week. I am up now. The doctor 
would not allow me to write. Of course I don't 
tell him all I do. I am, however, very obedient ; 
I do whatever the doctor or mother bids me, except 



1831-33.] ARRAN REVISITED. 23 

in such a case as this. I do nothing but read 
novels. I begin to get tired of Byron. Scott 
pleases me much better. Cowper better than 
cither. You know I have not a Wordsworth, or 
even selections from him. These outlandish folks 
don't know him. I have only about half-a-dozen 

Shakespeare's plays. I hide them when the 

or the call. How they would stare if 

they saw a play in my hand ! My hand gets 
tired. I will write by and by. Kate promises 
me a ride on their pony every day when I get 
better. 

Again to his brother Malcolm some days 
later : 

" Kate keeps her promise. I ride daily. It is 
most beautiful weather. I walk very little. I find 
reading does not suit me, even of the lighter sort. 
I often run up to the Barclays', just to have a 
laugh. I say all manner of out-of-the-way things 
just to pester them. Is that not amiable ? It is 

such fun to see them open their eyes. Miss 

often plays to me, while I lie on their sofa. This 
does me more good than all the doctors. I am 
half in love with her. You will laugh 1 know, 
but I really mean it. 

" I wish I could walk. Lang is in Irvine, and 
I should enjoy walks with him. I have called on 
him once ; he has called several times. I think 
very highly of him as you know. I never met 



24 ARRANT REVISITED. [CH. ir. 

his equal. It is only a pity that he is so odd in 
his ways. I called once about two o'clock. He 
had not got up. I saw his two aunts and his 
grandmother. We. had a long gossip." 

The friend here referred to was a young medical 
student of high promise which remained un- 
fulfilled, as he died early. 

To THE SAME. 

"JulyS, 1833. 

"I go out with Lang nearly every day. He 
wants me to become a botanist. He says that I 
should soon be a first-rate one. I feel no inclina- 
tion at present. My head gets confused with 
study of any kind. I once thought seriously 
of commencing, but the terminology frightened 
me. Why did you not teach me Latin and 
Greek when I was young ? If you had I 
might have learnt botany now. Never mind, I 
enjoy myself quite as much among the flowers 
as if I knew all their names. Lang finds 
me very useful. He is so short-sighted that 
he can see nothing unless it is quite close 
to his nose. I can see the minutest flowers 
without stooping. This saves him a world of 
trouble." 

To complete his cure he crosses to Arran on a 
visit to his uncle McKay, Independent minister 
at Sannox. 



1831-33.] ARRAN REVISITED. 25 

"July 22, 1833. 

" I have been in Arran a week. The voyage 
quite upset me. I was very feeble when I reached 
Glen Sannox. My aunt told me to-day that she 
really thought I was coming to her house to die 
when she saw me first. She has locked up my 
quinine and all other medicines. I drink milk 
every morning just as I did at home. Aunt 
milks it with her own hand, and brings it foam- 
ing to my bedside. I began to bathe yesterday. 
I did not feel at all well afterwards. Aunt says 
it is always so for the first few days. I felt 
better to-day. I can walk a mile or two without 
feeling at all tired. 

" Aunt and I have long conversations. I 
am very fond of her. I wish her sons were 
wiser. I wish her daughters had more stuff in 
them, kind-hearted though they be. I enjoyed 
my mother's society more than ever. I saw 
more of her than ever. I think more highly 
of her than ever. William and I got on better 
than ever. We had several long, long conver- 
sations. I wish he could get away from Irvine. 
He has a noble and most beautiful mind. I 
wish he had the chance of bringing it out, 
Here, you see, I have left Arran, and aunt, and 
nieces, and nephews, and gone back to Irvine. 
I often think of them and of you." 

His visit to Arran had done much to restore 



26 RECOVERY. [CH. n. 

a more healthy tone to his mind as well as to his 
body. " I know all the people," he writes, " for 
miles round this neighbourhood. There is no 
village, only houses here and there. The people 
are most simple. It is very pleasant to call on 
them and listen to their stories. They always 
seem glad to see me. They think I am dying, and 
do all they can to cheer me. They are most 
thoughtful and kind and tender-hearted, and all 
without pretence. What a most glorious thing 
the human heart is, ' the human heart by which 
we live.' I wish- Wordsworth were here. I 
should like to see him and hear him speak. 1 I 
think I could say a great many things to him ; 
and yet if I were to meet him I hardly think I 
should open my mouth. . . G-od only knows how 
thankful, how deeply grateful I should be to meet 
with any one who would be to me what Paul 
was to the jailer. . . It is our sad lot to have no 
spiritual guides but books. I see books advertised 
' Every Man his own Doctor/ ' Every Man his own 



1 This wish was gratified later. In November, 1844, "Words- 
worth came up to Cambridge and stayed some days with 
Dr. "WTiewell, then Master of Trinity. Archdeacon Hare 
asked him to call on Daniel and he paid several visits to the 
shop, especially one long one in which he dwelt on the in- 
fluence Scotland had on him in early life and how he had 
sought in the Excursion to bring out the spiritual life of 
Scotland which he thought had never been adequately sung 
by any of her poets, who had mainly confined themselves to 
the humanities. 



1831-33.] RECOVERY. 27 

Lawyer.' We shall soon have ' Every Man his 
own Priest.' " 

The first \vrestle with his life-long enemy was 
now over. He was well again, and anxious to be 
back at work. Even during his illness he had 
been preparing the way for a new departure, 
and this time he will if possible set his face 
southward. 



CHAPTEE III. 

SEAKCH FOE EMPLOYMENT LONDON CAMBKIDGE. 

1833-37. 

DANIEL MACMILLAN was fortunate in his friends 
and most faithful in keeping up correspondence 
with them. As free use must be made of his 
letters, several of those to whom they were written 
may now be conveniently introduced to the reader. 
Dr. George Wilson, the author of the Five Gate- 
ways of Knowledge, was, as that book shows, a 
man of rare moral qualities, as well as of recog- 
nised scientific eminence and considerable poetical 
genius. Their friendship, which began when they 
were almost boys, was strengthened by a pathetic 
similarity in their careers in each case a noble 
life-long struggle for the fulfilment of life-work 
against fatal disease. 1 

Mr. David G. Watt was the son of a cloth 
merchant, borough magistrate of Irvine, and a 

1 A memoir of George Wilson, by his sister, was published 
in 1860. 



1833-37.] EARLY FRIENDS. 29 

member of the Independent connection. He was 
some years younger than Daniel Macmillan, but 
had been intimate with him from childhood ; and 
on becoming a student of the London Missionary 
Society in 1840 (where David Livingstone was a 
fellow student) renewed their old friendship. He 
went as a missionary to India, where his old 
school-fellow supplied him with news of old 
friends, and of current literature, for many years. 
Mr. James MacLehose, was a Glasgow friend of 
1832-33 ; a young shopman like Daniel Macmillan, 
in those years in which their friendship began, in 
the city in which he now holds a foremost place 
as bookseller and publisher. He had migrated 
to London a short time before his friend's illness, 
and in June 1833 was in the employment of 
Messrs. Seeley of Fleet Street. 

To him Daniel Macmillan turns in the first 
hours of convalescence. Glasgow has lost its 
charm for him, and he is already thinking of 
turning his face southward, to the great national 
centre of intellectual and literary activity. In 
this mood he writes to his friend MacLehose, 
almost from his sick-bed. 

"IRVINE, June 24, 1833. 

" I had the pleasure of receiving your apology 
for a letter on the 20th, from which I see that 
you have not forgotten me, though you are in the 
midst of 



30 INQUIRIES FOR EMPLOYMENT. [CH. HI. 

" The mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, 
Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye 
Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping 
In sight, then lost amidst the forestry 
Of masts ; a wilderness of steeples peeping 
On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy ; 
A huge, dim cupola, like a foolscap crown 
On a fool's head and that is London town." 
***** 

" Perhaps you like not this its first appearance ; 
I'll ask you what you think of it a year hence." 

" I '11 ask you what you think of a few things now: 
How many men have you in your house ? What 
kind of lads are they ? What kind of gents are' 
S. and Son themselves ? Are they very distant, or 
are they free and easy ? Are you hard wrought ? 
Is your warehouse large ? What are your hours ? 
Are good lodgings easily had ? Are they expen- 
sive ? Are you well situated ? ' Halo ! stop, stop ! 
I can't answer all these questions,' you will be 
crying ere this. But I'm in no hurry; you can 
answer them at your leisure. You know that 
I have not quite given up thoughts of visiting the 
' mighty Babylon ' in search of a situation when 
my health recovers." .... 

" 'Tis more than a fortnight since I left Atkinson, 
and am at home to recover my health. I was 
blistered, which confined me to the house for 
about a week, but am the better for it, and am 
now recovering rapidly, in a short time I expect to 
be stouter than ever. I am at present enjoying 
myself exceedingly, walking by the sea-shore one 



1833-37.] J. MACLEHOSE. 31 

day, into the country and through the woods 
another, riding the next, and so forth. I neither 
read nor write, and think as little as possible, but 
run about in search of health, and by the blessing 
of God I am daily acquiring it. So you will see 
that your advice about stopping with A. was 
too late. I would not have stopped at any rate 
on any conditions. I was daily spitting blood, 
daily falling off. I was advised by Dr. James 
Watson that it would be madness in me to stop 
any longer. Since I have recovered so much I 
am well pleased that I have taken advice." 

And again from native Arraii : 

" I am pretty well already, and I hope the pure 
air of this beautiful place will, with the blessing of 
God, do the rest. I even think that I feel myself 
improving while I write this. I am lying on a 
bank, beautifully covered with heath, thyme, and 
other beautiful flowers. About thirty yards above 
me stand a range of rocks about thirty feet in 
height, out of the crevices of which spring trees, 
ivy, and honeysuckle, besides many other pretty 
plants. These trees, ivy, &c., appear from the 
place where I lie to grow out of the rock, or 
rather, look as if they stuck like limpets. Above 
that, again, rise other huge hills, till you lose them 
in the clouds. Turning round again, I see as far 
as eye can reach a great expanse of water, with 
here and there a ship, either about to undertake an 



32 A FRIEND IN NEED. [CH. in. 

arduous voyage, or coming in with the wealth 
and luxury of other climes to our thrice happy 
shores." 

And a little later 

" I am every day getting better, and hope soon 
to be able to manage the gigantic work of a 
London bookseller's life in winter, with ease 
and pleasure." 

A six-sheet answer comes back giving all details 
and prospects. Lodgings cheaper than Glasgow, 
where Daniel has lately paid 6s. a week for his 
small room ; and other points highly satisfactory. 
But it appears that his friend has sat up till two 
to write all this. "Don't cut into your nights," 
Daniel urges, " even to write to me. I know the 
bad effects of that too well." MacLehose has 
offered him half his bed while he is looking round. 
On reading these letters one ceases to wonder 
why young Scotchmen get on so well in London 
and elsewhere out of their own land. 

His departure is, however, delayed till September, 
as he returns for a few weeks to help Atkinson 
in taking stock preparatory to selling his business. 
His late master is looking so ill he wonders he is 
alive, but will give him letters to the Messrs. 
Longman, and he has already several for other firms. 
On the whole he is hopeful of finding employment 
in the Eow, the summit of his ambition for the 



1833-37.] SEARCH FOR EMPLOYMENT. 33 

moment. The glimpse he has had of publishing 
at Atkinson's has made him anxious to keep in 
touch, if possible, with this the highest branch of 
his profession. 

Early in September he starts with little in his 
pocket but these letters of introduction, going by 
Edinburgh to spend a few days with the Wilsons, 
his ever kind friends. His journey, and the 
incidents of his fruitless search for employment 
amongst the magnates of the Eow, are described in 
the following letter to his brother William ; 

" LONDON, Monday, September 13, 1833. 
" I have never felt the import of the words " 
(home and family) " so deeply as I now do. Very 
often it has been a mere form. It is not so now. 
My heart warms and throbs again and again 
while I write them. They mean something now. 
The distance between us seems immeasurable. 
I have been just saying to myself, ' What a 
pity it is that we must separate thus ; that I am 
to have so few of the pleasures of home. I 
am not twenty yet (yes, just twenty I shall be 
twenty by the time I have finished this letter), 
and now I have been sent adrift again. I have 
bid home farewell. We have but a short pilgrim- 
age here; we ought to keep together and cheer 
each other on the road. But perhaps it is all 
for our real good, these separations. It is needless 
to say that the Wilsons were kind, and that I 

D 



34 AKRIVAL IN LONDON. [CH. m. 

enjoyed myself very much. I like them better 
than ever. They were all asking very kindly for 
you. They seemed very much pleased with our 
last visit. 

" John Russell and George Wilson went to the 
steamer which sailed from Leith with me. I 
don't intend troubling you with a long account 
of the voyage with notes on the sublimity of 
the sea and all the rest. We were on the watei 
sixty-three hours, not forty-eight as they advertise. 
I was ill one day nearly the whole day. When 
we reached St. Katharine's Docks, I hired a 
hackney coach and drove to MacLehose's lodgings. 
When I arrived I was shown into MacLehose's 
sitting-room by a couple of little English ladies 
who looked at me very suspiciously. I was very 
'frank with them, and talked as if I had known 
them all my life, but they still looked as if all 
was not right. MacLehose had not told them 
that I was coming, and they seemed to think I was 
some sharper. I saw what they thought or felt 
quite clearly written in their faces, and could 
hardly keep from laughing. They sent for a 
young gentleman who is a friend and fellow- lodger 
of Mac's. He put them quite at ease. That young 
gentleman took me up stairs to Mac's bedroom, 
where I shaved and washed, and after finishing 
these important processes I came down stairs and 
found tea ready a great consolation after the 
fatigues of a journey, that is, if it really be 



1833-37.] LONDON PATERNOSTER ROW. 85 

tea; your slops I cannot drink. Mac's young 
friend seems to have right notions on these 
matters. After tea we walked to Fleet Street, 
where I found Mr. MacLehose in a book-shop which 
I daresay you know by name Seeley's. They 
publish Cecil's Remains- a. book you are very 
fond of but which, as you know, I cannot bear. 
I don't like any man who speaks stupidly of 
Shakespeare, especially when he has pretensions 
to culture. It was by this time about seven o'clock. 
MacLehose, who is one of the kindest-hearted 
young men, left business and came out with me. 
He took me to the How. I was anxious to see all 
the Houses. The names were quite familiar to 
me. I called at Longmans' to see a young Glasgow 
man, named Murray, brother to Murray of Glasgow. 
He was not in. He had gone home. We also 
went home for MacLehose's lodgings were a home 
to me stood in the place of a home. He is very 
kind. I spent a very pleasant night with him. 
You know that I am a most anxious-minded 
creature. I had scarcely arrived when I began to 
be afraid that I should never get a situation. Mr. 
Mac. told me to keep my mind quite easy for at 
least a fortnight. Then I might begin to feel 
anxious not before. This only increased my 
misgivings. But to proceed. 

" Next morning, about nine o'clock, I put my 
letters of introduction in order and commenced 
my campaign. I determined in the first place to 

D 2 



36 PATERNOSTER ROW. [CH. in. 

call on Mr. Dyer. I did so. He read Mr. Barclay's 
letter, said a word or two to me in a rather cold 
formal way at least I thought so. He gave me 
a little religious advice. I had been thinking 
very seriously. This advice disgusted me not 
what he said, but the way he said it. There is a 
great deal of humbug about religious people. I 
wish they would all be manly and frank and open 
and give up using slang phrases. These disgust 
me. I daresay Mr. Dyer is a A'ery nice man. I 
daresay he is a clever man. You gave me 
such a very fine account of him ' the prince of 
the Baptists.' Very likely he is all this, but I 
don't like him. He treated me as if he really 
were 'the prince of Baptists,' the King of the 
Cannibal Islands, or something equally grand. But 
to return. When this ' prince of Baptists ' had 
read the letter and given his advice, he tore off a 
part of Mr. Barclay's letter and wrote a note to 
Mr. Wightman, inclosing this part of Mr. Barclay's 
letter. I called on Mr. Wightman with this docu- 
ment. He said that he knew of no situation in 
town, but he knew of one in Cambridge, and that 
the Cambridge gentleman, who was a friend of his, 
would be in town next day. He desired me to 
call then. I promised to do so. I called on Mr. 
Murray at Longmans', and delivered his brother's 
note. This Mr. Murray is a good-natured, ruddy- 
faced youth, and seems to enjoy most excellent 
health. It was really pleasant to look on him, 



1833-37.] PATERNOSTER ROW. 37 

which I did most attentively while he read his 
brother's note. He said that he was sure they 
had no vacancies at present in Longmans'. I told 
him that I had several letters to the house, and 
one most flattering one to young Mr. Longman. 
He said that I might deliver them, "but he was 
quite sure that there were no vacancies at present. 
He wished me to wait for him and he would take 
me round the trade. He was collecting. If I went 
out with him he would talk over matters with me. 
I did not expect much light on any subject from 
this good-natured worthy, but still I accepted his 
offer. I knew he could tell me the best time to 
find Mr. Green disengaged, and attending to his 
advice on this point, I called on Mr. Green about 
one o'clock. Mr. Green is a most active, bustling, 
business man, very laconic, very blunt. I was 
rather pleased with him. He lost no time in open- 
ing and glancing at my letters and in saying in a 
very quick, rapid way, but not altogether unpleasant 
manner, 'All that I can say to you, Mr. M., is that 
you may leave me your address and a specimen 
of your penmanship, and if we should require any 
one I will send for you, but at present I see small 
chance.' 

" Young Mr. Longman was not at home. He 
was not expected till Friday. What was I to do 
in the meantime ? Should I call on any one else, 
or wait his return ? It is an easy thing to depress 
me. I felt dreadfully depressed. Tears relieved 



38 PATERNOSTER ROW. [CH. in. 

me. Prayer relieved me. Prayer seemed to me 
a more real thing than ever. I hope that some 
permanent impression may be left on my heart. I 
hope that all these thoughts and feelings will not 
pass away when I get into the bustle of business. 
" I then called on Orr and Smith, but did not 
find them in. I spent the rest of the afternoon in 
going round west with Mr. Murray. I called on 
Cochrane and Macrone in "Waterloo Place. Mr. 
Macrone was not in. Here again I was disap- 
pointed. When I got back to the Eow I called at 
Simpkin and Marshall's. ... I was throwing out 
feelers, intending to lay hold of what yielded most 
promise. Neither of the managing men in this 
hard-working house could be seen. I called 
back in half-an-hour and saw Mr. Marshall, who 
told me to call again in the morning. I then called 
on Tegg. He was not at home. I then set off to 
Waterloo Place, Pall Mall, to see Mr. Macrone, 
and, as luck would have it, I found him at home. 
He was most pleasant. I had a long chat with 
him. He encouraged me said I was sure to get 
on. He knew me in Glasgow when he was down 
there in spring, and Atkinson's letter to him was 
very nattering. He said that if I did not succeed 
with Longman or Simpkin he would write to all 
his friends in the book trade. It was now about 
seven o'clock. I walked to the Eow again to see 
Mr. Murray. He insisted on my going with him 
to his lodgings, where we had tea. I then made the 



1833-37.] PATERNOSTER ROW. 39 

best of my way to MacLehose's lodgings. Thus 
began, and thus ended, my first day's labours in 
London. 

" Next morning (Thursday) I called on Messrs. 
Sirnpkin and Marshall. I did not find Mr. 
Marshall at home. 1 called again in about half- 
an-hour, found Mr. Marshall, talked with him 
for five minutes ; he offered me a place in their 
house, salary 60 a year. He was anxious that I 
should engage for a year, said they were very much 
troubled with young men coming for a month or 
two and then leaving. I said that if he could 
give me anytliing to do I would begin at once, 
but would not decide until I had seen what I had 
to do, whether I was fit for it, how they were 
pleased with me. This was about half-past eleven. 
I began at once, made out invoices and the 
like, with the slight interruption of dinner and 
tea; continued till ten at night. They were 
very busy, and the young men were a rough 
set of fellows. I was told that they would 
be there on Friday night very late that it 
would most likely be two or three on Saturday 
morning before they left, and that they would be 
there till five or six on Sunday morning, that it 
always is so about ' Magazine time.' This would 
not do for me at all. I should not like it. I could 
not stand it. I might learn a great deal about 
business, but my health, moral and physical, must 
suffer, must give way. 



40 A CAMBRIDGE OPENING. ICH. in. 

"At tea-time I called on Mr. Wightman. He 
said, ' I wish you had called a few minutes sooner ; 
Mr. Johnson from Cambridge has just gone out; 
I have spoken to him about you. He wants to 
see you. Call to-morrow morning at nine o'clock.' 
This was a sort of dim hope to cheer me. The 
idea of living in Simpkin's was intolerable. It 
almost crushed me through the earth. All the way 
from Stationers' Court to Goswell Road was 
sprinkled with tears. These were a relief to me 
these and prayers such half-articulate prayers 
as I could give utterance to. At that hour the 
passers-by could not notice me. I certainly did 
not notice them r except when I was stopped and 
spoken to by the poor and unfortunate. These 
I could have taken and pressed to my heart. Ah 
me ! what a world we live in ! Thus ended my 
second day's work in London. 

"Next morning, at nine o'clock, I called at 
Wightman's. Mr. J. had not come. They ex- 
pected him every minute. I kept hanging on in 
the most fidgety state till an hour elapsed. Just 
as St. Paul's struck ten in came Mr. Johnson. Mr. 
Wightman thinks highly of him. He is a member 
of a Baptist Church at Cambridge. We talked 
for some time. He looked up in my face as if he 
were frightened. I don't know how I looked, but 
I did not feel the least fear. He said he would 
give me 30 a year, and I was to board with the 
family. We were both to think of it. ' We parted 



1833-37.] BALANCING CHANCES. 41 

undecided. He wished me to call back on him 
that evening. It was now eleven o'clock. I 
did not like to go back to Simpkin's at that 
hour. I did not like to leave without saying 
anything. I kept hesitating; at last I made up 
my mind. 

" It seemed to me better to accept the Cambridge 
situation than to stay with Simpkin ; (1) because 
the salary was better, and (2), because the work was 
easier; (3) I did not like the lodging system of 
London as far as I could see of it. I did not like 
dining at chop-houses and taverns the whole 
system takes away even the appearance of ' a 
home.' As far as acquiring knowledge of busi- 
ness is concerned, I fancied one might learn 
something in Cambridge if one tried 

"After this I called on MacLehose. Told 
him how things stood. He thought I ought 
not to go to Simpkin's ; that I ought to take 
the Cambridge situation ; it would be much more 
suitable than the Row. 

" But I still had a hankering for London. I 
thought I should like Longmans' house. I there- 
fore called at Longmans', and found that young 
Mr. L. had returned. I delivered Mr. Atkinson's 
letter of introduction. He read it, and said that he 
was so much pushed with one thing and another, 
this being Magazine time, that he could say no- 
thing till Monday. He believed, however, that 
they had no openings, no vacancies at present. 



42 ATTRACTION OF LONDON. [CH. in. 

He would be glad to see me on Monday, if I did 
not hear of something before that time. 

"Here I was oddly situated. I should like to 
stay in London. I should above all things like 
Longmans', but still, this is only an uncertainty. 
I might miss Longmans'. Young Mr. L. might 
not be able to do anything for me. If I could get 
Johnson to wait till Monday, thought I. But he 
might wish me to decide at once. And then, of 
course, what could one do ? 'A bird in the hand 
is worth two in the bush.' 

" I now had nothing to do -but wait. My mind 
was in the most restless state. I could not tell 
what made it so. Old sins kept stalking before 
me. I was miserable. I walked about the streets, 
but saw nothing. I was jostled on the streets, yet 
I saw no face that I cared about, scarcely noticed 
those who pressed on me. The strangeness of 
everything increased my misery. I prayed. I 
tried to pray. I thought. I tried to think, my 
mind was a strange whirlpool. I could look at 
nothing. I could only weep, and try to pray. I 
do hope that these things will leave some power- 
ful and permanent impression on my mind and 
heart. What a wonder the world is, what a 
mystery man is! But to leave all this and to 
proceed with my story. 

" I then went to my, or rather, to MacLehose's 
lodgings, and wrote all that precedes this a good 
afternoon's work. This brought many things to 



1833-37.] DUBITATIONS. 43 

my recollection. I spent the rest of the time in 
looking backward and forward. A serious night. 
Thus ended my third day's work in London. 

" I went to bed before MacLehose came home. 
I had scarcely fallen asleep when he came to my 
bedroom with a letter from Johnson saying that he 
had decided on giving me the situation ; and that 
I was to call on Mr. Wightman in the morning 
and he would tell me anything further I might 
wish to know. 

" I did call in the morning (Saturday). He said 
that I was to write to Johnson on Monday to say 
when I should be with him. I did not feel myself 
at all bound to go to Cambridge, if I saw anything 
better if I could get into Longmans'. I now had 
an opportunity of being able to see young Long- 
man before I wrote to Johnson. 

" In all things, now and hitherto, I feel that God 
has been infinitely kind to me. The very opposite 
of what I deserved. I wish ever to feel this. 

" I was very much surprised to see that all 
I had read about a London Sunday is quite true. 
The gin-palaces are most wonderful. It looks 
singular to us to see people walking about with 
fruit-baskets, calling out what they had to sell, 
just as they do in Irvine on a fair-day. 

" This is Monday morning. I am now going to 
call on young Longman. If they have no place 
for me, then I shall write to Johnson at once. 
Perhaps Cambridge will be best for me. If so all 



44 CAMBRIDGE ACCEPTED. [CH. HI. 

other places will be closed against me. Wightinan 
speaks highly of Johnson. He is a member of a 
Baptist Church. I am to live in the house. I am 
to go with his family to this Baptist Church. You 
will be pleased to hear this. The salary is not 
large, but I am very young. I shall be able to 
save at any rate ten or twelve pounds a year. 
I feel in a very saving humour at present. But, 
nevertheless, if you should ever want anything 
which I have, it will be at your service immedi- 
ately. You know this. However, I must not talk 
about these things now. I must go to Longmans'. 
I hope God will lead me in the way that is right. 
Lead me to seek the kingdom of Heaven ; what- 
ever be my troubles, whatever painful things I may 
have to endure. I must just put down my pen and 
think of this for a few minutes before I go out. 

" I have just returned from Longmans'. Young L. 
was very civil, but they had no opening ; he pro- 
mised to do what he could for me, to recommend 
me, and so forth. Therefore, you see, I must go 
to Cambridge. I shall now write to Johnson. On 
the whole, I really do think Cambridge is best for 
me will be best for me ultimately. I did not 
wish to go there. God knows best. I ought 
to feel quite submissive, quite pleased, deeply 
grateful for all that He hath done for me, and 
cheerfully go where He leadeth me. It is strange 
to see how few things turn out as we design them, 
but doubtless they are all designed and projected 



1833-37.] SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 45 

by One infinitely wiser than we .are. I ought to 
rejoice that it is so. 

" Well, then, you now see that I go to Cambridge. 
In the meantime, as I feel myself quite settled, 
I feel quite at liberty to see all the lions of London. 
It is now half-past eleven. I am just going to 
see what can be seen, for though I have passed 
along London streets, from east to west, I have 
been quite blind to anything but the work before 
me. The work now. before me is sight-seeing. I 
will do my best to see everything. My eyes will 
be the clearer because they have been resting. I 
must stop. A young friend of MacLehose's, who 
comes from Glasgow, is to go with me. He also 
wants to see all the sights. He is now waiting 
for me. Good-bye for the present. I will tell 
you what I have seen when I get back to-night. 
Good-bye. 

" I have just returned. I wish to get this 
inclosed in the magazine parcel to-night, and must 
therefore lose no time. I have seen St. Paul's ; 
been in the dome of that 'great building/ I 
have been at the Coliseum and at the Zoological 
Gardens. This was my day's work. . . . 

"My health is better than when I left.; it could 
not be better. I like this London. When you 
have read this please to send it to Malcolm. I shall 
send him a short note by post when I reach Cam- 
bridge, or a few days after. I should like this to 
be in his hands by that time." 



46 A VIEW OF LONDON. [CH. in. 

' September 30, 1833. 

"The top of St. Paul's. What a sight! To 
see all London, even its highest spires, under 
one's feet, to think of the many thousand souls 
that are busy in that mighty mass of brick ; 
the number of sailors who are now busy among 
yon forestry of masts ; the numbers who are 
dying: the numbers who are just entering upon 
life. To think of those who are enduring pain, 
and those who are enjoying pleasure : of the 
villains, and the saints : the active and the 
indolent : the virtuous and the vicious : the 
pious and the profane : the prodigiously rich and 
the -miserably poor : the noble and the mean, who 
inhabit or infest that marvellous and mighty place, 
improving or injuring its morals, saving or de- 
stroying its souls. It is awful beyond description. 
I can hardly bear it." 

Two days after the dispatch of this letter he 
started for Cambridge to take up his post of shop- 
man to Mr. Johnson at 30 a year, travelling 
down to that town by coach, greatly delighted 
with " the clean neat English villages and villagers, 
the beautiful lawns and trees and old mansion- 
houses." The only drawback, indeed, was a charge 
of 6s. for his trunk before he can get it to 
Mr. Johnson's residence in Trinity Street. 

Here he falls to work with a will, his hours 



1833-37.] CAMBRIDGE FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 47 

being from 7.30 A.M. to 7 P.M., often longer, in 
the shop. The stock is large and mostly classical, 
to which he has not been used, but he has no 
doubt of mastering it, and knowing all about 
each book before long. Meantime he delights 
in his master and mistress, of whom he writes 
to his brothers : 

" They are nice folks, so pleasant, so kind, so 
pious, so everything that I could wish. I can 
scarcely think my present state real, it is so 
strangely sweet I say strangely sweet, because 
it is a strange thing for me to be with a master 
who tells me everything that can aid me in getting 
a knowledge of my business, and who does all he 
can to make me happy. All that I now want 
is a participation of what makes him (i.e. Mr. J.) 
so happy, viz., religion. 

" The plan of stopping with your employer, 
if he is a good one, is by far the best at least I 
think so. 

" I breakfast with him at eight o'clock ; dine 
(and fine dinners we have) at one P.M. ; take tea at 
five P.M. ; sup at nine ; and then we have the 
pleasure of conversation at dinner and other 
meals, and of family worship. These are no small 
pleasures, I can assure you." 

These pleasant relations with his employer 
lasted through the whole three years of his first 



48 THE TROUBLES OF YOUTH. [CH. in. 

sojourn at Cambridge. At the stock-taking of 
October, 1834, at the end of his first year, he was 
proud to write that he knows about every book 
in the shop, and is master of the trade. In the 
interval he has experienced "that change which 
is termed emphatically the new birth," and has 
joined the Baptist community, of which Mr. and 
Mrs. Johnson are members, not, however, without 
sidelong glances at the " splendid chapels " of the 
colleges, in which he occasionally attends "the 
most imposing worship you can conceive." 

But the " new birth " had not come without sore 
travail; never, I presume, does come otherwise. 
During these months though externally comfortable 
and happy, working with pleasure at the routine of 
the business, he was sorely tried and " struggling 
hard with all sorts of doubts and fears: above all," 
as he himself says, in recalling this time in after 
years, " with Calvinistic cobwebs." He pours out 
his trouble to his brothers Malcolm and William 
in long letters, a mixture of painful self-ques- 
tioning and longing for home sympathy. Such 
struggles honestly told are always full of deep 
human interest. 

" It is little more than ten years since my father 
died. I am now twenty. It appears to me a pro- 
digious time since his death. My thoughts, my 
feelings, my mode of looking at the world every- 
thing is now so very different ; and yet I remember 



1833-37.] THE TROUBLES OF YOUTH. 49 

what all these were as distinctly as if it had been 
yesterday. Many things, most things, which have 
happened in the interval are all quite forgotten, 
but that one stands out most distinctly. It was a 
most beautiful Sunday afternoon, I well remember ; 
mother and all the family standing round his bed. 
I remember how he looked on us all. He seemed 
to have no fear for himself, or for us, though our 
outlook was far from being bright. We all felt 
quite sure that our father was going to Heaven ; 
that God was with us then ; that God would 
always be with us. I felt quite sure of it, felt as 
if God were holding me up and cheering my 
heart. We all felt so. We really did feel strong 
in the, Lord. 

" Now, when all things are uncertain and con- 
fused, when I can neither look steadily at myself 
nor at society without agony, it does cheer me to 
look back to my father's death-bed. Then my 
heart had no fear, my mind no doubt, no scep- 
tical confusions; then this life did appear a 
God-appointed pilgrimage, through which God 
was leading us for our own good and His glory. 
The only poetry I knew was the poetry of the 
Bible and a few old ballads. I remember how 
that beautiful paraphrase used to hum itself 
through my mind, God of Bethel, by whose hand 
Thy people still are fed. It seemed to me as if 
some unseen spirit were cheering me. A miracle 
was nowise a surprising thing to me. I felt that 

E 



50 MISCELLANEOUS READING. [en. in. 

God was now most wonderfully upholding our 
own family, and all families, all beasts and birds, 
all trees and herbs of the field. 

" What a difference ten years have made ! Byron, 
David Hume, Gibbon, Paley, Sterne, Fielding, 
Swift, and innumerable novels, plays, and theo- 
logical productions, have unhinged my mind. 
My reading has been altogether without order. 
Whatever came first to hand was greedily de- 
voured. The result is a horrid chaos of the most 
undigested and contradictory notions. 

" I have cast Byron away with indignant con- 
tempt. The Life by Moore filled me with much 
deeper disgust than Hunt's book. Poor Byron ! 
He never seems to have loved any one. No one 
seems ever to have loved him heartily. There 
is a most hateful sense of hollowness running 
through these letters. To me the never-ceasing 
witticisms, the everlasting tittering and smirking, 
is most loathsome. He was not even a hearty 
sensualist! 

"What sympathy could Shelley's sincere and 
holy nature have with Byron ? I still hold out 
for Shelley. The Prometheus Unbound is a noble 
utterance of his most noble nature. I am far 
from imagining that he has solved the dreadful 
enigmas of life. If he had ! I cannot but admire 
him heartily for the firm faith he has that Right 
will at last prevail, that wrong will not be 
everlasting." 



1833-37. J HELP FROM T. ERSKINE'S WORKS. 51 

His brothers help him as they can, with advice 
as to books to read, and other recommendations. 
He is always grateful for their letters. 

"October, 1833. 

" . . . . Words cannot describe my gladness 
when I received your letter. No one can con- 
ceive the pleasure which a letter from a brother 
gives to one who feels himself 'a stranger in a 
strange land.' You may be inclined to laugh at 
me for counting the miles between us, but I 
cannot help it. 

" I really must confess that I don't like either 
Newton or Doddridge. They make me gloomy. 
It is painful to read them. I feel it so. I don't 
blame them. I only state the fact. Erskine " 
(Thomas Erskine of Linlathen) " and the author 
of the Natural History of Enthusiasm and a book 
called Saturday Evening assist me greatly ; and 
truly I need assistance. What a strange confused 
thing theology seems to me." 

"November, 1833. 

"I am not sure about what you said of my 
joining a church. I will think of it. I must say 
that at present I have no partiality for any sect of 
Christians. The very fact of there being sects 
confuses me. I hope God will direct me in the 
right way." 

E 2 



52 A CHURCH MEMBER. [en. in. 

"December, 1833. 

"With regard to Scott and Newton, whose 
writings you recommend, if I have said anything 
against them I am sincerely sorry. I should 
think it very wrong to do so. They have done 
much good. I dare not say anything agoAnst 
them. That would be very foolish ; it would be 
very irreverent. Yet I really do feel that their 
theology, though ' not a false thank God is but 
a theology that is confused, entangled, imperfect, 
gloomy.' At any rate it entangles me, it confuses 
me, it makes me gloomy." 

A little later, the exact date not given, the 
following short entry occurs in his journal : 

"This day I was baptised. I professed to die 
unto sin and rise again unto righteousness. May 
this be a true profession." 

From this December, 1833, things spiritual took 
a more cheerful turn, and " Calvinistic cobwebs " 
ceased to trouble him seriously. 

Meantime experience in business grows, and 
with it his estimate of the meaning and dignity 
of a bookseller's business rises steadily. He 
pours out his scorn to MacLehose (on hearing of 
the defection of a young Scotchman), upon " those 
of our profession who degrade themselves by 
becoming waiters, clerks, policemen, and the like." 



1833-37.] HANKERINGS FOR "THE ROW." 53 

He has frequent visits to Arran, in his dreams, 
but whether these dreams of home bring more 
pleasure or pain, can scarcely decide. They at 
all events lead him to value Campbell's " Soldier's 
Dream " as of incomparable beauty. 

He is faithful in urging his friend MacLehose 
to join a Church : indeed, from this time a deep 
religious tone underlies all his journals and corre- 
spondence, but free from the stereotyped phrases 
and sentiments which give an unreality to most 
evangelical confessions. He is eager and grateful 
for news of the young Scotchmen in the Row and 
elsewhere in London, in all of whom he takes the 
warmest interest ; and for the Scotch newspapers 
which his friend forwards, and which he cares 
much more for than he did at home. 

Cambridge is a pleasant town, and he is making 
many friends; but still at the end of the first 
year his heart is still in London, and he finds that 
here there is no active bustle, so " that one cannot 
acquire those habits of activity so useful to young 
men." 

No opening, however, occurs, and he spends a 
second year at Cambridge, still on the old salary 
of 30. It proves a sad one to him, for in May 
he hears of his mother's illness and in August of 
her death. He has been unable to get to her 
death-bed, and the thought troubles him sorely, 
and tries his faith severely for the time. He does 
not, however, regret that he cannot now go " home. 



54 FAVOUKITE AUTHORS. [OH. m. 

Home (if one who has neither father nor mother 
may talk of home) has few attractions for me now." 

His eagerness to know everything about books 
new and old increases, and the results of his vora- 
cious reading become more apparent. His letters 
to MacLehose are full of criticism and comment, 
and he is never tired of recommending his favourite 
authors Jeremy Taylor, Landor, Carlyle, and 
above all, Leighton (" I wish you would read him ; 
I don't know any writer equal to him. What are 
your Bickersteths, and Bridges, and Jowetts ? "). 
But he can scarcely be roused to any interest in 
party politics, though just now the kingdom is 
still in the throes of the Reform crisis. He 
himself is a Conservative, " Conservatism and 
Toryism being entirely distinct, and Tories the 
true destructives." He does not think the 
Government will be turned out, though Aber- 
cromby, the candidate of the Opposition, has been 
chosen Speaker, which he is glad of as a Scotch- 
man. A month later, to falsify his forecast, 
the change has come : However, I am no poli- 
tician, and scarcely ever read a newspaper, but 
don't see why you need boast" (his friend being 
an exulting Liberal), " for the Whigs threw out Sir 
R. Peel by votes, not by argument. You may as 
well avoid politics, as I can't comprehend them." 

At the end of his second year he is still unable 
to move, and agrees with Mr. Johnson to serve 
him for yet another at an increase of 5 on his 



1833-37.] THIRD YEAR IN CAMBRIDGE. 55 

salary. " I could not bear the idea," he writes 
to MacLehose, October 8, 1835, "of beating up 
for a higher salary, because I thought he ought to 
be the best judge of my worth. 35 is certainly 
less than I expected, and, I think, less than I 
ought to have ; but nevertheless I don't see the 
good of annoying myself for the sake of a little 
pelf. Besides I am at present quite poor, in fact 
I am a little in debt, but I hope that by next year 
I shall have as many sovereigns as will enable me 
to venture to London without hesitation. You 
are the only person to whom I have related this 
last circumstance, and I have done so in confi- 
dence." ..." I am really obliged to you for telling 
me how to spell parcel. I indeed thought that 
' cil ' was the right method, just because the ' eel ' 
is pronounced as 'cil' is in council and many 
other instances. I shall esteem it a favour if you 
mention any similar errors when you notice them 
in any of my future letters. I hope it will be 
but seldom." 

Much as it went against the grain to remain 
at Cambridge, the comparative leisure which his 
work there allowed, gave him opportunities which 
he could scarcely have got elsewhere. His journal 
and note-books are now full of thoughts and rules 
" on study and reading," on " meditation and re- 
flection," " fixing the attention," " enlarging the 
capacity of the mind," " improving the memory," 
" determining a question," &c. Interspersed with 



56 CAMBRIDGE QUITTED. [cir. in. 

these are extracts from authors he is reading, from 
Milton, Andrew Marvel, Voltaire, Gibbon, Boileau, 
Tasso, Virgil, Landor. His range widens con- 
stantly, and he not only reads and extracts, but 
criticises, sometimes in his own words, sometimes 
condensing from others. 

He is particularly fond of short aphorisms, 
such as that which Landor puts into Lord Brooke's 
mouth, " ambition is but avarice on stilts and 
masked," and on the whole is reaching out 
on all sides more and more methodically for 
culture and knowledge, with the constant aim 
of qualifying himself more thoroughly for the 
highest walks in his business of bookseller, as 
well as educating himself as a man. 

At the end of his third year he feels that the 
time has come for leaving Cambridge. He quits it 
with regret, having had much to encourage him 
and much to be thankful for. He had made many 
friends amongst the reading men who frequented 
the shop; indeed there are slight indications of 
jealousy on the part of his employer on this 
account. The rising men in the university often 
passed Mr. Johnson's desk to consult the Scotch 
shopman as to their purchases, or to talk over 
books with him. I am allowed to cite one of 
the most distinguished of these, the Dean of 
Chester, who says, " I used constantly to go after 
Hall to talk to him about books, and what I owe 
to him in this way is associated with a very 



1833-37.] SCOTLAND REVISITED. 57 

definite impression of his kindliness, ability, and 
knowledge. Whenever I went to Cambridge 
afterwards, I was always glad of the opportunity 
of keeping up the friendship." Not the slightest 
cloud, however, overshadowed his parting with 
Mr. Johnson. 

In January, 1837, after leaving Cambridge, he 
started for a short visit to Scotland, prolonged to 
three months by an attack of illness brought 
on by exposure on the voyage from London to 
Leith in a small coaster. He was accompanied 
on board by MacLehose, to whom the following 
letter describing his voyage is addressed : 

"STEWARTON, January 12, 1837. 

