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CHAPTER I.

EARLY YEARS, ENLISTMENT, AND VOYAGE TO THE

EAST.

I WAS born on the 18th July, 1821, in the City of Bath,

147, "Sing" should be Singh.

"work" should be lurk.

557, last line but one of Song, for "the people's pledge " read "THEIR

CHANGELESS PLEDGE."

romances," written, as will be remembered, at one sitting of three days and two nights-kept a hermit, who had nothing to do but to let his hair and nails grow, and live in perfect seclusion, while he might have as many books as he pleased, and, indeed, anything else that he liked except liberty, I coveted the post, and resolved to apply for it. But, alas! though I went to the great man's mansion, and even ventured to knock at the door, I had not the courage to await the coming of the Dwarf who kept it, but ran away, and so lost the opportunity for ever.

All sorts of stories used to be told in Bath about him. I have heard that he has been seen riding on his celebrated white Arab, with two servants behind him, and in a sudden fit of passion turning round and horsewhipping one of them, and afterwards giving him a £5 note as consolation.

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Often afterwards, however, did I climb the great steep on which stood, and still stands, the lofty Saxon tower filled with all manner of riches-antique statuary, pictures by the first masters, rarest books in most costly bindings, cabinets of ebony inlaid with jewels, vases of verd, and other precious works of art, valued altogether at more than a million-to whose summit Beckford would frequently ascend, to sit in solitude and enjoy the view of his estate at Fonthill, which he could command from that height. And in later years, after my return from my wanderings to the home of my youth, I have repeatedly mounted that silent and solitary tower-then stripped of all its accumulated treasures, the walls bare, the bookshelves once stored with priceless volumes all vacant, and the scarlet damask with which walls and shelves were covered hanging in ribbons,—and looked with feelings which may be imagined on the same scene, together with the tomb of Beckford, lying among others near the foot of the column; the grounds around, once so jealously guarded from intrusion, having been converted into a public Cemetery.*

Another great man of Bath of whom I have a distinct recollection, and whose image floats before my mind's eye while I write, is that fiery genius, Walter Savage Landor, of the Imaginary Conversations (in which, as Ellis observes, "a great procession of noble forms of olden times, and of later days, pass sweetly, or haughtily, or sadly, before us"). It will be remembered that Landor was the friend of Robert Southey and Robert Browning. He is called by Allibone, "Poet, soldier, philosopher, essayist, and critic." I have read that Carlyle "thought the journey to Bath not too dear a price to pay for seeing him, and found something royal in him." Here, too, Lowell visited him in 1852, after having made a pilgrimage to Landor's Fiesolan villa. He lived in Bath (generally) from 1835 to 1857. I recollect often looking at, and pointing out to others, the house in St. James's Square

When, after the death of Mr. Beckford (May 2nd, 1844), the estate was put up to public auction, the grounds were sold to an innkeeper of Bath, who proposed to turn them into tea-gardens, but was prevented by the Duchess of Hamilton (a daughter of Mr. Beckford), who purchased them at a large advance, and presented them to the Rector of Walcot as a parochial burying ground. And hither the tomb of Mr. Beckford was subsequently removed from the Abbey Cemetery, in which it had first been placed.

in which he resided, and which I regarded as a Temple of Genius.

Of a different stamp altogether was William Jay, the famous minister of Argyle Chapel, celebrated in his youth as "the Boy Preacher" (before he was twenty-one he had delivered nearly a thousand sermons), named in his age "The Shrewd Old Nestor of the Modern Pulpit," and called by John Foster "the Prince of Preachers"; the author also of numerous books; whose name, like the names of Beckford and Landor, is associated with Bath all the world over. I remember-and it is another of my earliest recollections-attending the Sunday School Jubilee at Argyle Chapel in 1831, when Mr. Jay occupied the pulpit. His preaching, which was the great study and chief employment of his life, was often characterised by a happy selection of texts-witness, for instance, that of his Funeral Sermon for Rowland Hill, "Howl, O fir tree, for the cedar hath fallen!"-and was always remarkable for simplicity, clearness, apt illustrations, skilful Scriptural quotation, and "unction"; and, withal, was so interesting and instructive that persons of high rank and literary distinction were constantly among his hearers. His style has been compared to "a beautiful mosaic arranged with careful regard to the harmony of colours, so that nothing is wanting which can please the eye or gratify the taste." And his discourses were so methodically divided that they were easily remembered even for years. An amusing anecdote is told of him in reference to his published sermons. Mr. Jay was at Cheltenham, staying at the house of a lady of the Episcopal communion. She told him that a minister of the church she attended did not, as she feared, preach the Gospel; and begged him to go and hear him. Mr. Jay went, and being afterwards asked what he thought of the discourse, replied, "That is a very awkward question for me to answer, for it was my own sermon.”

Not far from my own dwelling stood, and still stand, the house, No. 7, New King Street, in which Sir William Herschel -of whom it has been said that no other individual ever added so much to the facts on which our knowledge of the solar system is founded-first lived with his incomparable sister Caroline, his lifelong companion and fellow-worker,

when he brought her to Bath from Hanover in 1772; and No. 19 in the same street, in which he discovered Uranus (née Georgium Sidus), and made many other interesting discoveries; and almost every room of which he turned into a workshop for grinding and polishing his lenses, etc. Often have I looked with veneration on this old Temple, as I regarded it, of Genius and Science; as well as on the Octagon Chapel, in which he was organist, and for which he composed many anthems, chants, and psalm tunes. And, indeed, go where I might in this ancient city, but especially in the neighbourhood of the Baths, the Pump Room, the Grove, the Parades, and the Sydney Gardens (the Vauxhall and Ranelagh of bygone days), the spirits of the past seemed to be present.* There was, moreover, a library and newsroom in Milsom Street, kept by a Miss Williams, which I knew well as a boy, at which quite a number of distinguished persons used at that time to meet, including Landor, Sir William Molesworth, Dr. Falconer, John Arthur Roebuck, then M.P. for the city, etc., etc.

And when I have bent my steps to the suburbs, and especially to Combe Down, where as a boy I have gone "cowsliping," and have entered Prior Park, what shades have surrounded me!-shades of Ralph Allen (the Squire Allworthy of Tom Jones), the father of modern Bath, and the herald of modern Post Office improvement, who there gathered around him Arbuthnot, Fielding (whom Byron called "the prose Homer of human nature"), Garrick, Gay, Horne, Hurd, Pope, Quin, Richardson, Sterne, Swift, Thomson, Warburton, and other stars of his time, including William Pitt, afterwards Earl of Chatham, and even royal personages! I sometimes wandered into the neighbourhood of Freshford, where lived Sir William Napier, the historian of the Peninsular War, who had taken up his residence at Freshford House in 1831, when he was engaged on his noble and imperishable work; and who all but completed it in that charming retreat. Few men in Bath were so well known as Sir William, "our English Thucydides." His striking figure, fine manners, and gentleness to children, appear to have attracted universal attention; and he might frequently be seen among the brilliant circle before mentioned at Miss Williams' in Milsom Street.

* Vide Peach's Historic Houses in Bath.