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MEMOIR OF DANIEL MACMILLAN
ACTHOR or "TOM BROWN'S SOHOOLD.VYS," ETC.
R CLAT, SONS, AND TAYLOR,
BREAD STREET HILL, B.C.
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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.
June 27, 1882.
PREFACE ... vii
ARRAN THE TACKSMAN'S HOME APPRENTICESHIP IN
IRVINE. 1813-1831 . 1
GLASGOW ATKINSON'S SHOP OVER-EXERTION AND
BREAK-DOWN. 1831-1833 . 10
SEARCH FOR EMPLOYMENT LONDON CAMBRIDGE.
1833-1837 . 28
FLEET STREET. 1837-1843 6.1
THE HARE CORRESPONDENCE. 1843-1855 . .116
MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 1850-1856 178
CAMBRIDGE. 1843-1857 206
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.
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
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
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
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 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
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
GLASGOW ATKINSON'S SHOP OVER-EXEKTION AND
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-
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
" 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
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
" 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
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
" 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
" 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
" 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
"Cromwell exhibits in his government a
firmness, energy, and wisdom far beyond any
other statesman of. whom I have read in these
"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
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
Again to his brother Malcolm some days
" 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.
"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
To complete his cure he crosses to Arran on a
visit to his uncle McKay, Independent minister
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
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
SEAKCH FOE EMPLOYMENT LONDON CAMBKIDGE.
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
" 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
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
" 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
" 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
" 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.
" 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
" 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
" 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
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
"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
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.
" . . . . 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."
"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
52 A CHURCH MEMBER. [en. in.
"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
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
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
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
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.
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
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-
" 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
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
" . . . . 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. ..."
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
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
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
" 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
" 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
" 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
" 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
" 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
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
" 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
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.
" 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
" 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
" 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.
" 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
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/
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
" 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
"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
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
1837-43.] CHAOS OF SCOTCH THOUGHT. 107
To GEO. WILSON.
" 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
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
"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
" 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
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
How he was enabled to accomplish this, the,
great aim of his business life, must be told in
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
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
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
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
" 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
" 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
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,
" 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
" I have written crudely and hurriedly, to show
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
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
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
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
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
" 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
" 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-
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. . . ."
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
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
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
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
" 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
" 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
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.
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
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-
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
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,
" 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."
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
" 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."
"... 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
"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
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
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
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
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
"... 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
" 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
" 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.
"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
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
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
212 RELATIONS "WITH UNDERGRADUATES, [cir. vn.
mean one who might pass away from us while yet
" 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
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
As to Daniel Macmillan's personal relations
with the elder men, I may quote the words of
the distinguished headmaster of Uppingham, who
"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
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
" 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
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
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
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."
" 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
" 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
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
" 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
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 :
" 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
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.
" 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
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
" 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
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
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
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
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
"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
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
"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
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
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
" 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
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
" 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
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
" 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,
" (3) That he overlooks the fall and its con-
" (4) That God does not interfere directly with
" (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
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-
"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
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
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
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.
"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
"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
" 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
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
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
"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
" 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
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
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.
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
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
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
" 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.
" 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
" 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
:< 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
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,
" 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
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
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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