" . . . . When you left me I began to read, 
and 1 continued to read till we dined. The 
table cloth was laid by the cabin-boy, who is 
a singular animal, with a dirty shirt and a dingy 
pair of trousers he has a sovereign contempt 
for all the other parts of the British costume. 
The plates which he laid down were clean; the 
forks were priest-grey ; the spoons were some- 
thing like the knives. The boy, kind creature, cut 
the bread into slices; and, by way of omimcnt, 
left the marks of his thumbs on them. The 
captain had a very delicate stomach. He told me 
that he had been affected with it for a long time. 
Poor fellow, I felt for him. His regimen was just 
suited to his stomach. He took his meals just as 



58 THE VOYAGE NORTH. [CH. m. 

other people do, and in addition to this he took 
six bottles of porter per day, for his stomach's 
sake. The first three days of our voyage were 
very agreeable, though we did not make much pro- 
gress. On Wednesday afternoon a violent con- 
trary wind rose, which caused the vessel to rock 
tremendously. The waves swept the decks. The 
sailors were frightened, I was sick. Things con- 
tinued in this state for three days. On Saturday 
night the wind changed; we then made great 
progress, and on Sunday morning about two o'clock 
we arrived in Leith. I had been in' bed since 
Wednesday afternoon, and during all that time I 
had neither broken my fast nor slept, so I was 
very glad when we arrived. I could not go to 
Edinburgh till it was light. When I got out of my 
bed I was so weak that I could not stand. When 
it was light I hired a hackney coach and drove 
to St. James's Square. The Wilsons were very 
kind to me. After I had taken some tea and a 
glass of brandy I went to bed, and lay till they 
came back from the forenoon's services. 'Tis need- 
less to be too minute. Mrs. Wilson nursed me 
for a fortnight as if I had been her own and only 
son " 

His recovery was slow, and he had to spend the 
next two months in Scotland, this time for the 
most part in towns where he came across numbers 
of mechanics and weavers, a sad contrast to the 



1833-37.] THE COVENANTERS. 59 

poor peasants of Arran, intercourse with whom 
had so cheered him three years before. " The 
discontent of the lower classes is most painful in 
itself," he writes, " in the form it takes, and the 
spirit it springs from. How different from the old 
Covenanter spirit. These Covenanters were most 
noble. They fought for God's truth, and wished 
to rid the earth of whatever was an abomination 
to the Lord. Duty was the highest thing to them, 
and they struggled hard to obey its behest. Their 
boldness was not a brutal, vulgar, ignorant temerity, 
without reverence, without faith, but solemn and 
noble. I feel sure of this, notwithstanding Sir 
Walter's graphic misrepresentations. I have often 
talked with some of the remnant of that old stock, 
a few who still keep alive the holy flame, and 
know what true refinement lies at the bottom of 
their noble natures. But, alas, that race is becom- 
ing quite extinct. The poor men, the mechanics, 
weavers, and the like in our towns, care not one 
farthing for the Covenant, or for those deeper 
matters of which the Covenant was a symbol. 
They know nothing about duty, or faith, or God ; 
they care only about their rights ; they talk only 
about reform, universal suffrage, from which they 
look for justice and deliverance from oppression. 
They do not look up to God for help in the old- 
fashioned way. This may be a 'progress of 
humanity,' and all the rest of that jargon, but I, 
for one, cannot admire it." 



60 NEW ENGAGEMENT. [1833-37. 

It was not until the end of March that he was 
able to look out for work again. The first he 
heard of was the place of shopman to a stationer 
at Leith at 50 a year, of which he writes to his 
friend MacLehose : 

" 26, ST. JAMES'S SQUARE, EDINBURGH, 

"March 24, 1837. 

" I dare say you pity me. You have great 
compassion when you think of me bewailing with 
a despairing lamentation the prospect of being 
obliged to sell paper at Leith, when you think of 
me receiving a salary of fifty pounds a year while 
you have more than the double. Well, I must 
confess that it is a deplorable thing ; but yet, it is 
connected with several circumstances which greatly 
mitigate the evil. There is the advantage of being 
near the Wilsons, and this I count a very powerful 
attraction. By Mr. and Mrs: Wilson I have been 
treated as a son. By the family I have been 
treated as a brother. They are people of great 
intelligence and good sense. Now intercourse with 
such people improves one very much, and I know 
few who require the improvement more than 
I do. . . ." 

To which a reply comes offering a situation in 
Messrs. Seeley's shop. His Leith employer good- 
naturedly released him from his agreement, and 
he hastened to London, and was at once installed 
in Fleet Street. 



CHAPTER IV. 

FLEET STREET. 1837-43. 

THE next six years were spent by Daniel Mac- 
millan in the service of Messrs. Seeley of Fleet 
Street, at a salary rising from 60 to 130. Twice 
during these years, in 1839 and 1841, he was 
obliged to give up all work, and to take some 
rest in Scotland, chiefly at Edinburgh with his 
friends the Wilsons. That his employers soon 
learnt to appreciate him may be inferred from 
the fact that his place was never filled up during 
these absences. But excellent as were his rela- 
tions with the Messrs. Seeley, as they had been 
with all previous employers, this period was one 
of much trial and suffering, from weak health, 
straitened means, and a possibly exaggerated feel- 
ing of responsibility for those of his relatives who 
needed sorely even such help as he was able to 
give them. 

There are signs too in his journal and letters 
that the position of dependence was becoming 
very .irksome to him, as it must sooner or later 



62 MESSRS. SEELEY'S, FLEET STREET. [CH. iv, 

become to every proud and ambitious man, con- 
scious of power and knowledge, but without the 
means of using them on his own account. He 
sees how things might be better managed, how 
openings are missed and false steps made, and 
frets under that sorest trial of the capable spirit, 
7ro\\a (frpovetov //.^Sei/o? fcpareeiv. 

As his journal will be drawn upon largely in 
the following pages it may be well to give at once 
his own view on the much debated question, 
whether such a document can be a trustworthy 
chronicle of a man's own life. The best known 
autobiographical writings, such as Franklin's 
Autobiography, Rousseau's Confessions, Goethe's 
Dichtung und Wahrheit, and other such works 
which could ill be spared from literature, certainly 
leave that question in much doubt. Probably the 
true answer is that it depends mainly on the 
nature of the man, and partly on the object he 
sets before himself, whether he can give a true 
record of his own thoughts, motives, actions. 
Readers will judge, each for himself, how far 
this journal has a true ring about it. 

" I kept a journal from the 26th of November, 
1832, to the 13th of August, 1834; but fearing 
that this writing about myself might increase 
pride and give birth to insincerity, I resolved to 
give it up and destroy all that I had written. 

" Since the 13th of August, 1834, 1 have thought 



1837-43.] JOURNAL WRITING. 63 

several times on the matter. I have thought 
against journals and diaries; and I have talked 
against them. But I think differently now. I 
think they may be abused, and that they are 
abused ; that men and women have filled journals 
and diaries with nonsense and cant. But yet I 
think that no argument against the thing. Pulpits 
and platforms are liable to the same abuse. Yet 
no rational man thinks of overturning or suppress- 
ing these modes of propagating religious and 
moral doctrines and opinions. 

" I now believe that keeping a journal does, or 
may, improve the mind and heart. 

" Of course, every one believes that a man ought 
to ask himself at the end of the day, ' What have 
I done ? ' Now, keeping a journal just enables a 
man to answer that question. In fact, a journal 
is, or ought to be, the answer. 

" I believe that I shall have to give an account 
of what I have said, or done, or thought. Ay, 
and of what I have neglected to do. I intend to 
write this journal as in the presence of HIM who 
shall be my judge. I hope that He will make me 
sincere and honest, and that under His blessing 
this may prove a powerful instrument of self- 
improvement. 

" There are times when my mind becomes very 
earthly and Sadducean : when many things appear 
more attractive than virtue, and more abominable 
than vice. Well, it does one good, at such times, 



64 MANUSCRIPT PRAYERS. [en. iv. 

to read the notes which were written when the 
mind was in a healthier state. They bring to 
one's recollection trains of thought, and gusts of 
feelino", which tend to extinguish and exterminate 

O 7 O 

whatever is impious and impure : and to excite, 
animate, and strengthen holy meditation and 
devout emotion. And, I think, that they lead me, 
no less, to seek more frequently and more earnestly 
for that armour which will enable me to repel the 
spiritual foes which attack me, and repress the 
treason of my own heart. 

" For these purposes I now begin my journal 
afresh." 

From this opening it would seem naturally 
to follow, as indeed is the fact, that one of the 
characteristics of this journal should be the fre- 
quent occurrence of prayers amongst the record 
of daily events, quotations from books he is 
reading, rules for improving the memory and 
training the intellect, which form its staple. How 
completely he has delivered himself from the 
Calvinism and scepticism of earlier days may be 
gathered from any of these outpourings of a much 
tried spirit, of which the following may serve as 
specimens : 

" . . . . O Lord, give me a stronger and firmer 
faith in Thy providence, now that I have to 
struggle with poverty. O God, do Thou strengthen 



1837-43.] MANUSCRIPT PRAYERS. 65 

and sustain me. May I cheerfully acquiesce in Thy 
will. May I look on these painful trials as the 
discipline of a kind and tender Father. May they 
have their proper effect. Keep me from fretting 
from being tossed and disturbed by proud and 
wicked thoughts. May there ever be a quiet and 
heavenly calm in my soul. Give me confidence 
in Thee. O Lord, if it be possible, if it be Thy 
will, grant that, by some means or other, I may be 
delivered from this load. If that is not Thy will, 
enable me to endure. It is easier to talk of pa- 
tience than to be patient. May I really be patient. 
May I really rest on Thine arm, look up to Thee 
for support, and enjoy Thy smile ; even now, when 
I am tossed on troubled waters. O Lord, hear me, 
I beseech Thee, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. 

" . . . . Most merciful God, I implore Thee 
to keep me from the pressure of werldly care, 
which disturbs the peace and happiness of man, 
and often leads to violations of Thy will. O 
Lord, keep me from this. Though I am pressed 
under a load of debt, and have sometimes to 
struggle with hunger, O Lord, preserve me in 
my integrity. May I never stoop to anything 
mean. May my morality be stern, dignified, and 
upright. O Lord God, if it please Thee, release 
me from my present difficulties. While they last 
may they give strength and steadfastness to my 
principles. Keep me from cant and carelessness, 
haughtiness and sycophancy. ..." 

F 



6C NEW RESPONSIBILITIES. [en. iv. 

Looking back on this time he writes : 

"My life has never been an easy-going life. 
One thing after another has occurred to prevent 
my enjoying ease and quietness. Some of my 
friends say that I am too ready to take cares 
and troubles upon me. Be that as it may, I 
am always over head and ears with one trouble 
or another. I am always in debt, though I have 
no extravagant habits. . ." 

Still he feels that he is in his right place. After 
his absence in Scotland in 1839, where he was 
tempted to remain by several offers, he writes : 

" I was glad to get back to London again. 
London seems more of a home to me than any 
other place. Irvine seemed to me the most 
desolate of all places. I have no home there 
now ; no mother's fireside. Ah me ! . . . . And 
then, besides that, the condition of my nieces and 
nephews ; and the knowledge of my inability 
to assist them. All this is very painful to me. 
I don't think that I shall ever visit Irvine 
again." 

This readiness to take cares and trouble on him- 
self, and his desire to lend a helping hand to his 
relatives, resulted in much anxiety of mind, and 
aggravation of his bodily ailments ; and at last, in 
1840, in a sacrifice which cost him more than all 



1837-43.] Xl'.W IJKSl'OXSITJILITIES. n7 

others. To clear himself of debt and pay doctors' 
bills, and the expenses incurred in bringing his 
sister and niece to London, he sold the library of 
favourite books which he had been collecting all 
his life, except some few which he could not bear 
to part with. How the necessity came upon him 
the following extracts will show. The Misses 
Nutter referred to kept the boarding house in 
Hoxton at which he and his brother lodged. 

" My brother Alexander was keeping a village 
school in a place called Nitshill about two miles 
from Paisley. Sister Janet was keeping house for 
him, and a small sewing-school by way of in- 
creasing their income. From all I could learn 
they were not making the two ends meet. It 
seemed to me that if I could find a place for 
Alexander in London it would be a good thing. 
I had scarcely returned when I learned that L. 
and G. Seeley wanted a young man. I spoke to 
G. Seeley about my brother j he agreed to take 
him, his salary to commence with 60. I wrote 
for him ; and he came up, and has been here ever 
since doing very well. It is nearly three years 
now since he arrived here on the 3rd of October, 
1830. I think his coming here has been a great 
blessing to him. 

" After I had written for Alexander, it struck me 
that it would be a jpity to leave Janet alone in 
Glasgow. I knew that her education was very 

F 2 



68 RES ANGUSTA DOMI. [CH. iv. 

deficient ; and fancied that she might improve it 
if she came here, and put herself under the care 
of the Misses Nutter ; and that, after being here 
for half a year or so, she might take a place of 
some kind where she would be able to support 
herself. I wrote for her, and she got herself 
ready as soon as she could, and reached London 
on the 2nd of November, 1839. 

" She had not been here long, when I saw clearly 
that there was very little chance of her learning 
much from the Nutters. They did not suit each 
other at all. I did not know very well how to get 
rid of these evils. At last I thought of furnished 
lodgings, and getting my sister to manage for us. 
We found that furnished apartments near the 
city, and at all respectable, were very expensive, 
that the cheapest, easiest, pleasantest, and alto- 
gether the best way, was to get unfurnished apart- 
ments, and furnish them ourselves. But how to get 
them furnished ? That was the difficulty. I tried 
several of my friends to see if I could get the loan 
of 60. I had about ten of my own. At last I 
applied to Mr. Burnside " (one of the partners in 
Messrs. Seeley's house), " and he lent me that sum 
at once. 

" Mr. Edwards, a gentleman to whom we were 
introduced by Mr. Chapman, did all in his power 
to help us to buy things wisely. He is a very 
kind, worthy man, an earnest socialist, a most 
disinterested man. I am glad that I was introduced 



1837-43.] KES ANGUSTA DOMI. 69 

to him. It gave me an opportunity of seeing 
Socialism on its fairest side, so that I might judge 
fairly of its operation, its meaning, its tendencies, 
and, above all, to see the reasons why such men as 
Mr. Edwards embraced it. This gentleman and 
his wife were very kind to us; they spared no 
pains to forward us, and enable us to get good 
things cheap. In a short time, with the help of 
these kind people, we got all things together ; and 
on the 9th of March, 1840, we got into rooms at 
26, Bartlett's Buildings, for which we were to pay 
30 a year. When we got all settled, things 
looked very pleasant ; only Janet seemed rather 
awkward in her management, at least I thought so. 
I hoped she would soon get over that. I fancied 
she was not strong enough for the work. But on 
the whole, things went on, for a time, very well. 
I found, however, that our expenses were greater 
than I expected. I saw plainly that we should 
never get our debt cleared off unless my salary 
increased, or Janet found out some more economical 
mode of managing." 

The debts were paid by the sale of his library, 
and Janet sent back to Scotland. Then the two 
brothers migrated to a boarding-house in Charter- 
house Square. But the consequences of these efforts 
involved such straitened means that he notes, in 
the tone of pleasant banter which runs through 
his journal when dealing with his own troubles, 



70 "SARTOR RESAirrUS." [en. iv. 

Mr. William Burnside's habit of asking them to tea 
with him, " a saving to us which is of consequence 
to such poor chaps." From the time of his younger 
brother's arrival in London they were never 
separated, and the two shared all burthens and 
all successes as brothers should do. Alexander, 
he tells his friend G. Wilson (November, 1839), 
"has to get up at six to bo in Fleet Street at 
eight. While he is dressing and breakfasting, I 
read some book to him just now it is Sartor 
Resartus" when finished he will send this book 
to his friend, who must, however remember that 
it is not a common book to be read in a common 
way, and he must return it when read. What 
with brother, sister, niece, with him, and a nephew 
coming, one can understand the feeling of age 
which he feels coming on him (October, 1839). 
"It is scarcely time for me to be an old man 
yet, but few fathers feel so serious. Were I to 
die or lose my health, or be thrown out of my 
situation, why we should all be reduced to beggary 
in a very short time." 

But his many cares do not make him forgetful 
of his books, and, after repeated applications for 
a year, he even gets back Sartor Resartus from 
G. Wilson, by the appeal, " If you haven't made it 
into pipe lights, send it me back, it has become 
a necessity of life to me." 

Sometimes during these years he has thoughts 



1837-43.] DU. BINNEY'S CHURCH. 71 

of leaving London. His friend MacLehose, for 
instance, now established in Glasgow, writes in 
1839 of a place ho can have there with a salary 
of 80. 

" This," he comments, " is just what I have : 
but in Glasgow eighty pounds will go as far as a 
hundred pounds in London. So in reality, the 
salary is twenty pounds better. Now, as I am in 
debt about twenty pounds, this is of consequence 
to me. But still I don't know how to decide. I 
am so very comfortable. Mr. Burnside, and his 
two sons, William and Jacob, are so very kind to 
me, I should not like to leave them for a trifle. 
Besides, the Miss Nutters are so very kind to 
me. I am in all things treated as a brother. 
I can scarcely expect to be so comfortable if I 
were to go to Glasgow. 

" Then again, I like Mr. Binney's preaching so 
much. I should be very sorry indeed to leave 
him. I never met any one whose sermons fur- 
nish so many materials for reflection. He has a 
noble mind : he is so very energetic and earnest : 
yet his manner is so simple and chaste ; so free 
from all false glitter and show. I never hope to 
meet with his equal. Yet I should have to give 
up all this if I left London." 

He had joined Mr. Binney's congregation at the 
Weigh House Chapel soon after coming to town, 



72 REASONS FOR SECESSION. [cir. iv. 

and continued to belong to it until 1842. The 
reasons for his leaving it are given in the follow- 
ing letter to Mr. Binney, which indicates the 
direction his mind was taking in religious and 
ecclesiastical matters during these years. 

To THE REV. DR. BINNEY. 

"September 7, 1842. 

"I am very sorry that my note should have 
given you the least thought. My affection, 
my respect, and reverence, and gratitude, would 
prevent me from saying anything or doing any- 
thing that I fancied would at all disturb your 
mind. I did compose a longer letter, explaining 
in as clear and simple a manner as I could the 
reasons which have made me determine never to 
go to the Weigh House again : but after looking 
over it, I sent it to the winds, imagining that it 
would be wrong and foolish to take up your time 
with the difficulties of so unimportant a person. 
I fancied that such a letter would appear laugh- 
able, if not to you, at any rate to those who might 
see it ; for I supposed that ' the deacons ' would 
see such things as a matter of course, in virtue of 
their functions. But here I maybe mistaken, 
because I have only very hazy notions on these 
matters. This is the true reason of my writing 
so very short, and, as it appears, so very unsatis- 
factory a note. 



1837-43.] KEASONS FOR SECESSION. 73 

" I wrote that note about four weeks ago. I 
wrote it with trembling ; and when I had written 
it I could not think of sending it ; it was so painful 
for me to withdraw from all contact (not with the 
Weigh House, for as no one there ever spoke to me, 
as I know no one there, and can have no respect 
or affection for the Church, it costs me no pain 
to leave it) with the minister of the Weigh House. 
But I sha'n't dwell on this, lest I should get senti- 
mental. However, on Sunday, August 7th, I forgot 
to take my ticket to the communion service, and 
on Thursday last I had to leave town to keep 
an engagement with a gentleman in Sussex ; and 
as I knew I should not be able to return till after 
Sunday, September oth, I felt it necessary to send 
the note before I left town ; because I did not wish 
to see any of ' the deacons,' especially at a time 
when I had made up my mind to leave the Weigh 
House altogether. 

" I am afraid that if I proceed to tell you the 
reasons you will think it a very long and very 
tiresome story. I will be as short as I can. 

" You may remember that in May, 1841, I was 
very ill. For Some time my recovery seemed a 
very doubtful matter. I think I told you this 
before. At any rate it was so. I was away from 
business for six weeks. My doctor was very par- 
ticular in asking all my habits ; how I felt this 
day and that day. I mentioned that I was always 
poorly on Mondays. He asked me where I went, 



74 REASONS FOR SECESSION. [CH. iv. 

and where I sat. He ordered me not to sit in the 
gallery, and never to go out to the evening service. 
I felt sorry to leave a seat which had become 
familiar to me ; besides I did not wish to sit in a 
different place from my sister and my brother. I 
took care not to go to the evening service, and 
often went out of town to spend the Sunday 
with a friend in the neighbourhood. I found great 
benefit in this. 

" When my sister's serious illness made it 
necessary that we should give up housekeeping 
and board somewhere or other, I sold off most of 
our things, and most of my books, so that I might 
be able to pay old debts and meet new expenses. 
This new arrangement placed me in a more comfort- 
able position, but my sister's health being so bad, 
and she, while in such health, being altogether 
dependent on me, it became still more my duty to 
take the greatest care of my health, according 
to my doctor's recommendation. 

" I therefore applied for a seat in the centre of 
the chapel, but could not get one. I gave up my 
seat in the gallery, not without pain. As I have 
not much patience I never could wait for a seat. 
I could not stand in the aisle till all the regular 
seatholders had found their places : therefore, 
though I walked to the door of the chapel with my 
brother, I generally went to some neighbouring 
church. I did this even on Communion Sundays. 
I always found a seat very readily in these city 



1837-43.] REASONS FOR SECESSION. 75 

churches ; and very soon the service of the Church 
became very attractive to me. Its extreme beauty 
more and more unfolded itself to me. It seemed 
so true to my nature that my whole heart could 
find utterance there. This sort of feeling continued 
for a long time without going further. 

" Dissent and Dissenting systems have been for 
a long time very hateful to me, so extremely 
repulsive that I kept them out of my mind as 
much as possible. Even at your communion service 
this came over my mind so painfully that I could 
scarcely bear it. It was only my great admira- 
tion and love for you that kept me so long: 
but as I felt that my whole nature revolted 
from the thing, that it really injured my health, 
physical and spiritual, I resolved to leave. I have 
quite made up my mind thus far ; what the next 
step will be is not so clear to me; it is daily 
becoming clearer. At present I always go to some 
church on Sunday morning. Last Sunday, I was 
staying with a gentleman who is a Churchman ; 
and went with his family to the communion service. 
I thought it most suitable ; it is so very serious 
and solemn. 

" By the by, have you ever read Mr. Maurice's 
book called The Kingdom of Christ ? I think it 
a most noble work. It is the second edition which 
I have read. Some parts are perhaps rather hastily 
written, but, take it as a whole, it is the fairest 
and most candid \vork I ever read on the subject. 



76 REASONS FOR SECESSION. [CH. iv. 

" With the warmest gratitude for your kindness, 
and with every kind wish towards Mrs. Binney and 
your family, 

" I remain, 
" Yours affectionately and respectfully, 

" D. M." 

It is impossible to read this letter without being 
conscious of the embarrassment of the writer, and 
a feeling that it is throughout an effort to find 
some reason for leaving his church which should 
give as little pain as possible to the minister to 
whom he confessed such a deep obligation, and 
for whom he entertained so sincere an affection. 
No one can doubt that had he told his story to 
Dr. Binney a seat would have been found for him 
even in the minister's own pew. And there is an 
indication of a morbid feeling, which was assuredly 
no part of the man, in his references to the alleged 
exclusiveness of the richer part of the congrega- 
tion. Such exclusiveness is at least as common 
in churches as in chapels. It would have been 
more in keeping with the courage and truthful- 
ness of his character had he frankly alleged as 
the cause of his secession the real reason which is 
brought in apropos of nothing in the concluding 
sentences. The gentleman with whom he had been 
staying, and with whose family he had attended 
the Communion Service of the Church, was Arch- 
deacon Hare, and his dissatisfaction with Dissent, 



1837-43.] CHARTERHOUSE SQUARE. 77 

which had been growing on him for some years, 
had been brought to a head by Mr. Maurice's 
Kingdom of Christ. The influence of these re- 
markable brothers-in-law on D. Macmillan was 
already strong, and grew stronger year by year, 
but he never forgot the debt he owed to Dr. 
Binney, or ceased to speak of him with reverence 
and affection. 

In 1840 his salary had been raised to 130 a 
year and his brother's to 80, and they were now 
living well within their means in the lodgings in 
Charterhouse Square. The time had come in his 
judgment for an effort at independence, but the 
difficulties of making it with prudence and any 
chance of success were great, and it was still two 
years before the opportunity occurred. His account 
of it when it did occur, in February, 1843, is as 
follows : 

" I thought it would be worth while to plant 
a seed which might grow to something, at any 
rate by the time Mr. Burnside left the business, 
and as my brother's salary was 50 less than mine 
I thought it would be safer for him to manage the 
concern. I tried to find a shop at the West End, 
but could hear of nothing under 150, or 200 a 
year, besides 200 or 300 for what they call the 
' coming-in.' And as we had no capital we could 
not venture on a thing of that sort. About this 
time, I heard of the shop in Aldersgate Street. 



78 ALDERSGATE STREET. [on. iv. 

The rent was 45, the fixtures 100. I spoke 
to Mr. Burnside about it. He promised to lend 
me 100 any time I should want it. I took the 
place, and as the landlord knew me, he accepted 
two bills of 50 at three months and four months 
for the fixtures, instead of insisting that it should 
be paid down at once, as is usual. We thus 
commenced without capital. We were able with 
ease to pay this 100 as it became due." 

The seed was already growing to something by 
the time the second bill fell due and was paid, in 
June, 1843, though as yet the profits of the shop 
were only sufficient to meet necessary expenses. 



To J. MACLEHOSE 

" 57, ALDERSGATE STREET, May, 1843. 
" . . . . We are pushing hard to make a 
business, and find it very uphill work. If the 
people had sense they would come to us for books ! 
We could sell them as cheap as any one and we 
could give good information on all points connected 
with books ! People would be glad if they only 
knew. But, alas for their ignorance ! . . . ." 

But better prospects were now at hand, and a 
new field was opening which will claim separate 
mention in the next chapter. 

It is mainly from his letters to his friends that 



1887-43.] BETTER PHOSPEGTS. 79 

the course of his life must be traced in this as in 
all other stages, but before turning to them, the 
testimony may be cited of one who knew him well 
at this time, as to what manner of man he was 
in these years of his early residence in London. 
" He was one of a group of young men of much 
promise and intelligence," writes Dr. Brodie Sewell, 
" who resided with us or were frequent visitors at 
our house. But undoubtedly the men of most 
mark whom I then knew were David Livingstone 
and Daniel Macmillan, and although the former 
has since obtained the greatest celebrity, and even 
then lived in imagination amongst the Bechuanas, 
there was a quiet steady reserved thoughtfulness 
about Macmillan which made all that he said 
worth hearing, and a general amiability of character 
which was very winning." 

Daniel Macmillan was, as we. have seen, from 
his earliest years intent on self-discipline, and 
above all on subduing a certain vehemence and 
impetuosity of character, which he felt to be his 
besetting weakness. He was still conscious of it 
on his death-bed, and refers to it in his last 
pathetic words to his wife. The estimate of so 
able and shrewd an observer as Dr. Sewell shows, 
however, that even in these early years this 
vehemence was well under control. 

Other members of the group of young men 
referred to bear testimony to his uniform cheer- 
fulness, and to the raciness and humour which 



80 LONDON HABITS. [on. iv. 

ran through his conversation, and made him 
specially welcome as a companion. This side 
of his character is difficult to reproduce, but 
may be inferred from the buoyancy and play- 
fulness of much of his correspondence to which 
we must now turn. 



To GEO. WILSON. 

" February 13, 1838. 

" The list of books you have read since I left 
Scotland makes me quite ashamed. I don't think 
I have read so much, though I get away from 
business so early. 'I have this excuse, that 
though it is only seven when I get away it is 
always very nearly eight before I get home. 
Then there is tea and some gossip with the 
Miss Nutters, so that it is getting near to nine 
before I can take up anything like a book or a 
pen. Some nights I am kept later. These, how- 
ever, are very few. Yet though I make all these 
complaints I have read a good deal more than I 
can recollect. I could say with Thomas Aquinas 
that one of the most ambitious of my wishes is 
that I might be able to understand all that I 
have read, and remember that which is worth 
preserving. There is nothing more common 
nowadays than to see rhetoricians slashing away 
without mercy at the Angelic Doctor. So common 
are these nourishes against poor Thomas that I 



1837-43.] THE ANGELIC DOCTOR. 81 

supposed only half-witted theologians lived in 
those awful times called the Dark Ages, long 
before the world had been illuminated by such 

men as Jeremy Bentham and Geo. Combe 

I now know something of him, and have no 
sympathy with those who can sneer at a man 
who, born of a noble family, and enjoying the 
pleasures of wealth and ease, gives up all and 
devotes himself to the service of the Church: 
and more than this, when the fame of his learning 
had gained for him the admiration of Europe, 
when bishoprics and the highest offices were 
pressed upon him, he refused them and remained 
the great Dominican scholar. His works are in 
eighteen folio volumes, all of them displaying 
great strength and acuteness of mind. But I had 
no idea of his being a man of such tremendous 
power and compass of intellect as Professor 
Hampden represents him to have been." Then 
speaking of a book on education by Isaac Taylor, 
he says, " There are some very beautiful passages 
in it. That is a great advantage in his writings. 
He is not content with leading you through a rich 
and fertile country, he enlivens the scene with 
rocks, cascades, and water-falls. I know few 
writers whose eloquence and poetry charm me 
so much." ..." Fine writing has as powerful 
an influence over me as music. I am as much 
pleased and excited by Milton's Arcopagitica, 
or Macaulay's article on Bacon, as with the 



82 DEATH OF W. MACMILLAN. [CH. iv. 

oratorio of the Fall of Jerusalem which I heard 
at Exeter Hall the other night. . . . " 

In this letter and elsewhere there are allusions 
to writers in the learned languages, of which he 
confessedly had no knowledge; but few scholars 
could be more intimate with the classical writers 
with whom he was in intellectual sympathy. He 
spared no pains to enter into their thought. Thus 
in the course of systematic study which he laid 
down for himself early in his career, he read 
Homer in three translations, and the Greek 
dramatists, and was as familiar with Plato as many 
persons entirely ignorant of Greek and Hebrew 
are with the Bible. 

Another heavy sorrow was now upon him. In 
the next month his brother William died sud- 
denly at the Baptist College at Bradford, where 
he had entered as a student. After their father's 
death, he and Malcolm had acted nobly the part 
of elder brothers, and their devotion had been re- 
warded by the gratitude and love of the younger 
children. Daniel had been summoned to his 
brother's death-bed, but arrived too late. From 
Bradford he writes to MacLehose : 

"March 17, 1838. 

"I don't see how a philosophic theist who 
rejects revelation and the consolations of the 
Gospel can get at the attribute of his deity at 
alL How is it that a young man with all the 



1837.-43.] DEATH OK W. MAf'MILLAN. 83 



virtues which can adorn humanity is subjected 
for years to sickness and pain, and cut off while 
yet in the prime of life ? I can't see how he, on 
his principles, can account for that and a hundred 
such things. I rejoice that my brother, who is 
now in heaven, held with such vigour and firm- 
ness the capital truths of Christianity. They 
supported his spirit during the whole of his afflic- 
tion, and by them his spirit is arrayed now that 
he stands before the throne of God : and, more than 
this, he was convinced, and I think most ration- 
ally, that the power and vigour of his virtues (his 
holiness) were greatly increased by his affliction. 
The Bible tells us that this is the case. My brother's 
experience confirmed the statements of Scripture. 
So thus you see we are convinced that afflictions 
must be good in their end and aim because we 
know, a priori, from His revelation, that God's 
character is good and, of course, that all that 
He does, or can do, must be good and not only 
that, but, a posteriori, that they actually do pro- 
duce good fruit in the character- of those ' who 
are exercised thereby/ and I think that we may 
very safely go still further, and surmise that those 
who suffer so much are undergoing the discipline 
which will be necessary to fit them for the highest 
functions in the ' Heavenly Hierarchy.' I think 
this exceedingly probable. The thought has in 
no slight degree tended to lessen the severity of 
my present trial. As you know already, when I 

G 2 



84 DEATH OF W. MACMILLAN. [CH. iv. 

arrived, the first thing I heard was that my brother 
was dead. This was very dreadful. It fell upon 
me like a thunderbolt. I seemed to myself as if 
I should soon follow him. I had been pleasing 
myself as I came along by thinking of what I 
should say to him. I thought of telling him 
among other things of the kindness of Mr. Burn 
side, which I shall not speedily forget. But alas ! 
my poor dear brother was gone. His physical 
frame was there. His spirit was gone. The 
shadow is still in this shadowy world. The sub- 
stance is gone to the world of substantial realities. 
As soon as I recovered from the effects of fatigue, 
I went to Horton College, where I was most kindly 
received by Mrs. Acworth, the wife of the presi- 
dent, Mr. Acworth himself being from home. 
The very great attention which has been paid 
to my brother and the deep sensation which his 
death made and makes among his fellow-stu- 
dents and tutors really exceed belief. It is very 
gratifying to me. I went to see my brother's 
corpse to-day. I really thought I had firmer nerves. 
But really it was a heartrending sight. How thin 
and worn he must have been. How different from 
what he was five years ago when I saw him last. 
Then he had a firm frame and a vigorous eye. It 
might with truth be said ' there seems to be a 
glancing spirit in it/ Little did I expect to see 
that eye so soon shut in death. His forehead 
seemed a worthy temple for such a soul ; and even 



1837-43.] FADER'S " JI YSTKI1IES OF THE CABIRI." 85 

now it distinctly tells that it had once an illus- 
trious inhabitant. He is to be buried on Friday. 
I expect that I shall leave this on Saturday. 
I shall try for that." 

To GEO. WILSON. 

"June, 1838. 

" I lately read a book by Mr. Faber which he 
calls a Dissertation on the Mysteries of the Cabin. 
It is one of the most singular books I have ever 
read. He attempts to prove that most of the 
ancient mythologies were in their origin com- 
memorative rites of the Noachian deluge. It is 
very curious to see Bacchus and other worthies of 
that kind made out to be Noah. Yet that is what 
he does, and I think he makes it rather probable. 
The book is diffuse. There is a good deal of 
repetition. But to me it was very curious and 
very interesting. If you can meet with it you 
would find it worth reading. It is in two octavos, 
but don't be frightened. You can read all that is 
worth reading in it in a night or two. You will 
see that ' Lone Isle of the Sea,' the place of my 
nativity, in a light you have never seen it in 
before. What he says of the origin of the names 
of the islands of Arran and Bute is very curious, 
but I sha'n't say more about it. The book is well 
worth glancing through when you have a leisure 
hour, and feel inclined to amuse yourself with the 



86 LIFE OF IIUTCIIINSOK. [on. iv. 

myths of antiquity. What would the priests of 
Thebes say if they saw me a bookseller's shop- 
man prying into their sacred matters ? They 
would forgive you because you belong to the 
learned class. But really, I fear that I should 
be sacrificed to appease the wrath of some of 
their deities. . . ." 

To J. MACLEIIOSE. 
"172, FLEET STKEET, December 21, 1838. 

" . . . . I opened your parcel, and have kept 
one copy of ITutchinson's life to look at. Mrs. 
Hutchinson is an admirable and most accom- 
plished woman. Godwin, Disraeli, Foster, Lucy 
Aiken, Macaulay, and all the writers who have 
recently sent forth books or reviews on that 
period, quote largely from this work ; with these 
extracts I have always been delighted. I have 
often tried, but have never been able to get my 
hands on it. I was delighted when I saw 
that Smith had sent out this edition, but very- 
much disappointed when I opened the book itself 
to see such unreadably small print. If I were 
buying the book I would prefer giving a shilling 
or two more and getting larger print. These 
are much more difficult to read than Child's 
editions of Milton, Bacon, &c. However, this is 
not a bad speculation of Smith's. I think it will 
pay him well. I should think it very likely that 



1837-43.] WILLIAM HONE. 87 

he will reprint Baillie's Letters. BailHe was one of 
the Covenanting commissioners sent to London to 
arrange affairs with Charles while the Scottish 
army was lying in Newcastle. He was also in 
London during the Civil War. He was sent to 
treat with Charles at Oxford, &c., &c. All these 
affairs, and sundry others, he describes most 
graphically. His description of Wentworth's trial 
is a fine specimen of his power in this way. But 
that is not his only praise. A most clear-headed 
and far-seeing man was this Baillie. In 1644 his 
clear-sightedness enabled him to descry, far before 
most other men, what would be the end of the 
faithless intrigues of Charles. 

" If Smith published this book, which I should 
think veiy likely, you ought to sell a great many, 
for Baillie was the commissioner sent by Glasgow 
College. . . ." 

The Hone referred to in the next letter was the 
compiler of Hone's Every Day Boole ; the staunch 
old Liberal who earlier in the century had 
fought the battle of a free press so gallantly, 
conducting his own case before Lord Ellenborough, 
and defeating that truculent judge and the law 
officers of the Crown. He had gone through much 
variety of social conditions, and was now sub- 
editing the Patriot newspaper, then a prominent 
Dissenting organ, when, in his visits to Seeley's 
shop, he met Alexander Macmillau, between whom 



83 WILLIAM HONE. [CH. iv. 

\~~ 
and himself a friendship sprang up that led to 

Hone's occasional visits to their house in Bartlett's 
Buildings. His story and character greatly in- 
terested Daniel, who had seen him at Binney's 
Chapel, and heard of him from Dr. Binney. 

To G. WILSON. 

"172, FLEET STREET, November 8, 1839. 
" . . . . The other day, while grabbing among 
some old book- shops, I saw a book entitled German 
Romance in four vols. post Svo. One of the 
volumes contained a novel of Jean Paul Richter's, 
another the Travels of Wilhelm Meister. On looking 
into the preiaces, lives, notes, &c., I thought I saw 
Carlyle's hand. The more I read the clearer this got. 
I asked the price. The old Jew of a bookseller 
asked eighteen shillings. This I could not afford. 
Shortly after I was asking a gentleman in Whit- 
taker's about this. He told me that they had a 
copy very cheap. After haggling a little I got it 
for a copy of Thomson's works (Seasons, &c.) 
which you saw me with when I was in Edinburgh. 
This I thought a good exchange. I have not had 
time to read the books yet, we have been so busy 
of late, and I have been so much occupied with my 
family. But by and by, when my children " (refer- 
ring to his brother and sister whom he had just 
brought up to London) "are able to take some 
of my cares upon themselves, and when we are 



1837-43.] WILLIAM HONK. 89 

not so busy, I expect a great treat in these four 
volumes. They are certainly well translated. 
Carlyle's knowledge of the language, and what 
is far better, his being able to enter so deeply 
into the spirit of the writers, insures that. It you 
have time, and can meet with the book, I have 
no doubt but you would find it worth reading. 
If you were here' I would send it to you. I often 
wish you were in London. Nothing pleases ine 
more than to meet with people who like Carlyle, 
and I am always very glad to lend them my books. 
" What do you think ? Here's a joke for you ; 
nowise to me. Old Hone when reading a volume 
of my Carlyle's Miscellanies in bed one evening 
(he is not at all well just now) let the candle 
fall on it ! It is in the most beautiful mess ! 
I have had to cut away all the margin of some 
parts of it. Dreadful to think of. Old Hone 
insisted on buying another copy. I would not 
listen to that. He can't afford it very well. I 
don't really care about it. You will scarcely 
believe me. It is true, however. This marginless 
volume of Miscellanies will be a kind of re- 
membrance of the good old man when he goes to 
the land where there are no candles used. . . . The 
four volume edition of Shelley was sold at 
Moxon's sale lately at ten shillings and sixpence. 
However, I resisted the temptation, and intend 
resisting every such temptation for a long 
time. , , ." 



90 DEATH OF MALCOLM MACMILLAN. [en. iv. 

Within a year Malcolm his eldest brother, on 
whom he had so long looked as a second father, 
followed his brother William. 



To J. MACLEHOSE. 

"54, FLEET STREET, February 15, 1840. 

"..,.! don't think I should have written 
to you at present were it not that I wish to 
send this parcel to my sister Margaret. It con- 
tains a piece of common black stuff for what is 
called a mourning gown. Perhaps you have heard 
that Malcolm, my Stirling brother, is what is called 
dead. His earthly life has been for many years a 
sort of death-struggle which he has now got rid of 
and become really alive. It is in this light that I 
now look at it. It came on me first very suddenly 
and startled me not a little. About ten days ago 
we had a letter from him. He was then rather 
better than usual. On Monday last, the Queen's 
marriage day, I went up to Fleet Street to show 
my sister our new premises and see what the post 
might bring. The post was very late. I sent my 
sister home along with Alexander, but waited for 
the post myself. When it did come it brought 
me news of my brother's death. Though long 
expected, even longed for, it was at last very 
sudden. The same day on which he died he had 
been out in the country a few miles. When he 



1837-43.] CARLYLE AS A LECTURER. 01 

got home he conducted family worship just as 
usual. In an hour or so after that he had left the 
temporal and entered on the Eternal. 

" T have a great many things to tell you, but 
cannot at present. Obstructions present themselves 
on every side : all outlooks are either quite blocked 
up or chaotic, so that I cannot write clearly on 
my state and prospects. To me there. is no clear- 
ness visible. Very shortly everything may be 
different, and then I shall write you a very long 
letter perhaps even before that, just to show you 
the mountains of cloud, smoke, or adamant which 
hem me in on every side. ..." 

The Mr. Fraser referred to in the next letter 
was the publisher and founder of the magazine 
which bears his name. 

" 54, FLEET STREET, June 4, 1840. 
"... What do you think ? I have been to one 
of Caiiyle's lectures ; my brother Alexander has 
been to another. I heard the one on Dante and 
Shakspeare. Alexander heard the one on Rousseau, 
Johnson, and Burns. Fraser was in our ware- 
house one day waiting for Mr. Seeley ; to keep 
himself from getting tired he came to my desk 
to have a gossip. The conversation turned on 
Carlyle. I chanced to say among other things, 
that I should very much like to see him. He 
said if I chose to come to his place in Regent 



92 CARLYLE AS A LECTURER. [en. iv. 

Street he would lend me his ticket to go to that 
day's lecture, as he could not go himself. Of 
course I did not refuse ; but, unfortunately, I had 
to hurry back to let Mr. Burnside go to his 
dinner. This prevented me from hearing the 
whole of the lecture. However, I was there long 
enough to see what his manner of lecturing is, 
what he is like, and so forth. Have you seen 
the portrait by Count D'Orsay ? That is an ex- 
cellent likeness. He lectures without notes of 
any kind, having thrown aside even the piece 
of paper like a visiting card, which he used to 
bring with him. He is very far from being a 
fluent speaker. Sometimes he rises into eloquence 
and gets applauded ; sometimes he comes to a dead 
stand for want of a word, quietly looking in the 
face of his audience till he finds the word ; some- 
times he leaves his sentences in a quite unfinished 
state, and passes on to something else, e.g. speak- 
ing of the difference between Dante's time and 
ours, he said, ' Our highest has become unat- 
tainably high. The apex ' . . . here came a dead 
stop for three or four moments, and at last, not 
being able to complete his sentence, he goes on to 
say, ' Our universe has everywhere expanded itself/ 
&c. &c. He rarely moves his hands from the 
sides of his desk. When he does it is to rub his 
two forefingers along his forehead, just above his 
eyebrows. This seems to be of great use ; enabling 
him to get on much better ; at least I suppose so 



1837-43.] CARLYLF/AS A LECTURER. 93 

because he always said his best things after one or 
two of these rubs. 

" His whole appearance and manner is ex- 
ceedingly simple. I never saw any one so com- 
pletely free from anything like pretension. His 
accent and pronunciation is very broad Scotch, 
much more so, I think, than Dr. Chalmers's. His 
dress is plain and simple enough, but no way 
remarkable. 

" It was a great treat to get a sight of such an 
audience. I never saw so many fine faces. True 
aristocrats, according to my Eadical notion of an 
aristocrat. There must be great satisfaction to a 
thinker uttering his thoughts to such listeners. 
The number, as near as one could guess, was 
about three hundred. From the lecture-room 
door to Portman Square was quite lined with 
carriages. This shows that very many of his 
hearers belong to the ' influential classes.' 

"From what I saw of his lecturing, I should 
not think that he is very likely to rap the desk 
with his fists, or anything of that sort. However, 
one cannot judge from a part of a lecture. My 
brother says that he was very much applauded 
several times in the lecture he heard. That he put 
an end to his lecture very abruptly, aad left his 
hearers laughing at a quotation from Jean Paul. 

" Mr. Carlyle sent a ticket to Hone, but he was 
not well enough to avail himself of this kindness 
till the last lecture, when a friend took him up 



94 MILMAN'S HISTORY OF CHRISTIANITY. [CH. iv. 



in a coach. This friend of Hone's is acquainted 
with Carlyle ; and after the lecture he introduced 
Hone. Carlyle said he was very glad to see him ; 
that he used to see Hone's books in his father's 
house twenty years ago, and so had known 
him long, though he never had the pleasure of 
speaking to him before and so forth. ..." 

To G. WILSON 

" 54, FLEET STREET, July 13, 1840. 

" It is amusing to see how much Mr. Seeley, and 
others of that class, are horrified with a new book of 
Milman's called ' A History of Christianity for the 
First Three Centuries.' They are everywhere dis- 
covering Socinianism in it. I got the copy which 
Mr. Seeley had read and marked, and looked through 
it with some care. I was especially careful when I 
came to the marked passages, but could not dis- 
cover any Socinianism, on the contrary, some of the 
marked passages, called heretical, contained state- 
ments running right in the teeth of that heresy. 
Milman may be a Socinian, but his book does not 
prove him one. His book is the work of an 
eloquent, clear-sighted man ; and can scarcely fail to 
make way, unless it gets injured by this ' no-heresy' 
clamour. I was very much pleased with some of 
the things I saw in the glance which I gave the 
book, and intend giving it a glance again when I 
can spare time. . ." 



1837-43.] SHELLEY. 95 

Speaking to Geo. Wilson, himself a distinguished 
chemist, of a series of articles oil Shelley in the 
New Monthly 

" These last are excellent. From them it would 
appear that Shelley was, among other things, a most 
enthusiastic chemist. I remember your noticing his 
knowledge of chemistry as seen in one of his 
poems, An Epistle to a Lady. One entire article 
in the New Monthly (1833) is occupied with an 
account of his expulsion from Oxford ; and if this 
account of a friend is to be trusted, it appears to 
have been, on the part of the masters and fellows 
of his college, a most senseless and brutal affair, 
in every way disgusting. I suspect that his friend 
Peacock (author of Headlong Hall, Crotchet Castle, 
&c.) is the author of these articles ; not that I 
recognise his style, but I don't know any one else 
with whom he was so intimate. 1 Of those letters 
lately published by Mrs. Shelley the best are those 
written to Peacock. 

"Did I ever tell you that old Hone's only 
means of support is doing drudge-work (chiefly 
reading morning papers, and making selections, 
and correcting the press) for the Patriot ? He hates 
the paper and dislikes the kind of work ; but what 
was the poor man to do ? Now, however, some 
good friends have resolved to get him rid of his 

1 The article was by Thomas Jefferson Hogg, the friend and 
biographer of Shelley, not by Peacock. 



96 MATRIMONY. [en. iv. 

burden, or, as he puts it, ' to send the old horse to 
grass.' Binney, who is a noble, generous-hearted 
fellow, is at the bottom of this. ..." 

To J. MACLEHOSE. 

"July, 1840. 

" Have you read Mrs. Hutchinson's Life of her 
Husband. If not, do read it, and above all get 
your 'Lady-Love' to read it. It is one of the 
most charming books that ever was written. Every 
lady with a heart in her ought to read it. ... 

" You ask what of matrimony ? You don't want 
me to write an essay on its advantages. Then you 
don't expect that I am ever to get married. I can 
love only once ! To be grave, which is natural to 
me, let me tell you, that ivhen I have got all these 
youngsters fairly on their feet, when I am clear of 
debt, when I am rid of all incumbrances, wJien I 
have saved some money, when I can afford it, I 
intend looking out for a wife ; and when I do get 
marrjed I shall send all the youngsters adrift, and 
let them guide and shift for themselves. You will 
say 'YES, WHEN ? ' Well, I say no more." 

His friend David Watt went to India as a mis- 
sionary early in 1841. Daniel writes, with a 
parting gift of books : 

" I heartily wish you farewell. May all your 
reading and reflection bring you into closer com- 



1837-43.] TRACTS FOR THE TIMES, NO. XC. 97 

munion with God, and into a nearer resemblance 
to Him who is your pattern, your Saviour, your 
Master, so that your faith, love, purity, may be 
confirmed, strengthened, increased. May God be 
with you and bless you, support, strengthen, 
encourage, guide, instruct you ; increase your zeal, 
your simplicity, your singleness of purpose, your 
wisdom, your charity, as a minister of the Gospel 
of Jesus Christ." 

From this time he keeps his friend well sup- 
plied with theological and literary news. 



To REV. D. WATT, BENARES. 

" April 30, 1841, 

" Among all the things occupying the attention 
of the public stands out Tracts for the Times, 
Number XC. This tract pretends to be a defence 
of the ' Articles,' but is in reality a series of 
glosses of the most Jesuitical sort by which the 
author tries to make out that a man may be three- 
fourths a Papist and still sign the 'Thirty-nine 
Articles,' and remain in the Church of England. 

"This has called forth remonstrances from a 
number of the ' Heads of Houses,' &c., in Oxford, 
letters and pamphlets innumerable (more than one 
from the author, Rev. J. H. Newman), and a 
recommendation from the Bishop of Oxford to 

H 



98 THE MEANING OF SUFFERING [CH. iv. 



discontinue the tracts ; and the tracts are discon- 
tinued. Even the Edinburgh Review has a grave 
article on the subject, supposed to be written by 
Dr. Hampden, who is expected to be made Bishop 
of Worcester in the room of Dr. Carr, who has 
just died. . . ' 

To GEO. WILSON. 

"54, FLEET STREET, December 15, 1841. 

"... Bichter says (I speak only from recol- 
lection of an English translation of a selection 
from his works) that sorrow draws towards 
noble minds as thunder-storms draw towards 
mountains ; but the storms also break upon them ', 
and they become the clearing-point in the skies 
for the plains beneath. . . . The burthen of suffer- 
ing seems a tombstone hung round us ; while in 
reality it is only the weight necessary to keep 
down the diver while he is collecting pearls. 
It is only through suffering that we can be 
made perfect ; and in hard struggles we acquire 
spiritual strength and spiritual riches. The suffer- 
ings of the beautiful soul are May frosts, which 
precede the brightness of summer, and the riches 
of harvest : while those of the corrupted soul are 
autumnal frost, which announce nothing but 
winter. . . . 

" If by sending Landor or any other book, I 
throw a gleam of warm sunshine on your path I 



1837-43.] LANDOR AND CARLYLE. PO 

shall be very glad. I only wish you would not 
call it generosity, &c. It is no such thing. I 
make no sacrifice. It gratifies me exceedingly to 
be able to show in this, or in any other way, my 
affection and respect for you, and for all your 
family, whose kindness to me when sorrow lay 
heavy on my heart and softened it, made an 
impression which nothing can eradicate. Ah ! 
that was generosity ! . . . 

" Two young friends of mine one a Scotch- 
man, and the other an Englishman who have 
gone out to India as missionaries, were persuaded 
by me to take all Carlyle's works, and Lander's 
Conversations, and Coleridge, and Wordsworth. 
They were not at all sure of the two former : but 
I urged them ; and now they have written home 
for their portraits, and given me a standing order 
for anything they may write. I am sure these 
two worthies, Landor and Carlyle, are greatly in- 
debted to me for increasing their fame and selling 
their books ! 

"Just think, Pericles and Aspasia, sold off by 
auction ! What an indication of the taste of our 
times ! I bought twenty-five and sold nineteen, 
which left me with six copies, besides gaining a 
profit. . . . 

" I saw, about a fortnight ago, a note from the 
publisher of the Westminster Jteview, in which he 
said that he expected an article from Carlyle in 
the next number ' On the Philosophy of Toys/ 

n 2 



100 WANT OF TIME. [CH. iv. 

a sort of following up, perhaps, of ' The Philosophy 
of Clothes.' We shall see when it comes. . . . 

" For my part I have a quiet enough life of it 
here. I might grumble sometimes, but don't see 
any good in that. And, on the whole, have little 
cause. I never want anything that I really need. 
As for the shows of respectability I have none of 
them, and don't care for them. I have more books 
than I have time to read. This time I feel the 
sorest want. The best of my hours are spent in 
the merest drudgework ; which, however, becomes 
dignified when I look on it as DUTY. . . ." 

In spite of the trouble and anxiety of former 
experiments in this direction, he was now bringing 
up another nephew to London. His friend Mac- 
Lehose, from whom he had not had any answer to 
several letters, had received the boy in Glasgow, 
put him on board the steamer with full instruc- 
tions, and paid his fare to London. 

To J. MACLEHOSE. 

" 54, FLEET STREET, June 22, 1842. 

" I am in no humour for scolding, blowing up, 
twitting, and that sort of thing. I did not intend 
writing to you till I should be in a bad temper ; but 
I have become so amiable, there seems no hope of 
that. The thunder-storm weather was stirring up 
my bile, I was getting quite cross, getting my anger 



1837-43.] ALEX. J. SCOTT. 101 

up to the ' sticking-point.' I was just ready to 
shoot, when my nephew arrived. He showed me 
the note of directions you gave him, told me of all 
your kindness. This made me ashamed of myself 
and quite destroyed my bile ; brought me back 
good old MacLehose with his kindness, his hearti- 
ness, disinterestedness, the same good old reality, 
who was becoming a kind of a shadow to me, or 
little more. There he is again, not talking, but 
doing something for you. What ! could you fire at 
him as he stands there in his own native prompt 
obliging way, not sparing himself, and making no 
fuss about it ? No. And yet if he ever allows 
himself to fall behind a cloud and become shadow- 
like again, I will have a shot at him." 

To Rev. D. Watt, with book parcel in which 
Daniel has inclosed pamphlets not ordered by his 
friend, but which he thinks of great merit, and is 
circulating wherever he can find an opening for 
them 

" 54, FLEET STREET, August 31, 1842. 

". . . . I need scarcely say anything in way 
of apology for sending Mr. Scott's little tracts. I 
am sure you will feel thankful that I have brought 
you into contact with such a mind. He is a 
Scotchman ; was at one time a curate, or as- 
sistant, to Mr. Edward Irving ; he left the Kirk 
in consequence of some scruples with regard to 



102 ALEX. SCOTT'S LECTURES. [CH. iv. 

its doctrines; did not see clearly what second 
step to take ; underwent many hardships, and is 
now in Woolwich, where he preaches on Sunday 
and lectures on Wednesday evening. He seems to 
occupy a singular, insulated position, and is only 
feeling his way ; I should like to see his next step. 
I should think it will very likely be into the 
Church of England; I hope so. I have heard 
him deliver four lectures on the Reformation. I 
never heard or read anything on the same subject 
at all equal to them. His many-sidedness is 
really wonderful. But you will be able to form 
some notion of him from these tracts. Be sure 
you lend them to Mr. Kennedy, he will be proud 
of such a man as his countryman. He is, I think, 
second to few men of our time or any time. It was 
by the merest chance I heard of him. I saw a sylla- 
bus of a course of lectures he was to deliver in the 
same place where Carlyle lectured. Shortly after 
I saw his two lectures on ' Schism ' announced. 
My brother and I went. We. were surprised, not 
only at his depth and clearness, but that so note- 
worthy a man should be so little known. I 
immediately procured his lectures on ' The 
Social Systems of the Present Day,' and after 
reading them attentively my reverence for the 
man greatly increased. Just at this time the 
death of that noble-minded and noble-hearted 
man, Dr. Arnold, so sudden and so unexpected, 
fell heavily on the heart of all those who feel an 



1837-43.] " THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST." 103 



interest in the welfare of our country, and know 
the value of a true priest. It really was cheering 
to me at such a time to learn that we had another 
noble-hearted, truth-loving man as yet scarcely 
known. 

"You may remember that in the first letter 
Hare sent me (which you saw), he mentioned a 
book by Mr. Maurice, on The Kingdom of Christ. 
It was then out of print. I could nowhere 
meet with it. However, a new edition has now 
come out, very much altered and improved. I 
borrowed it merely with the intention of looking 
through it ; imagining that it was some High- 
Church half Puseyite book, which would do very 
well for Churchmen, but of no value to one 
who had said good-bye to all parties. I looked 
into this part, and then into that, and in a very 
short time found that he was no common man, 
that he dwelt in a higher, purer, clearer region 
than that of party. I found it to be a book that 
I could not live without. I have learnt much from 
it, but don't expect to master it for many a day. 
It is a most extraordinary book. For calmness, 
for candour, for insight, I have never seen any- 
thing on the same subject equal to it. If it were 
not so large and so expensive a book (2 vols. post 
8vo., price 1 Is.), I would send you a copy. I 
am not sure that it would quite please you. I 
will try to give you some notion of the book. He 
expounds the idea of the Holy Catholic Church ; 



104 "THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST." [cii. iv. 

and answers all the objections of the Quaker, the 
pure Protestant, the Rationalist, the Philosopher, 
the Romanist, severally. It is in this part that he 
most conspicuously shows his honesty and insight. 
He first states their objections, just as an able 
man of either of these parties would state them. 
Here he is most wonderfully fair, nowhere that I 
could perceive, distorting, or in any way exag- 
gerating their views, but rather striving to put 
them in the best light. After he has done so 
he proceeds to show the truth that lies in them 
judging that when he has seen the truth and life 
which gave birth to the system, he will be in a 
better position for seeing what is worthless in it ; 
having laid hold of the seed-corn he blows away 
the chaff. He is no iconoclast. For instance, in 
answering the objections of the Unitarians, he 
proceeds to show what good feeling it was that 
gave birth to the system, to show the invaluable 
good which lies in their positive doctrines, and 
the utter worthlessness of the mere negations of the 
system, and how these negations well-nigh neu- 
tralize the good. But I must stop, because I feel 
I cannot do Mr. Maurice justice. However, if 
you see the book lightly spoken of, or spoken 
against, in any review or other periodical, pray 
keep your judgment in suspense. I think it in 
every way an admirable book; and just suited 
to meet the wants of our strange distracted 
time. 



1837-43.] LANDOR'S ECCENTRICITIES. 101 



To GEO. WILSON. 

"54, FLEET STREET, December 10, 1842. 

"... I heartily thank you for the interest you 
have taken in what I said of going into business, 
for speaking to Dr. Day ; and Dr. Day for promising 
his support. I should really like to do so ; and 
have no doubt of being successful if I could begin, 
but there seems one rather important obstruction 
at the outset, namely, the want of cash. I live 
in hope that the cash will be forthcoming some day 
or another, at any rate before your book is ready, 
which I sJwuld like to publish. I do think about 
the thing, quite seriously, and must soon begin 
to try what can be dene. . . . 

"Of course you have seen Lander's Conver- 
sation in Blackwood. What a queer fellow Landor 
is ! After doing all he could to raise Wordsworth 
into fame, then doing all in his power to run 
him down. Did you ever see his 'satire,' in 
which he so fiercely attacks Professor Wilson and 
Mr. Wordsworth ? He seems to have forgiven the 
Professor, but he does not seem at all inclined to 
let the good old poet alone. He said in one of his 
notes, to this satire that Blackwood ought to be 
called the Blackguard Magazine, that no gentle- 
man could write in it, and now this is his second 
article in Blackwood within the last six months. 
He had one in the number for July cutting up 
some poor unfortunate John Edmund Reade. But, 



106 LANDOR'S ECCENTRICITIES. [CH. iv. 



notwithstanding all his perversities and oddities 
I do like Landor ; and gladly read everything he 
writes. He had a most beautiful Conversation in 
the Book of Beauty for this year. I think it is the 
best I have seen from his pen. If you could lay 
your hand on it you would be richly repaid. 

" I have been told that the origin of his dislike 
to Wordsworth is some foolish story of this kind. 
Some one told Wordsworth of the new edition of 
Southey's works edited by himself. Wordsworth 
asked the price and the number of volumes ; and 
when told said he thought it ought to be cheaper. 
Perhaps he said it in such a way as to show that 
he did not value Southey's poetry very highly. 
Lander's version of the story is that Wordsworth, 
when told the works were to be five shillings a 
volume, said, 'They are not worth five shillings 
a ream.' But every one who knows Wordsworth's 
calmness and caution, says that it is quite 
impossible he could have said such a thing. 
However that may be, it is certain that Landor 
delights to pull down Wordsworth ever since he 
heard this story, and the more so now that his old 
friend is in so helpless a state, and so much for- 
gotten, while Wordsworth retains his vigour, and 
rises higher and higher into fame. So you see 
that even this perversity of his shows the noble- 
ness of his nature. He cannot strike a man when 
he is down, and would fain raise any who are 
sinking. ..." 



1837-43.] CHAOS OF SCOTCH THOUGHT. 107 



To GEO. WILSON. 

"March, 1843. 

" Ask your friend Cairns what he thinks of the 
Moral Philosophy (Maurice's). I should like him 
to put it in writing so that I might see it, and if 
you give me leave, to show it to the professor. 
What is Cairns doing ? What is he going to do ? 
In the present distracted state of Scotland a youth 
of genius and high culture will find it hard to get 
a spiritual resting-place in any of the Presbyterian 
systems. There is something very painful in it, 
yet on the whole the tendency of all these move- 
ments seems in the right direction. A sense of 
the cold death-like dreariness of a hard dry state 
establishment. But how nationality, Catholicity, 
and individuality are to be brought into harmony 
has not been revealed to them yet. I trust it 
will be revealed to us all by-and-by, for it seems 
to me that only in the harmony of these can a 
man, or a nation of men, find rest and peace. . . . 

" Coleridge has written a very beautiful book on 
Church and State, according to the idea of each. 
I have only glanced at it. What I read pleased 
me very much, but did not satisfy me. It is 
needless to say that it has attracted very little 
notice. Those ignorant idlers called priests are 
too blind to see its beauty or take advantage of 
its wisdom." 



108 NEWMAN'S UNIVERSITY SERMONS. [CH. iv. 

To GEO. WILSON. 

"54, FLEET STREET, April 12, 1843. 

"... I should like you to read Mr. Newman's 
volume of university sermons, if you can lay your 
hand on them. You will see that he is no old 
woman, and that his notions about God are as 
sublime as anything you have ever read. I 
don't expect you to have much sympathy with 
the book. It was most painful to me. Still I 
could not help admiring the wonderful power of 
the man, and feeling that he was advancing 
much that was well worth thinking about, but 
which was too much neglected. Above all, it 
seemed most absurd to pretend to despise such men. 

" I really do expect that when some of the ab- 
surdities, the negations of Puseyism, pass away, 
there is a spirit in it that will live and do 
good, in which you will be the most ready to 
rejoice. . . ." 

" 54, FLEET STREET, May 29, 1843. 

"... I have been thinking for some time 
past of an encyclopaedia much more complete 
than any we yet possess yet much shorter 
which would contain a short and complete account 
of anything which commonplace people could 
wish to know, and furnish a guide to those who 
wished to follow out. the several subjects. The 
whole thing should be done in three or four 
imperial octavo volumes. . . ." 



1837-43.] BISHOP THIRLWALL. 109 



To REV. D. WATT. 

" 54, FLEET STREET, April 29, 1843. 

". . . . Have you heard of Thirlwall's last 
charge ? It has taken people quite by surprise. 
Many expected a strong condemnation of Tract- 
arianism, but Thirlwall, in his quiet way, spends 
most of his time in telling the clergy what their 
duty is ; speaks strongly against those archdeacons 
who live out of their archdeaconry ; anything he 
'says about Puseyism is far from being against it ; 
nay, he seems to recognise a good in it ; in the mean- 
time thinks it best for the clergy to work zealously 
in their several callings. The Evangelical party 
immediately attack him as a Puseyite, than which 
nothing can be more false and foolish. He is a 
singularly calm, reserved man, and never likely to 
join any party. 

" Newman has just sent out another volume of 
sermons, preached before the university. It is a 
very curious specimen of the sceptical turn of his 
mind. He very much reminds me of our great 
Scotch sceptic, David Hume. The same analytical 
power, the same carelessness about consequences. 
He is quite a logician, and a most powerful one. 
He holds fast by Christianity as developed in 
' the Church,' because the balance of probabilities 
seems in its favour. If he had not been a Chris- 
tian and a churchman, he would have been one of 



110 J. H. NEWMAN. [en. iv. 

the powerfulest sceptical logic-mills we have had 
set a going in this country for many years. For 
mere power, our friend, Archbishop Whately, is 
nothing to him. Newman is a true product of 
the nineteenth century a genuine steam-engine ; 
and yet no one is more conscious of the weak- 
ness and self-sufficiency of ' our enlightened age.' 
When he indicates this feeling some might think 
him an atheist ; he seems to make the solid earth 
shake beneath you. And yet I think he is a good 
man; and he has great faith in goodness. One 
may learn many things from him, but I should be 
sorry to make him, or any of the class of which 
he is the most powerful member, my guide in 
spiritual matters. After leaving Newman, who 
somewhat bewilders one, it is such a relief to turn 
to Leighton, or Coleridge, or Maurice, or Trench, 
or Hare men who have the most unwavering 
faith not merely ' a balance of probabilities ' on 
their side. . . . 

l< I have just read Carlyle's new book, Past and 
Present. It is very curious, full of thought, and 
the most important political truths stated in his 
own strange way. It is well worth considering. 
He speaks more plainly than he ever did before 
speaks more decided Tory Radicalism. There are 
some things which look very like Pantheism. 
This rather vext me. The whole book is worth 
careful study. I felt it do me good ; felt very 
strongly the truth of what he says with regard to 



1837-43.] "PAST AXD PRESENT." Ill 



the Mammonism of our time. Mammon the god ; 
riches, or success, heaven ; poverty, or want of 
success, hell. This is putting the whole matter 
in a very striking light. It is really worth taking 
to heart. I often feel myself falling into this 
wretched and cursed spirit of our time. It re- 
quires to be watched and kept under. Carlyle 
always helps one to feel the greatness of our 
nature, its superiority to everything earthly, and 
to keep the earthly in its proper place. In several 
places he speaks in the most sneering way of 
Puseyism. One would not care much about that, 
but he seems to care little about any system of 
revealed religion. And yet sometimes he quite 
contradicts all this. He is clearly full of incon- 
sistencies. On the whole, I cannot but think him 
one of the most notable men of our time. I think 
he will do good to our time. . . . 

" There is a new edition of the Aids to Reflection 
just published, with a long, and most elaborate, 
calm, and carefully written essay by Sara Coleridge, 
on the relation of Coleridge's philosophy to the 
writings of Gladstone, Newman, Pusey, and others. 
It is strange to see how masterly she appears while 
she tosses these gentlemen from this side to that. 

" Have you seen or heard anything of a strange 
man named Borrow, who has written books 
called the Gypsies in Spain, and the Bible in 
Spain ? They are most interesting books, and he 
is a most strange man. He had a wonderful 



112 GEORGE BORROW. [CH. iv. 

facility in gaining the confidence of the lower 
'classes, especially the gypsies. He gives all his 
adventures with wonderful openness, and some of 
the oddest stories come out. Some of his state- 
ments about the priests have given great offence 
to the Dublin Review people, and they have made 
a fierce attack on poor Mr. Borrow, but he is a 
bold man, and can stand his own ground. 

" We are in a strange state here, in Scotland, 
England, Ireland, and Wales. The Free Presby- 
terian Kirk have acted nobly. Shortcomings and 
transgressions there doubtless have been, but on 
the whole, their conduct is very praiseworthy. 
One of the weakest things I have heard is the 
proposal of a new university for the ' Free Church,' 
which would only be to lower the standard of the 
professors and make the whole thing sectarian, 
not national. The Irish are in a dreadful ferment ; 
many think we must have a repeal of the Union. 
In Wales, again, there is most dreadful discontent 
and considerable distress. I don't know what 
will become of us. In England every one is com- 
plaining of the dulness of trade, and the poor are 
hunger-bitten. Then our spiritual state is still 
more ominous. Puseyism has reached its culmi- 
nation, but will leave a good seed behind it God 
only knows what. We have the strangest hubbub. 
You can hardly meet any one who speaks calmly 
on either side. One hears hardly anything but 
shrieking and vituperation. Religious or what 



1837-43.] RELIGIOUS PAPERS. 113 



are called religious papers are really dreadful, 
and they get worse. Their blind and stupid 
ineptitude is hateful. They misstate, and mistake 
on every hand surely the result of fever. When 
the fever is cured, let us hope we shall have 
sounder health than ever. I often think that you 
and Budden are better off among the Hindoos. 
But here, as there, confidence in God is the only 
thing that can cheer us amidst the chances and 
changes of this mortal life " 

As already intimated, new and better prospects 
were now opening to him. In this summer of 
1843 he became the owner of a small business 
in Cambridge on the retirement of Mr. Newby. 
The terms of purchase are stated in a letter to 
MacLehose : 

"57, ALDERSGATE STREET, October 16, 1843. 

"... 1. I take Newby's house on a lease of 
fourteen years at a rent of 84/. a year; and pay 
all taxes, except the Property and Income Tax, 
and the insurance of the house. 

"2. I take his stock and the fixtures at the 
valuation of two indifferent persons, and pay down 
the cash. 

" 3. Having no cash of my own, have to borrow 
and pay interest for what I borrow. This, of 
course, will take something from the profits ; but 

I 



114 PURCHASE OF NEWBY'S BUSINESS. [CH. iv. 

if I persevere and keep up my health and keep 
down my expenses, I dare say I shall get over 
all that." 

How he was enabled to accomplish this, the, 
great aim of his business life, must be told in 
another chapter. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE HARE CORRESPONDENCE. 1843-55. 

THE turning-point in the career of the young 
bookseller had now been reached. He had become 
n thorough master of his craft of its technical 
details and its highest spirit and he knew that 
he was its master. He had dusted books, packed 
books, bound books ; had done, in short, every- 
thing with their bodies that could be done with 
them, and knew the- commercial conditions tho- 
roughly. But it was not in his mastery of the 
technical but of the spiritual side of his craft 
that his real strength lay. He was a genuine 
lover of books, regarding them not as mere articles 
of trade, to be bound artistically, deftly catalogued, 
and sold at a profit, but as acquaintances and 
friends, whom it was a joy as well as a duty to 
introduce to as wide a circle as possible. 

But he shall speak for himself as to his calling : 

"Bless your heart, MacLehose," he writes, 
while still a shopman at 80 a year, to his 

i 2 



116 THE IDEAL BOOKSELLER. [CH. v. 

old friend and fellow-craftsman, who had gone 
to Glasgow, " you never surely thought you were 
merely working for bread ! Don't you know 
that you are cultivating good taste amongst the 
natives of Glasgow ; helping to unfold a love of 
the beautiful among those who are slaves to the 
useful, or what they call the useful ? I look on 
you as a great teacher or prophet, doing work 
just of the kind that God has appointed you to 
do. No, no, Mac ! that won't do. We book- 
sellers, if we are faithful to our task, are trying to 
destroy, and are helping to destroy, all kinds of 
confusion, and are aiding our great Taskmaster to 
reduce the world into order, and beauty, and 
harmony. Bread we must have, and gain it by 
the sweat of our brow, or of our brain, and that 
is noble, because God-appointed. Yet that is not 
all. As truly as God is, we are His ministers, and 
help to minister to the wellbeing of the spirits of 
men. At the same time it is our duty to manage 
our affairs wisely, keep our minds easy, and not 
trade beyond our means." 

To a young man of twenty-eight with this 
consciousness of mastery, and high ideal of what 
his calling meant, the position of a subordinate 
was becoming irksome. He is longing for a 
time when, in his own words " no one can look 
over my shoulder and say, Leave that and tie 
up this parcel" For some years he had been 



1843-55.] "GUESSES AT TRUTH." 117 

looking round for the opportunity of a start 
on his own account, and had made the small 
beginning already noticed in* Aldersgate Street, 
but want of means had hitherto forbidden any 
further attempt. At last, and in the nick of time, 
the longed-for aid came, from an unexpected 
quarter, and in a form as grateful to the recipient 
as it was honourable to the great man who 
rendered it. 

It happened on this wise : Daniel Macmillan 
in the autumn of 1840, had read Guesses at Truth 
by Two Brothers, and the book had taken a strong 
hold on him. " I should like to see these ' two 
brothers,' " he writes, " they are excellent guessers. 
Yet everything looks so clear to them. They have 
most healthy minds. Have they ever had such 
dreadful doubts and fears as we have had and 
have? There is something beautiful in their 
style. I suppose we Scotch can never attain such 
grace. I have not seen in any modern writer such 
beauty, a gracefulness which springs from the 
very centre of their being. Every sentence has such 
exquisite finish and clearness. I wish you could 
find out who and what they are. I should like 
to know all about them. Their beautiful book 
takes me into quite a new world." He recom- 
mended it to his friends, and read and talked it over 
with his brother, in their walks in London Fields, 
which then stretched away, a large open space, 
to the north-east, beyond their humble lodgings 



118 LETTER TO ARCHDEACON HARE, 1840. [CH. v. 

at Hoxton. The more he studied the book, and 
watched its influence on others, the more convinced 
he became of its usefulness to young men of his 
own class and condition in life. At last this con- 
viction led him to write to the unknown authors. 

This letter, the most important, as it proved, of 
any he ever wrote, so far as his own prospects in 
life were concerned, after thanking the Two Brothers 
on his own account, goes on : 

" 54, FLEET STREET, September 22, 1840. 
" . . . . But there are still large classes who have 
no sound foundation for their morality. In this 
London, for instance, I know a good deal of one class, 
a class very much overlooked, who very much stand 
in need of guide-books to aid them in the forma- 
tion of opinions on morality and religion ; namely, 
young men occupied in the different departments 
of commercial life. Hundreds of them are con- 
tinually coming here, fresh from the country, with 
warm, pure, genial hearts, which soon become, one 
can scarcely say what, for no expression can be too 
strong to indicate that which a few years produce. 
Many of them get on in the world, as it is called, 
and keep clear of the grosser and more disgusting 
forms of vice; but their ' enlightened selfishness' 
leads them to look on all pretension to higher 
motives as mere hypocrisy. The conduct of these 
men is much better than their creed indeed, they 
often act in contradiction to it but still such a 



1843-55.] ALEXANDER SCOTT. 119 

belief is, and cannot but be, injurious. The dis- 
trust which they have of those who ought to be 
their spiritual guides is still more hurtful; and 
this distrust is greatly increased by the perpetual 
squabbles which we have about 'Oxford Tract 
Doctrines,' 'Evils of Dissent,' and the like " 

The authors of Guesses at Truth may, he thinks, 
do much for this class. 

A kindly and courteous reply came from Hurst- 
monceaux in due course, and there for a time the 
matter ended. 

In June, 1842, Daniel has discovered a new 
hero, in the person of Alex. Scott the friend and 
helper of Edward Irving, now a teacher unat- 
tached, lecturing at Woolwich and elsewhere as 
occasions offered, for the double purpose of saying 
what he has to say and earning his bread and, 
having picked up some of his lectures in pamphlet 
form, is considering on what most fruitful soil 
he can scatter the good seed which has come 
into his possession. The episode of 1840 comes 
into his mind, and the thought, who will appreciate 
these better than the great scholar and venerable 
author to whom he already owes so much, intel- 
lectually and morally ? He will take the oppor- 
tunity at the same time of informing the Arch- 
deacon of the difficulty of obtaining a necessary 
portion of one of his recent works. Accordingly 
he writes : 



12D RENEWED CORRESPONDENCE, 1842. [on. v. 



To ARCHDEACON HARE. 

"8, CHARTERHOUSE SQUARE, June 17, 1842. 

"REV. AND DEAR SIR, 

" .... I take the liberty of sending you 
two pamphlets which are not likely otherwise 
to fall in your way, and which, I think, are 
likely to interest you, as they are the produc- 
tions of a thinker of no common order, but who 
as yet is very little known. They are not, as 
you will see, published by the author, but are 
merely reports of lectures which he delivered ; 
still, even with that disadvantage, I think they 
will please you. It was by the merest chance I 
met with these, and it did cheer me to read such 
thoughts, just at a time when the loss of so great, 
so pure, so noble a man as Thomas Arnold, lay 
heavy on my heart. 

" It is almost two years, I think, since I took the 
liberty of writing to you before. After my letter 
was gone I felt sorry and ashamed that I had sent 
it, and was very glad indeed to see by the kind 
answer you sent, that it was not taken amiss. 
The Victory of Faith was then published : it has 
been followed by Parish Sermons and by two 
Charges, and I see another volume of sermons an- 
nounced, but no notice of the promised Appendix 
to the Victory of Faith. I have often asked about 
it, but can never get a satisfactory answer. Now, I 



1843-55.] THE ARCHDEACON'S REPLY. 121 

should think that every one who felt any interest 
in these sermons must be anxious to see the 
Appendix. 

" I trust you will excuse me for mentioning this, 
because I don't speak for myself alone, but for 
friends in various parts of England and Scotland, 
friends in India, in Africa, in New South Wales, 
who bought this book and Guesses at Truth, be- 
cause of my recommendation. One of these 
distant friends has just written to me on that 
subject, and his letter is the chief reason of my 
taking this liberty at present." 

To which in due course arrives an answer from 
Archdeacon Hare : 

" HURSTMOXCEATTX, July 14, 1842. 
" I ought to have thanked you long ago for your 
kindness in sending me those two most valuable 
works ; but at the time when they reached me I 
was engaged with official business, which left me 
no leisure for reading what required attentive 
thought, and I wished to read them before I sent 
you my acknowledgments for them. I can now 
do so with sincere gratitude to you for having 
introduced me to the writings of so wise and good 
a man. I had heard him spoken of several times 
with high praise by his friend and mine, Mr. 
Maurice ; but through some great carelessness I 
had never yet read a page of Mr, Scott's. Now I 



122 DANIEL'S APOLOGY. [CH. v. 

feel anxious to read all the utterances of his great 
mind ; and I have accordingly procured his lectures 
on the Eomans, and his three treatises. It is, 
indeed, a consolation under the grief for the loss of 
my noble-hearted friend Arnold, to find that there 
is another pure lover of truth like Mr. Scott 
living among us. Hardly anything I have read 
since Coleridge has taught and strengthened and 
delighted me so much as these lectures. ..." 

The Archdeacon then refers again to the con- 
dition of the young men in London, echoing the 
inquiry, How can they be helped as you would 
wish? What can be done for them? and ends 
by inviting his unknown correspondent to visit 
him at Hurstmonceaux. 

The opening thus given from such a quarter, for 
the promotion of an object he had much at heart, 
was joyfully accepted, and Daniel replies : 

"8, CHARTERHOUSE SQUARE, July 25, 1842. 
" .... I should be very sorry to drag you into a 
long correspondence, because it would only take up 
your valuable time without giving you an equiva- 
lent. I never wrote to any one with whom I was 
not personally acquainted except yourself. I don't 
readily make up to any one, being naturally re- 
served. I knew Guesses at Truth, a single sermon, 
The Children of the Light, and two or three articles 
in The Philological Museum, long ago ; and often 



1843-55.] SPIRITUAL CONDITION OF YOUNG MEN. 123 

wished to see something else from the same hand ; 
and when The Victory of Faith appeared I received 
it gladly, and felt that the author might he useful 
to many who occupy the same position in life as 
myself that was the reason why I ever did write 
to you at all. . . . 

" It is very likely that I over-estimate the value 
of hooks, and fancy their influence greater than it 
really is. They have done so much for me that I 
very readily embraced Mr. Carlyle's notion, that in 
them one finds the only true communion of saints. 
The first edition of Guesses at Ti'uth, for instance, 
introduced me to a quite new region ; and the 
Two Brothers were, perhaps, all the more useful to 
me, because I knew nothing about them, their 
names, their professions, their peculiarities, their 
creeds. I felt, and still feel, deeply indebted and 
thankful to them, not only for their own thoughts, 
but for their guidance into rich and unknown 
fields, which I should perhaps never have heard of 
otherwise. But to return. 

" The state of the persons I speak about lies on 
my heart like a burden. I often try to forget them 
and their dangers but cannot. It would be much 
more comfortable for me to go on in my own way, 
reading what would be good and pleasing to 
myself, and never giving a thought about others, 
but I cannot. Every book I read, which shows 
anything like an earnest desire for the good of 
man, makes me think of them. I rejoice in the 



124 THE CHURCH AND THE PRESS. [CH. v. 

appearance of such books. Dr. Arnold's CJiristian 
Life greatly delighted me, especially the introduc- 
tion, and notes G. and H. I said to myself, ' Here 
is another man fitted to be a guide, what Mr. 
Carlyle calls a true priest.' 

" This feeling, and the impossibility of getting 
rid of it, induced me to write to you, which really 
was painful to me, and is so now. I should not 
have thought of doing so again, only I hoped that 
you would do something yourself, and use your 
influence to lead others to work for the same 
object, one which I feel to be of the greatest 
importance. . . . 

" One who really knows these things, and does 
not trust to newspaper reporters, or to the facts and 
generalisations of Edinburgh and Quarterly Review 
writers, must see clearly that there is no spiritual 
guidance in existence at all equal to the wants of 
our time ; and whether it be true or no, that 
literature is the only true Church, it certainly is 
true that the Church, the God-ordained teacher of 
mankind, might make a much greater use of the 
Press than it generally does. Wherever one goes 
Sunday newspapers are sold. You find them in 
the hands of most poor men who can read. You 
often see one who can read sitting with half-a- 
dozen listeners around him, while he reads a word 
in season. Here is an influence at work, which 
our Churches labour feebly to counteract. Could 
the Church not lay hold of this instrument, and 



1843-55.] CONDITION OF YOUNG MEN. 125 

use it more wisely ? . . . . The chief object of the 
discussions of those I am speaking of is, how to 
bring about some state of society where there 
would be more comfort and less vice. . . . 

" The editor and the chief writer of the Penny 
Satirist is evidently a man of comparatively good 
education. He often says most beautiful things. 
The numbers I have sent are not the best speci- 
mens. He is, it must be confessed, very deficient 
in earnestness, still in turning over his articles 
one catches a glimpse of true light. He calls 
himself the Rev. J. E. Smith, and he evidently has 
had a religious education. . . . 

" There is something wrong about this and it 
is the hope that you and your friend Mr. Maurice, 
and other friends, might look at this matter and 
see what can be done this, and this alone induced 
me to trouble you again with so long a letter. . . . 

"With regard to your kind invitation, I don't 
see any prospect of that pleasure at present. How- 
ever, I did think of running down to Brighton and 
from thence to Hastings, and I suppose the coach 
from Brighton to Hastings would pass through 
Hailsham, if not Hurstmonceaux, and if so I should 
have great pleasure in availing myself of your 
kindness. 

" It may be as well to let you know that I am 
only one of the clerk species, whose singular and 
unfortunate position with regard to spiritual cul- 
ture was the cause of my first writing to you. 



126 WHAT CAN BE DONE ? [OH. v. 

I have no learning, can read no language except 
English, speak none except . a partly intelligible 
Scotch-English dialect. I mention this so that you 
may know that I don't belong to any of the learned 
professions. ..." 

From ARCHDEACON HARE. 

" HURSTMONCEAUX, August 16, 1842. 

" It was impossible for me to read your last 
letter without very deep interest in its subject, 
and shame and grief at the thought how much 
the ministers and other members of Christ's 
Church have neglected their poorer and less 
favoured brethren ; nor without an anxious wish 
that something at least should be attempted for 
the special instruction of the class of whom 
you speak with such deep sympathy. Perhaps I 
ought to have answered you sooner; but I was 
desirous of hearing what Mr. Maurice, to whom 
I sent your letter, thought on the mode of carry- 
ing your views into effect ; and I have only this 
morning received his reply. 

" He agrees with me in thinking that there are 
very strong objections to the plan of making use of 
such papers as the Weekly Dispatch for the sake of 
circulating wholesomer doctrines. They who did 
this would, I think, incur the censure of throwing 
pearls before swine ; and the pearls, whatever they 
might be, would be trampled on and defiled. Of 



1843-55.] THE ARCHDEACON'S VIEWS. 127 



course no good could be effected by a few casual 
missiles ; it would be necessary to carry on the war 
against error steadily and continuously; and I 
should doubt whether the editor would consent to 
this. At all events, the writers who would thereby 
be compelled to study the Weekly Dispatch, would 
be exposed to the continual action of the most 
disheartening and repulsive impulses. The better 
articles would be attacked with much bitterness, 
ingenuity, coarseness, ribaldry, to which it would 
be most painful to reply, and which would pro- 
bably overpower the influence of the truths mixed 
up with them, even as the stench of a scavenger's 
cart overpowers all the refreshing air of morning. 
Indeed, in replying to this ribaldry, we should be 
compelled to express indignation, which would find 
no response in our readers, and should be tempted 
to imitate it too nearly. Besides, the result would 
be controversy, which invariably fastens upon 
negations, and minor points ; whereas what is 
requisite is to assert truth positively, plainly, 
straightforwardly. 

" The first plan that occurred to me for doing 
something to fulfil your intentions, was that of 
setting up a new weekly paper for the assertion of 
such truths in a manner to come home to the 
hearts of the operatives and their fellows. At the 
same time I feel that there are great difficulties 
attending such a scheme. It would require no 
inconsiderable capital, which, after all, might be 



128 THE AECHDEACON'S VIEWS. [en. v. 

expended ineffectually. A right-minded editor 
would be wanted, unless you yourself would 
undertake that part of the work. Your interest 
in it seems to fit you especially for it. You know 
what is wanted, what the people want; and you 
would probably be able to find several persons of 
your own class to join you in the work. The best 
apostles are those who rise out of the class they 
are preaching to, and who speak to the people with 
the heart and mind of the people. If you see any 
practicability in such a scheme, I feel assured that 
Mr. Maurice, Mr. Scott, and others, who are able to 
understand the views you have conceived, would 
rejoice in lending their aid in the godly work. 

" If this plan cannot be adopted, I see no other 
than that which Mr. Maurice himself has thought 
the most advisable, a series of ' Tracts written on 
the principle of acknowledging the people to whom 
they are addressed to be reasonable creatures, 
really desirous of knowing what is true, and 
already having thoughts and feelings on the sub- 
jects in which we are interested.' How far this 
work might be carried on, I know not. Some- 
thing may certainly be done, and with more 
ease than the establishment of a new paper. 
You would be better able to judge how far such 
tracts would be likely to find readers among the 
classes for whom they are intended. 

" I know not whether you are aware that Dr. 
Arnold himself once set up a newspaper, tho 



1843-55.] THE ARCHDEACON'S VIEW. 129 

Englishman s Journal, with the very views which 
you have exprest. It was about twelve years ago. 
But as he was living at Eugby, engaged in the 
cares of the school, he could only write a few 
articles, and was forced to entrust the editorship to 
a person who gave the paper a radical political 
character. Thus moderate men were offended, and 
after a few numbers the paper was dropped, and 
Dr. Arnold lost a large sum of money by it. He 
afterwards looked out for papers of honest prin- 
ciple, that had some circulation among the lower 
classes, and wrote some admirable letters in the 
Slieffield Courant, which were afterwards printed 
collectively. Of late years he wrote occasionally 
with a like view in the Hertfordshire Reformer, and 
those letters, I doubt not, were also excellent. I 
trust these, and his other political writings, will 
be printed before long in a separate volume. 

" One consideration which seems to give the plan 
of tracts a preference over that of a newspaper, is, 
that there would doubtless be considerable differ- 
ences among the writers we might hope to find : 
above all in ecclesiastical views, and their relative 
importance. This might lead to a good deal of 
dissension if the publication were a joint one, 
for which each writer felt himself responsible; 
but in a collection of tracts published with the 
name of the writers, no such responsibility would 
exist. 

" I have written crudely and hurriedly, to show 

K 



130 A. P. STANLEY. [CH. v. 



you that I do take a lively interest in the ac- 
complishment of your wishes, and hope earnestly 
that I may be able to lend you a little help in 
finding men to work with you towards that 
accomplishment." 

Amongst those to whom the Archdeacon was 
already submitting the proposals of his cor- 
respondent, was the late Dean of Westminster, 
than whom no more efficient helper could have 
been found in the proposed work. The following 
characteristic letter from him may be allowed to 
break for a few moments the continuity of the 
narrative : 



A. P. STANLEY to D. MACMILLAN. 

"TiiE PALACE, NORWICH, August 30, 1842. 

" DEAK SIR, 

" I trust you will excuse the liberty which 
I take in addressing you, and for which I have 
no other excuse than from the frequent mention 
of your name to me by my friend and relative, 
Archdeacon Hare. He once showed me a letter 
of yours, in which you spoke of the loss which 
you felt in the death of so pure and noble a 
man as Thomas Arnold, and of the good which 
you had hoped that his writings might have 
effected amongst the class of men in whom you 
take so deep an interest. I was a pupil of 



1843-55.] THE INVITATION TO HURSTMONCEAUX. 131 

Dr. Arnold, and like many others in the same 
circumstances looked up to him more than to any 
one whom I knew. And it has since his death 
fallen to my charge to collect and prepare such 
materials for his life and correspondence as may 
be worth publication. 

"Now it has frequently struck me that your 
letter was a testimony to his influence having 
penetrated into quarters where I should not have 
expected to find it, and you will therefore under- 
stand how I naturally wish, both from my own 
personal interest in him, and also for the sake of 
the work on which I am engaged, to know to 
what extent this may be the case, or (if it be 
confined to yourself) to know how you became 
acquainted with his works, and (if I might further 
venture to ask it) what impression of him you 
gathered from them. 

" I feel that I have no claim upon you to justify 
me in asking these questions, but the interest 
which your letter expressed in him, and the 
character of your communications with Arch- 
deacon Hare, encourage me to hope that you will 
not be indisposed to gratify my request. 
" I remain, 

" Yours faithfully, 

" A. P. STANLEY." 

The cordial invitation to Hurstmonceaux, so 
often repeated, was at last accepted. " I set out 

K 2 



132 HTJRSTMONCEAUX RECTORY. [CH. v. 

to-morrow," he writes to Watt. "Of course I 
look forward with pleasure to such a visit, and I 
shall write you by next overland just to give you 
an account of our interview. Everything I see 
of Hare's, and every letter I have from him, leads 
me to think more highly of him." The visit is 
described, in fulfilment of this promise, in the 
following letter to the missionary friend in distant 
Benares : 

To EEV. D. WATT. 

"54, FLEET STREET, September 29, 1842. 
" I intended to have commenced a letter to 
you immediately after my return from Hurstmon- 
ceaux, giving you an account of my visit, what I 
saw and heard. But something or other came, day 
by day, ever since to hinder me, and here at last 
I must write hurriedly, so the less time I spend 
in apologies the better. Hurstmonceaux is a 
parish with 1,300 inhabitants, somewhere between 
Brighton and Hastings. As the railway takes me 
to Brighton in a couple of hours for a mere trifle 
I chose that way rather than by Hastings. Hare's 
house lies at about two minutes walk from the 
coach road between Brighton and Hastings. The 
coach put me down at the Eectory gate. The 
Eectory is very beautifully situated on a hill 
surrounded by the most beautiful glebe, and the 
Bee tors seem to have spared no pains, no expense ; 



1843-55.] THE ARCHDEACON'S LIBRARY. 133 

they have taken every advantage of situation, and 
have displayed great taste in the arrangement of 
trees, gardens, &c., &c. The living is in the gift of 
the family. His grandfather and his uncle were 
Rectors there. The house is a large, well-built, 
commodious-looking mansion, but does not display 
much architectural taste. When one goes into it, 
it looks more like a library than a dwelling-house. 
It is literally crammed with books and such 
books collected with such wisdom and care. 
Mr. Maurice says that he thinks it the best 
private library in England ; contains the largest 
number of really valuable books, selected with 
the widest and most catholic judgment and taste. 
Carlyle says he never saw so large a collection 
of really first-rate German books ; and Carlyle is 
an authority on such matters. But besides Ger- 
man he has Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, French, 
and English of course. I was quite astonished. 
I saw many, very many books I had never heard 
of, and many I had only heard of. He has not 
merely a large library, for though the room 
specially so-called is a large one, and quite full of 
books, it contains only a small part of his books. 
The dining and drawing rooms look, more like 
libraries than dining and drawing rooms ; for the 
sides that are not shelved from bottom to top and 
filled with books, are covered with pictures, some 
of the very noblest pieces of art. Then the hall 
is shelved and filled with books in the same way, 



134 THE ARCHDEACON'S LIBRARY. [CH. v. 

and so are the staircases and the lobby of the 
first-floor, and so are some of the bedrooms. It 
is really quite wonderful ; I was surprised. But 
all this money could do with some good advice in 
the selection. However, when I began to look 
through the books I saw that Hare was something 
very different from a mere book-collector. All 
the most valuable books had marginal notes, or 
notes at the end generally pointing out where 
was a good criticism on it, or where the same 
subject was discussed never mere marks of admi- 
ration, or any pedantry of that kind. The variety, 
the extent, the carefulness of his reading were 
beyond belief. The notes which I mention show 
this. There is no mistaking his hand, other- 
wise one would scarcely credit that a man could 
have read so much and with such care. Be- 
sides these books and paintings he has an immense 
collection of engravings; all of them well worth 
having. This part, however, would require a very 
long time to look through with the care they 
deserve. But now that I have taken so long to 
tell you about the house, I must begin to say 
something of its inmates. 

"The foremost figure is, of course, the Arch- 
deacon himself. He is about six feet, not at all 
stout, not very slender. Something like Mr. 
Binney as to height, not at all like him otherwise. 
His eye is large, soft, swimming, not dark-blue, 
nor gray, nor hazel, but a sort of mixture of these. 



1843-55.] THE ARCHDEACON AT HOME. IDS 

His hair was dark, but is now copiously sprinkled 
with gray. His complexion is rather sallow ; his 
forehead broad and rather, but not very, high. 
He takes no care to show his forehead, as his 
grizzled hair lies carelessly about his temples. 
His expression is that of a very thoughtful, kind- 
hearted, simple-minded man, quite free from all 
self-consciousness. I never met so humble-minded 
a man. He stoops a little, the result of too much 
reading I should think. He is very frank, and 
1 felt quite at ease with him. His only brother, 
Marcus, who was a captain in the navy, was 
there, with his wife and three children. The 
widow of his brother Augustus was also there, 
with her only child, a boy about seven. They 
were all very pleasant people. I felt quite at 
home with them. Their easy good-breeding made 
me feel so. They talked with freedom and ease 
on all sorts of subjects and yet they were far 
from being great talkers, a very disgusting kind 
of people to me. 

" I wish I could give you anything like a notion 
of the conversation but that is impossible. 

" Landor had been there about a week before 
me. If I had gone when I was first asked I should 
have met him. From all the Hares say, and they 
know Landor well, and have known him for many 
years, there is little chance of his ever producing 
the 'Solid and Orderly Work on History,' of which 
he speaks in the preface to his Conversations. 



136 LANDOR. [CH. v. 

He is so full of strange perversities and unrest. 
He is a noble, warm-hearted man ; but quite 
devoid of anything like philosophical or judicial 
calmness, and seems to get more and more excit- 
able as his years increase. Nothing delights him 
more than to pester his visitors, or his host, or any 
one he meets in company, with all manner of 
paradoxes. The truly amiable and lovely nature 
of Tiberius, or of Nero ; or the great folly and 
cruelty of Pitt and Fox ; or an examination of 
the question which of the two (Fox or Pitt) 
was the greater fool always deciding in favour 
of Fox for he, according to Landor, was the 
greatest fool of his day. Pitt, he says, was 
fool enough, but had a little of the rogue. 
Sometimes he discourses on the grandeur and 
beauty and harmony of the modern Greek and 
Latin prize poems of Oxford and Cambridge; 
showing them to be in every way superior to 
all that the Greeks or the Eomans ever wrote ! 
Or perhaps he spends an hour in proving that 
Monckton Milnes is the greatest English poet. In 
these humours he praises what others blame, and 
abuses whatever is well-spoken of. He is very 
fond of the Hares. Julius revised his Conver- 
sations. Francis Hare, the eldest of the family, 
who is now dead, was one of Landor 's chief 
friends. He dedicates his volume of poetry to 
Francis. Julius thinks him the best of English 
prose writers, and is only sorry that he gives way 



1843-55.J LANDOR. 137 

to such strange tempers and crotchets and way- 
wardness. Miss Hare, a sister of Julius, whom I 
met at Maurice's, told me that her brother Julius 
brought Landor and Augustus Schlegel together 
at Bonn. Arndt was there, and several others; 
they were scarcely introduced when Landor -com- 
menced a most furious attack on Schlegel, abusing 
him in the most extravagant way, for having 
spoken favourably of the French in his lectures 
on ' Dramatic Literature.' When dinner came on 
the table, Landor would not sit down with the rest 
of the company, but took his dinner at some side 
table. Schlegel said, ' Well, I don't like the French, 
and have only said in their favour what honesty 
and truth required, but with all their faults, they 
are at least polite ; they have some notion of good 
breeding.' Miss Hare was present and Landor 
wrote to her a short time after from Italy. He 
said that the only man he met at Bonn, who in 
the least degree interested him, was Arndt (now 
Landor could not speak German and Arndt could 
neither speak French nor English) ; as for that 
pony or donkey dressed out with ribbons (refer- 
ring to Schlegel's orders which he wore at dinner 
the day Landor met him), he would not give a 
thaler for a dozen such creatures. Notwith- 
standing these strange perversities, he is, they 
say, a most agreeable man when he chooses. The 
Hares enjoy his visits very much. 

" Arnold was at Hurstmonceaux a short time 



138 ARNOLD. [CH. v. 

before his death. Hare admired him and loved 
him exceedingly and certainly he was a most 
upright, noble, and simple - hearted man. He 
felt the deepest interest in the poor, and did 
all in his power to raise them. Among other 
things, on certain strong occasions, he wrote 
letters to some of the newspapers which had 
the widest circulation among that class, which 
letters contained the most wholesome advice, 
tending to restrain all violence, while they showed 
the deepest sympathy with the real wants and 
evils which pressed on the people, and an earnest 
wish to get them removed in some wise way. 
Hare has a collection of these letters, and I read 
them while staying in his house. It is likely that 
they, and his other political writings, will be col- 
lected in a little volume. I hope so. They are 
well worth preserving. Hare is at present engaged 
in preparing a volume of Arnold's correspondence, 
which, he says, will be most valuable and most 
interesting. He is also superintending the third 
volume of the History of Home, which was just 
completed in MS. when he died. Hare tells me 
that Carlyle and Arnold were very fond of each 
other. They had corresponded with each other 
for some time, and last year, when Carlyle was 
coming back from Scotland, he stayed a few days 
at Eugby. They visited Naseby Field together. 
I should have been delighted to have been in their 
company. Carlyle was very much delighted with 



1843-55.] CARLYLE A. SCOTT. 139 

Arnold. He said, ' Arnold is a hero of a school- 
master knows his work and does it.' . . . 

"Hare told me that Carlyle is engaged on a 
History of the Great Eebellion, and doubtless 
Cromwell will cut a better figure than in any 
history ever published. He, of course, will be 
the most prominent figure in Carlyle's book. Mr. 
Maurice says that Carlyle has been studying that 
period ever since he finished his French Revolution, 
and that the Puritans and the Quakers will get 
justice done them. One of his chief figures after 
Cromwell will be Strafford but we shall see when 
it comes out. It will be worth reading, beyond all 
doubt. From all that one can hear there seems to 
be no doubt that Carlyle has a more extensive 
influence than any man of our time. It is curious 
to think of this rough Scotchman coming up to 
London, and by his writing and lecturing in- 
fluencing the most refined and learned in England. 
Chevalier Bunsen and Professor Whewell were at 
Hurstmonceaux about a fortnight before me, and 
Hare told me that Whewell amused them very 
much by reading some of the oddest passages in 
the Heroes, just in Carlyle's style. Whewell heard 
Carlyle. I saw him at the only lecture I heard 
the one on Dante and Shakespeare. 

" The conversation often turned on Mr. Scott of 
Woolwich. Hare thinks very highly of him. I am 
sure he admires him more, and thinks him a greater 
man than Carlyle. He did not say so, but I heard 



140 DE QUINCEY WORDSWORTH. [CH. v. 

him speak of no one with such unmingled respect, 
always excepting Coleridge. Pray let me know what 
you think of Scott when you get his pamphlets. 

"Hare told me that De Quinceyand Wordsworth, 
both of them, dislike Goethe, and think him little 
better than a quack. Wordsworth speaks of him 
in the most contemptuous manner. It always was 
a subject of warm discussion when they met, till 
at last it got so warm that they agreed never to 
speak to each other about Goethe again. Hare 
wrote a long defence of Goethe, especially of the 
Meister, for the London Magazine, in answer to 
a furious attack of De Quincey's, but it was never 
published. De Quincey is a strange man and takes 
a pride in running down any idol; but one would 
scarcely have expected so calm a mind as Words- 
worth's to have such an aversion to any great poet. 
Hare says that notwithstanding his greatness he 
really and heartily admires very few poets. Milton 
and Spenser these he loves and appreciates 
scarcely any other. Hare doubts his hearty admi- 
ration of Shakespeare. Now, as Hare loves Words- 
worth, respects him, and thinks we have had no 
such poet for ages, I feel quite confident in what 
he says about him, that he does not misunderstand 
or misrepresent him. Indeed, he did not blame 
him for his judgments, he only mentioned these 
things as characteristics of Wordsworth, showing 
that though he is a great poet, he is not always 
a correct critic. 



1843-55.] COLERIDGE LAMB. 141 

" Of Coleridge he always spoke in the most 
affectionate manner. He knew him well, and I 
fancy all who knew him personally think far more 
of him than those who only know him through 
his writings. Great as his writings are, it would 
appear that his best things were spoken. There 
seems to have been something in a company of 
men which raised him higher than he could ever 
rise with merely paper before him. The melody of 
his voice when delivering one of his long discourses 
must have been enchanting. .... 

" He spoke in the most affectionate manner of 
Charles Lamb. He dined with him and a large 
party of literati once. De Quincey was there. I 
daresay you know that De Q. is a very little 
man. Hare was sitting next to Lamb ; De Q. 
was on the opposite side of the table. Lamb 
touched Hare, and said, quite loud, so that the 
whole table might hear him, 'Do you see that 
little man?' (pointing to De Q.), 'Well, though 
he is so little, he has written a thing about Macbeth 
betterthan anything I could write; no not better 
than anything I could write, but I could not write 
anything better.' Immediately afterwards he said 
to Hare, ' I am a very foolish fellow. For instance 
I have taken a fancy for you. I- wish you would 
come and sup with me to-morrow night, I will give 
you crab perhaps lobster.' Hare says that two 
glasses of wine made him quite light not tipsy, 
but elevated so that the stories about his drunk- 



142 LAMB-J. STERLING. [CH. v. 



enness, and the things he says of himself are not 
to be trusted. Hare told me that Lamb's sister, in 
one of her fits of derangement, killed her mother. 
She never knew it herself. Lamb lived in the 
perpetual dread that it should come to her ears. 
The whole thing was very shocking to a man of 
Lamb's sensibility; it hung like a cloud on his 
mind ever after to the end of his days. It is to 
that that Wordsworth refers in his beautiful poem 
to Lamb ; and Hare tells me that one of Coleridge's 
most beautiful letters is one he wrote to Lamb in 
reference to that event. By the by, I may just as 
well tell you that Lamb's sister is still alive, and 
so you must take care to whom you tell this story. 

" I daresay you have heard of John Sterling, 
author of the Sextons Daughter, and other Poems, 
and some of the most beautiful things in the London 
and Westminster Review, one on Montaigne, one on 
Simonides, one on Carlyle. I am sure you must 
have heard of him ; everything he has written gives 
indications of great genius. Hare tells me that 
he was curate at Hurstmonceaux for some time, 
but owing to tendencies to consumption he has 
been obliged to give up all labour, and to go to 
some warmer climate in the winter. Hare thinks 
very highly of him ; thinks him a true poet. He 
wrote a tragedy lately, and that brought on a fever, 
so he must abstain from all work. 

" I spent three days at Hurstmonceaux, and never 
spent so much time with greater pleasure and 



1843-55.] CHURCH SERVICES. 143 

satisfaction. One of the days was a Sunday, the 
first Sunday in the month. I told him I was a 
Dissenter. He asked me if I would go to their 
Communion service. I said I should be very glad 
only I did not know how to proceed, as I had 
never been present at such a service. Mrs. 
Augustus explained it to me. I went. I thought 
it most solemn, most appropriate. Indeed, the 
whole service of the Church seems to me much 
more suitable than any other. There one's heart 
really finds utterance. I know of nothing equal 
to it. 

" I told Hare about you and Mr. Budden. He 
feels a deep interest in missions; but feels that 
they will be distracted and imperfect in their 
working as long as Protestants continue in their 
present condition. He has strong and rational 
objections to the condition and principles of 
Dissenters with which I quite agree. It would 
take too long to state them all. It is needless to 
say that they are quite free from all narrowness, 
bigotry, malice, hatred, ignorance. I wish we had 
a host of such men as Hare and Maurice. I think 
the contradictions of Protestantism would get 
reconciled ; and if that were the case, perhaps we 
might hope to see Popery or Eomanism cease to 
be Papist and Romanist and become really 
Catholic. Surely Popery is permitted to exist so 
long and to show so much power for some purpose, 
to witness for some truth, .or truths, which Protes- 



144 TRENCH TENNYSON. [CH. v. 

tants don't recognise. In one of your letters you 
speak of the squabbles you have with Baptists, 
Puseyites, Papists how they step in with their 
crude half-truths and disturb your labours. 
Surely there is a want of unity ; union is the 
thing you want. How you can meet that want 
wisely is a difficult question, but which must get 
solved some day, if men don't lose all faith in 
each other, and in God. Thiiiwall is going to 
deliver his primary ordination charge in about 
a month. It is sure to be published. What 
would you say to see him coming out quite High 
Church ? 

" We have a strong array of young poets. Trench 
has brought out three volumes very superior. 
Tennyson has brought out a new edition one of 
the volumes is quite new. My brother thinks 
him by far the best of the young poets, and ranks 
him next to Coleridge thus : first, Wordsworth ; 
second, Coleridge; third, Tennyson. I can say 
nothing on the subject as I have read only a few. 
Those few are very beautiful, and over these I 
have not studied. Alexander has read them often. 
I am very fond of Trench. Maurice tells me that 
he has translated one of the dramas of Calderon 
with great fidelity and spirit. I urged Maurice 
to advise him to translate as many as would make 
a nice six shilling volume, and publish them. We 
merely English readers really want such a thing. 
We know nothing of Calderon except by hearsay. 



1843-55.] F. D. MAURICE. 145 

If he really is equal to Shakespeare we ought to 
know more of him. 

" Maurice called on me twice ; once I was out 
the second time I was at home. He stayed with 
me to supper. He is one of the most pleasant 
men I ever met. His humility is very beautiful. 
He does not appear as Professor Maurice and 
yet there is something great and beautiful in his 
very simplicity. I have been at his house one 
night, and met a sister of Hare's there. I never 
enjoyed myself more. His wife is a most 
delightful woman, and so was this Miss Hare. 
Maurice has written a ' History of Moral and 
Metaphysical Philosophy' for the Encylopccdia, 
Metropolitana. I have borrowed it from a friend. 
It is a most noble work ; we have nothing like it. 
He gives so fair and so candid an account of all 
systems. He is a most noble, honest-hearted man. 
I do wish the proprietors would publish it sepa- 
rately. I called on them, but they say it would 
injure the sale of the Cyclopaedia. These 
wretched men these publishers ! What fools 
they are. ..." 

The acquaintance thus commenced soon ripened 
into a friendship ; and on the Archdeacon's part into 
a desire to assist his young coirespondent in estab- 
lishing himself in some place where he would 
have scope to carry out his ideas. Having become 
a regular customer of the small shop in Alders- 

L 



146 ALDERSGATE STREET SHOP. [CH. v. 

gate Street, he feels that the lovers of books will 
be greatly benefited by having so punctual and 
intelligent a caterer for their needs. But Alders- 
gate Street is too much out of the way. These 
views he writes to Daniel, who replies 

"57, ALDERSGATE STKEET, March 7, 1843. 
"... We are content to make the best of 
Aldersgate Street for the present, hoping to move 
west by and by. We have a very neat shop for 
a very small rent. It is within five minutes walk 
of the post-office, and Paternoster Eow. Now- 
adays, with penny posts, and Parcels Delivery 
Companies, it is an easy matter to attend to 
orders from any part of town or country. We 
have commenced quite in a small way. If a 
large tree grows from this small seed we shall be 
grateful. If not, we shall be content ; we shall 
feel that it is as it ought to be. We are deter- 
mined that it shall not fail through indolence or 
extravagance. If the business should prosper, 
we shall, both of us, do our best to realise some of 
our ideals with regard to what should be done for 
the craftsmen of our land. We feel, however, 
that the world can go on without us, or our 
ideals; and, in the meantime, we shall strive to 
do the work that lies nearest us in the best 
manner we can." 

But though content to make the best of Alders- 



1843-55.] A NEW OPENING. 14? 

gate Street, lie is on the look-out for a better 
opening. In June sucli an one offers, and he tells 
the Archdeacon that the business of Mr. Newby 
at Cambridge, which he thinks would suit his 
purpose, is in the market. The letter is not, 
however, confined to business. 

"8, CnARTKnnorsE SQTTATIE, August 10, 1843. 

" .... I have just read Mr. Maurice's new 
pamphlet, and earnestly hope he may get many 
thoughtful readers. I fear we are in too feverish a 
state at present so superstitiously jealous of each 
other. A great many of those who call themselves 
Catholic are getting into the most pitiful cant; 
and we shall soon have a Catholic vocabulary of 
slang phrases more disagreeable than that of 
Evangelical newspapers and magazines. In the 
midst of all this one would get bewildered, and 
inclined to throw all thought of such matters 
aside in disgust, were it not for the manly sense 
of here and there a thinker like Mr. Maurice. 

" I have never been able to meet with the first 
edition of The Kingdom of Christ till a few weeks 
ago. I think it in many respects better than the 
second. But it is quite another book. I am glad 
to have both. 

" I was very glad to see Mr. Sterling's tragedy 
and was very much delighted with it. I cannot 
imagine why he should dedicate it to Emerson. 
They have so few things in common. . . ." 

L 2 



148 THE ARCHDEACON'S INQUIHY. [en. V. 



Hare replies at once 

" HmisTMONCEAux, August 22, 1843. 

"... What sum of money would you want 
to enable you to take Newby's business at Cam- 
bridge ? and what chance do you think there 
is of its proving a profitable one ? My brother, 
whom you saw here, on hearing what you said 
in your letter on the subject, said that, if it be 
so, means might perhaps be found to let you 
have a moderate sum of money at moderate 
interest with a reasonable security. But what 
are your prospects at present ? Every change 
must be attended with considerable loss ; and 
would Cambridge be a place as well fitted as 
London for doing anything with reference to 
your ultimate aim ? . . ." 

To AKCHDEACOX HAKE. 

" 57, ALDERSGATE STREET, August 24, 1843. 

" ... As to the chances of success, they seem 
very good. (1) Because there is no bookseller in 
Cambridge, since Thorpe left it, except Stevenson, 
who knows anything of books. (2) Because the 
situation is so good, being so near to Trinity and 
St. John's Colleges. (3) Because I should give 
careful and constant attention to business. And 
(4) because in Cambridge one could get sooner 
known than in London. 

" I was in Cambridge from October, 1833, till 



1843-55.] DANIEL'S REPLY. 149 

October, 183G. During that time I was in 
Johnson's business, which was prosperous. While 
I was there I found that a good many of his 
best customers preferred being waited on by 
me. I did not like this, because I knew it 
must have been disagreeable to Johnson. They 
often passed him by and walked up to my desk, 
I knew he felt it, could not but feel it, so I gave 
up my situation and came to London. . . . 

" My father died when I was ten, shortly after 
which I was apprenticed to a bookseller in Irvine 
(Ayrshire), where mother and family lived. When 
in 1831, at the age of seventeen, I left home, after 
a seven years' apprenticeship, I had very little 
money. When I saved a little I generally found 
some claim on me which I could not resist. Since 
the time I left home I have twice had a long and 
serious illness my mother, two sisters, and two 
elder brothers have died . . . (As to prospects) 

" We have paid any half-yearly accounts that are 
due, and have not required to trouble Mr. Burnside 
for the 100 which he kindly promised to lend us 
if we required it. But though this business has 
succeeded so far, it has given no promise of being 
able to support us both. Indeed, we have drawn 
nothing out of it for that purpose. My salary 
served to pay for our board, &c., &c. 

" These two friends of mine, as I said, did not 
know rny circumstances, and they have, at different 
times since I took the Aldersgate Street shop, been 



150 RETROSPECT AND FORECAST, [CH. v. 

urging me to take a business in Cambridge, as 
there was, they said, a capital opening. I did not 
feel that I could just for want of means but 
besides that, I felt if one opened a fresh shop in 
Cambridge it would give one the appearance of an 
intruder, which the booksellers there might feel 
the more disagreeable because I am a Scotchman. 

" Shortly after this, about the beginning of June, 
Mr. Tupling wrote to tell me that Mr. Newby was 
going to dispose of his business. I wrote to Mr. 
Newby for particulars. A gentleman who once 
was in the book-trade, and to whom I mentioned 
this, said he would be glad to advance the capital 
if I would give him a share of the profits, and he 
would allow me 150 a year for the management, 
besides a share in the profits. 

" My plan was to let the London business still 
go on under my brother's management. This 
would have many advantages. . . . But if we 
had a larger and more general stock, especially 
of good second-hand books, we might do more 
business and get better profits, e.g. 1. We sold 
books to the amount of about 13 to a sea- 
captain who was going to Bombay. Most of 
them were second-hand. We had to pick them up 
as we could in London. If this gentleman had 
found them all, or the greater number of them, in 
our shop it would have pleased him better, would 
have saved him .trouble, and it would have been 
more profitable to us. 2. A gentleman from 



1843-55.] RETROSPECT AND FORECAST. 151 

Leghorn has now laid out books which will come 
to upwards of 60. We had to fish all about 
London for them. He had often to come to look 
at things we had got on sight from other book- 
sellers. He was so kind and good-natured as not 
to complain of this, perhaps seeing that we were 
beginners and having a wish to help us. Indeed, 
he expressed himself so well satisfied as to say 
that he would make us book-agents for himself, 
and other English book-buyers in Leghorn. But 
in both cases we should have been glad if we could 
have saved our customers so much trouble. . . . 

" I have been thus minute, so that you might the 
more clearly see exactly how I stand. The only 
security I could give in the case of finding any 
one able and willing to lend the necessary money, 
would be a bond on the stock. This kind of 
security might be unsatisfactory because it might 
be possible for a man to sell off the stock and run 
away. Still such security is often taken when the 
lender has confidence in the character of the 
borrower. . . . 

"About the end of last year I was carefully 
examined with the stethescope, and the doctor 
assured me that I was perfectly sound ; that if I 
took plenty of air and exercise, and did not worry 
myself with anxiety, I should find myself daily 
becoming more and more healthy ; that if I lived 
to turn thirty I should in all probability live to 
be an old man. I shall be thirty on the 13th of 



152 THE ARCHDEACON'S OFFER. [CH. v. 

September next. I find the doctor was right, I 
am getting stronger daily. But still, if I did 
enter on a thing of this kind 1 should feel it 
indispensable to insure my life at 1000. . . ." 

To this Hare replies 

"Mondaj% August 28, 1843. 

"... As to the means, if you feel disposed 
for the venture and I trust that you may under- 
take it in good hope and faith I should be 
able, with the assistance of my brother, to lend 
you 500, for which you would give us a bond, 
and pay us four per cent, interest. And we 
should be very thankful, if, by so doing, we 
can help in placing you in a situation, where 
you may be better able hereafter to effect some- 
thing for the great object of your life, which I 
doubt not you will always keep steadily before 
you. Mr. Burnside, and your other friends might, 
perhaps, enable you to make up the sum you will 
still want What you say about keeping up the 
London shop, seems judicious. If you do not lose 
money by it, it will be serviceable in many ways. 
Only in these bad times for the book- trade, you 
must beware of venturing out of your depth. . , ." 

To ARCHDEACON HARE. 

" 67, ALDERSGATE STREET, August 30, 1843. 
(After thanking for the proffered help) " . . . . 
As for what you term the great object of my 



1843-55.] COMPLETION OF PURCHASE. 153 

life there is no danger of my losing sight of it. 
Lately, about a month ago, I wrote four imaginary 
letters bearing on that subject, which I wished to 
place in Mr. Maurice's hands. Though Mr. 
Maurice has always been very land, and listened 
to me with great patience, I could not venture to 
put these letters in his hands even after I had 
written them, just from a fear that he might think 
it troublesome, or at best that he might bear with 
me as a well-intentioned person with a ' fixed 
idea,' but on the whole rather f a bore.' Some- 
times I fancied that it might be wiser for me not 
to occupy myself with such matters, but to leave 
them for those that were wiser. But I never could 
get rid of this 'fixed idea,' it would not leave 
me. You can scarcely imagine how glad I was 
to see you refer to it as you did in your last two 
letters. It encouraged me to send the imaginary 
letters I spoke of to Mr. Maurice. ..." 

" 57, ALDEUSGATE STREET, September 2, 1843. 
"... Mr. Maurice has sent me a most kind 
and beautiful letter in answer to the letters I 
sent him. I am afraid he feels almost too deeply 
the distressing evils of our time." 

The purchase was now promptly made, and the 
shop and house in Trinity Street were transferred 
to the two brothers. They determined that 
the Aldersgate Street shop should still be kept, 



154 ILLNESS. [en. v. 

under the management of the younger brother, 
while Daniel took charge of the new and more 
important venture. 

Thus the labour of rearranging the stock and 
organizing the business, which was very great, 
fell entirely on him. But the work had to be 
done, and was done. The new business pros- 
pered from the first, helped much by the open 
support of Hare, whose reputation at Cambridge 
was at its height, and by the patronage of his 
resident friends ; but mainly through the personal 
qualities and ability of the new bookseller. 

The strain however proved too severe after the 
first few months. Hitherto the tendency to pul- 
monary disease, though serious, had not taken the 
worst form of bleeding from the lungs. Now, in 
the opening days of Hilary term, 1843, violent 
and dangerous haemorrhage set in. 

His brother w r as peremptorily summoned from 
Aldersgate Street, and, though himself suffering 
from rheumatism, came down outside the stage 
coach in a sharp frost, no inside place being 
procurable. The consequence was that both 
brothers were for the moment crippled for active 
work at a most critical time. Still the business 
was kept going and prospered, but it was clear 
that Daniel could no longer undertake the Cam- 
bridge work single-handed. The question of 
closing the London business and concentrating 
at Cambridge was raised, and the Archdeacon 



1343-55.] CONCENTRATION AT CAMBRIDGE. 155 

consulted upon it, who strongly approved the 
proposed change. 

In reply Daniel Macmillan writes 

" 17, TKINITY STREET, February 27, 1844. 
" I am ordered not to write, but I cannot help 
thanking you for your great kindness in writing to 
my brother and myself. We have resolved to follow 
your kind suggestion. As soon as iny brother can 
leave me he will go to London to get rid of the 
shop. That will be at Easter. I cannot givo it up 
without regret, not on account of any pecuniary 
advantages, but because it will prevent us from 
meeting with, and hearing from, young men 
young Scotch ministers, young Dissenting mis- 
sionaries, and young men about to leave England 
for our colonies who were every now and then 
calling on us when we were in London. I have 
had letters from such men thanking me most 
warmly for having recommended books to them 
which they found most useful in widening their 
minds without weakening their faith or lessening 
their activity or zeal. . . ." 

One of the heaviest parts of his work had been 
the preparation of a catalogue of their stock. 
It appeared early in 1844, a pamphlet of 120 
pages, and was forwarded to the Archdeacon. A 
notice was prefixed excusing the too miscellaneous 
character of the books. These had to be purchased 



156 FIRST CATALOGUE. [en. v. 

with the goodwill, and are put at very low prices 
that they may be cleared off quickly. Next year 
the firm hope to publish a catalogue of good books 
only, which will be a real guide to buyers. Two 
literary friends who have supplied occasional 
notes for the present list will help for that of 
1845. 

On examining the catalogue, the quick eye of 
the Archdeacon detects the personality of Daniel 
Macmillan himself under the initials D. L., as 
one of the literary friends. One note he fixes 
upon as his text. It runs as follows : 

" No. 961. Nature, an Essay ; and Orations. Royal octavo, 
new. R. "VV. Emerson. 

"' Teacher of starry wisdom, high serene.' John Sterling. 
Dedication to Straffbrd, a tragedy. 

"Vauxhall stars, I fear. D. L." 

Upon this note on the great American essayist, 
for whom the Archdeacon had a high esteem, he 
speaks 

" HURSTMOXCEAUX, March 8, 1844. 

" The new number of the British Magazine was 
brought to me this day ; and, on opening it, I 
found your catalogue stitched up with it. I have 
been looking rapidly through it, and have re- 
marked two or three things which induce me to 
write to you. 

" First, I was much grieved to see that you had 
given Faiiblas a place in your catalogue, A book- 



1843-55.] THE ARCHDEACON'S CRITICISMS. 157 



seller in a university, it seems to me, ought not to 
have such books in his shop. They are demora- 
lizing, especially to young men. I fear, too, that 
it may excite a prejudice against you in many who 
do not know you. I should be very glad if you 
could cancel that leaf, and throw the book into the 
fire. It looks to me as if you had only inserted it 
for the sake of the quotation from Carlyle ; but 
that very quotation, while it proves that the book 
ought not to be there, will draw attention to it ; 
and you must know enough of men to be aware 
that filth and profligacy in books is to many an 
attraction. 

" In the next place, I doubt whether it is judi- 
cious to introduce such strong expressions of your 
own individual opinions. In London this might 
pass, for one is lost in a crowd ; but at Cambridge 
those opinions, as novelties, will excite general 
observation ; and I fear many will ascribe that to 
coxcombry and presumption, which I know to be 
merely an expression of affectionate enthusiasm. 
The opinions of persons qualified to express them, 
may, indeed, be of use to recommend authors who 
have not yet gained a sufficient reputation in 
England; and thus I will not object to your having 
quoted my few words about Nitzsch ; but I fear 
others will also find out that D.L. is Daniel, and 
A.R. Alexander ; and the men who exercise autho- 
rity in the university will fancy that they are fitter 
to teach you about books, than to learn from 



158 DANIEL'S CONFESSION. [oil. V. 

you. By the by, do thank Alexander for his very 
pretty lines about my brother ; but you should 
hardly have quoted Sterling on Emerson to chide 
him. . , 

" I am beginning to reprint the Victory of 
Faith, and hoping to bring out the Mission of the 
Comforter in a very few weeks. When it is pub- 
lished, I will beg Parker to add your name on the 
title-page; it will be the only one except his. 
This may be of use to you, at all events, by 
bringing you more into connection with him. 

" From your last letter I was very glad to learn 
how prosperously you are getting on at Cambridge, 
and that you feel a need of having your brother 
there with you ; although we shall regret the loss 
of a house in London where all our wishes were 
executed in so pleasant a manner. The account 
of your health was the only drawback ; and that, 
I trust, God willing, will improve, and that you 
will not retard it by premature exertion." 

DANIEL MACMILLAN to AKCHDEACON HAEE. 

"17, TRINITY STKEET, March 13, 1844. 
" I am very sorry that there should have been 
anything in our catalogue to grieve you, and feel 
most thankful to you for taking the trouble to tell 
us of its faults. We shall take more care in 
future, and avoid anything that has even the 
appearance of ' coxcombry and presumption.' If 



18-13-55.] DANIEL'S CONFESSION. 15D 

I get better of this illness, I trust I shall come 
out of it wiser and more prudent. Your letter 
will help me. 

" When preparing the catalogue I found Louvet's 
book, and another still more hateful, Tanzal ct 
Neadarnt, in the stock. My first impulse was 
to thrust them into the fire. I knew both the 
books from having seen them, a long time ago, 
on the library table of a Glasgow student. I 
glanced over them and asked him, ' How dare 
you read such books ? ' He answered me, ' You 
are always too impatient, you will not even read 
"Wycherley and Congreve, and yet, without read- 
ing such books, you can never understand the age 
that produced them. They are more valuable to 
me than any history. These books were bought 
and read by the so-called noble, by the fashionable 
and the wealthy in France; and passed through 
edition after edition. After reading them I can 
tolerate, because I can understand, the terrors 
that followed ; nay, more, I feel most thankful 
for any storms or revolution which clear the air, 
&c., &c., &c.' 

" I felt that there was some truth in my friend's 
remarks. I know that he was a most honest and 
pure-minded man. I never had patience enough 
to seek for truth in common sewers. Yet I saw 
that Carlyle had read these books, and felt that 
they might have a use to historical inquirers, and, 
without thought of the consequences, put them in 



160 DANIEL'S CONFESSION. [CH. V. 

the catalogue. I should have refused to show them 
to any young man of whom I knew nothing ; but 
no one has asked for them, and as soon as I was 
able after the receipt of your letter, I burnt them. 
I wish now I had done so three months ago. . . . 
" I feel very sorry for the flippant note about 
Emerson. I wrote it just after reading Nature, an 
Essay, which vexed me very much. I still think 
Emerson does not deserve the praise of Sterling 
and Carlyle." 

It would have been strange if he could have 
appreciated Mr. Emerson, wide as were his 
literary sympathies. "I am a Calvinist," he 
wrote to Professor Hort (in explanation of what 
looked like apathy in negotiating for the publica- 
tion of a Eeview, which had been suggested to 
him) ; " and if you knew all my history you would 
say that I must be one. I shall therefore be 
sure that God is leading me before I move another 
step in this matter. Though I should like to 
have an additional 100 a year, I am still more 
anxious to be led wisely and not to put myself 
forward." The strength of this faith in a living 
God, and in His direct governance and guidance, 
made him impatient of the haziness of much of 
the popular religious thought of his day, and 
gave a flavour of intolerance to his judgment of 
transcendentalism, and the pantheism of which 
the great New Englander was the prophet. They 



1843-55.] COUNSELS OF THE ARCHDEACON. 161 



ran counter to his deepest convictions, and with 
the confidence of a self-educated man, who owed 
every step in his intellectual and spiritual growth 
to his own unassisted study and thought, he was 
not careful in choosing his words when expressing 
disagreement. There must have been something 
specially exasperating to him in the vagueness 
of this school, as it is the only instance I have 
come across of anything approaching prejudice 
in his estimate of contempoiary thinkers. No 
further allusion to Mr. Emerson was made by 
the Archdeacon, though he returns to the subject 
of the catalogue. 



AKCHDEACON HARE to DANIEL MACMILLAN. 

" HURSTMONCEAUX, June 1, 1844. 
"I am exceedingly glad to hear so favourable 
an account of your health, and am also glad of 
what you say about your success ; but of that at 
Cambridge 1 scarcely entertained a doubt. Next 
year in all probability you will find your business 
much increased. I fear, however, you may have 
some difficulty in breaking through the mis- 
chievous practice which prevails so much at 
Cambridge, of running up long credit, and which 
is still more hurtful to the buyer than to the 
seller. You must do what you can to establish a 
practice of regular payment. 

M 



162 COUNSELS OF THE AKCHDEACOK [OH. v. 

" I have long been intending to write to you ; 
indeed, I meant to do so immediately after receiving 
your letter, in order to say how much I -was pleased 
with your prompt compliance with my advice, and 
consignment of Faullas to its proper fate. It is 
very true, as your friend said, that such books 
have a certain historical value ; but few men will 
read them with this view. The great majority of 
their readers have merely sought vicious stimu- 
lants, and for this reason it is especially desirable 
to keep them out of the way of young men who 
so readily fall into such temptations. 

"Your plan of publishing a somewhat select 
catalogue with little remarks taken from the 
writings of good judges, seems to me excellent, 
and I should like much, if I have time, to furnish 
you with some contributions from the writings of 
wise and judicious men. Coleridge's writings 
might supply many criticisms, especially his 
Bemains. For instance, you should quote one of 
his beautiful sayings on Leigh ton. So you should 
Maurice's passage about a friend in a note some- 
where in the Kingdom of Christ. Such a cata- 
logue would be of real use to students, if the 
selection be well made. I was merely alarmed 
to think how many people would be offended 
by your extravagant panegyric on the Victory 
of Faith, who would not understand and make 
allowance for the personal feelings that dictated 
it. . 



1843-55.] CAMBRIDGE OPENINGS 163 

" I hardly know to what excesses religious party 
spirit is carried in these days, and, therefore, am 
ill qualified to give an opinion on the expediency 
of your taking part in the publication of the 
Broad Stone of Honour. In a quieter state of the 
Church I should not hesitate a moment. Then 
the book would work nothing but pure good. At 
present I fear it may prepare many for the delu- 
sions which the writer himself, and so many 
others, are zealously propagating. Hence, when I 
reprint the Guesses at Truth, I shall have to bring 
forward the negative side of that book more 
strongly. Still I should be loth to decline taking 
part in it ; and as you will have divers opportu- 
nities of adding your name to books far remote 
from the errors of the Broad Stone, I should think 
you might accept Mr. Lumley's offer, telling him 
you desire to be a Catholic, but a Protestant 
Catholic, not a Romanist." 

The book-shop was scarcely well established 
before Daniel is looking round and weighing the 
larger opportunities which are open in connection 
with a great university, and writes 

To ARCHDEACON HARE. 

" 17, TKINITY STREET, June 21, 1844. 

" , . I wonder that Cambridge University 
never sends out good editions of English theolo- 

M 2 



164 CAMBRIDGE OPENINGS. [OH. v. 

gians, while Oxford sends out so many, and such 
handsome books, and so many of them by Cam- 
bridge men. If Cambridge were to republish the 
writings of the best of her sons what a noble array 
of books we should have. It would be an easy matter 
to do it. The thing might be managed as the Parker 
Society's books are. With a subscription of 2 2s. 
a year, it would be easy to get nearly all the profes- 
sional men in England and Scotland who had ever 
been Cambridge men. Jeremy Taylor, or Fuller, or 
Barrow, would be good books to begin with, as they 
are popular writers, better known than many 
others. There are no good editions of these, well 
edited and with good Indexes. The edition of 
Bishop Taylor's works with Heber's Life has a 
very incomplete Index, and is not correctly printed. 
There is no edition of Fuller even moderately good 
in the market. The Oxford edition of Barrow is 
not very handsome and is very expensive, and by 
this time is nearly out of print. Donne, Henry 
More, John Smith, Cudworth, and others might 
follow. I don't know whether Milton and Howe 
would have any chance, but a good edition of 
Milton's complete works is wanted, and it might 
be so edited as to be for the good of the Church. 
I should like very much to see Cambridge under- 
take such a work, and employ the most thoughtful 
of her sons as editors. There is no need to have 
commercial men working in it for the purpose of 
money-making. It were better if the University 



1843-55.] CAMBRIDGE OPENINGS. 165 

undertook it for its own honour, and for the 
advancement of sound learning. If such a thing 
could be set a-going I should be glad to take 
the management of it here. I fancy that the 
Master of Trinity and others here would be glad 
to do what they could to raise the name of the 
University in this way. I merely suggest this. 
Is it worth thinking of? Could anything be done 
to bring it about ? 

" I should like very much to see some good 
Cambridge tracts started. The incendiarism in our 
neighbourhood, and the discontent of the poor 
everywhere, call loudly for some mode of lessening 
the misunderstanding between rich and poor. 
Surely this state of things cannot last. One 
cannot read the papers day after day without 
agony of heart. Oh that one could see anything 
at work to meet our wants. It cheered me more 
than I can tell to see how constantly Dr. Arnold 
had these things pressing on his heart ; because I 
felt that hundreds in our land may be working in 
the same spirit though one hears nothing of it. I 
hope that his life may become an example to many. 
It would be a great honour if Cambridge were 
permitted to send out any light for the guidance 
of men in these most distracted times. Surely it 
was for some such purpose that God raised up 
such noble institutions, surely it was that they 
might give light, and order, and harmony to the 
kingdom. . . ." 



166 DEATH OF MARCUS HARE. [CH. v. 

A few more extracts from this correspondence 
will show the relations which grew up between 
the Archdeacon and Daniel Macmillan, and will 
best find a place here by themselves, rather than 
in their chronological order in the general nar- 
rative. The friendship stands out by itself, a 
pleasant and honourable episode in the lives of 
two good and able men. 

" HITRSTMONCEATTX, August 29, 1845. 
"... I suppose you have not heard for I am 
sure it would have grieved you that I have 
recently lost the brother whom you met here. A 
nobler-hearted, more loving brother was never 
given to man as a blessing through so many 
years, during which the warmth and entireness 
of the love of childhood and boyhood have never 
been impaired. I had the blessing of being with 
him during his last days here, and, therefore, was 
enabled to give thanks for the peace of his 
departure." 

In 1846 the Archdeacon is in controversy with 
Sir William Hamilton, who had attacked Luther 
in a pamphlet on the Schism in the Scotch Church, 
and writes 

" HURSTMONCEATJX, March 2, 1846. 
"... By the by, can you learn for me whether 
Sir William Hamilton ever published the promised 
second part of his pamphlet on the Schism in the 



1843-55.] SIR W. HAMILTON. 167 

Scotch Church ? if he did, I should much like to 
have it immediately by the post. And do you 
happen to know anything of him as a man ? His 
writings have given me a very unfavourable im- 
pression of him ; and I have to speak of him with 
considerable severity, which, if he be really a good, 
upright man, I would try to soften." 

After consulting George Wilson, who vigorously 
defends his learned countryman as an accurate 
man, but speaks even more warmly of his influence 
on his pupils, Daniel replies 

". . . All Sir "William Hamilton's pupils are very 
fond of him, because he is so kind to them most 
kind to those who need his kindness. To judge 
from his writings he would be mistaken for a 
very hard man. But he is only hard against 
what he esteems false and rotten. If he hits 
hard it is because he honestly believes he is 
striking the devil. The Edinburgh students are 
proud of him as one of their few very learned 
men. . . ." 

ARCHDEACON HAKE to DANIEL MACMILLAN. 

" HURSTMONCEATTX, March 5, 1846. 

"... What you say of Sir William Hamilton 

will lead me to soften some expressions, for his 

writings have given me the notion of unscrupulous 

ferocity ; and if he is so fierce because he thinks 



168 SIR W. HAMILTON. [CH. v. 

he is ' striking the devil,' at all events, he is so 
blind that he often strikes an angel instead, and 
does not look twice before he puts in his blow. . . ." 

The correspondence, which closed here, so far as 
the Archdeacon was concerned, was maintained at 
intervals between Daniel Macmillan and George 
Wilson, each of them standing up manfully for his 
principal. The following letter which ends it, 
refers to one out of several instances of similar 
good work accomplished by the Archdeacon on 
the suggestion of his new friend : 



GEORGE WILSON to DANIEL MACMILLAN. 

"September 17, 1846. 

"... Let there be a truce then. Accuse the' 
baronet, if you like, of inaccuracy, only even that 
were best to be done warily, for he is full of 
what he calls ' additional proofs ' of the justness 
of his views, and has hitherto been counted an 
irreproachably accurate historian or recorder. 
However, on that score I am not his champion, 
for I know nothing whatever about the Luther 
business, and I would rather have him wrong 
than right in his opinions on that matter. The 
Archdeacon shall be free to fight him on that 
ground, as long and as stoutly as he pleases. But 
don't speak to me of lying quotations to hide 



1843-55.] MECHANICS' INSTITUTES. 169 

scanty scholarship, or I'll count the dignitary a 
false accuser of his brethren, and hate him as 
heartily as a Christian is free to do. 

"At present, however, I am running over 
with love to the Archdeacon and to you, and 
wherefore, think you, Daniel, greatly beloved ? 
You remember that letter you instigated me to 
write about the School of Arts ? Man ! it's been 
like the leaven hid in three measures of meal, 
or the mustard seed that became the cedar of 
Lebanon. It came into the hand of a generous 
wealthy English lady, who thereupon was led, and 
thereby, I believe, to think of mechanics' institutes. 
She wrote to Archbishop Whately to recommend 
books, and he, like a good man, recommended his 
own as he was well entitled to do, but also other 
people's, all first rate. Well, of these books, 
this most princely lady has sent sets to all the 
English mechanics' institutes, and I have had 
the pleasure of being an agent in getting sets for 
Edinburgh (3), Glasgow (2), Dundee (1), Dunbar 
(I). Hurrah! Take your share of happiness in 
the business, my good friend. Who knows what 
service they may render to the unwashed immortals. 
And it was you set the wheel a-going ; and I that 
at your bidding turned it : and our friend the 
Archdeacon, are there no thanks for him ? No 
thanks ! I fancy he deserves them most. From 
an overflowing heart I at least thank him, as the 
mover of the generous lady. 



170 HARE'S LIFE OF J. STERLING. [CH. v. 

" You see it's like the house that Jack built ; 
we have each had a share in it. . . ." 

D. MACMILLAN to ARCHDEACON HARE. 

" CAMBRIDGE, February 2, 1847. 

" . . . . Things go very smoothly and very 
prosperously with us, and my brother is a very 
great comfort and help to me. "We shall never 
forget that we owe our present position and its 
comforts to your kind help. 

"CAMBRIDGE, February 25, 1848. 
". . . . Your life of John Sterling has frightened 
Mr. Carus" (then sub-dean of Trinity). "He 
thinks you did not sufficiently guard your readers 
against the dangers of speculation. He has been 
speaking to everybody about it, but especially to 
the young men who go to his Sunday evening 
meetings. At his last meeting he warned all 
against Coleridge's Confessions of an Inquiring 
Spirit as exceedingly dangerous. Mr. Carus is 
only a symptom of a very widely-diffused feeling. 
If I might venture to speak on such a matter, I 
should say that, while this disease of suspicion 
prevailed, it would be wise in all the more thought- 
ful theologians to write with great caution, and on 
many things resolutely to maintain silence. . ," 

Prosperity, and the insight which the publish- 
ing business was giving him into the inner mind 



1843-55.] "POLITICS FOR THE PEOPLE." 171 

and prevailing tendencies of the University, were 
strengthening the natural caution which always, 
in his character, lay side by side with enthusiasm. 
This year of revolution witnessed an attempt by 
Mr. Maurice and his friends to establish a paper 
addressed to the working classes in which the 
points of the Charter, and other exciting political 
topics, should he dealt with from a Christian 
stand-point, by men opposed to the physical force 
Chartists, but who nevertheless were in real sym- 
pathy with the people. This paper, published by 
J. W. Parker, is alluded to in the following letter 
of Archdeacon Hare : 

"LONDOX, May 22, 1848. 

" I shall be very glad to see Sterling's notes on 
the Kingdom of Christ. 1 If you can send it either 
to Bell, or to Parker, it will be forwarded to me. 
I knew you would take a most lively interest in 
the Politics for t/ic People. I hope it will be the 
means of very great good, and that in time it will 
have a very large circulation. Only there is need 
of faith and perseverance at the outset, in spite of 
discouragements. All the encouragement you can 
give Parker will be of use, that he may not be led 
to abandon it, as Knight has his excellent Voice 
of the People, on finding that the first numbers had 

1 This alludes to a copy of The Kingdom of Christ which 
Daniel had found second-hand with some MS. notes by John 
Sterling, and offered to send to Archdeacon Hare. 



172 THE ARCHDEACON ON MARRIAGE. [OH. v. 

nob the sale he wanted. It would be a foul scandal 
if every vulgarj immoral, anti- religious paper can 
maintain itself for year after year, and when a 
paper is at last published to maintain political, 
moral, and religious principles, it should be let die 
away. I expect much help from your countrymen 
in Scotland.". . . 

We shall have to return to this subject further 
on, and also to that of the next letter, the new 
life of marriage, which commenced for Daniel 
Macmillan in September, 1850. 

" HTJRSTMONCEATJX, September 9, 1850. 
" It was a great pleasure to me to receive your 
wedding-cards, as it had been some months ago to 
hear from Mr. Nutt that you were going to be 
married. Having such experience myself what 
an untold blessing a good wife is, I am always 
desirous that my friends should become partakers 
of the same blessing ; and though it is too mani- 
fest that all pearls are not equally precious, yet 
one hopes that one's friends, at least, may have 
the blessing of finding a true pearl ; and such, I 
hope and trust, has been granted to you. If so, 
you will find that your pearl becomes more and 
more precious day by day and year by year.". . . 

The next letter is from Daniel to his brother, 
from Hurstmonceaux, where he is on a visit with 
his wife to the Archdeacon. 



1843-55 J WORDSWORTH. 173 

" HURSTMONCEAUX, June 17, 1851. 

" I shall try to have some conversation to-day 
about Wordsworth. We had some yesterday. Hare 
noticed a curious fact that Wordsworth had taken 
great pains to educate himself as a poet, and had 
produced nothing before his education was complete. 
The White Doe of Eylstone was his latest pro- 
duction, and that was written about 1815 or 1816. 
All that went before consisted of slight things, 
Evening Voluntaries and the like, but no great or 
sustained effort to produce that of which the 
Prelude or Excursion were but as the commence- 
ment. I expressed some surprise at his meagre 
catalogue of the most obvious amusements of 
London which he gave as his view of that won- 
derful place. He -said first of all London at that 
time was the most barren place, and he does give 
what really were then its chief amusements. The 
theatre was the only thing that had life and vigour, 
and that, from his great difficulty in dramatic ap- 
preciation, would have no interest to him and the 
same defect made all the obvious outside life of 
London look very silly to him. He was wrapt up 
in his own views of things, which hindered him 
from understanding and even seeing what was not 
included in his own world. He despised much 
that was despicable, but was often too sweeping 
in his condemnations. The time in which his 
visit to London is laid was a most narrow party- 
period of English history. There was nothing but 



174 WORDSWORTH. [CH. v 

Whig and Tory patter till the Spanish war ap- 
peared, when England began to show a better, 
more national spirit. 

"The worthy Archdeacon has not yet read Words- 
worth's life. He says Mrs. Hare has, and has 
compared it with his works, and was somewhat 
interested with that part. But from what she 
said it was evident that Dr. Wordsworth did not 
understand his uncle. He fancied that Words- 
worth began by being a Eadical, and gradually 
improved into a High Churchman. From his 
Excursion he rose into the Ecclesiastical Sonnets ; 
but in- all his Poetry never reached to anything 
like his nephew's Prize Poem." 

The Archdeacon's health began seriously to fail 
in 1851, but the correspondence continued at 
intervals. One more extract, from the last letter 
of any importance that passed between them, may 
fitly close this part of the story. 

D. MACMILLAN to ARCHDEACON HARE. 

" CAMBRIDGE, June 25, 1853. 

(After inquiries for his health and notifying 
the despatch of a number of the Evangelical 
Review containing an elaborate article on his 
works.) " I have seldom ventured when writing 
or speaking to you to do more than allude to 
how much I feel what I owe to your great kind- 



1843-55.] A GRATEFUL RETROSPECT. 175 

ness and that of your brother. But I seldom 
forget it, and my wife and my brother join with 
me, and our children will learn to love and rever- 
ence your name. If it had not been for your 
kind help and encouragement, and friendly re- 
commendations, I should not have been here, and 
I should never have been in a position to marry, 
nor would my brother. When I see so many 
blessings showering down on my brother and 
myself and those who are dearest to us, I am 
reminded that God has sent them to us in great 
measure through you. 

"My life at Mr. Seeley's had fewer cares and 
anxieties. I could think and read more continu- 
ously. My work had become so easy to me that 
I could do it without effort. The business moved so 
steadily, and was so deeply rooted, that there was no 
anxiety about it. But it would have been impossi- 
ble for me to have retained my situation with such 
health as I have had for the last nine years. But 
here with my brother's constant love and care, I can 
be of some little service even when I do not work." 
Then after speaking of the desire of himself and 
his brother to live for the same object, and work 
in the same spirit as their two elder brothers the 
Baptist ministers, he goes on," and we feel that here 
we can do so while quietly following our calling 
and working for our daily bread. Men often tell 
us after they have settled in parishes and curacies, 
that the books we recommended to them have 



176 THE ARCHDEACON'S DEATH. [CH. v. 

been useful in helping them to do their work 
and as fresh sets of men come and go every three 
years we feel that our post is an important one, 
and all the better that we often meet with much 
to humble us and much to raise up the old Adam 
within us. We are in very slight danger of giving 
ourselves airs ! so much the better ! This is not 
just the way we should have chosen when I wrote 
to you twelve years ago. But I have no doubt it 
is a better way one into which God has led us 
as we look on you as the means you can hardly 
wonder that we should always feel most grateful. 
I should also mention your kindness in telling 
me of Mr. Maurice's books and introducing me 
to himself. We have indeed found him a most 
precious friend. Greatly as we admire and revere 
the wisdom and power and goodness of his books 
we think him so much greater and better, and I 
count it one of the very hopeful privileges of my 
life to know him. He seems to me one of the 
noblest men I ever heard or read of." 

The following entry in Daniel Macmillan's 
journal tells of the end 

" Tuesday, January 23, 1855. 

" Archdeacon Hare died this morning at Hurst- 
monceaux. A more noble, simple-hearted man 
never lived. It is sad for us to lose a man of 
such courage, so gentle, with such a single eye 
for God's glory. We can ill spare him. One 



1843-55.] THE ARCHDEACON'S DEATH. 177 

knows so few equal, none like him. But though 
it gives one a sad heart to lose such a friend, 
yet as he had such poor health one feels that 
it is a great blessing for him to be taken to 
his rest. . . . All who knew must have loved 
him. His was such a beautiful nature, so manly, 
so truthful, so child-like. It does one good to 
think of him. Now that he is gone may God 
help me to strive to do whatever is in my power 
to forward the work he was doing in the world 
in the post I am placed in." 



CHAPTEE VI. 

MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 1850-56. 

No really satisfactory idea can be formed of a 
man without some glimpse into the sacred recesses 
of his home life. And if this be go, even in the 
case of statesmen, soldiers, explorers men whose 
careers have been full of action and stirring 
incident how much more strongly does it hold 
good of men like Daniel Macmillan. The ques- 
tion, always a difficult and delicate one, must arise 
in every case, how far the veil can be drawn back 
so as to let the man be seen in those relations 
which most shrewdly test his manhood, without 
pandering to idle curiosity, or uncovering things 
too sacred for the casual eye of strangers. Much 
must depend of course upon what is behind the 
veil. If, as in this case, there should be nothing 
but what is pure and of good report, and the 
principal actors have passed from amongst us, the 
light may be let in freely. Those who can ap- 
( preciate what is pure and of good report always 



1850-56.] ENGAGEMENT. 179 

let us hope and believe the great majority will 
be strengthened and refreshed by what the light 
discloses, while it will at any rate not injure the 
minority who may pass lightly by with a shrug or 
a sneer. In this belief the following extracts are 
given from the letters and journals of this period. 
He became engaged in the first days of June, 
1850, to Frances, daughter of Mr. Orridge, a Cam- 
bridge chemist of good standing, and a borough 
magistrate, with whose family the Macmillans 
had long been intimate. The attachment had 
matured gradually, and was of some standing 
on his side, but the state of his health, and the 
small returns from his business during its early 
years had hitherto kept him from any engagement. 
His first letter to his betrothed was accompanied 
by a number of his old journals and letters. 

"June 7, 1850. 

"... I am anxious that you, my darling, 
should know me as I know myself as God 
knows me and so take the best means in my 
power to lay my heart bare to you. Perhaps 
you will see much to surprise you. But it is 
better that you should know me to the heart's core : 
so that you may help to deliver me from my faults 
and follies. You will see many weaknesses ; but 
you will help me to be strong, and holy, and 
humble. 

" There is one set of letters which I should like 

. N 2 



180 CONFESSIONS TO HIS BETROTHED, [en. vi. 

to have destroyed. I wonder I kept them. The 
chief reason was that I did think of working up 
my life-story into a popular tale ; and in looking 
over the letters which came back from H. B. I 
kept such as would help me to see my old spiritual 
standing-point. Since these chanced to be pre- 
served I thought only right to send them just as 
they stood. I feel as if I had volumes and volumes 
of explanations to give : but these I must speak." 

"Monday Night. 

"... You can, I am sure, sympathise with 
me, when I tell you that it gives me unspeakable 
satisfaction to feel sure, as I do, that there is 
no chasm between us : that in all regions of 
thought and feeling we can understand each other. 
One has often seen folks whose lives were, on 
the whole, pleasant, who were cut off from each 
other : one of the two, who ought to be one, 
is taken up with what is a bore to the other. I 
have always felt that it would be most distressing 
to me if in any respect my wife did not see what 
I meant. . . . 

" You will see too many faults among others, 
a needless vehemence on all occasions. You will 
see sometimes indications of pride and contempt 
towards people I don't like." 

At the date of the next letter Miss Orridge 
is on a visit to London. 



1850-56.] A. SCOTT AND MAURICE. 181 

"Wednesday Evening, June 19, 1850. 

"... If you could do as you like, as I know 
you cannot, I should recommend you to hear a 
very remarkable man preach or lecture next 
Sunday night. I mean Professor Scott. He is 
a professor in University College, and on Sunday 
evenings he preaches in a Literary Institiition in 
Edward's Street, Portman Square. He is a man 
of very great mark. His mind is singularly clear, 
orderly, scientific; yet he has a most warm, 
devout, reverent heart. I wish he would write 
more: for he is one of the best thinkers of our 
day : and his influence is always wholesome. . . . 

" Maurice greatly admires him, and thinks him 
an abler man than himself. But that is not the 
case. Indeed I really don't believe that Maurice 
has any second in our time. He towers far above 
all others, and yet he is the most profoundly 
humble man I ever knew. Perhaps it would be 
truer to say that he is humble because he is so 
great, or so great became he is so humble. Truly 
' his mind is lofty and lowly, like the Master whom 
he serves ; ' and just because he is so lofty and so 
lowly he keeps clear of all narrowness and one- 
sidedness : and looks honestly at the principles of 
all parties, and recognises and appropriates the 
truth which lies in them. Art, science, literature, 
everything that is a development of the good, the 
beautiful, and the true, is dear to him. No man 
is so free from all pedantry, all pretence. He 



182 FAMILY HISTORY. [CK. VI. 

only seems to care for what is living and real 
what has to do with man's life. He is what 
Carlyle calls ' a true truth-loving man! I don't 
know whether or not you read that book of his 
which I lent to your father. I felt it to be quite 
invaluable to me. The early part, on the Hebrews, 
seemed to me most precious because it gave 
clearness and unity to my former notions about 
that part of world-history, and helped to unfold 
many, many things of which I only saw the 
outside. There was much that was quite new 
to me; far more expansive, and far deeper than 
anything I had ever dreamt of. . . ." 

"Thursday, June 20, 1850. 

"... I did not regret losing what the book 
said, but when I spoke to you, I did regret that 
I could get no answer. Shall I tell you what I 
said ? I told you again and again the story of 
my life, now and then stopping to fill up details ; 
giving you many episodes, which, strange to say, 
did not seem to tire you. For want of better to 
do I shall write down some part of my story. 

" I am quite an old man now. Next 13th of 
September I shall be thirty-seven. So it is now 
nearly thirty-seven- years since I made my first 
appearance on the stage of this world. The scene 
was laid in a most humble house on the brow of 
a hill overlooking the sea, and getting, on clear 
days, a clear view of the Ayrshire coast. High 



1850-56.] FAMILY HISTORY. 183 



mountains covered with snow lay behind this little 
house. The flocks of sheep with the hoggets were 
gathered into their fold by the shepherds' care 
and the Almighty Shepherd watched over my 
mother and over me. He allowed her to train and 
help the formation of my spirit for twenty years, 
and then took her to dwell among the pure and 
beautiful spirits of all ages. She is gone from this 
world, but her influence can never die. She 
helped to form my brothers and sisters : they have 
influenced others, and so the good works through 
all generations and the evil too from which 
many lessons may be learnt. But to proceed. 

"My father died when he was little more than 
fifty. He was a large, strong man, and only too 
ready to use his strength. Alexander is a 'good 
deal like father, only my father was severer and 
sterner-looking. He was a man with considerable 
humour. He married very young, and brought on 
him the cares of the married state somewhat 
too early in life. He did a little farming and was 
a carter, and of course his work lay altogether out 
of doors. He often got too much heated, and 
then, not being cautious he caught cold cold 
upon cold. He was too careful about his family 
to think much about himself. He was far too 
anxious-minded. So between one thing and an- 
other his vigorous, robust, manly frame was all 
too soon broken up and gave way. A braver, 
a more upright man never left this world. I wish 



184 EARLY MEMORIES. [CH. vr. 

I could remember more of him. But what I do 
makes me feel that he was most truly a king, and 
priest, and true ' man of God/ 

"My motlier was sixty-three when she died. 
She had no disease, properly so called. The frame - 
work of one of the noblest and purest spirits ever 
manifested in the flesh was quite worn out, and 
the spirit passed without a struggle into its true 
native region. . . . 

"Malcolm, our eldest brother, was a kind of 
father to us. how kind and good he was, and 
how lie struggled to make us fear God. and do the 
will of God ! How he watched over us, and helped 
us in every way ! He was a working carpenter, 
and yefc he managed to teach himself or get him- 
self taught, Latin and Greek, and some Hebrew, 
and he knew English well, and could write and 
preach it admirably. He left his carpenter-work 
and kept a school. Then he became the Minister 
of a Baptist Church, and there he did his work 
nobly, and was admired and loved by all who 
knew him. . . . 

" But he was called away before his time. At 
least so it seemed, for he was a most beautiful 
preacher, and just as he was showing his gift, he 
was taken away. But God did it ; and it is all 
right. . . . 

" I remember watching the cows to keep them 
from the corn. I remember wandering alone and 
thinking of the infinite, of space and time, of 



1850-56.] EARLY MEMORIES. 185 

heaveii and hell, good and evil, of angels and 
of devils. I remember Alexander's birth, and 
nursing him. I used to lie at the bottom of a 
very large cradle and rock him and myself to 
sleep. I remember innumerable conversations 
with mother, and I remember my father's illness 
and death and funeral. It made so great an im- 
pression on me that up to the time I was twenty 
I could not speak of my father without the tear 
starting in my eye. 

" From .ten to seventeen I was an apprentice. I 
learnt to bind books and sell them and buy them, 
to groom and ride horses, to stain and varnish wood, 
and very many things not specified in my inden- 
ture, for my master was a queer, queer man, and 
paid more attention to anything than to his trade. 
His wife was very kind to me, but ' a wee daft,' 
and told me all her love affairs before I was 
twelve. 

"After such a wide experience I ought to be 
far better than I am. I ought to be free from 
many faults which I trust you will help me to 
correct. Ah me ! If it were right to regret, how 
much I have to regret ! But it is a waste of time, 
and one ought to pass on and be thankful for 
the lessons of humility they have taught me, 
and which I have yet to learn. You will help 
me. . . . 

" I felt that I must speak it out, whether you 
listened to it or no." 



186 ASPIRATIONS. [OH.VI. 

"Friday, June 21, 1850 

" I fear you will think tliat I am very tiresome 
with these long letters. But the fact is I am anxious 
that you should know all about me. I think it 
best that I should speak out all I know of myself, 
all that would help you to understand me, with 
ease and freedom. It seems the wisest way for 
me to be clear and straightforward, and that I 
should tell you everything ; that there should be 
no mental reservation, no Jesuitry. If we clear 
the way as we go along, and see the way as we go 
along, it may be plainer, more tedious, less like 
a flowery fairy -land ; but it is likely to be more 
substantial, freer from swamps and pitfalls. 

" So that all this may lead to a deeper under- 
standing of each other it is most needful, as you 
hint, that we should see the guidance of the 
Highest, the Ever-present Guide. I shall strive to 
take your hint, a most needful thing at all times, 
but especially needful when one has such very 
grave prospects before one. . . ." 

"Tuesday Afternoon, June 25, 1850. 

"... We are always falling into the vulgar 
notion of heaven ; looking on it as a mere reward 
(somewhat of the nature of a bribe) for good 
behaviour here ; and so we fall into a mere selfish 
other-worldliness (as Coleridge terms it) instead 
of feeling that the Kingdom of Heaven is set 



1850-50.] CONFESSIONS TO HIS BETROTHED. 187 

up by our common Father, within the hearts of 
all men ; and that just so far as they obey its 
laws they enter into the Divine order, and find 
that the true end of their existence is obeying 
its laws ; and that right and blessedness are 
identical; and that the primal root of all dis- 
cord, all disorder, is hungering and thirsting after 
self-gratification, rewards, in this or in other 
worlds. . . ." 

"Thursday Night, June 27, 1850. 
"... It is strange that I have never been able 
to say to you what was at my heart and even on 
my tongue. It always seems as if I could not find 
utterance when in your presence ; and yet there is 
more on my mind and more in my heart when I 
see you than at any other time ; and perhaps it is 
because I have so much to say that I can utter 
next to nothing. When I have left you I always 
feel inclined to laugh at myself for having said so 
little, and so little to the purpose. But though I 
laugh, and flout, and twit at myself without mercy, 
it seems to do no good. I will try to say all that 
lies on my heart next time we meet. Pray help 
me. I have very numerous imaginary conversa- 
tions with you. The day will soon come, 1 hope, 
when the real ones will be freer, easier, less formal, 
and more genial than any we have yet had. Every 
fresh one will help us to see deeper into each 
other's hearts. You are more dear to me than 



188 CONFESSIONS TO HIS BETROTHED. [CH. vi. 

words can utter. I love you with my whole heart, 
and wish you to know all my thoughts. I would 
hide nothing from you. 

" About November, 1842, I fancied I had met 
with one I had long sought for. But in March, 
1844, when quite outrageous labour had brought 
on serious illness, and her friends insisted on the 
termination of ... This of course greatly in- 
creased my illness, and made it last longer, and 
more severe than it would otherwise have been. 
I thought it right to tell you this, so that you 
might quite understand that / was cast off with 
the greatest kindness on all hands, but still very 
distinctly. To a man so far away from all intimate 
friends as I was you can hardly tell how desolate 
my heart felt, or how much I endured; my health 
being so bad 1 felt my sorrows the more keenly ; 
and my sorrows increased my illness. When my 
brother came down and lived with me his society 
was most precious. Oh, how I longed for my 
mother! Alexander did his best to supply all 
my wants. But my heart craved for some one, 
and now and then I seemed to catch a glimpse 
of the God-appointed wife. But it turned out a 
mere will-o'-the-wisp, a mere shadow. But yet 
a shadow always tells of a reality to come. 
So, when I met you, and heard your dear voice, 
and looked into those most blessed eyes of yours, 
I waited and thought, and thought and waited, till 
I felt my heart say, as if it were the voice of God, 



1850-56.] CONFESSIONS TO HIS BETROTHED. 189 

" This is the right fair saint for you ; there your 
heart and mind will find all you need.' , . . 

" But through all my troubles it is wonderful 
how kind I have always found people. One feels 
sure that the radiance of God's love shines out 
of all hearts; for in Irvine, Stirling, Glasgow, 
Cambridge, London, Edinburgh, Leith, wherever 
I have been, I found kind loving hearts. Shop- 
boys, porters, waiters at dining-houses, everywhere, 
and from every one, I have met with expressions 
of kindness in some form or other." 

The next letter is written as he is on his way to 
the wedding of his friend MacLehose : 

" CROWN HOTEL, FLEETWOOD, July 16, 1850. 
" What a glorious night we had on our way from 
London to Preston. The most brilliant lightning 
in the distance, splendid clouds round the moon, 
and the moon herself heavenly sweet, and those 
stars one could see most divinely sparkling. The 
moon was only half a one, and was calling out for 
its complement, which it will obtain soon I trust. 
"When looking at the sky I fell asleep to dream of 
a loveliness far more dear. I slept a good deal, 
waking at short intervals. But sleeping or waking 
my thoughts were of that most precious and beau- 
tiful spirit which is for ever linked with mine. 
When awake, and all the rest of my fellow pas- 
sengers asleep, I looked up and uttered from my 



190 MARRIAGE HONEYMOON. [CH. vi. 

heart that divine prayer which the Eedeemer 
taught us. I felt more truly than ever that I 
might say ' Our Father,' and that you will always 
help me to say from the heart, 'Thy will be 
done.' ... I have been here for two hours or 
more. I have greatly enjoyed meeting my friend, 
who is a fine, warm-hearted fellow. We shall 
soon start for the Isle of Man. I never felt 
in better health, and quite hope to reach the 
island without much suffering. Good be with 
you." 

Daniel was married on the 4th of September, 
1850, and travelled with his wife north by Rugby 
to spend some weeks at the Cumberland lakes 
and in visiting his relatives and friends in Scotland. 
The weather was very fine, and all went well ; but 
even now, on the threshold of his new life, the 
shadow is there. On October 2, he writes to his 
brother, " the fact is, I have had a cold hanging 
about me ever since I came from Cambridge. Now 
and then it has left me (for instance when I was 
in Arran), but when I came to Stirling, Callander, 
&c., and now in Edinburgh, it bothers me a little. 
To-night I feel a slight pain in the side. We have 
vile east winds, and so it strikes me that the best 
thing I could do would be to go to such a place as 
Torquay. I feel sure I am bound to take the 
precaution of going to some warm place to get rid 
of all the seeds of my troubles. I am the more 



1850-56.] A YEAR'S RETROSPECT. 191 

persuaded to do so because since I came here I 
have been troubled with several twitches of pain 
in my bones, the shoulders and finger-joints. I 
quite think a fortnight at Torquay would put all 
that to flight." 

To get rid of all the seeds of my troubles ! 
Poor fellow ! That was never to be, and except 
in his own very sanguine moments he had ceased 
to expect it. But for the time he was right. 
The fortnight at Torquay, in the house of his 
good landlady and friend Mrs. Mayo, which had 
already become a second home to him, sent him 
back to Cambridge at the end of his marriage 
tour in fair health and high hopes ; able to take 
more active part in the details of the business 
than he had done for some years. 

In August, 1851, his brother married, to whom 
he writes from Cambridge 

"CAMBRIDGE, August 13, 1851. 
" I wish you and your dear wife all joy. I feel 
sure you have it. But you know nothing yet of 
the deep blessedness which month after month of 
quiet and constant intercourse and love will give 
you. The honeymoon is nothing compared with 
the months that follow. It is true that I have not 
yet been married a year, and so you may think I 
am no great authority. But still eleven months' 
experience must be of great value compared 
with one day. I am sure that this month has 



192 A YEAR'S RETROSPECT. [en. vi. 

been a thousand times more joyful than the first ; 
and that every succeeding month will widen and 
deepen our quiet gladness of heart. So I am sure 
it will be with you both. It has been no small 
part of our pleasure during the last six months to 
see you and Carry becoming more and more at 
home with each other ; and it will greatly increase 
the delight of coming years to see you growing in 
love and all other virtues which grow out of love. 
That going out for the honeymoon is a most wise 
and useful invention ; it enables you to be so 
constantly together, and to obtain a deeper know- 
ledge of each other : and it also helps one to see 
and feel the preciousness of such intimacy as 
nothing else could. Intercourse in the presence 
of others never leads below the surface, and it is 
in the very depths of our being that true calm, 
deep and true peace and love lie. Nothing so 
well prepares for the serious duties of after-life. 
It is in peaceful family life that you will find rest 
for your hearts. Nothing grows upon us like 
restlessness.. The cure for it and all other spiritual 
diseases lies in quietly working and worshipping 
together as man and wife. Besides that we have 
even still higher tasks before us, we have to train 
up those who are to fight against the evils of the 
world when we are called away to meet our fathers 
and mothers, and brothers and sisters. But this 
is not at all what I intended to say when I 
started." 



1850-56.] CHILDREN. 193 

The method of perfect openness of making his 
wife the sharer of all his thoughts and the 
counsellor in all his plans, which as we have seen 
had been an effort to him at first bore its sure 
fruit in their happy, though somewhat anxious, 
married life. His natural vehemence, and im- 
patience, and inclination to despondency, were 
soothed and alleviated. She seems to him to read 
all the lessons of life much more clearly than he 
can. "I shall do all in my power," he says 
playfully, " to live as long as I can near such a 
wife." Their first boy, Frederick, was born in 1851, 
the second, Maurice, called after his godfather, in 
1853. The children bring with them new home 
delights and anxieties. A passage or two from 
his journal for this and the following years will 
indicate these sufficiently : 

" Thursday, May 19, 185.3. I feel that 

it is no small blessing to have such gifts, and 
to have the delight of seeing them grow, and 
to watch their minds opening and their hearts lay 
hold of goodness and truth. Dear little Maurice 
only a month old this day ! and yet one feels that 
one would part with all one has or can hope to 
have rather than lose him ! And then to have a 
quiet home, and quiet evenings with one's wife, 
all that one requires, and all without great toil 
and anxiety. When one looks out into the garden 
this lovely spring evening and sees the sunbeams 

o 



194 SELF-QUESTIONINGS. [en. vi. 

mellowing the green leaves, and sees the quiet sky 
through them, and feels that one's day's work is 
over, and nothing is left but to thank God and 
rejoice in His blessings one feels to blush deeply 
at one's grumbling. 

"However, one question will rise, Had I any right, 
with my fragile and precarious health, to marry 
and take a wife away from her comfortable home 
to run the risk of leaving her so soon a widow, 
with no distinct provision? And now that the 
thing is done, is it right in me selfishly to enjoy 
the present without taking any thought for the 
possible future of my wife or children ? I think 
not. But still, am I not likely to do more damage 
than good, by over-anxiety ? Would it not be 
wisest, most Christian, to work zealously and 
thoughtfully, and calmly to wait the result ? Well, 
that I will strive to do." 

"Hastings, Sunday, June 26, 1853. It rained 
very much ; we could not go to church ; but had 
service at home, which perhaps is the most real way 
of attending church. Yet I am always glad when 
the weather is fine and I am strong enough to go. 
That seems in many ways the best. Yet one is 
glad to be able to join in the common prayer 
even at one's own fireside with those who use it 
throughout the world, and with those who are 
praying for the same objects in other forms. 
Finished my letter to Archdeacon Hare. I am 
glad I wrote it. Surely it does one good to 



1850-56.] JOURNAL OF AN INVALID. 195 

express thankfulness. It is right to do it at the 
right times if one always knew when they are, 
and in the right way if one knew that. At 
all times and in all places it is meet and right to 
express and deeply to feel thankfulness to Him 
who is the source of all love and goodness." 

"Hastings, Monday, June 27, 1853. .... The 
fresh air did me good. But I almost daily feel 
that it is absurd for me to hope for recovery or 
to expect to live ten or twenty years. In a letter 
I had from George Wilson he speaks hopefully. 
I often have great hope myself. But then comes 
sudden weakness, utter prostration of strength, 
pain in the back and chest, difficulty of breathing, 
and numerous symptoms which can hardly be 
named, but which bear hard on the spirits and the 
health. However, it is well to remember in 
whose hands we all are, and to cast all our care 
on Him. These quiet walks alone give one time 
to think, if one could turn all these thoughts into 
life and action, and really live to the glory of 
God, whether we eat or drink or whatsoever we 
do. One craves above all things to be brave and 
gentle and loving, and really to live a life of Faith 
a Christian life." 

" Monday, July 25, 1853. .... Our narrow 
income has not enabled us to pay our way quite 
as we like. Papa pays our rent, and we hoped 
that we should have been able to do the rest. But 
the debts grew to 36. and were quite a burden 

o 2 



196 JOURNAL OF AN INVALID. [CH. vi. 

on our minds. At last, mamma was consulted 
by dearest Fanny, and she spoke to papa, and 
he gave the 36 to-day, and Fanny has paid off 
everything. So we are now quite clear. This is 
most delightful to us both. To me the delight would 
have been more unmixed if our own business had 
yielded the means of making us clear and free 
of debt. But as it cannot I must be content to 
live on charity, and be glad and grateful that 
the charity comes from those who love us so 
dearly. . . ." 

"Sunday, December 13, 1854. Had our service 
at home, instead of at church. This, on account of 
my health, is still our custom. After the evening 
service we looked through our old note-books, 
so as to recall the past. Very interesting and 
instructive it was to look back on all we could 
remember and think of. There is so much to be 
most thankful for. There is so much to humble 
us. My life has been so full of ill- health, of 
anxiety and cares as far back as I can at all re- 
member. Yet along with it all most bright happy 
hours and thorough enjoyment of life with its battle. 
It has been full of high hopes of the result and 
goal to which all this seeming and real confusion 
is leading. I have no wish to go over my life 
again, but on the whole am right thankful for 
all I have seen and experienced. . . . 

" If I am permitted to remain with them another 
year, I hope that God, through the influence of 



1850-56.] JOURNAL OF AN INVALID. 197 

the Holy Ghost, will make us all more like our 
Eedeemer. . . ." 

" Sunday, January 21,1855. .... We have 
been thinking a great deal to-day of the wonderful 
blessings which God has surrounded us with, and 
feel greatly ashamed of our folly and sin in not 
living in the recollection of Him from whom all 
comes. If we did how blessed our life would be, 
and how little anxiety we should have about our 
position and circumstances, or even about ill- 
health and weakness ! How much better and more 
cheerfully we should do our work ! How much 
more kind and gentle we should be I How much 
better we should be able to bear disappointment, 
unkindness, malice, and all uncharitableness ! and 
how much more earnestly we should pray that our 
enemies should be forgiven and their hearts 
changed ! How much more zealously we should 
work for the utter destruction of evil in ourselves 
and others ! How much more hopefully we should 
look on all efforts to lead men to trust alone in the 
one perfect sacrifice of our Lord Jesus Christ ! I 
have been thinking about my father and mother 
and brothers and sisters who have gone before us 
into their rest. They had troubles and trials 
enough in their day, but even I, looking at them 
with the world and its affairs pressing on me, can 
look upon these as light afflictions which were but 
for a moment. It seems, too, when by reading the 
Bible, by joining in the prayers of the Church, by 



198 ALONE AT TORQUAY. [CH. vi. 

reading a sermon, or any book which deals with 
God's ways to man, and helps me to see things as 
they really are, that I shall never be anxious any 
more, and never forget that God cares for us all 
and watches over us all : but go on in the remem- 
brance of these truths working manfully as a soldier 
and servant of Jesus Christ, seeking only for His 
glory, for Righteousness and Truth, and Mercy, to 
be godly myself, and in as far as in me lies, to lead 
all others to do the like. O God, help us ! " 

A severe attack of illness obliged him to leave 
his family at Cambridge and hasten to Torquay in 
the spring of the next year. In the meantime his 
third child and only daughter Katherine had been 
born, and the anxiety on his wife's account added 
much to the ordinary trial of absence. 

To HIS WIFE. 

"TORQUAY, April 19, 1855. 

" I took the letters to the post-office myself 
this afternoon, and, of course, I followed your 
advice and took them to Torr. After which I 
walked down by the toll-bar, and up through 
the lane by the mill, till I came upon a part 
where there were some trees lying cut, very dry, 
and which made a nice resting-place, and dreamed 
away, basking in the sun for a good hour and 
a half. Then walked home through the Abbey 



1850-56.} ALONE AT TORQUAY. 199 

grounds very pleasant they are and how thank- 
ful one should be for such delights ! How 
beautiful the sea looked from under the elm-trees ! 
I was out nearly five hours to-day, and feel very 
much better than I have felt for many a day. I 
was home about half-past five." 

"TORQUAY, Friday, April 20, 1855. 

" You are my constant companion in my walks. 
I like to go over the old ground and think of you. 
I am much better than when we were here together 
last year my breathing is so much easier, and 
my cough less troublesome. God bless you 
always. Good night. . . . 

"You would hardly believe what a difference 
the few days I have been here has made. I quite 
eojoy these walks, and come home fresher than 
when I start. My way of fife is as follows : The 
warm water comes at seven. I get up imme- 
diately. Get down to breakfast at ten minutes 
past eight. King ; up comes a slice of bacon, some 
toast, butter, milk, and coffee. Out of these I 
make a breakfast. After breakfast I walk. At 
eleven come in and take a glass of bitter beer, 
then walk, then come home at one for dinner a 
couple of chops (now), and bread and bitter beer ; 
then have my longest walk and come home for 
tea. After tea lie down and have a good rest in 
bed don't object to sleep. Then get up and 
write any letters I have and go to bed. 



200 ALONE AT TORQUAY. [CH. vi. 

" Eeally I have reason to thank God for the im- 
provement since this day week. If it goes on 
like this all the summer I may hope for complete 
restoration. Oh ! that it might come." 

"TORQUAY, Sunday Night, April 23, 1855. 

" . . .1 am so much better. Mrs. Tetley says 
I look better than when I left last year. The sun 
has done much. My digestion is in good order. 
I have not felt anything like so well for many a 
day. I have, indeed, stronger hopes than I ever 
had since my first illness eleven years ago, that I 
shall really get permanently well. I certainly 
shall try. 

"... After tea to-night I went to sleep for up- 
wards of two hours. It does not the least lessen or 
alter my night's rest. The being out in the air 
all day makes me sleepy all day, but as I do not 
allow myself time after breakfast, or lunch, or 
dinner, the only time I take rest is after tea, and 
off I go into profound sleep. It is quite wonder- 
ful what the week has done for me. Both Mrs. 
Tetley and Mr. Spragge evidently thought to-day 
that I did not at all look like an invalid. Now 
on the way down I certainly did look like one. 
For in the carriage to Didcot there were two 
Oxford horse-dealers who were very attentive to 
ine and evidently concerned about me. So an old 
gentleman who came with me to Exeter and went 
on the north line to Barnstaple. I gave no hint 



1850-56.] ALONE AT TORQUAY. 201 

to either of these people, yet they evidently treated 
me with great tenderness and consideration. But 
to-night, what with the sun and air, I seem to 
have a kind of colour and my face looks fuller ; 
but of course I am not really much stouter in one 
week. I forgot my oil ; Mrs. Mayo sent it up as 
usual, but the girl put it in a cupboard and I 
did not see it. ... 

" I really think I must have been more than 
half asleep or I should not have written you all 
this absurd gossip.- There is a wretched little 
girl crying (about a year old) and they are walk- 
ing up and down with it to get it to sleep, 
and after a few turns up and down and singing 
softly comes a good scolding. Poor little daugh- 
ter of Eve ! her nurses are not over wise, 
and she must suffer for it ! More gossip with 
reflections ! " 

"ToKQUAY, May 1, 1855. 

"When I think of you and of your love, and 
goodness, and wisdom, and divine perfection, and 
of the happy days and years we have had, and 
how much more happy they might have been if 
it had not been for my weakness and wilfulness ; 
when I think of the treasures God has given 
us in these dear children, I feel most thankful 
that I did not go to Australia in 1849, even 
though I might have made 30,000. in sheep- 
farming as some have done even in a shorter 



202 ALONE At TORQUAY. |ctf. VI. 

time. Indeed I feel that I ought to be thankful 
for all the troubles I have had to go through. If 
I did not need them they would scarcely have 
come on me. I seem very slow of learning the 
lesson God means me to learn. Let us hope 
that with your help and earnest prayer, that this 
long rest in the summer may be the means. For 
your sake, my dearest, as well as for the sake 
of our dear children, I hope it may. My dearest 
and best, do help me. You are so wise and 
so good. Don't hesitate to tell me plainly of 
my faults. . . ." 

" TORQUAY, May 8, 1855. 

"... I always think you are the wisest per- 
son in the world. But if you come through in 
a day I shall doubt it. As cook could easily see 
after the luggage at Didcot which need only lie 
at the station for the night and as you, with 
their help, ought to have no trouble or fatigue, 
I think the way I suggested would be the best. 
Then, with your weak back, and after such a 
time, it is a fearfully long journey. The mode I 
suggest would break it in two so nicely. The 
additional expense is so very trifling. My ease 
of mind on the point would pay for it all. Then 
what could we say if you were to have an illness ? 
Pray do think of it again, and take my advice. I 
spoke to Dr. Tetley yesterday afternoon when he 
called, and he said that is the right way. So says 



1850-56.1 ALONE AT TORQUAY. 203 

Mrs. Mayo. Therefore, do recoDsider it. But do 
make up your mind and tell me by next letter, 
so that I may arrange with the omnibus man. 
But that does not matter. It would be best to 
come with the omnibus from the station, and to 
bring all the luggage with you. I don't the least 
think I shall be able to keep away. So if you 
see me don't be vexed or anxious. Keep your 
mind easy. 

" It has just struck me that I cannot get a 
written answer from you by Thursday. This will 
not reach you till Wednesday afternoon, and 
I cannot have a written answer till Friday 
morning. So we shall not know whether to 
expect you or not. 

" If you quite resolve to come through in a day 
you had better telegraph from London. That is, 
as soon as you are started let your brother go to 
the telegraph-office and send the inclosed message. 
It will reach me about seven, or soon after per- 
haps before; and we shall be quite prepared for 
you. If, on the contrary, you take my advice aud 
stop at Didcot, you need not telegraph. I shall 
look for you by the quarter-past four train on 
Friday afternoon. 

" You can hardly guess what a state my heart 
is in at the hope of seeing you, and especially 
when I come to think that you could not answer 
my letter till I saw you." 



204 AN ANNIVERSARY. [CH. vi. 



To HIS BROTHER. 

WRITTEN ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS WEDDING DAT. 

"September 4, 1855. 

" .... I daresay you have not forgotten this 
day five years ago: this is quite as brilliant a 
morning but a good deal cooler. When I see 
my wife and the three children in such fine 
health and spirits, and the baby such a sweet little 
angel, the boys so vigorous and joyous, I have 
every reason to be grateful for that day and this 
day and all the intervening ones. As for my own 
health, it is greatly better than it has been for 
seven or eight months. I cough much less, but 
still I do cough, and breathe hard, and find it 
impossible to walk except very slowly, and have 
every indication that even if life is given me here, 
and I am allowed to work for my wife and chil- 
dren, and to help in their education, it will be a 
constant struggle with disease and fight with 
death. But if I can lovingly believe and practise 
the great truths which I clearly see and know, I 
shall look upon that as most light affliction, not 
to be compared to the deep consolation which 
the Eedeemer and Purifier pours into our hearts. 

" It has been a most lovely day, bright and clear, 
and cool and windy, so that one enjoyed the quiet 
shelter of the lanes. Fanny and I had a walk in 
the early part of the day and it seemed quite new 



1850-56.] AN ANNIVERSARY. 205 

to us. The weather while hot seemed to do me 
more good enjoying myself under a tree. The 
evening is lovely, I never remember a sweeter; 
much such a night as we had at Rugby five years 
ago, but our environment is more beautiful, we 
know so much more of each other, and the 
experience has not been thrown away, though it 
has not taught me so much as it ought. I trust 
my weakness and blindness will lead me to lean 
more constantly on Him who can make us strong 
and give us light, loving Him and His laws, and 
not the things which are seen and perish." 

From these glimpses of his home we must now 
return again to the ordinary routine of his business 
life, taking it up from the time of his removal to 
Cambridge in the autumn of 1843. 



CHAPTER VII. 

CAMBRIDGE. 1843-57. 

"Ix would be hard to find in any individual 
bookseller so extensive a knowledge as Besser 
possesses of the most celebrated books in all 
languages, their character and value ; and there is 
no one who knows so well as he does where to 
find and how to procure them." So Perthes the 
great German bookseller, whose patriotism gained 
him the high honour of being specially excepted 
with nine others from the amnesty which Napoleon 
proclaimed in 1813 to the citizens of Hamburg 
speaks of his partner ; and the words may well be 
applied to Daniel Macmillan at the time when he 
became his own master, with the chance of work- 
ing out his own ideas. We have already seen 
how he gained the chance, and have now to follow 
his career under the new conditions. 

His position was a peculiar one, with great 
drawbacks, and considerable advantages to counter- 
balance them. Amongst the former, next to his 



1843-57.] POSITION AT CAMBRIDGE. 207 

bad health, which after the first year of intense 
work and anxiety necessitated long absences from 
Cambridge, came the want of capital. As we 
have seen, the 750 on which he and his brother 
started was all borrowed, and soon proved too 
little for the business. The more rapidly their 
trade grew, and it grew rapidly from the first, 
the more this difficulty pressed upon them. A 
University town, though in other respects an 
admirable field for a bookseller of his calibre, is 
or at any rate was in those days heavily weighted 
for men without command of capital, by the 
system of long credits. The Archdeacon had 
warned them of this difficulty, and the efforts of 
the new firm to reform the system, and to culti- 
vate the habit amongst their customers of paying 
bills within the year, were a constant source of 
small troubles to them. As they took no long 
credits themselves, the strain from the first was 
severe, though by great care and economy they 
managed to keep out of debt, and make both 
ends meet. 

On the other hand, as a set off against bad 
health and insufficient capital, his friendship with 
Archdeacon Hare gave the firm at once a position 
with the leading men in the university, which his 
own tact, knowledge, and ability enabled him 
rapidly to improve. Outside the university too 
the Archdeacon's connection stood him in good 
stead, and he was soon in relations more or less 



208 POSITION AT CAMBRIDGE. [CH. vn. 

intimate with F. D. Maurice, A. P. Stanley, the 
present Archbishop of Dublin then Mr. Trench, 
Bishop Colenso, Charles Kingsley, and others of 
the liberal school of Churchmen and social re- 
formers. The time too was singularly fortunate 
for a man of his peculiar experience and wide 
sympathies to start as a bookseller in a Uni- 
versity town. England has seldom been in a 
more electric state, intellectually and morally. 
The Anti-Corn Law agitation was stirring the 
nation to its depths, and the triumph of the 
middle class all but assured. Behind and beneath 
it, the great movement of the working-class was 
already making itself felt, in Chartism, and half- 
blind attempts at association in one and another 
direction. The thoughts which had been troubling 
him for so long, and which he had poured out 
in his letters to the Archdeacon, were fermenting 
in the minds of all the best men who were growing 
into manhood. And here at Cambridge he had 
his hand as it were on the pulse of the reading 
public, every section of which, from the buyers 
of jest books to the ripest scholars in search of the 
last German treatise, was represented in the throngs 
who soon began to frequent the Trinity Street shop, 
It was in Cambridge, twelve years before, that 
he had formed his high ideal of what a book- 
seller's calling should be, and to Cambridge he 
had now returned to test how far that early dream 
of a hish vocation could be realised. 



1843-57.] THE LETTERS OF AN INVALID. 209 

Iii the autumn of 1843, then, we find him in- 
stalled in Trinity Street in time to be ready for 
the gathering of the University for Michaelmas 
term. He was alone at first, for his brother could 
not be spared from Aldersgate Street. In the 
press of work, of hand as well as head, he had 
little time for correspondence, but managed to 
keep up that with Mr. Maurice, to whom he had 
been introduced in the spring by Archdeacon Hare. 
He had sent some MS. letters for Mr. Maurice's 
perusal, and had received his comments on them ; 
to which he replies : 

To the EEV. F. D. MAURICE. 

"CAMBRIDGE, September, 1813. 

" I was most glad to see your very kind 
letter. I felt afraid lest the meaning of the 
' letters of an invalid ' should be misunderstood : 
and was very glad to find that you saw them 
in the right light. I was anxious that you, and 
some few of your friends, should see the sort 
of appearance that the spiritual condition of 
our country presents to young Scotchmen. The 
strong language with regard to the Clergy does 
not represent my present feelings : but I wished 
to remember distinctly what I have felt : what 
many of my friends have felt : what many young 
men now feel. 

"With regard to publishing them, I should- 



210 OBJECTIONS TO PUBLISHING. [en. vn. 

altogether object to it, not because it would be 
any breach, of confidence for none of the persons 
mentioned could detect themselves in so altered 
a guise, the facts are facts ; a few circumstances 
are altered : the names of persons and towns 
would require to be left out but because I 
honestly believe that writing for the public is not 
my work at all. For many years I must be 
silent and learn. I am every day feeling that 
the wisest and healthiest plan for me is to place 
my fingers on my lips. 

" This may seem to contradict my own conduct. 
I know I don't always act according to my 
convictions, and talk too much. 

" But with regard to these letters, unless they 
went exclusively into the hands of' the upper 
classes who feel a deep interest in the condition of 
England, or into the hands of the Clergy, they 
could do no good. 

" I know that your writings are often misunder- 
stood and misrepresented. I feel sure, however, 
that they point in the right direction, and will 
do good to many who at present are only 
irritated by what is so strange to them. I 
think you have no reason to blame yourself, 
and much reason to hope. I know no books 
more likely to meet the wants of the young men 
of our time. 

"For one thing I feel quite sure that sudden 
conversions are not good things. Those systems 



1843-57.] RELATIONS WITH UNDERGRADUATES. 211 



which are narrowest and shallowest (of the 
Morison's pill kind) make the most rapid 
progress, whereas what would lead men beyond 
all systems, or to recognise an element of good 
in systems they have from childhood found com- 
fort in abusing, is not so likely to be readily 
received." 

To establish good relations with the under- 
graduates, and especially with the studious portion 
of them, was one of the first matters which 
occupied the attention of himself and his brother. 
As to this part of their work, one of the earliest 
of their customers writes : 

"When the Macmillans first established their 
shop in the heart of the University, on a well- 
chosen site opposite the gates of the Senate House, 
we undergraduates felt that with men hardly older 
than ourselves there was opened to us a new 
sphere of interest. They were the first booksellers 
whom I. for my own part, hud ever known to 
take an enthusiastic interest in their business and 
to have a literary insight below the binding of 
their books. . . . Daniel was a man, like his 
Semitic namesake, in whom ' was found an excel- 
lent spirit,' tall, but with a frame already some- 
what wasted; pale face, aquiline nose, a large 
mouth with full lips, dark lustrous eyes with long 
lashes. He looked like one whom God loved, I 

p 2 



212 RELATIONS "WITH UNDERGRADUATES, [cir. vn. 

mean one who might pass away from us while yet 
young. 

" He was fond of talking, especially on books, 
and soon groups of men would gather round him 
in the shop and listen to criticisms full of humour 
and knowledge on books and authors. It was he 
who first told us of a young writer ' who looked 
like a lion,' showing us Kingsley's Village Sermons 
and the Saint's Tragedy, and introduced many of 
us to Hare's Victory of Faith, and Guesses at 
Truth, and to Trench's poems and other works, 
and to Coleridge's Aids to Reflection. There was a 
little snuggery at the top of the house, in which 
in the evenings many of us first learnt to appre- 
ciate little-known Scotch songs and ballads, such 
as those of Motherwell and Alex. Kodgers. He 
gave me a little fat red volume of them, bearing 
the characteristic title of Whistle Binkie" 

The confidence of undergraduate readers and 
purchasers of books grew rapidly, as they recog- 
nized that here was a man who showed not only 
insight but conscientiousness in his dealings 
with them. One such I remember bringing an 
admirably selected library to his rooms in Lincoln's 
Inn, which he had collected at Cambridge. He 
had had a great fancy for good binding, and used 
to relate how, when he first began to collect, he 
had fixed his affections on the eight volume edition 
of Mitford's Greece, beautifully bound, which he 



1843-57.] RELATIONS WITH UNDERGRADUATES. 213 

discovered on the shelves in Trinity Street. The 
price, having regard to the cost of such binding, 
he knew to be exceedingly moderate. He had 
accordingly ordered the books to be sent to 
his rooms, but on mentioning the purchase to 
Daniel, and admitting that it was the binding 
which had decided him, he was advised that the 
contents rather than the backs of books was the 
point to be studied ; and that as he wanted the 
best history of Greece this would not be his 
proper investment. He exchanged it, after further 
talk, for the edition of Thirlwall in cloth, became 
a steady customer, and always attributed the 
absence of rubbish on his shelves to the good 
advice which he got on this and subsequent 
occasions. 

One other testimony may be added. " When I 
began to reside as a freshman," writes Professor 
Hort, " his first stage of Cambridge life was over, as 
he had just passed from the small shop opened at 
first to the large and conspicuous place which has 
borne the name ever since. My tutor put down his 
name for me by way of recommendation, but with- 
out comment. He was in the habit, I heard long 
afterwards, of doing this with pupils supposed 
to be bookish. I do not in the least remember 
how I first got into conversation with him, but 
it must have been very soon, before the end of 
my first term. I was reading away at Maurice, 
of whom I had heard from John Ellerton, the 



214 DELATIONS WITH GRADUATES [OH. vn. 



present Rector of Barnes, and this as a matter 
of course led to frequent conversations as time 
went on. The Cambridge habit of standing and 
turning over books made it easy for him to begin, 
talking to men, and he used the opportunity 
freely, with books for a starting point. His talk 
was at once so interesting and so high in tone 
that it could not fail to do good, but I know 
little of its actual effect. Naturally perhaps, it 
did not always find favour." The friendship thus 
formed between the Scotch bookseller and the 
present Hulseaii Professor, lasted until the death 
of the former, as was the case with many other 
of the best Cambridge men of that generation 
with whom he became acquainted in their early 
years. 

As to Daniel Macmillan's personal relations 
with the elder men, I may quote the words of 
the distinguished headmaster of Uppingham, who 
writes : 

"Few men have left with me a more abiding 
memory of distinct personality than he has. 
I can see him now with his thoughtful face, 
and a certain attractive gentle power, as he stood 
and had a few words, now with one, now with 
another, as they came in. I do not know how 
it was that he and I first came in contact, but very 
soon, if I chanced to look in, he used to come 
forward and have a quiet talk with me, generally 



1843-57.] CONGRATULATIONS FROM G. WILSON. 215 



I think on some mental or social question rather 
than on books ; or if on books, discussing topics of 
life which were suggested by them. He stands 
out in my memory perhaps the most distinct per- 
sonality of my early manhood, an embodiment 
of gentle, thoughtful power, which attracted me 
exceedingly, and lives with me still, though I do 
not recollect with certainty any of our conversa- 
tions. I have no doubt, indeed I am sure, that 
his words were at the time interesting ; but I now 
feel that it was the man, not what he said, that 
took such hold on me, and it is as a living pre- 
sence, not as a speaker of words, that he abides 
with me still." 

Congratulations and encouragement came in 
from many friends in these first months, from 
G. Wilson amongst the foremost. He is as usual 
suffering sadly himself, and writes, on hearing of 
the attack of haemorrhage from the lungs which 
had prostrated his friend, a letter full of kindly 
and hopeful wisdom. 

" I have been preaching to myself," he ends, " all 
this while, and thinking through my pen. I have 
said nothing that you do not know. It would be a 
sad thing for us if we had to indulge in novelties. 
But I know how thankful I am to get a hint 
from a religious friend, though he should but 
repeat a verse -I had been reading the moment 



216 REPLY TO CONGRATULATIONS. [en. vn. 

before. To me the prayer of the humblest 
Christian, however defective he may be in other 
gifts and graces, than those which God grants to 
the weakest brethren, is always comforting and 
refreshing : and it brings you and me closer than 
railways could if we can rejoice together, as having 
' one faith, one Lord, one baptism.' . . . 

" And now I will trouble you no further. Your 
namesake, the prophet, was in a den of lions, and 
God shut their mouths. Yours is a trial of an 
opposite kind, for the den and the lions are in 
you. Their mouths can be shut by God also, and 
I pray that they may. I never can cease admir- 
ing that beautiful request of the Prayer-book, ' a 
happy issue out of all their affliction.' It is so 
humble, so undictating to God, so moderate, yet 
so ample. God give that to us both. Amen, in 
His way and time, in this world and in the next. 

"To be well enough to work, is the wish of my 
natural heart; but if that may not be, I know 
that ' they also serve who only stand and wait.' 
God will not require healthy men's labour from 
you or me ; and if we are poor in power and oppor- 
tunity to serve Him, our widow's mite will weigh 
against the gold ingots of His chosen apostles. . . ." 

To which Daniel replies : 

"17, TJUNITY STEEET, April 10, 1844. 
" I thank you most heartily for your kind note, 
which was the more grateful to. me because it 



1843-57.] REPLY TO CONGRATULATIONS. 217 

showed me that you find your consolation where 
my heart feels and has long felt it is only to be 
found in Him by whom we are reconciled to 
God and united to each other. I often feel most 
thankful for my long and frequent illnesses; just 
because by them, more than anything else, I have 
been able to see the nobleness, the tenderness, the 
goodness of the human heart; the power of the 
Gospel to unfold what is deepest, truest, most 
godlike ; and deliver us from what is mean, trivial, 
false ; because it does more than all other things 
to increase my deep and firm conviction that there 
is no other hope of union, reconciliation, brother- 
hood among men but in Him who is the great 
personal centre : by which men may be raised out 
of their own meanness, selfishness, and reconciled 
to God and united to each other in the only true 
and living brotherhood a true and universal 
brotherhood, because it embraces alike rich and 
poor, learned and ignorant, bond and free. Your 
letter was most grateful to me. That right hand 
of sympathy which you so affectionately held out 
was more highly valued than I can easily tell 
you." 

Already before the end of the first year the 
possibilities of the publishing business are in his 
mind, and he is making some cautious experi- 
ments in this direction. The most important is 
alluded to in the following letter : 



218 MAURICE'S BOOKS. [en. vn. 



To the KEY. D. WATT. 

" 17, TRINITY STUEET, CAMBRIDGE, August 13, 1844. 

" Surely after reading Mr. Maurice's Look you 
cannot fancy that he has any narrowness, sect, 
or party-spirit. That is the very thing he feels 
called to war against the thing he feels to be 
tlie evil and curse of our time ; and the bold 
utterance of this truth has brought on him the 
abuse of all Sectarians, or party-men, in and out 
of the Church. You really must consider his 
book a little longer, so that you may see and 
sympathise with his spirit 

"Do you know anything of William Law's 
writings, the author of the Serious Call ? He 
wrote an answer to Mandeville's Fable of the Bees. 
John Sterling, who is just dying, lately met with 
it, and was so much struck with it, as giving hints 
towards a truer, deeper system of moral philo- 
sophy than any extant, that he wishes it reprinted, 
and wishes Mr. Maurice to write an introduction 
to it. It is now at press, and we are to publish it. 
It will only make a small volume. Law's treatise 
is very clever (Mr. Maurice thinks rather too 
clever], and shows up the illogical and profane 
absurdities of Mandeville most triumphantly. 
But the best part is that where he advances posi- 
tive truth in a solemn manner. I don't know 
what sort of thing Mr. Maurice's Introduction 



1843-57.] ARNOLD'S " LIFE" PROGRESS. 219 



will be, for I have not seen it yet. I have no doubt 
of its being good. I hope to have the whole 
thing in print in about a fortnight or three 
weeks. 

" Have you seen Dr. Arnold's Life, ? I am sure 
you would be very much interested in it. They 
ought to have it in the Irvine Library. It consists 
chiefly of letters to the most distinguished men in 
England to Carlyle among others. Try to get it 
voted in if you can, or use your influence to 
get some one else to vote for it. I have never 
seen a book that pleased me better." 

John Sterling had provided the funds for this 
publication of Law's answer to Mandeville. On 
the whole, however, for the present at any rate, 
publishing seems to D. Macmillan too specula- 
tive. Their aim should be rather to throw all 
their strength into the bookselling, especially 
the " old book trade," the only certain means of 
bringing first-rate men to the shop. 

By the end of the first year satisfactory progress 
had been made. The value of the stock had 
doubled since their start, but the smallness of their 
capital kept the brothers in constant anxiety. 

"There is great need of a stout heart," he 
writes in February, 1845, to G-. Wilson, " to all who 
begin life without money. A sore fight it is, truly ; 
and not always a very noble one." 



220 PROGRESS IN FIRST YEARS. [en. vn. 



And again a little later : 

" . . . If it were not the belief that in many 
ways I can here be a witness for Truth, I should 
not for a day bear the fatigue of body and mind 
which the cares of this business involves. I 
often feel sure that my life cannot be a long one : 
and am most anxious that it should not be a 
worldly one : that I should feel that my daily Task- 
work is noble and holy and spiritual because of 
His appointment whose we are and whom we 
serve. ..." 

At the end of the second year, in the autumn of 
1845, an event occurred which, while it doubled 
their retail business, made it necessary for them to 
look abroad for help, and brought into the firm a suc- 
cession of partners with money, but with no know- 
ledge of bookselling, whose presence proved a sore 
trial to the vehement and sensitive senior partner. 
For the conditions of the new partnership were 
that the profits should be divided into equal thirds, 
but that in the event of the death of either of the 
working partners his interest should cease, and 
so pass to the survivors. This arrangement lasted 
till within a few months of Daniel Macmillan's 
death. At first it did not trouble him seriously > 
but from the date of his marriage in 1850 was 
the source of constant anxiety to him, and was, 
to use his own strong expression, " like a carrion 



1843-57.J EXTENSION OF BUSINESS. 221 

crow gnawing at his heart." The new money was 
required for the purchase of the business of Mr. 
Stevenson, the ablest of the older Cambridge 
booksellers. Failing health induced him to sell, 
and he made the first offer to the brothers. The 
risk was great, as the valuation came to upwards 
of 6000J., but after mature consideration was ac- 
cepted, and, though embarrassing from the necessity 
of taking in strange partners, gave the oppor- 
tunity for developing the publishing business, 
which was now becoming the main object with 
Daniel Macmillan. Two years' experience had 
modified his views and given him confidence. 

Since his illness in the spring of 1844 he had 
been able to take a less active share in the work 
of the shop, and had come to feel more and more 
that the chance of growth for their business lay 
in the direction of publishing, while it was the 
method in which he could best help. It seemed in- 
deed to him a providential outlet for his work. The 
advantages which their position at the heart of a 
great literary centre gave them had become more and 
more apparent to him. Here was a mine, hitherto 
almost un worked, of the best book-producing power 
of the nation, especially for educational works. 
There was a great want of these, and in every 
generation of undergraduates were men specially 
fitted for writing or editing them. From this time 
he turned to publishing with his accustomed energy 
and caution. Even during his lengthened absences 



222 THE NEW CATALOGUE. [en. vn. 

fioin Cambridge he was able to supervise and 
direct it without losing sight of the retail business, 
every detail of which was known to him through 
the daily reports of his brother. The perfect 
accord between them was never broken for a day. 
The stock taken over from Mr. Stevenson was 
very extensive, and new catalogues had to be 
prepared. 

To G. WILSON. 

"CAMBRIDGE, September 14, 1846. 

" . . It is most fearful to work while one is 
suffering from pain and weakness as I know, as 
you know far better. 

"We are busy finishing our Theological Catalogue 
a work of 250 octavo pages, and preparing a 
catalogue of general literature, which we fear will 
be a work of the same size. We shall send you 
each of these when ready. The latter will not be 
ready for a month or two. We are also busy 
getting things in readiness for the winter's work, 
dusting and arranging ; but these things apart, we 
have no other business, for there is not a man in 
the university now. If we had not these prepara- 
tions to make nothing could be duller. . . ." 

This autumn was, however, enlivened by the 
correspondence already referred to in the Hare 
correspondence, as to Sir William Hamilton and 
the accuracy of his knowledge of the theology of 



1843-57.] THE SCOTCH UNIVERSITIES. 223 

the German Reformation, and especially of Luther's 
works. In it the question of the comparative 
merits of the Scotch and English universities had 
been incidentally raised, upon which Daniel 
Macmillan unpatriotically writes : 

To G. WILSON. 

"April 6, 1847. 

"... The notion which Cambridge men have 
about the Scotch universities is that they know 
very little about mathematics not so much as in 
their best schools ; and about classics they think 
that it would be an insult to the best schools to 
compare the two. They also think that Scotch- 
men are never very accurate in any of their liter- 
ary or scientific efforts, and point triumphantly 
and scoffingly to the men of greatest repute in 
Scotland. . . " 

The prospects of the business and the relations 
which the firm, were by degrees establishing with 
the best writers and editors amongst Cambridge 
men were of the most encouraging character, as 
may be gathered from the following : 

To G. WILSON. 

"CAMBRIDGE, August 14, 1847. 
"... We have some hopes of a first rate edition 
of Bacon's works being published before long, 
which will contain several important things hitherto 



224 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [CH. vn. 

unpublished. It is to be edited by a Mr. Spedding 
and Mr. Robert Leslie Ellis, both of Trinity 
College. The former has been working on Bacon's 
life and works for eight years, and gave up an 
important position in the Colonial Office so that 
he might devote himself to it. If it goes on you 
will see it advertised before long. "We are to have 
a share in it. You have of course seen the ad- 
vertisements of a new edition of Jeremy Taylor 
which is coming out in volumes. It is being 
edited with great care by a man of immense learn- 
ing, who is very fond of labour, for he has under- 
taken to verify all the references ; and in the 
volume already published has done so, and in a 
way, scholars tell me, that only a man of almost 
immeasurable reading could do it. We have a 
share in this book, and 112 subscribers, and the 
merit of getting it well edited." 

Trench's Hulsean Lectures was perhaps the most 
noteworthy of the Cambridge books published by 
the firm in this year, but their position and repute 
were constantly improving. G-. Wilson hears of 
it in Edinburgh, and mentions the good report ; to 
which Daniel replies : 

"The Caius men you saw who spoke of our 
' bibliopdic greatness ' only see the outside of 
things. The fact is that this new thing has 
involved so much worry and anxiety that I have 



1843-57.] AIR. MAURICE'S INFLUENCE. 225 



often wished myself back into my old place in 
Fleet Street. But it is no good wishing. Here 
we are, and must make the best of it. But it 
is very far from easy. Still there is a great deal 
that is cheering. One feels that we sell many 
good books that would not otherwise be sold ; and 
that one can do something, let it be ever so little, 
in forming and improving the taste of the rising 
generation. And by and by even the financial 
matters will go easier, and we shall be much more 
comfortable ; so we shall only have to bear the 
yoke in our youth. 

" We have started a binding shop, and have 
seven men, two women, and two boys at work. 
All of the men are first-rate workmen. The best 
finisher (a Scotchman) we pay 21. 6s. a week for 
ten hours a day; the next 21. a week; and the 
other men 32s., 34s., and 36s. ; and the women 
12s. a week. So when you come you will see 
better binding than you ever saw before, and a 
finer and better managed bookshop, and we sha'n't 
trouble you with the care and worry we have had 
and have in keeping it going. ..." 

The growing influence of Mr. Maurice's works 
on Daniel Macmillan becomes now very apparent. 
The more he studied them the more they im- 
pressed him; and, as was his habit in the case 
of all books which had influenced his own mind, 
he lost no opportunity of pressing them on the 

Q 



226 MR. MAURICE'S INFLUENCE. [on. vn. 

attention of readers. Hitherto this had been an 
easy and popular duty, especially at Cambridge, 
no open attack having been as yet made on 
Mr. Maurice's orthodoxy while his Subscription 
no Bondage, probably at that time the best known 
of his works, had been welcomed not only by all 
Liberal Churchmen, but by large sections of the 
High Church and Evangelical parties. Now, 
however, a great change was at hand. The year 
of revolutions brought Mr. Maurice to the front 
as a bold and earnest social reformer. As 
Chaplain of Guy's Hospital, Professor at King's 
College, and latterly as reader at Lincoln's Inn, 
he had become the centre of a number of younger 
men who had learnt much from his teaching, and 
were eager to put that teaching in practice. Their 
first effort was the weekly paper, Politics for the 
People, for which Archdeacon Hare had asked 
Daniel Macmillan's support. It was a bold effort, 
but, notwithstanding the vigour and freshness of 
many of the contributions of Mr. Ludlow the 
editor, Mr. Maurice, C. Kingsley, and others less 
known, and the warm interest it excited in many 
quarters, Politics for the, People, never reached a 
paying circulation. The publisher, J. W. Parker, 
lost heart, and the paper had to be discontinued 
before the end of the year. Its sale was promoted 
both at Cambridge and in Scotland by Daniel 
Macmillan, who also contributed the following 
characteristic letter to one of the numbers ; 



1843-57.] "POLITICS FOR THE PEOPLE." 227 



To THE EDITOR of " POLITICS FOR THE PEOPLE." 

" SIR, 

" I am sorry, but not at all surprised, to see 
that your periodical is to stop so soon. It is not 
likely that any periodical which does not advocate 
the views and interests of a party can answer in 
England. 

" I don't know that it is otherwise in foreign 
countries, because I don't know anything about 
other countries. I am merely a handicraftsman, 
and have very little information on any subject. 
I dare say, however, that if the writer of the 
Dialogues were to work up the principles he has 
to teach in other and more attractive forms, his 
work would find numerous and thankful readers 
among all classes. 

"I may here mention a fact which often occurs 
to me. I notice among my comrades some whose 
work has great stiffness and awkwardness, some- 
times because they were bred in country shops, 
where the methods were loose. Then others whose 
work, as far as the mere mechanism goes, as far as 
the square and compasses can help it, is wrll 
enough, and even admirable ; yet this work has 
always a stiff and formal air, almost as disagree- 
able as the clumsiness of the ill-instructed. The 
best workman's work has an air of freedom and 
ease which makes the piece of furniture light and 

Q 2 



228 "POLITICS FOE THE PEOPLE." [CH. vn. 

graceful, and though it be but a table or a chair, 
looks almost like life. The worst workmen seldom 
see the beauty 'of the best work; and if they do, 
think that because everything about it looks free 
and easy, it is' to be obtained by easy and careless 
working and so become still more awkward 
and clumsy. The best workman is as careful, 
and assiduous with his rule and compasses as 
the most formal: if possible he is still more 
painstaking ; but he ardently loves his work, and 
struggles hard to attain excellence, and that is his 
reward. I am not a good workman : and though 
I have a good place and good wages, it is because 
my masters have taken a fancy to me, and have 
given me a place of trust. I mention this personal 
matter to show you that I am an indifferent 
witness. It is often my business to show strangers 
over the establishment, and it is very seldom that 
the very best work gets praised, hardly ever as it 
deserves. It matters not to the men who love 
excellence : whenever they can they will do their 
best, and it is wonderful what they produce. I 
say whenever they can for in these days of 
cheapness, the master or the foreman has often to 
come and say, / have to do these at a low figure, and 
can't give you above so and so for them, so you must 
lose no time. Of course such work is inferior. 
But those which come from the hands of the best 
men are still beautiful. 

" We (craftsmen like myself) generally notice 



1843-57.] "POLITICS FOR THE PEOPLE." 229 

that preachers are a very awkward set ; their pro- 
ductions are clumsy and confused. One would fancy 
that they were all brought up in country shops, 
where the methods were bad or carelessly used. 
My shopmatea go to all sorts, of places, the English 
churches, the Scotch kirk, the Independents, Bap- 
tists, Wesleyans, &c. &c. When any of us com- 
plain that we never hear good sermons, the rest 
are sure to cry, ' Come and hear Mr. So-and-so ; ' 
but one finds them nearly all alike few over pro- 
duce a workmanlike sermon. I wish not to be 
uncharitable, but I often think if clergymen loved 
excellence for its own sake, we should have much 
wiser, more coherent, and more beautiful sermons, 
and it is needless to say what the results would 
be. Before your paper stops, perhaps you will 
give a lesson or two on the truth that, in making 
poems, pictures, sermons and laws, as well as in 
making ta.bles and chairs, the wisest and most 
successful plan is not to seek for wealth, or fame, 
but to strive after the best for its own sake. I am 
sure that if you wrote a treatise on politics, you 
would teach this. I am sure that a beautiful 
artist-like work setting this forth clearly, using 
Christian arguments without canting, putting the 
highest and purest thoughts in the simplest and 
most ordinary forms of English speech (such 
English as Paley's simple and vernacular, yet 
clear and precise), would be a true Patriot. If 
England ever came to believe this doctrine, and 



230 THE CHRISTIAN SOCIALISTS. [cu. vn. 

act on it, it would be a blessed if not a merry 
England. As I am not a good penman I have 
asked our book-keeper to copy this and correct 
my spelling ; but he has made no alterations, 
" Your constant reader, 

"X. Y. Z." 

Mr. Maurice and his friends were not dispirited, 
and the Christian Socialist newspaper, and tracts 
took the place of Politics for the People, and 
carried on the work which had been so well begun 
in that paper. 

The name of Christian Socialists startled people, 
and the thoroughgoing reforms advocated in their 
publications, without any regard to party or the 
rules of the political game, soon made them sus- 
pected, and drew the fire of critics and writers of 
all parties. Mr. Maurice, as was indeed inevitable, 
had to bear the brunt of these attacks, which, how- 
ever, included all those with whom he was asso- 
ciated, and notably his brother-in-law, Archdeacon 
Hare, and his pupil, Charles Kingsley. But the 
more Mr. Maurice and his writings were assailed, 
the more staunch and steady became the support 
of the Trinity Street firm, who from this time were 
more and more identified with him and those 
with whom he was associated. Daniel Macmillan 
in fact became an active and enthusiastic propa- 
gandist, full of love and zeal for his great teacher, 
and never tired of proclaiming the value of that 



1843-57.] TII-E STERLING CLUB. 231 



teacher's -writings to religious thought. The 
most notorious of these attacks on Mr. Maurice, 
that connected with the Sterling Club, began 
early in 1849, in a series of virulent' articles in the 
daily and weekly press. The English Review, 
then the organ of the High Church party, was 
the first in the field, followed by the Morning 
Herald and the Record from the other side. Mr. 
Watt is anxious to learn the truth and applies to 
his friend in some anxiety. In reply, after de- 
nouncing in strong language the dishonesty of the 
critics, who, when set right as to facts had gone 
on special pleading as to old lies, and suggesting 
new ones, his correspondent goes on to tell the 
story, which has had several narrators but none 
who have put it more plainly, or in shorter 
compass. 

" The strong point with them is that a certain 
club is called the Sterling Club, and then they 
assert that John Sterling was an avowed infidel, 
that this club was in honour of John Sterling 
and therefore it must be an infidel club. Bishop 
Thirlwall and Bishop Wilberforce and Arch- 
deacons Hare and Manning, and Isaac Wilber- 
force, and Mr. Maurice, and Mr. Trench are 
members of it. Never mind, so much the worse 
for them the club is infidel. This is spiced 
with lots of slang and cant, and spite and 
malignity, and is making a very great fuss, of 



232 "THE SAINT'S TRAGEDY." [CH. vn. 

course, among the religious world, or a certain 
region of it. They are more severe on Maurice 
than any one else, and are most anxious to make 
him out an infidel or at least a rationalist ! And 
as comparatively few of these people have read 
his books and fewer understood them, that rubbish 
is believed i 

" About the Sterling Club these are the facts as 
near as I can tell you. About ten or twelve years 
ago Sterling suggested that there should be cheap 
monthly dinners given, where some friends might 
meet once a month, and where men who did not 
go out much, or could not afford to give dinners, 
might meet their old college friends. It was 
started, and at the first meeting the question arose, 
What is to be its name ? The names were written 
on a piece of paper and put in a hat. They were 
all different, and when read over, ' The Sterling ' 
was among the rest and was unanimously agreed 
upon. Sterling objected; but the rest insisted 
that though Sterling chanced to be his name it 
did not follow that the Society was called after 
him, Sterling being a sterling English word." 

Then turning to literary news he adds : 

" I know very few books of note lately published. 
There is a small book called The Saint's Tragedy, 
by a Mr. Kingsley, which gives a most living picture 
of the Middle Ages. You would be greatly pleased 



1843-57.] C. KINGSLEY. 233 



with it. He has also advertised a volume of 
Sermons, which I have no doubt will be good. 
He seems to me a man of great mark, and worth 
your notice. ..." 

The last letter is written from Torquay where 
he was expecting a visit from Mr. Maurice and 
Mr. Kingsley. 

C. KINGSLEY to D. MACMILLAN. 

" ILFRACOMBE, February 29, 1849. 

"... I have been for some time past hoping 
that I should hear from you as to your health. 
The accounts Mr. Maurice gave me when he 
was down here made me afraid that you were 
very poorly. I have had better accounts of you 
since, but none definite. Pray let me know 
whether you think this heavenly climate, and rich, 
soft, sham winter, has done you real good. It has 
so far set me up that I am at work again (in the 
reviewing line) and trying to find some man who 
will come here and read for orders with me this 
spring ; if you hear of any one pray do not forget 
me. I was very nearly running down to you with 
Maurice, but I happened to be too poorly the day he 
left. Were I your doctor, I should have said, ' Come 
to Ilfracombe for the first half of the winter,' now 
I am afraid I must say, ' Stay where you are the 
next six weeks,' and do not go back to Cambridge 



234 CREDIT AT CAMBRIDGE. [CH. vn. 

before the March easterly winds are well over, and 
warm-hearted April comes blubbering in like a 
handsome, naughty girl, as she is. One week of 
Fen north-easters will undo three months of Tor- 
quay second-hand tropics. I send this vid Cam- 
bridge, not knowing your direction. "Will you 
give your brother my kind regards and a hint to 
help me to a pupil ? " 

In the following, to an angry graduate who had 
resented the method taken by the firm for ob- 
taining payment of a long standing account, we 
get a glimpse of the troubles in connection with 
the credit system which had been predicted for 
the firm by Archdeacon Hare : 

" SIR, 

" We duly received the copy of the letter you 
wrote to the London Trade Protection Society, 
for which we are much obliged. We are quite 
aware of the University rules, and always take 
care to observe them. But at the same time we 
cannot but thank you for your anxiety on that 
point. Then as to your threat about making 
known in the University the use we make of the 
London Protection Society we have no objection 
to that. We are particularly anxious that every 
one should know that we do not give long credit, 
and that we should much prefer being without 
the custom of those who wish for longer credit 



1843-57.] CREDIT AT CAMBRIDGE. 235 

than a year's running account. The description 
you give of the Trade Protection Society is not at 
all just. It is simply a number of tradesmen, 
bankers, and others, clubbing together to secure 
better legal advice, and a more prompt course of 
action than can be secured by any single person 
without going to great expense : what we have to 
protect ourselves against is not deliberate swin- 
dling (though now and then that happens), but such 
an utter want of thought and care as to damage 
us nearly as much as dishonesty can do. Long 
standing accounts eat away our profit and give us 
a great deal of trouble, and oftener than we like 
end in bad debts. But with regard to your own 
little matter we beg to call your attention to the 
facts, and if you keep to them we have no objec- 
tion to your making them widely known. If we 
have done wrong we should be right glad to suffer 
for the wrong, as we believe that punishment is 
the best possible thing that can come to the evil 
doer." 

The reputation of the firm now brought many 
applications for employment, especially from young 
Scotchmen, eager, as Daniel Macmillan had him- 
self been, to push their fortunes in the south. 
The next letter to one of them gives a glimpse 
of the care with which the internal economy of 
the business was supervised by the senior partner. 
It is addressed to Mr. Eobb, at this time a shop- 



236 THE DUTIES OF A CLERK. [CH. vn. 

man in the service of Messrs. Edmonston and 
Douglas, of Edinburgh : 

" CAMBRIDGE, September 3, 1849. 

" SIR, 

" From what Messrs. E. and D. and Mr. Crombie 
Brown say of you, and from the tone of your own 
note, we are induced to offer you the situation now 
vacant in our house with a salary of 60 a year 
to begin with. If you should meet our expectations 
we shall be glad to raise your salary from year 
to year. But before you decide to come, we may 
as well tell you what we expect you to do and 
what hours we expect you to work, so that there 
may be no misunderstanding afterwards. 

" 1. It will be needful to come to work punctu- 
ally at seven o'clock every morning. This is a 
point we lay great stress on. From seven till nine 
we expect you to put all things in nice order : to 
see that the boys clean windows and so forth. "We 
expect you not only to dust and arrange things, 
but to see that these errand-boys do their work 
thoroughly see that they work separately, that 
is, if one is working down stairs let the other work 
up stairs or in the back-shop or in a different part 
of the front-shop. Watch, too, that the boys do 
not go about idling their time, and that they do 
not stay too long when they go to deliver books, 
or other messages. All this we think of great 
importance. 



1843-57.J THE DUTIES OF A CLERK. 237 

" 2. \Ve shall expect you always to do the day's 
work in the day that is, to see all the orders 
executed, all the letters answered, all the books 
that come in daily cleared away in the day, and 
all the books posted daily. 

" 3. Never to stay longer than an hour to break- 
fast, an hour to dinner, and half-an-hour to tea. 
We shut up at eight in the winter and are anxious 
that the work should be pressed forward in the 
day so as to leave as soon after the shop shuts as 
possible. 

" We may as well explain that we attend to the 
shop mostly ourselves, and make our assistants 
attend to most of the details, such as writing 
orders, keeping books, looking after accounts, and 
most of the ordinary correspondence, sending out 
orders, and making the boys sign for the books 
they take out. So that our posting may be done 
daily we have two day-books, one in use in the 
entering room and the other getting posted in the 
counting-house. Yesterday's day-book is posted 
up to-day, and to-day's day-book goes into the 
counting-house to-morrow. All our accounts are 
rendered quarterly, and this involves a great deal 
of writing, as all, or nearly all, of our business is 
credit. Our assistants see every part of our busi- 
ness, so it is a good place for learning how a 
trade is managed, how books are bought, and 
how accounts are kept. But of course, as 
nothing is kept secret from our assistants, we 



238 THE DUTIES OF A CLERK. [cii. vn. 

expect them to be honourable and trustworthy, 
and not to gossip to any one about what they see 
or hear relating to business. 

" In the summer months we shut up at seven, 
and for three months we allow the assistants to 
get away alternately at three o'clock, that is unless 
any pressing business should hinder. 

" This letter will give you a pretty clear notion 
of what kind of a life you would have with us. 
If you feel any doubt or difficulty it would be 
better for you to give up all thought of the place. 
But if you have no fear, if you don't shrink from 
the hours, if you would throw yourself heartily 
into the work, if you are resolved to do all you 
can to make yourself a thorough bookseller and 
man of business, we have no doubt you would get 
on very comfortably with us. 

" If after looking at the matter deliberately you 
feel desirous to take the situation, it would be 
better for you to come immediately, so that you 
might get up the subject before the term com- 
mences. Hoping to hear by an early post that 
you are on the way, 

" We remain, Sir, 

" Yours most obediently, 

" MACMILLAN AND Co. 

" P.S. We can give you a bed for a night or so, 
till you can find lodgings to suit you." 

The publishing business was growing now 



1843-57.] THE PUBLISHING BUSINESS. 239 

rapidly, and much of his correspondence is de- 
voted to suggestions as to books which he thinks 
may be useful and profitable. 



To ins BROTHER. 

"June 10, 1851. 

"... For the book on Church Government, it 
ought to be a man who understands the dissenting 
stand-point. I would have most confidence in Mr. 
Kiugsbury. He knows so well all the views of the 
Lutheran and the Reformed, and the relation they 
have to the Swiss, Dutch, and Scotch Presbyterians. 
He never would let a scoff or a sneer fall from his 
pen. I have been cloud-spinning at two books which 
I think would answer. The first is a book that 
would give the results of all that John Mill, and 
Dr. Whewell, and Comte have been able to make 
clear on the Logic of Induction, and how people 
get to know La Philosophic Positive, and also to 
give a summary of what is unsettled and the 
arguments on each side. I should fancy such a 
book is possible, and that Vaughan and Davies 
could do it. "What do you think ? The second is 
a book of the same kind on Political Economy, 
giving also all that is acknowledged as settled, 
from Adam Smith, MacCulloch, Malthus, Piicardo, 
De Quincey, and John Mill, and whoever else has 
thrown light on these matters, including recent 
Frenchmen. I fancy Vaughan and Davies could 



240 J. LLEWELLYN DAVIES. [CH. vn. 

do the same work. We might talk to them when 
they come up in July. . . ." 

The last-named gentlemen had been amongst his 
customers at Cambridge, and had become his 
friends now that they had taken orders, and were 
engaged in parish work Mr. Davies in White- 
chapel, Mr. Vaughan in Leicester. They were at 
this time engaged on the translation of Plato's 
Republic, The relations which 'Daniel Macmillan 
had established with the ablest young men of the 
University may be gathered from this example. 

D. MACMILLAN to THE EEV. J. LLEWELLYN DAVIES. 

" CAMBRIDGE, March 12, 1852. 
"... I have not read anything for many a day 
that gave me such joy as your last letter. If the 
parsons go quietly to work in that spirit, some- 
thing may yet be hoped for the poor. Since I 
came to Cambridge I have often lost all hope: 
and was glad to see even the fiery zeal of Mr. 
Kingsley ruffling the dead calm of the comfortable 
and respectable classes ; and always hailed with 
gladness any utterance of Thomas Carlyle's which 
might draw attention to the condition of England. 
But of late I have had my hopes raised by what 
I hear of curates' doings throughout the country. 
Only a few days ago I had a letter from a young 
curate in Derbyshire, who told me that he had a 



1843-57.] THE YOUNGER CLERGY. 241 



night-school with seventy pupils, old and young. 
Then a long conversation I had with Mr. Thring 
convinced me that the ' Black Dragoons ' are doing 
their work well ; and what they do is not ' to the 
detriment of England.' I don't know what 
means can be taken to lessen the chance of ' people 
having their health ruined by downright hunger' 
but I am sure it is a thing that ought to be 
aimed at. Hunger and middling food is not so 
damaging either to the health or the morals in the 
country as it is in the whirl, and activity, and 
fever of large towns. This is a point I can speak 
of, for I have experienced both : and though my 
health has been permanently damaged by that 
experience, yet I am right glad I know what it is. 
Even while I endured it my Calvinistic education 
taught me to look on it as ' the chastening of 
the Lord.' And even when envy and anger rose 
in me, I looked upon that as teaching me humility, 
as telling that it was only the grace of God which 
kept me from being violent and dishonest. I 
feel sure that such faith as I saw from my earliest 
days would be one of the powerfulest means of 
enabling the poor to bear and to conquer poverty ; 
from becoming mere haughty and rebellious 
radicals, or sneaking sycophants. Yet I think 
poverty a real evil; and pray for its extinction 
daily when I say, ' Thy kingdom come. Thy will 
be done.' I see no chance of the destruction 
of that and the deeper evils of which it is the 

B 



242 CARLYLE ON PLATO. [OH. vn. 



sign, except in the coming of the kingdom, and 
the doing of the will of God. .He is the truest 
patriot who struggles earnestly and wisely for that 
purpose. The fact that so many do labour quietly 
and perse veringly with that aim is the hope of 
England. One hopes that the number may steadily 
increase. . . ." 

To THE SAME. 

" CAMBRIDGE, May 7, 1852. 

"... That extract from Carlyle was very 
beautiful. I don't think him right about indis- 
tinctness in Plato, who is chiefly remarkable for 
his firm determination to get himself and his 
student to see whatever they are looking at, and 
not to mistake it for anything else, and not to 
be fobbed off with mere talk ' about it, and 
about it.' But ' most lofty Athenian gentleman ; ' 
dreadfully ' at his ease in Zion' seems to me 
to hit off Plato to the very life that is as he 
appears to a Scotchman who has had a ' Hebrew- 
Christian-Calvinistic ' training. There is none of 
the yearning over the sins of the world which 
expresses itself in ' Tears run down my cheeks 
because men keep not Thy law,' nor ' I could 
wish myself accursed for my brethren's sake.' 
He has no feeling of bearing the sins of the 
world. Vice and mean conduct are very ugly. 
He would do all in his power to banish them : but 
he speaks of them in the tone of a ' very lofty 
Athenian gentleman.' . . ." 



1843-57.] DR. THOMAS FULLER. 243 



To THE SAMK. 

" CAMBRIDGE, May 25, 1852. 

"... Though it is so near what is called mid- 
summer it is really much more like March. We 
have still east wind, and a dull, leaden sky. But 
in spite of the cold, and the absence of. sunshine 
we see green leaves and blossoms in the Downing 
College grounds behind us. For I am still away 
from business and under the doctor's hands, and 
sorely tortured with an open blister, and not 
allowed to move, or speak, or write. So for more 
than a fortnight I have been lying on my back 
and reading Dr. Thomas Fuller; and after read- 
ing ten volumes I can most heartily say Amen 
to all the splendid praise that Coleridge gives 
him. . . . 

"I have only been kept alive by issues, blisters, 
setons, till my whole chest is a series of scars 
got in the battle of life. My life, like that 
of my admirable friend George Wilson, is 
' copiously illustrated with cuts! Plato would 
have allowed me to die eight years ago. There 
is no doubt that we are kept alive by arti- 
ficial means. In 184G I saw a nephew of 
mine who was a hand-loom weaver in Irvine 
in Ayrshire. He was married, and had one or 
two children. One could see that he had dis- 
eased lungs. But he looked stronger and better 

R 2 



244 THANKFULNESS FOR AFFLICTIONS. [CH. vii. 

than I did. But he died more than a year ago : 
his death greatly hastened no doubt by his poor 
living, and the care and anxiety which he was sure 
to feel about his wife and children. I have been 
kept alive by having been able to take ease and 
rest, and get pure air, and the kind of food which 
consumptive people need. If I could have been 
freer from care and anxiety doubtless I should 
have been still better. Sometimes I feel inclined 
to think Plato was right, and that it would be 
better to stick to our post till we died. If I 
had consulted merely what would be least trouble 
I should have done so. For when I have been 
very ill I have had no wish to recover, and an 
intense anxiety to see what conies next. But now 
just for the sake of life, and work, and for the 
sake of those who make life and work noble, I am 
submitted to new tortures, and taking cod-liver 
oil three times a day. I think we ought to 
fight against disease, whatever Plato may say. 
One feels that it does one good in many ways. 
I can say from the heart, thank God for my 
afflictions. . ." 

To THE SAME. 

" CAMBRIDGE, June 23, 1852. 

"... I don't wonder at your thinking that 
Kingsley dwells too much on the physical condi- 
tion of the poor. Those who have not known the 



1843-57.] THE SCOTCH POOR. 245 

poor and how their morality is so often lowered, not 
with a continual struggle with poverty, but by 
their giving up hope, and ceasing to fight, must 
think as you do. Among the poor (I only speak 
what I know) it goes hardest with the women. 
Of course I only speak of Scotland. The English 
I don't know so well. . . . No one can tell, who 
has not known such life, the sad, heartrending 
things such mothers have to see. No one can tell 
the moral gulf that yawns between such mothers 
and the daughters so trained. For of course their 
real training was in service. With the sons it 
turns out so differently. They work their way 
into Glasgow, or Liverpool, or Manchester. From 
their quiet sedate habits of self-command they 
thrive, become rich, and sometimes cultivated 
men; often merely rich and purse-proud. They 
die, leave children who never heard of their poor 
cousins. But the sisters' children have heard of 
their rich cousins and envied them, and despaired 
of ever reaching their greatness, and have sunk 
lower and lower it is sad to know to what 
depths. I have known such girls becoming ' un- 
fortunate females,' and their brothers sink into 
great depths where no eye could follow them. It 
is from having known of such cases that I look on 
poverty and hunger as evils, and leading to greater 
evils. Hunger, for instance, and the state of 
stomach that hunger produces, gives rise to a 
craving for strong drink. Indeed, low diet does 



24S NEW PUBLICATIONS, 1852. [en. vn. 

the same. A great deal of the drunkenness 
common in Scotland arises from poverty and 
bad feeding. ..." 

Besides the translation of Plato's Republic by 
Davies and Vaughan, the publications of the firm 
during this year include, amongst other books not 
so well known, Mr. Maurice's Prophets and 
Kings, Mr. Kingsley's Phaethon, a second edition 
of Archer Butler's Sermons, the Restoration of 
Relief, and Todhunter's Differential Calculus. His 
views as to the importance of this part of their 
work were confirmed. Looking at the result of 
four years of anxious effort, he can now write 
confidently to his old friend : 

To J. MACLEHOSE. 

"July 20, 1852. 

" The retail business will keep as good as ever, 
but my great hopes are in the publishing. I am 
convinced that we shall gradually, in a few years, 
have a first-rate and capital paying publisher's 
trade our retail trade will chiefly be valuable as 
bringing about us men who will grow into authors. 
Most of the able young men in the University 
are our customers, and many of them most 
kind friends." 

Then after naming several good books, Merivale's 
Salhist and others, which they have in hand, he 



1843-57.] MAURICE'S "THEOLOGICAL ESSAYS." 247 

concludes that what is wanted to complete the 
business is a London house where men can call 
and consult after leaving Cambridge. 

To J. MACLEHOSE. 

"HASTINGS, Monday, December 20, 1852. 

" . . . . Things move on very smoothly on 
the whole, and we hope to see our way into 
a more wholesome working of our business, into 
doing more trade, more especially of a publishing 
kind, without at all increasing the capital. We 
must do so, for in these late movements about 
booksellers' profits, the retail profits have been 
very greatly reduced. 

" We must, in this and in all other ways, try 
to work nobly, uprightly, and zealously, and see 
what it leads to. I hope that whatever we do, 
whatever our success may be, we shall never get 
into expensive and extravagant ways of living, 
but strive to live simply, and without luxury of 
any kind." 

In the next year Mr. Maurice's Theological 
Essays were published by the firm, with the 
result referred to in the following entry in his 
journal : 

"HASTINGS, Wednesday, June 22, 1853. 

" . . . . Since my last entry I have been twice 
in London on May 31 and June 10. Both times 



248 THRING'S "CHILD'S GRAMMAR." [OH. vn. 

I saw Mr. Maurice, and had rather long chats 
with him. The last time I took up and put into 
his hand 100 to pay for the first edition of his 
Theological Essays. I never paid money with 
such pleasure in my life." 

In this same month another of the friends he 
had made at Cambridge, Mr. E. Thring, was ap- 
pointed head master of Uppingham School. In 
congratulating him Daniel Macmillan writes : 
" It seems to me one of the surest ways of doing 
good. While a man is giving life and strength 
to his country in that way he does not proclaim 
himself either patriot or prophet, but merely seems 
to be working for wife and family. It has the 
great advantage of making no fuss." 

To J. MACLEHOSE. 

"June 26, 1853. 

" Mr. Thring is beginning to take in England. 
We have so much confidence in him that we 
stereotyped his Child's Grammar ! Very rash, 
you will say. But as it is the only book in 
existence on the subject which is at once the 
result of profound knowledge, and yet a most 
clear and simple statement of the laws of speech. 
I don't think it is so very rash." 

Hard times were not yet over for the firm. The 
annual stock-taking in July showed a less favour- 



1843-57.] A BAD BALANCE-SHEET. 249 

able result than had been anticipated, and caused 
some dissatisfaction to the moneyed partners. 
While grappling with the difficulty, and pointing 
out in detail to his brother the directions in which 
stock may be safely diminished and expenses cur- 
tailed, Daniel cannot altogether suppress his 
annoyance, which finds expression in his corre- 
spondence. The insecurity of his position is hard 
to bear when he is conscious that the solid success 
which has been achieved is due in great measure 
to his exertions. From his autumn quarters he 
writes to his brother on this subject 

" TORQUAY, October 11, 1853. 

" If I am to die in this year, or the next, all 
my exertions will be for others, and really I 
feel no call to such work. I am sure you don't 
wish me to work myself to death for your sake. 
As for my wife and boys their interest in the 
business terminates with my death. Besides 
that, they, in any case, will not be plunged in 
hopeless poverty. I snould like them to work 
for their living, and not to lean on others. If I 
am to recover, the result will pay for what it costs. 
That, at least, is my estimate. I wish I had taken 
that view of things sooner, and that I had spent 
the last four springs in Torquay. We cannot 
bring back the past. If we could I should have 
taken care not to have any anxieties about money 
matters. If I had played my cards well it might 



250 MR. MAURICE AND KING'S COLLEGE. [CH. vn. 



have been so easy. However, it is wisest to be- 
lieve that our course is guided by greater wisdom 
than our own. All this anxiety and vexation may 
have been a blessing to us, at all events, here we 
are, and I mean to make the best of it, to take it 
easy and not to fret myself about anything. When 
I get back I shall do exactly as much work as I 
feel able for, and no more." 

To HIS BROTHER. 

" October 25. 

"Dr. Tetley has repeated his opinion against 
my going to church. I told him I seldom did 
except to the Communion Service. He said that 
that would not do me any harm if I was careful, 
for there are so many fewer in the church, and the 
air gets changed and improved by the opening 
of the doors, &c., &c. But I must avoid, not only 
church, but crowded rooms or meetings till every 
tendency to bleeding and cough dies away. 'He 
was earnest on this point. I am very glad that 
he did not object to the Communion Service, 
which has always seemed to me to say more than 
all other ' means of grace,' as to how we are united 
to each other and to God." 

The controversy between Mr. Maurice and Dr. 
Jelf, the Principal of King's College, on the mean- 
ing of the word eternal, and the subject of the 
eternity of punishment, ended at this time by Mr. 



1843-57.] MR. MAURICE AND KING'S COLLEGE. 251 

Maurice's dismissal from his professorship. Ou 
this D. Macmillaii writes to his brother 



" October 23, 1853. 

". . . I have just seen Mr. Maurice. I spent 
about an hour with him. He is dismissed, and 
at once. He is not even allowed to lecture 
to-day. As he expected this from the first, he 
is not greatly surprised. I think he does feel the 
mode in which it has been done, that is the sud- 
denly being forbidden by the Principal to lecture, 
even to the historical students. Never mind ! 
God rules over all ! I asked him about the future, 
and half repented having done so. His answer was, 
'sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. 1 .... 
He is a grand man ! and must endure like other 
prophets. The good people of the next age will 
build his tomb. 

" He has lent me the correspondence and given 
me his own defence. He has asked leave to print 
and publish the whole, most likely with such 
additions and prefaces as may seem needful. 1 
wish we could do it, and should like to write 
offering to do so at latest on Sunday night. It is 
sure to pay, most likely it would have a very 
large sale. I should be glad if it sold so well that 
we could give him 20/., but at all events I should 
like to print it. Talk with H. G. about it. He 
may have the pamphlets on Saturday afternoon 
and could make up his mind. In the meantime a 



252 " WESTWARD HO ! " [CH. vn. 

little preliminary talk might be useful. If it were 
possible, I should like to write on Sunday night, so 
that he mjght have the letter on Monday morning. 
I think it would please him and cheer him a 
little. . . ." 

He spent the greater part of this winter with- 
out serious illness at Torquay, but on his return 
to Cambridge in the spring the good effects passed 
off, and in the summer he was obliged suddenly 
to leave home for the sea-side. He went to the 
Norfolk coast, the nearest to Cambridge, hoping 
to get back soon, but a severe attack of bleeding 
from the effect of east wind, warned him to seek 
his secgnd home in the west. But bleeding from 
the lungs does not stop work. He had lately 
received from Kingsley the sketch of Westward 
Ho ! on which he writes 

To C. KINGSLEY. 

" CROMER, June, 1854. 

" We are greatly taken with all you tell us 
about the plan and characters of your novel. Of 
course you will not adopt that pseudo-antique 
manner in which Esmond, Mary Powell, &c., &c., 
are written. That style is now getting a bore. 
The free march of your own style will be much 
more Elizabethan in manner and tone than any 
you can assume. We feel sure it will be a right 
brave and noble book, and do good to England." 



1843-57.] " PAST AND PRESENT. 253 



To GEORGE WILSON. 

" CROMER, July 27, 1854. 

" Sometimes I feel quite well, sometimes very 
ill, and it often comes into my head, ' My 
dear fellow, it isn't of the slightest consequence ' 
(Past and Present, book iii. chap, iv., " Happy ! "). 
But oftener a better and more hopeful message 
comes. I see my father and mother and Malcolm 
and William through the dark cloud, and hope to 
be partakers of their joy. In the meantime 
the very lowest view one can take is that of 
Carlyle a far better one that St. Paul tells us 
of, which was revealed to him by our blessed 
Lord, who sometimes gives us, too, a glimpse 
of it, and would give us a further vision if we 
were fit." 

Next month he is at Torquay, and in a few 
days the cruel fickle illness seems to yield to 
the soft air and sun, and he can write to his 
brother 

"TORQUAY, August 28, 1854. 

"... Yesterday I was out for above four 
hours, sitting in the shade of the Eomish church, 
reading Maurice on the Old Testament (it is a 
disgrace to England that 100,000 copies of the 
book have not been sold), and listening while 



254 ' NEW PUBLICATIONS, 1854. [en. vir. 



reading to most lovely chanting and singing. I 
was quite unseen as private as in one's own 
room, and yet could enjoy the soft west wind 
fanning my face. The sky, the trees, the music, 
and the book I was reading helped me to realise 
much that I speak and read of without always 
feeling its force. It was a blessed Sabbath." 

Amongst the publications of this year were 
Maurice's Ecclesiastical History and the Sermons 
on Sacrifice, Westcott's Canon of the Neiv Testa- 
ment, Frost's Thucydides, and Kingsley's Alex- 
andria and her Schools. Westward Ho ! was 
nearly completed and being put in type, and 
it is to this that the next characteristic note 
refers. 

To C. KINGSLEY. 

"December 12, 1854. 

. " Unless it runs counter to some deep-rooted 
theory of yours, pray let the novel have head- 
lines. It is. against all the usages to send out a 
respectable book otherwise. Why should not the 
title of each chapter be the heading ? Don't let 
it go out like a Minerva Press novel. We want it 
to look very handsome, and to send it out without 
headlines would never do. You can write to Clay 
telling him what the headings are to be. Why 
behead your own book ? " 



1843-57.] "THE CAMBRIDGE ESSAYS." 255 



From HIS JOURNAL FOR THE NEW YEAR. 

" Wednesday, January 3, 1855. .... Wrote 
to Mr. Maurice to-day, to wish him a happy new 
year, and many of them, that is for the sake of 
the good he may do to England and the world. 
For his own sake, surely, the world lie would enter 
upon would be much abler to see him as he really 
is. He is most sadly misrepresented and misun- 
derstood. Many of those who wrote against him 
must be either shamefully ignorant or disgracefully 
dishonest. But God has given England Maurice 
as a Prophet, and England receives prophets as 
Israel did, and treats him as our Lord and His 
Apostles were treated. He will be watched over 
and cared for as those who did the same work in 
old times. . . ." 

George Brimley, the librarian of Trinity, to 
whom the next letter is addressed, was an intimate 
friend and near connection of D. Macmillan, his 
brother having married Brimley's sister. Brimley 
was a good scholar and critic, and had been 
selected to write on Tennyson for the volume of 
Cambridge Essays published in this year. He had 
written to D. Macmillan for suggestions, knowing 
how thoroughly he had studied and appreciated 
the laureate. 



256 - POETS. [CH. vir. 

" CAMBRIDGE, February 24, 1855. 

" . . .1 have so tittle power of expressing on 
paper my feelings and thoughts about the poets 
who have been of most use in helping me to purify 
and elevate these, that your note read very much 
like irony. 

" However, I feel sure it was not so meant ; 
and though I have nothing new to say I will put 
down a few loose remarks to show you that I am 
willing if I were able. 

" You of course know that there are some notes 
in the last edition of Guesses at Truth that would 
be worth your looking at. 

" I need not tell you that I am quite ignorant 
of the canons of criticism, and can only speak of 
Tennyson or any other poet as he has acted on 
me. I have no rules to measure him by taken 
out of books but I of course think a man a poet 
or a rhymer according as he possesses or does not 
possess certain gifts. It is not enough that a man 
should love and appreciate the beautiful, the true, 
and the good, and enter deeply into the struggles 
of his own time, and do his utmost to raise men 
out of confusion and dissonance into harmony and 
order. A poet must do this ; but many who are 
not poets do so. In our own time there are several 
who strive after all noble aims, perhaps even more 
obviously than Tennyson. Yet we do not call them 
poets. Yet we feel that any one who deserves 



1843-57.] POETS. 257 

the name of a poet must first of all be a patriot. 
Milton and Wordsworth are obvious examples. 
One sees in the ' Prelude ' and throughout all 
Wordsworth's smaller pieces that he might have 
been a great popular leader if a higher work had 
not been assigned him. His hearty love for human 
worth in the humblest forms, his deep insight 
enabling him to see it through the most rugged 
covering, and to despise the opposite, however 
much it might be decked and gilded, prove that 
he was a strong massive Englishman, just as 
much as his resolute, much -enduring will and 
singular self-confidence and indifference to the 
contempt that was shown to him in his youth. In 
this respect he reminds one of Wellington and 
many others. One demands all these gifts from 
a great poet, but something more which is specially 
his own. It is not the power of making smooth 
and graceful verses, for many weak persons do 
that, and many sensible men too. These by a large 
charity are called poets, but we feel that it is a 
misnomer. Then, again, many of our best prose 
writers set forth with a beautiful cadence and 
measured march the purest and noblest thoughts, 
so that when we read them we feel impelled to 
act nobly evermore. The more musically the sen- 
tence flows which contains lofty thoughts or tender 
feelings, the nearer is its approach to poetry we 
call it poetical. This helps one to understand 
what a poet in the highest sense specially is. That 

s 



258 POETS. [CH. vii. 

is the man who does all that the noblest thinkers 
do, but far more perfectly. They not only speak 
about harmony, order, blessedness, rest, action, 
freedom, virtue, enjoyment, restraint, in short, 
whatever constitutes the golden year and the 
heaven we all so much need and long for, and often 
seek where it is not to be found, but they show us 
in what it consists. Every poem worth the name 
is itself a glimpse of the elements of true blessed- 
ness it is self-forgetful, free, orderly, and har- 
monious complete, too, in itself, what we call 
perfect, and yet pointing to something higher 
than itself. And it is just because all men feel 
the need of what the poet is called to give and 
does give that poets are the most popular of all 
writers 

" Of course I am quite aware the poetical power, 
like the power of the sister arts, music and paint- 
ing may be used for degrading purposes, to 
strengthen the devil and the beast in each man 
rather than to subdue and expel them. The 
power is not the less a God-given one. The power 
is good though used for a bad, a frivolous, or selfish 
purpose. But that is very obvious. We might 
call those who misuse their power false poets, or 
painters, or musicians. 

" The true poet seems to have the same work 
appointed as all true men. But the mode of doing 
his work is different. He not only sees the ideal 
in the real but he sings it. This is his way. He 



1843-57.] TENNYSON. 259 

sees the order and beauty that underlie and over- 
arch all, and sets forth his vision with such sweet 
and powerful music, and with such clearness, and 
distinctness, and exquisite grace, that the most 
thoughtful and cultivated of his readers feel. I 
have seen and felt all this before, but never so 
distinctly, so justly, so gracefully. Every word is 
rightly chosen. There is not one too much or too 
little. It seems to be a necessity of his nature 
that it should be so. Yet it is all so easy, so 
natural. Common life is not common in his eyes. 
It ought not to be so in mine. Then what he shows 
you in flat scenery, in common willows, in the 
trees, and fields, and clouds, why, one has been look- 
ing on it all one's life and has never seen it before. 

"All this I have felt to be specially true of 
Tennyson. There is gigantic strength ; all the 
more evidently strong because of its calmness and 
grace, and most wonderful harmony. His clear 
insight and manly sense is always noble and 
dignified. It never puts one for a moment in 
mind of that knowingness which is called man of 
the world, but which always reminds one of ' ape 
of the Dead Sea.' 

" My copy of Tennyson is down at Torquay, 
where I read it carefully last summer and hope to 
do this, so I cannot refer to any of the poems ex- 
cept the most obvious, 'Locksley Hall,' the 'Vision 
of Sin' (a most noble and wonderful work), and 'The 
Palace of Art.' But if I had the volume I should 

s 2 



260 " WONDERS OF THE SEA-SHORE." [CH. vn. 

tell you of at least a dozen small poems which 
I could clip out of my copy with great good will. 
There are two dozen lines in the ' Princess,' and 
about the same number in the 'In Memoriam' 
that I could erase. 

" I feel now that I have said nothing to the 
purpose, but I am glad to show you that I am 
willing though not able to do what you wish." 

To THE KEY. C. KINGSLEY. 

"February 22, 1855. 

" Many thanks for your arrangement about the 
Wonders of tJie Sea Shore. The end of March will 
be a good time. It will make the book come out 
just when the country looks beautiful and people 
are thinking of the seaside. We know Ken- 
nedy very well, and shall write to him to say he 
may have the Edinburgh agency if he cares about 
it. When we get the thing in our hands and see 
what we can do with it, what it will make and 
sell for, we shall make you a bid. You may 
trust that we shall do as well as we can. We 
don't think it will pay to give copies to the 
countiy papers. The rascals sell and lend the 
books, and do more harm than good." 

To C. KINGSLEY. 

"March 2, 1855. 

"... We ordered 5,000 additional Brave 
Words to be printed, and as soon as they are 



1843-57.] "WESTWARD HO-!" 261 

ready 1,000 will be delivered to Mr. Bullar. 
Everybody says it is yours. Davies bought 500 
to give away in his parish, or rather he and 
Vivian joined. Davies was immensely pleased 
with it, and thought it gave the hint of a series 
of tracts which a man could distribute without 
scruple. It might be worth tliinking of some 
day. . . . 

" Of course you will be pleased to hear that we 
have had a correspondence with Mudie, which 
ended in his giving us an order for 350 copies of 
Westward Ho! for his library. He is to advertise in 
the London and Manchester papers ; that will make 
the other libraries buy it. An Exeter bookseller is 
now writing about a dozen copies. We have sent 
off title-pages to the Torquay booksellers, and 
I have written to a Plymouth bookseller about 
whom I know something ; so I hope we shall 
make a fair start on the 20th. 

" Hort and Martineau have squeezed a reading 
of the rough proof out of my brother. Hort says it 
has more of the life and vigour and enjoyment of life 
that the Iliad shows than any book he ever read. 
He threatened to write to you about it and very 
likely will. I have not yet had my second read- 
ing, but at present I wonder more and more at its 
great beauty and power and wisdom. That duel 
is matchless. Then the conversation of Airs. 
Hawkins where on earth did you ever meet her ? 
There are no such folk in England nowadays, and 



262 ADVICE TO A NEPHEW. [CH. vn. 

few in Scotland. But I have seen and heard one 
or two. Then Frank how beautiful he is, especi- 
ally in the Voyage and the Inquisition ! Then all 
the tropical descriptions ! you must have seen 
them ! I was immensely pleased with your esti- 
mate of Don Quixote. It is by far the best thing 
I have ever seen on the subject. . . . 

" I forgot to say that we all think the ending 
somewhat painful. We have no doubt you are 
quite right. But it is sad to see so noble a soul as 
Amyas almost eaten up with revenge. Eemember 
these are only first impressions." 

To a nephew whom he had brought up from 
Scotland and placed in the business : 

"TORQUAY, May 2, 1855. 

" As you were left under my care a long time 
ago by your father and mother, I daresay you 
sometimes wonder that I don't sometimes give 
you formal advice. I have not done so for several 
reasons. First, because I am so very much in 
need of it myself, that it would look pretending 
to more wisdom and goodness than I have, if I 
were to write or speak long homilies to you. 
A second reason is that such things are con- 
sidered a very great bore. Though I say you 
must sometimes wonder that you don't get them, 
I am quite sure that you have no intense 
desire for them. I know also from experience that 



1843-57.] ADVICE TO A NEPHEW. 2-33 

they often render that disagreeable which they 
were meant to make attractive. I remember having 
it made clear to me that if one were to be very 
good one would get on well and rise to riches 
and distinction. My answer was, ' Why, then, 
morality and religion in your view is simply 
making a good speculation.' And when I came 
to examine the matter for myself, I did not find 
that the best and noblest people were the most 
successful in these matters. I saw at home my 
own father, than whom a nobler and more godly 
man never trod this earth, broken down with toil 
and care and ill-health, and sent to his grave soon 
after he was my age. Then my mother, who was 
a saint, if ever there was one, worn out long before 
her time, and full of cares and anxieties about 
others. Then my brothers Malcolm and William, 
just the same. But taking a wider range, all history 
tells the same story. So it seemed to me that the 
' getting on ' was not the true motive to a noble 
and godly life. It struck me that being noble and 
gentle, and just and true, and meek and lowly of 
heart, and kind and generous, and pure of heart 
and of life and speech, were in themselves far 
greater things than riches or high position could 
purchase. I found in the 19th Psalm and in the 
Sermon on the Mount that that was the Christian 
view. I found also that as much light as that had 
been given to Plato. But I won't go into these 
questions, because (and that is the third reason 



264 ADVICE TO A NEPHEW. [OH. vir. 



why I have not given you advice) I know 
that you are always under the hand and under 
the eye of the Great Teacher and King and 
Father of your spirit. Any love we can have 
for you is but a faint reflex of His, which 
never varies. 

" For myself I found great instruction in reading 
Maurice on the Old Testament before I left home, 
and his book on The Unity of the New Testament 
since I came here. I don't advise you to read 
either of these books, because no one can tell 
what will suit another. I only mention them in 
passing. . . ." 

To THE SAME. 

" TORQUAY, May 19, 1855. 

"Your remarks about doing good and right 
acts for the sake of goodness and righteousness 
were very good and interesting, and also the 
quotations from Dr. Abercrombie's book on the 
moral feelings. I have no doubt that the mean- 
ing of many things which now puzzle you will 
come out into clearness by experience and by 
the teaching of that Spirit which proceeds from 
the Father and the Son, who never leaves you 
but continues to speak to you and all men, 
whether we listen or no. We may be deaf, 
drowned in outward things, and never hear, or 
we may be conscious of His presence, and voice, 



1843-57.] ADVICF. TO A NEPHEW. 265 

and what He says (what we call the voice of 
conscience, the inner eye or ear, or sense common 
to man as man, and not depending on clever- 
ness or knowledge), and when we hear we may 
resist or may obey. If we obey, and in pro- 
portion to the absoluteness of our obedience, we 
are blessed. If we disobey, the contrary follows. 
This is because our true constitution requires 
perfect obedience, the yielding up of our own 
wills to the Divine Will. We can only see what 
our true constitution is by reading and studying 
our Blessed Lord and Redeemer, the Eternal Son 
of God, through whom we are made children of 
God. We all mankind have led and do lead 
disobedient lives, diseased lives, not according to 
the true constitution of man. We feel the evil 
nature within us struggling for the predominance. 
We feel the higher nature, the true Christ-given 
constitution, warring against the enemies which 
assail us. The nature of these enemies and the 
way of escape is nowhere better set forth than in 
the ' Litany.' One knows that the power of habit 
is so great that all who do evil we all feel this 
more or less would sink lower and lower, and 
without hope, were it not for the power of our 
Eedeemer and Sanctifier, by whom the chain of 
our sins is broken, and the power to think good 
and pure thoughts is given. Thus man does come 
to understand that goodness and righteousness and 
wisdom can only be found in Him who created, 



266 ADVICE TO A NEPHEW. [CH. vn. 

redeemed, and purifies, and who is right and 
true, and good and wise. Perhaps a good deal of 
this will seem mere words to you. Only experience, 
actual life, and fighting with the evils of life the 
world, the flesh, and the devil will show you how 
real it all is. For all the mightiest truths com- 
munion with God, and doing His will, which is 
life ; or communion with the evil spirit, and doing 
his will, which is confusion, misery, death may 
be experienced in simple daily life. All paths, 
the lowliest and the loftiest, have heaven overhead 
and in the heart, or hell underneath and in the 
heart. We may attain all the excellence of which 
humanity is capable while doing the simplest daily 
duties. The great thing is to feel that He has 
placed us at our several posts, and resolve to 
do the duty that lies nearest us. Thus we shall 
gather strength. There is no need for strain- 
ing and making great efforts. The way to get 
rid of evil thoughts and actions is quietly to 
occupy oneself with good ones. In this we are 
sure of help. You see I have spoken at length 
on the points you mention. I don't know that 
I have cleared up any matter to you. But I 
have done my best, and that I shall always be 
glad to do. ..." 

To his brother, in answer to a proposal to print 
at once a cheap edition of Mr. Maurice's Learning 
and Working, just published : 



1843-57.] MR. MAURICE'S WORKS. '2 '7 



" TORQUAY, May 24, 1855. 

" To make Learning and Working answer at 
2s., you must have a sale of 8,000, and Maurice 
hasn't such an audience. Besides that, we don't 
mean to publish ugly books. I would strongly 
advise Maurice not to publish any more books 
than those already projected. I know from some- 
thing he said that he would like to say something 
about the war, but I took no notice of it. He 
has quite enough on his hands already. When 
he is writing on the Apocalypse he can come 
out about the war, but no separate pamphlets 
or sermons. I hope, however, that he preserves 
all those he preaches. But in the meantime 
the completion of the Moral Philosophy, the 
St. John, and the Ecclesiastical History are 
quite enough for one man to have on his hands. 
Scold F. for disturbing Mr. Maurice about new 
schemes. ... If I were rich I would certainly 
make an effort to get his books into wide cir- 
culation by issuing them in Id. numbers. That 
I should like to do, and also a fresh translation of 
the Bible, with a short introduction and marginal 
notes to show the course of the history or argu- 
ment. That I should like hawked about in Id. 
numbers. These two things are much nearer my 
heart than a periodical. However, we must take 
to the tasks that are clearly given us." 



268 SUGGESTED WORK FOR C. KINGSLEY. [CH. vn. 



To HIS BROTHER. 

" TORQUAY, June, 1855. 

" When I saw F.'s letter I felt vexed that they 
urged him to print that address, but when I read it 
this morning I wished that everybody in England 
could do the same. How true and noble it is ! what 
wonderful insight the man has ! I am glad, how- 
ever, to see that he is going on with his Historical 
Lectures, which are sure to be very great. I have 
faith that his books will sell when England can 
bear them. We will help to make his audience. 
The more I think of it, the more strongly I should 
advise the stereotyping all the books he prints, 
they are so very great. 

" I have been thinking it would be a capital plan 
for Kingsley in his next modern novel to take up 
Mrs. Grundy, and make the leading characters very 
clever, and think and speak in the spirit of the 
day delighted with the greatness of our com- 
merce, political system, art, literature, and science, 
and uttering brilliant truisms on all the common- 
place topics of course including the war, which 
of course will be the leading subject very true 
and right, but one-sided and sensible goosey, but 
just what goes down for the height of wisdom and 
sagacity. A very young man might come in who 
had genius and insight, but sometimes, indeed, 
often, mixed up foolish dreams with his wisdom. 



1843-57.] PERPLEXING HEALTH. 269 

He should not be allowed to say much, and some 
clever commonplace fellow should snub him and 
put him down with sound good sense, and some 
unquestionable axioms. The youth should feel 
put down, and take in the wisdom contained in 
the commonplace. That should be his training to 
wisdom. But in the book this should not be seen. 
The Grundy view of things should seem tri- 
umphant. This would be sure to make the book 
a great hit. It would be looked on as a recanta- 
tion of his errors. By and by he might turn the 
tables by a biography of the youth, who should 
have recognised all the truth in all the sides of 
Grundyism. But in the meantime he really ought 
to do such a novel as I suggest, just for the fun of 
the thing, and for the sake of the wisdom that 
might follow. Perhaps there could be no better 
way of showing that truth does not destroy, but 
fulfils all the aspirations and good that lie in the 
most confused systems." 

To HIS BROTHER. 

" TORQUAY, June, 1855. 

" I don't wonder at your being perplexed at my 
accounts of my health. They perplex myself. My 
digestion and general health were never better. I 
am evidently gaining flesh and strength. I walk 
with real enjoyment. Cough seldom troubles me, 
and never violently. My breathing is so very 



270 PERPLEXING HEALTH. [CH. vn. 

much freer than it has been for many a day. Yet 
now and then there are sharp pains through my 
chest just under the blister, and the bleeding goes 
on at short intervals not very seriously never 
quite pure blood, and always to the evident relief 
of my breathing. This kind of thing occurs at 
stated intervals. Then there is none all day 
again. Perhaps three days pass, and it comes 
on again. But it has no influence on my health. 
Now and then it does affect my spirits. I 
think of my poor widow and her orphan children, 
and all the rest. Then I recover and think of the 
love and care that is watching over us all, and 
say, Not my will, but Thine be done. But, on the 
whole, I am hopeful of my recovery. I am look- 
ing so much better. Dr. Tetley does not seem to 
care much about the blood-spitting, and never 
suggests any medicine. He thinks it better than 
the laboured respiration I had last year. Indeed, 
when I think of last year, I should say that I am 
quite well. Fanny says she never saw me look so 
well, and she is full of hope, the blood-spitting 
notwithstanding, and she knows all about it. We 
are not without hope that even that may go away 
before long, and then I shall gather strength still 
faster than I have been doing. I have told you 
the whole truth respecting this matter. The fact 
is I meant to do so from day to day, and most 
like]y I did, but it looks contradictious. You will 
understand it better after this explanation." 



1843-57.] MAURICE ON SACRIFICE. 271 

The next letter dates from Cambridge, where he 
had been able to return for stock-taking and 
making up the year's accounts. Mr. Maurice's 
book on Sacrifice was just out, and criticism on it 
abounding, one of which is the subject of the 
next letter to his brother : 

" CAMBRIDGE, July 6, 1855 

'' I took Blackwood with me to the top of 
the hill and read it calmly (while the sweetest 
cool breeze was cooling, cheering, invigorating, 
my wife, my children whose voices at a little 
distance made it pleasanter and myself) and 
quietly, every word ; some of it ofteuer than once. 
The man is not very clever. His light chaff is 
very damp and looks a failure. Depend on it 
he is some Scotch parson perhaps Candlish 
some one of that cut. The pretence not to 
know about theology is pretence. Such as it is 
rather heathenish it is the man's trade. Some of 
the things look like bits of old sermons made to 
suit Blackwood. I should like to hear who it is. 
If report says a layman I shall disbelieve the 
report. He writes like a bird of darkness. But 
he should be answered. It is curious to see 
how he avoids stating his own view of sacrifice, 
yet he feels that the one set forth by Maurice as 
the popular one, is very hateful; and he is not 
able to comprehend the Christian doctrine of sacri- 
fice, the self-conceit blinding him. Many of the 



272 MATJKICE OJST SACRIFICE. [OH. vn. 



extracts he gives from Maurice are wonderfully 
beautiful. Sometimes it seems as if his object 
were to do Maurice good, but he soon shows that 
his purpose is very different. Still, I cannot think 
the article will do much harm. My chief reason for 
wishing he would answer it is, that he sets forth 
most of the popular falsehoods against Maurice. 
He might dispose of them all in a dozen pages 
of the preface to the second edition of the Old 
Testament. If not, he had better let the matter 
alone. The writer charges Maurice with : 

" (1) Making man a standard for God. 

" (2) That he does not believe in a revelation, 
properly so-called. 

" (3) That he overlooks the fall and its con- 
sequences. 

" (4) That God does not interfere directly with 
human affairs. 

" (5) That he fails to show what the meaning of 
slaying the lamb in the Old Testament sacrifices was. 

." (6) That he misrepresents the character and 
work of Noah and his sacrifices. 

" (7) So Abraham. 

" (8) That his notion of sacrifice being the Law 
of Life, and belonging to the most perfect con- 
dition, is nonsense ; which the writer wittily illus- 
trates by the fable of the Man and the Ass. 

" (9) That he makes David see his means of 
sacrifice, whereas the apostles did not till after 
Christ's death. 



1843-57.] MAURICE ON SACRIFICE. 273 

.^ , 

''(10) That Mr. Maurice utterly fails to show 
the meaning and purpose of Christ's sacrifice. 

"(11) Sets forth an elegant theology so dif- 
ferent from the Bible so mild and philan- 
throphic (sic), 

"Now it seems to me that these include the 
most popular blunders about Mr. Maurice and his 
theology. He might say a few words on each 
point that would be very useful. Three lines on 
the jocular tone assumed by the parson-writer 
would be enough. 

" When you have made up your mind about the 
reprint of the Old Testament, you or I might write 
to him on the subject. He could appeal to the 
sermons in this volume against all the charges, and 
bring out distinctly his faith and teaching. St. Paul 
and St. John as our Lord had all that kind of 
work to do with the religious and respectable 
people of their day and the devil is not dead yet. 
But we may rejoice that the Evil One, and all his 
progeny, will be utterly put down. Of that we 
have the full assurance of God and all His pro- 
phets. May we be enabled to help in that good 
work! It will be done, whether we do or no. 
May God help us all. I see that the first article 
in the Quarterly is ' The late Archdeacon Hare.' 
Tell me about it; but unless it should be very 
fine indeed, don't send it me." 

Those who are old enough to remember the 

T 



274 TENNYSON'S "MAUD." [CH. vn. 

Crimean War will recollect the burst of irritation 
with which Mr. Tennyson's Maud was received 
by the press, in the midst of the agonizing strain 
of the winter siege of Sebastopol. It will amuse 
younger readers to see how the poet laureate, 
whose every word is now treasured by the whole 
reading public, and quarrelled for by competing 
publishers, was regarded in those days. 

To HIS BROTHER. 

"TORQUAY, Aiigust 2, 1855. 

" The more I think of it the more I admire the 
boldness of Mr. Tennyson in exposing the deep- 
rooted selfishness of our time, and showing what 
an utter failure it is. The method he has chosen 
seems to me almost the only one he could have 
chosen. The man who complains is as much out 
of tune as those he rails at, and in his railing you 
see another form of selfishness. The poor fellow 
feels that himself and rails at himself. Then his 
madness enables him to draw in the strongest 
colours the hatefulness and littleness of so much 
that passes for attractive and great. Then the war 
looked on as a way out of so much evil is not new. 
The war in its management has laid bare much of 
it, and may perhaps lead to great searchings of 
heart. It is to me quite delightful to see a man 
speak out what he thinks so bravely, especially 
when he knows it must be so unpopular. For the 



1843-57.] TENNYSON'S "MAUD." 275 

Times, in the midst of all the evils that are being 
laid bare, daily boasts, in a most rotten-hearted 
way, 'that the people is sound at heart.' Whereas 
what we need is ' to turn to God ' and have the 
axe laid at the root of the tree, and seek the 
greatest of blessings, national repentance, as a 
deliverance from the common lying, and cant of 
pharisees and atheists (if there is any difference 
at heart), and all intermediate parties, including 
the philosophers." 

And again a month later 

"I have just had a third reading of Maud, 
and really I think all the criticisms I have 
seen more absurd than ever the Times, Daily 
News, Literary Gazette, Morning Herald, Gtiardian, 
Dispatch. I don't wonder at their being angry 
with him for choosing such a subject, or for 
the way he lays bare the evils of society, includ- 
ing the bitterness and selfishness of the hero of 
the story but I do marvel at their pretending 
that the execution is inferior to anything he has 
ever done. It seems to me if possible more 
perfect. The way in which the rhythm alters to 
suit the tone of thought is more perfectly artistic 
than anything even he has done before. However, 
that the poem should irritate most of those who 
read it is quite natural. In it I found, the first 
and second time, and still more the third, a great 
deal to humble me. It touches so closely on the 

T 2 



276 J. M. CAMPBELL. [CH. vir. 



sins that cleave to one. As I said before, I am 
sure he has done a good work, and a right and 
brave one in writing and publishing Maud. It 
must do good all the more if it is duly hated and 
abused if only it is read." 

In September he received a visit from John 
Macleod Campbell, who was desirous that the firm 
should publish bis work on the Atonement. They 
became friends at once ; and Daniel's estimate of 
his distinguished countryman may be gathered 
from the following extracts from letters to Mr. 
Hort :- 

"TORQUAY, September 25, 1855. 
" I have seldom seen a more saintly man than 
this Mr. Campbell : a good portrait of him would 
help the usefulness of his book. A deep quiet 
joy and love shines from his face, but more 
strongly from his round open eye. His manner 
has the ease of a finished courtier and thorough 
man of the world ; but you have not spoken a 
dozen words before you see that it is far deeper. 
He is nothing like so strong a man as his friend 
Alexander Scott, but has the same love for a clear 
footing on mother earth, though his eye and heart 
dwell in that which the earth does not yield. 5 ' 

"TORQUAY, September 29, 1855. 

" I have very nearly read Mr. Campbell's manu- 
script, which I very greatly like. I have also had 



1843-57.] FAILING HEALTH. 277 

another long talk with him. I like him more 
and more. He is a most ' heavenly-minded ' man. 
One can quite understand why Irving and Erskine 
and Chalmers loved him so much, and why 
Alexander Scott and Mr. Maurice and others 
always speak of him with such affection. He 
came here yesterday morning at half-past eight 
and stayed till three, and it seemed only a short 
half hour, so pleasant was it." 

As the autumn drew on the hopes of regaining 
health, which so often flitted before him during 
his long visits to Torquay, were once again fading 
away. More and more every year is there need of 
a stout heart to fight the battle of life fairly out 
to the end. In this mood he writes on the eve 
of his return to Cambridge for the Michaelmas 
Term : 

"TORQUAY, September 19, 1855. 
"... At one time I hoped that the long 
rests I have been able to take, and the wise 
advice of the best physicians, and the constant 
care of the most self-denying and loving of 
wives, and the most rigid attention to all the 
means prescribed (for instance, issues and open 
blisters for now upwards of eight years) would 
have restored me to health by God's blessing. But 
now I have no such hope. There is no doubt that 
notwithstanding all these means, every year finds 



278 FAILING HEALTH. [OH. vu. 

me weaker, and that the disease of the lungs in- 
creases. So, instead of ever hoping for health, all 
I can hope for is to maintain a constant stand-up 
fight with death. Sore battle it is, and only the 
love for my wife and children could make me wish 
it prolonged for a day. But for their sakes I do 
wish it most earnestly for my share in the 
business dies with me and poor Fanny would 
have a hard struggle with these three children 
so young. With God's help she would be able, 
I have no doubt for she has a right valiant heart 
and strong faith and a clear head and ready 
hand but yet it would be sad to see her left with 
such a task. I hope it will not be. But God's 
will be done. That is always the best, though we 
do not understand and see how it works. His love 
underlies and overarches all ; and our Lord Jesus 
Christ is as really watching over and ruling all as 
when He cured diseases and taught His disciples 
in Judaea 1800 years ago. So in that I may 
trust. 

" Many fine dreams that I used to have are now 
seen to be only dreams. I used to hope that I 
should get rich, and that I should be able to help 
some of Kate's children, and Mary's, and others 
of our kindred ; and think what delight it would 
have been to rne. Ever since I married I have 
kept thinking what a pleasure it would have been 
if one could have trained and brought up a pretty 
little son of Malcolm McKay's that I saw with his 



1843-57.] FAILING HEALTH. 279 

grandfather. I thought of the many kindnesses 
of my uncle and aunt, and how glad I should have 
been to show my gratitude in that way. But it ia 
very likely that a good deal of vanity may have 
mixed with all these castles in the air of mine. At 
any rate, things have turned out so differently from 
my hopes and proved my hopes to be vain dreams. 
This and many other disappointments have humbled 
me greatly, and I hope they may have done me 
good. They have not taught me all they ought, 
nor made me humble enough. I am beginning to 
learn not to be over-anxious about anything, and 
not to fret because I cannot do many things that 
I should like to do. I begin to see that it may be 
I should not really have been improving those 
I thought of removing to strange positions. At 
any rate, I feel sure that I and they are in God's 
hand, and always under His gracious training, even 
though we may deny and forget Him. ..." 

His forebodings were soon realized on their 
return to Cambridge. Only a few days afterwards 
his wife writes : 

" Novaribcr 15, 1855. 

" . . . . We found our new beautiful nursery, 
and enjoyed our home very much for a few days, 
but the next week my dear husband took a ter- 
rible cold and was in bed a whole day. It was 
distressing to begin so after a whole summer from 



280 NEW PUBLICATIONS, 1855. [en. vn. 

home in search of health : it made us talk of 
giving up our house and taking one on the Hill 
near business." 

The year which was thus closing in so mourn- 
fully had been an active and memorable one for 
the firm. Besides a second series of Archer 
Butler's Sermons, Campbell's Atonement, and 
Hardwick's Christ and other Masters, they had 
published Kingsley's Glaucus, Heroes, and West- 
ward Ho! and by arrangement with J. W. 
Parker had taken over all the earlier works of 
Maurice. Tor years this had been a cherished 
wish of Daniel Macmillan's. It was now realised, 
and he felt that he had acquired new power for 
the work which he had long recognised as the 
highest to which he could devote himself. 

It is necessary to keep the painful record of 
failing health and strength in mind to appreciate 
the work which went on steadily in spite of it. 
His correspondence would fill volumes, and shows 
no sign of weariness or repining. No new opening 
is neglected, and advice, suggestion, criticism, is 
always ready for any competent man in travail 
with an idea worth expressing. But before all 
things stands his anxiety to spread the influence 
of the teacher to whom he himself owed more 
than to all others. A few extracts from his cor- 
respondence for the next year, will show how he 
was working for this object. 



1843-57.] MR. MAURICE'S HABITS. 281 

To J. MACLEHOSE. 

" April , 1856. 

". . . . The fact is that Mr. Maurice has 
wonderful vigour and power of endurance, or lie 
could not stand the work he does. He is constantly 
working, and takes far too little rest. He does 
not go to bed till twelve or at least half-past 
eleven. He often rises at half-past three, and 
rarely ever is later than five, or half-past. These 
early hours are his chief hours of study, and of 
course he must value them so highly that it can 
only be a long illness that will get him to give 
them up, and do his health a little more justice. 
In the daytime he has so much on his hands, he is 
so ready to run all about London to oblige any one. 
He has so many good works always in hand, and 
is so often called on by people who wish to consult 
him, and has so many letters to answer, that one 
does not wonder at his robbing himself of his rest 
for the sake of study. ... I am glad to hear of 
any one who fully recognises the great blessing 
that God has conferred on this generation in 
sending it so godly, so brave, and so meek a 
teacher as Mr. Maurice." 

To the KEY. F. D. MAURICE. 

"CAMBRIDGE, August, 1856. 

"MY DEAR FRIEND, 

"I ought to have sent a line along with the 
account. It really is not so bad as it seems to you. 



282 MR. MAURICE'S AUDIENCE. [en. vn. 

It represents a great mass of books and the stereo- 
type plates of the first volume of the Old Testa- 
ment. Then when the books came into our hands, 
we thought it needful to spend more in advertising 
than we should think of doing again. Then we 
had to do some up in cloth with fresh title-pages 
So a good deal of this expense was incurred by the 
transfer. The sale is not so large as we expected. 
Yet when you consider that they are not fashion- 
able, and that every copy that is sold is bought 
for purposes of study, I fancy that one may make 
up one's mind that they are having a far greater 
influence than many books, the sale of which is 
ten times as large. Therefore I think that what 
is now wanted is patience to wait and see the 
result. We shall not fail in our part of the work 
in keeping them duly before the booksellers, and 
not let them be lost sight of. I do hope you will 
publish the St. John. I should not be surprised 
if it had a much larger sale than any other of your 
books, for surely it is what men want to hear. Yet 
we must not be surprised if the sale should be small. 
It is quite sure to sell enough to cover the ex- 
penses of publishing. Your task seems to be to 
teach those who have to teach others. Few, even 
of them, quite understand you; one catches one 
side, one another, and so good is done on the 
whole. This seems to me a most important post. 
Of course it is very trying to be misunderstood 
and misrepresented and abused, and to feel that 



1843-57.] MI!. MAUKICE'S AUDIENCE. 288 

even the most friendly only partially see your 
drift. I only wish that I were more able to cheer 
you while you bear these trials. I confess that I, 
for the last thirteen years, have been hoping for a 
revival of godliness in England as a fruit of having 
God's truth stated with such fulness and depth. 
Though I confess disappointment, I am as far 
as possible from thinking that your work has 
been in vain. The rapid sale of the first edition 
of Prophets and Kings gave me for a time the 
hope that you would become popular and what 
is better, useful among the religious public of 
England and Scotland. The more rapid sale of 
the first edition of the Essays increased this hope. 
But the frightful ignorance and stupidity of the 
reviewers filled one with despondency. Now my 
hope is the old one, that your task is to teach the 
more thoughtful theologians, especially among the 
younger men. It is a great work, and the results 
which one can see really ought to cheer us all. 
Besides which, no one can ever tell a hundredth 
part of the good that your books do and are doing. 
None of them stop selling. Of course the pam- 
phlets do stop. All the books have a slow, steady 
sale. This is really a greater sign of life than a 
rapid sale suddenly stopping. But I should give 
it as my deep conviction that it would be unwise 
to allow any one to publish in your name any 
more pamphlets. Those on Administrative Reform 
only wasted money in advertising. They draw 



284 MR. MAURICE AS A LOGICIAN. [OH. VH. 

away attention from your books. Nothing I could 
say could express this conviction of mine too 
strongly." 

To ISAAC TAYLOR/ ESQ. 

" CAMBRIDGE, November 21, 1856. 
"As one knows that such a man as John 
Stuart Mill says that Mr. Maurice is the 
ablest and most subtle logician in Europe, one 
would be surprised to see him charged with being 
dreamy, only it is frequently done. A very 
learned man who had read and thought as few 
have, and was a perfect Cambridge scholar, once 
said to my brother that Mr. Maurice has the 
most subtle intellect that had been on the face of 
this earth since Plato. Another man, as calm and 
clear as Aristotle, said to me, ' The world has 
only had three great theologians, Augustine, 
Luther, Maurice, and the greatest of these is 
Maurice.' Then I have heard many complain 
that he is obscure, and all the reviews echo and 
re-echo each other and that tune. So I, who am a 
simple person and without learning and don't 
pretend to any judge as I find, and don't feel 
at all influenced by the authorities or the majority. 
I find no man so simple, so clear, so resolute, to 
keep himself and his readers out of limbo. I 
find no writer who knows the Bible so well, and 

1 The author of "The Natural History of Enthusiasm," 
" The Restoration of Belief," &c. 



1843-57.] MR. MAURICE AS A THEOLOGIAN. 285 

that is the book I am best acquainted with. I 
like him because he has no mythical explanations, 
no clever explaining away of the Bible or its 
words. The book means what it says with him. 
Then, more than any other writer, one is reminded 
by him that the Bible reveals the Livnig God, who 
is always watching over us and caring for us, not 
an abstraction, or a bundle of doctrines, but the 
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. I believe 
that that is the reason why he is hated by the 
religious world. His new book on ' Middle 
Age Philosophy,' published in the Eiicyclopcedia 
Metropolitana, is a wonderful piece of work." 

To ISAAC TAYLOR. 

"November 26, 1856. 

"I don't feel the least inclined for a discus- 
sion. Mr. Maurice does not want or need any 
defence. He has no disciples that I know 
of. I am not one. I am so very ignorant on 
all points that I cannot even pretend to follow 
authorities when they praise him. I know no- 
thing about the first intellects of Europe. I know 
almost nothing about Luther or Augustine. His 
writings I have found useful to myself. I have 
read them all with care, some of them I have 
read several times. I know that people say he 
is obscure. I cannot guess why. I judge by my 
own eyesight. I wish others to do the same. 



28fi MR. MAURICE'S CRITICS. [CH. VIT. 

England professes to be a free country, I wish it 
to be really free, and in this respect, that each one 
judge by his own experience, and not by any 
authority. 

"I never knew any one who has read Mr. 
Maurice's writings with care who is not very zealous 
and hard-working in his calling, striving to do God's 
will from his heart. Of course there are clever 
young men who find great fun in the nonsense 
that is written by Mr. Maurice's critics. Certainly 
they are often very droll and very pompous 
enough to make less frivolous men laugh loud 
and long. But these young men do not read Mr. 
Maurice's books. All frivolous persons either give 
him or their frivolity up. But the most of them 
end by joining the popular clamour against him 
not because they find him obscure, but because 
they find his addresses to the conscience painfully 
clear. 

" Maurice is as far as possible from being or 
becoming popular. All young men of the world 
who want to get on and be popular will be sure to 
avoid him and his books, and will find it wise to 
speak against him. If he does his Master's work, 
he will be sure of the same treatment. So it was 
so it is. But it would be foolish to fret." 

Amongst the books published by the firm in 
this the last year of his active life, may be noted 
Llewellyn Davies' St. Paul and Modern Thought, 



1843-57.] NEW PUBLICATIONS, 1856. 287 

Archer Butler's Lectures, Hardwick's Reformation, 
and Part II. of Christ and other Masters, Masson's 
Essays, and George Wilson's Five Gateways of 
Knowledge. No book of Kingsley's appeared in 
1856. He had another novel already in view, 
Two Years Ago, but had been persuaded to put it 
aside in the early part of the year and give himself 
a rest. 

D. MACMILLAN to MRS. KINQSLEY. 

"March 6, 1856. 

". . . . I was so far from being vexed about 
your stopping the novel that I never more heartily 
rejoiced that Mr. Kingsley had your wise care 
always over him to keep him from overworking. 
When I thought also of the plot of the proposed 
book, and the labour it involved, and how he 
must throw his heart into it, I really thanked you 
most heartily for giving him a year's comparative 
rest before he goes on with it. 

" I am very glad that you agree to the letters 
from Snowdon. It would seem as if the mere 
getting up of the matter would do him good in- 
stead of harm. We hope to have two or three 
small books while the two years' rest, preparatory 
to the great one, are passing. There is no doubt 
that a great one will be well received, very much 
better than anything he has done. We see that 
Mr. Mudie charges 15s. for second-hand copies of 
Westward Ho I while he sold Thackeray's Esmond 



288 "TWO YEARS AGO." [CH. vn. 

at 9s. This shows that though Thackeray's book 
was much more successful at first, because he has 
been longer in the field and fought his way to a 
high place, right manfully, yet Mr. Kingsley's 
book has proved more permanently interesting to 
the English public. From which I make this 
deduction, that if Mr. Kingsley makes a book 
equal to himself with the plot he sketched out 
some time ago, we do not think it would be at all 
rash in us to promise to print a first edition large 
enough to yield him 1,OOOZ." 

The effect of his short rest and summer holiday 
in Snowdon was to send Charles Kingsley back to 
his work in such condition that he finished Two 
Years Ago with a rush, and it was in type by 
Christmas. A wonderful feat ; but alas, such feats 
must be paid for, as his sorrowing country came 
to know when he died, a worn-out man, at the age 
of fifty-three. 

Daniel Macmillan's call was to come even earlier. 
He was only forty-four, but had entered on his 
last year. In the late autumn he left his second 
home at Torquay, and returned to Cambridge for 
the last time. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

LAST DAYS. 1857. 

THE eiid was now near, but before it caine the 
aim was achieved for which he had so long and 
bravely striven. The balance sheet of 1856 was the 
best the firm had ever known, and the prospect 
brighter. Their business had taken root, and the 
steady demand for their books, and the growing 
popularity of the writers with whom they were con- 
nected, above all of Mr. Kingsley, inspired con- 
fidence in their future. Printers and papermakers 
with whom they had dealt for years were ready to 
give lengthened credit and advance funds, and the 
last of their non-professional partners was now 
opportunely meditating emigration, and anxious 
to realize his investment. Thus the opportunity 
had come at last, and by Christmas the terms of 
his retirement were settled, the partnership dis- 
solved, and Daniel Macmillan could look without 
anxiety for the first time on the future of his wife 

TJ 



290 " TWO YEARS AGO." [en. vin. 

and children. The change involved much hus- 
banding and getting together of resources for the 
time from all quarters, but the relief acted as a 
tonic, and he could write in the early days of the 
new year : 

"My health is on the whole better than it 
has been for many a winter. I feel to have 
more freedom and hope in my work than I ever 
had. Of course it will be a considerable effort, 
and we shall often feel hampered for some few 
years, but we shall on the whole feel that we 
are making way and that our children may hope to 
reap the fruit of our labours if they are wise. 
This alone is enough to make one happy, and make 
life flow more pleasantly. . . ." 

It was a fortunate time too in other ways. The 
work in hand to which he could turn with more 
freedom and hope than ever before was all of a 
promising character. Two Years Ago was in the 
printer's hands, on the eve of publication. He 
had watched its progress through the autumn, 
and now as the proof-sheets come in thinks more 
highly of it than ever. " I never felt surer of 
anything," he writes to the author, "than that 
this new book will be the most successful that 
you have done. The present calm in politics 
and all other things is of course in your favour." 
And then comes the usual quiet criticism and 



1857.] C. KINGSLEY ON DISSENTERS. 291 

suggestion : " Tom Thurnall is very fine : one en- 
joys his talk on ecclesiastical matters, but wonders 
where he picked up his explanations of St. Paul. 
. . . Major Cawmul I long to see. I don't think 
he should talk Scotch, only use Scotch idioms. 
The peculiarities of moderately cultivated Scotch- 
men cannot be given in spelling. Mr. Thackeray 
made a frightful failure of Binnie. He has no 
insight into Scotchmen. No one has done that 
so well as you have." 

The first edition went off in a few weeks, and 
Daniel is busy, preparing for a second edition and 
answering criticisms, the most serious of which 
come from his friend \Vatt, to whom he replies : 

"March 4, 1857. 

"I have often spoken to him about his un- 
fairness to Dissenters. His answer has always 
been the same, 'I don't know the same kind 
you know. Those I give are drawn from life, 
and are done conscientiously. I plainly indicate 
the persons I mean, and feel sure my sketches are 
accurate. I knew them in Cornwall when I was a 
boy and a youth ; and another set I know near my 
own parish now. I am not going to describe what 
I only hear about, but what I actually know.' To 
which there is no answer to be made. 

" From what one knows his account of Banters 
is not far from right, and there are some higher 

u 2 



292 ALEXANDER SMITH'S POEMS. [OH. vin. 

Calvinistic Baptists near Cambridge and in Cam- 
bridge of whom his descriptions are not far wrong. 

" You may think it odd, but I stick fast to the 
doctrine of reprobation. It seems to me the only 
scheme that stands clear on its feet. I do believe 
that the reprobate man in me and in all men will 
be cast out and destroyed. If I did not I should 
think it a very dreary universe that we have got 
into. But as I believe that our Lord Jesus Christ 
is the same with God, and perfectly manifests the 
Father's will in His life and on the Cross, I see 
highest reasons for thanking God for life. 

" About the future we have the strongest con- 
solation in the faith that He rules over all and 
will put all enemies under Him. ..." 

Never indeed had his correspondence been more 
varied or more vigorous. Two specimens must 
suffice. The first is a criticism on Alexander 
Smith's second volume of poems : 

" March 18, 1857. 

" The thing that strikes one is a strange subtle 
power of making confessions in a wonderful 
diction, yet very real, all the more because it is 
hazy and perplexing, like real life. 

"There is not much resemblance to his former 
volume. In many respects there is improvement. 
He has not strewed stars and flowers so prodigally 
There are rather too many still. He seems in 



1857.] KING SOLOMON. 293 

some respects more mature. Yet there is a haze 
and want of distinctness in his stories which pester 
one. He seems to be without any firm standing- 
ground, and does not seem to feel that he needs 
one. So there is a want of purpose and bewildered 
unhappy state almost like madness which perplexes 
one, and makes one very impatient." 

The second is a letter in answer to one in 
which I had strayed into some disparaging re- 
marks on King Solomon. I had used carelessly 
the epithet subjective in comparing him with his 
father David. He replied at once, April 14, 1857 : 

" About Solomon you are all wrong. What on 
sarth should lead you to call him subjective ? He 
lives the most outward life. He studies all kinds 
of natural history and collects materials for induc- 
tion. He engages in building, digs for water, aids 
commerce. Then his study of mankind is all of 
an outward kind. Just think of the collection of 
women he made to put in his museum why he 
was a man after Goethe's own heart, a kind of 
antique Jewish Goethe, with the same many-sided 
objective nature. Of course if you fancy that he 
had anything to do with ' The Preacher ' you will 
believe and talk any nonsense about Solomon. 
But Solomon had as much and as little to do with 
the authorship of ' Ecclesiastes ' as you had. It 
was written by some bewildered Jew hundreds of 



294 FATAL ILLNESS. [cm. via. 

years after Solomon's time, whose head had got 
full of foolish heathen (Persian) speculation, and 
it is good for nothing but to show how stupid and 
godless a Jew may become, when he lets go his 
hold of the truths that he would have found in 
the ' Proverbs of Solomon.' Then again these 
' Proverbs,' they were collected by Solomon that 
is most of them the supplements at the end 
explain themselves. Here again you see the 
naturalist showing himself in Solomon ; he collects 
proverbs as he does herbs, and trees, and birds, 
and beasts, and women from various countries. 
They are specimens of God's world which he loves 
to study. As for his tolerance, it is a great 
mistake to suppose that it was indifference. He 
hates evil and sin of all kinds quite as much as 
David. He thinks it intensely stupid. He does 
not go into any bluster about it, he has the deepest 
conviction that it is suicidal, and cannot escape 
unpunished. So he can work on quietly in his own 
kingly province, and not put himself out because 
fools will be fools and fall into ditches. All I 
mean is that a less cloud-spinning son of Adam 
than King Solomon the Great never lived, so don't 
confound him with the cloud-spinners ! " 

On the 7th of May an attack of pleurisy was 
added to his other ailments. Still he bore up, for 
short as his time might be there was still work to 
be done on which his heart was set. Amongst 



1857.] LAST LETTER TO HIS OLDEST FRIEND. 295 



their Looks on the eve of publication were my own 
first work, and his old and dear friend George 
Wilson's Five Gateways of Knowledge, which he 
was bent on making, in type and binding and 
illustration, worthy of its author and his theme. 
The last letter of his long correspondence with the 
fellow sufferer who had been as a brother to him 
for a quarter of a century, which also was amongst 
the last he ever wrote, refers to this book, and to 
the birth of his youngest child, and may fitly close 
the extracts from his correspondence. 

To GEORGE WILSON. 

"CAMBRIDGE, May 13, 1857. 

" MY DEAR GEORGE, 

" Did you ever get the interleaved copy of The 
Gateways that Mr. Clay said he would send you ? 
Tf so, have you had time to make the alterations ? 
What about the promised vignette ? 

" Pray tell us how you are. We have thought a 
great deal about you. I have had two slight 
attacks of bleeding from the lungs though never 
forced to cross the door, and the wind has been 
better. We wished you all possible protection. 
Tell us how you fared. I should be quite well, 
but have been bothered with a small ulcer in the 
throat. It is frightful work to eat and drink. 
They don't seem to be able to give me any help. 
They talked of burning it, but they seem to think 



296 LETTER TO G. WILSON. [CH. vm. 

it hard to get at. I wish they would try. I hope 
it. will soon get better. It makes me growl more 
than all my former sorrows. 

"But I ought to tell you that my wonderful wee 
wife has presented me with a fine boy at three 
o'clock this afternoon. A jolly little fellow, who 
looks very wild and is like his elder (not eldest) 
brother, Maurice, as far as one can tell after a few 
hours. The mother and child are doing well. 
What a brave heart she has to be whisking about 
and looking after my ailments, not only for the 
last month but within an hour or two of the birth 
of the boy. I am being quite corrupted and made" 
selfish. During the next month I must have 
another lesson. 

" If in the course of the summer you come to 
Manchester pray do arrange to come to us. We 
should so like to see you and Jessie. With most 
kind love to your mother, 

" Yours ever affectionately, 

" D. MACMILLAN." 

His wife was by his side again in the early 
June days, and the boy throve, and his father 
rejoiced over him, and himself made all arrange- 
ments for the christening he was not to be allowed 
to see. For now the end drew visibly near, and 
his life work was done, though still an echo from 
the outside world which he had striven in so man- 
fully would reach him now and then and rouse 



1857.] TOO LATE. 297 

him for a few moments. The last of these, and 
the most full of pathos, when one thinks of the 
circumstances and of the man, must find its place 
here before the curtain falls on a brave life bravely 
lived. It needs no word of comment 

"PORTSMOUTH, June 23, 1857. 
"DEAR SlK, 

" In addressing you I presume I am addressing 
the same Mr. Macmillan who was assistant to 
Mr. Johnson in 1834 and 1835. 

" If I am right in this supposition, you will, I 
dare say, remember me ; I was at that time a 
bachelor at Trinity, reading for Holy Orders, and 
lodging at Baxter's. I used to be much in Mr. 
Johnson's shop, and always felt myself much in- 
debted to you for your valuable information about 
books, &c. 

" I have been nearly ten years in the Australian 
colonies ; and landed in this country only yester- 
day evening. Her Majesty has been pleased to 
designate me as the future bishop of Western 
Australia. I have come direct from that colony 
and have written (which I intend for you) a pam- 
phlet on the convict experiment which is now 
being tried there. As the publication of this 
pamphlet will probably exercise considerable in- 
fluence upon my particular functions in the colony, 
I am anxious to get it into print with as little 
delay as may be ; and happening to see by an 



298 TOO LATE. [CH. vnr. 



advertisement which caught my eye last evening, 
that you have published a visitation tour lor 
Bishop Colenso; it struck me that, for old 
acquaintance' sake, I should like to have my 
brochure published by you also. 

" Will you kindly let me know, by return of 
post, whether I am right in concluding that you 
are my old acquaintance. I think if so, you will 
remember me, as we exchanged letters once or 
twice after I had taken orders. 
" I remain, 

" Yours very faithfully, 

" MATTHEW B. HALE." 

To which his brother and partner answered 
from beside his death-bed, after acknowledging 
the Bishop's letter, and confirming the assumption 
on which it had been written : 

To THE EEV. M. B. HALE, BISHOP OF WESTERN 
AUSTRALIA. 

:< He had already seen your appointment to the 
bishopric of Western Australia and rejoiced in it. 
Had your letter come to him at a time when he 
was able to take an interest actively in anything 
you would certainly have had a letter from him 
expressing the delight it afforded him. He has 
for twelve or thirteen years been suffering from 
pulmonary disease. For several years past his 
right lung has completely lost its functions and 



1857.1 TOO LATE. . 299 

his left has been materially affected. Still, till 
within the last few weeks, with the exception of 
a few months of two or three winters at Torquay, 
he has always been able to attend to business and 
to take the liveliest interest in it. About six 
weeks ago, a sore throat he had felt troublesome 
for some time past assumed a serious aspect. The 
swallowing of any solid food became actual tor- 
ture to him, so much so that he confined himself 
to milk and eggs beat up, and beef-tea, and other 
fluid nutriment. The ulcer was discovered and 
treated with opiated caustic, and he was for a short 
time able to eat almost anything. But about ten . 
days ago, a new and more formidable symptom 
appeared. He could swallow no food, even fluid, 
without the most violent and distressing cough. 
Of course the effect of this on a constitution 
already greatly weakened by long-continued ill- 
ness has been very formidable. Practically he 
has taken no food for some days, and for the 
last six-and-thirty hours positively none. Every 
attempt has been baffled, the food caused 
simply violent coughing and was rejected. I 
have, perhaps, gone into more detail than is 
necessary. You will, I am sure, pardon me if I 
have. I was mainly anxious to explain to you 
how it is that he can send no message adequate to 
the feelings with which he would in health have 
welcomed the renewal of a most pleasant and 
gratifying intercourse." 



300 . A BRAVE ENDING. [cu. vni. 

On Midsummer Day he was up for the last 
time, and able to get to the sofa in his dressing- 
room, where he sat with his wife for some hours. 
The soft mellow sunshine soothed him in spite 
of the constant anguish in throat and chest. He 
could only speak, and that with great difficulty, 
at intervals. 

" Oh, I should like my children to have a 
beautiful home, to speak gently to each other, 
and to help in every way to spread the kingdom 
of God." 

The children were allowed to play silently in 
the room, and friends and relatives stole in to see 
him for the last time. To each he was able to say 
a few words of farewell. 

To Mr. James Fraser, their friend and con- 
fidential clerk : 

"I am sure you will do right. I am sorry 
to leave you, but I think I shall come floating 
among you all. We have talked over everything 
in life before this. Let me see, how long is it 
since you came ? " 

To his sister-in-law, holding her hand. " Good- 
bye, we shall meet again under other circumstances, 
though these are not bad. God has been so very 
kind to us all God bless you." 

To his wife, looking at their second boy : 

" I think he will be very like me. and very like 
me in character, and be the same comfort to you 
that I was to my mother." 



1857.] A BRAVE ENDING. 301 

All hope of his recovery was now at an end, 
and his old friend MacLehose was telegraphed for, 
but arrived an hour too late to see him alive. 

He still lingered for a few days, watched un- 
ceasingly by wife and brother. They bathed his 
face and hands with cold water which revived him. 
"The only physical pleasure I have had for months." 

Then he spoke with them of his dreams of 
bathing under the Blue Eock in Arran of his aunt 
and uncle McKay of their wedding tour, and his 
joy that they had been together to his own 
country. Of the lovely weather they had had in 
Arran, " as bright and beautiful as this, but with- 
out the oppression " of their walks to Bracklinn 
and the Trossachs. Then again, after an interval, 
of his mother, of soon meeting her again. Of 
her illness and death " almost without suffering." 
Of her sweet singing, " I'm weary of hunting and 
fain would lie down," and "The yellow haired 
laddie," foolish she used to call them, none of the 
children would be like her. 

Some days before he had postponed his little 
boy's baptism "till I get stronger." Now he 
whispers to his wife, "You will write to Miss Clay 
this morning to ask her to be godmother for baby ; 
you know I need not be present, dear." And again, 
of the kindness of Mr. Clay and the other friends 
who had helped them in paying out their partner, 
which had removed the worst sting of all his 
former illnesses. 



802 A BRAVE ENDING. [CH. vni. 

He could still see the deep blue sky through 
the window, and men working on the roof of 
St. Mary's Church, and watched it intently. " How 
beautiful to float up there ! I am so tired, tired ! 
Oh God, sure to deliver ! " But the light was grow- 
ing fainter and fainter, and the words came at 
longer intervals and more feebly, to his wife as 
she leant over him. 

" Good-bye, kiss me, why don't you speak to 
me ? . . . . You will see so much of me come 
out in the children, dear. It will be a great com- 
fort to you . . . but you will see the impetuosity." 

In a few hours the impetuous spirit was at rest. 
He died on the 27th of June, 1857. 













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