Книга Eighteenth Century Waifs - читать онлайн бесплатно, автор John Ashton. Cтраница 4
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Eighteenth Century Waifs
Eighteenth Century Waifs
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Eighteenth Century Waifs

Barrington was going forward, but was stopped by one of the Americans, followed by another convict, who struck at him with a sword, which luckily hit against a pistol that the American had pointed at him. Barrington snatched up a handspike, and felled one of them, and the steersman left his wheel and called up the captain and crew. For a few moments Barrington kept the mutineers at bay, when assistance came – and a blunderbuss being fired amongst the convicts, wounding several, they retreated, and were all driven into the hold. An attempt of this kind required the most exemplary punishment; and two of the ring-leaders, with very short shrift, were soon dangling at the yard-arm, whilst others were tasting the cat-o’-nine-tails at the gangway.

The mutiny having been thus quelled, and the convicts re-ironed, the captain had leisure to thank Barrington, and to compliment him on his gallant behaviour in the emergency. He assured Barrington that, when they arrived at the Cape, he would reward him, and that, meanwhile, he was to have every liberty; and orders were given to the steward to supply him with anything he might have occasion for during the voyage. As Barrington observes:

‘I soon experienced the good effects of my late behaviour; as seldom a day passed but some fresh meat or poultry was sent to me by the captain, which considerably raised me in the estimation of my messmates, who were no ways displeased at the substitution of a sea-pie of fowl or fresh meat to a dish of lobscouse, or a piece of salt-junk.’

On the ship’s arrival at the Cape, the captain gave Barrington an order on a merchant there for one hundred dollars, telling him he might at any time avail himself of the ship’s boat going ashore, and visit the town as often as he pleased, if he would only tell the officers when he felt so inclined. It is needless to say he fully availed himself of his privilege, and laid out his money in the purchase of goods most in demand in New South Wales.

On reaching Port Jackson, in consequence of the captain’s report, he had a most gracious reception from the governor, who, finding him a man of ability and intelligence, almost immediately appointed him superintendent of the convicts at Paramatta: his business being chiefly to report the progress made in the different works that were carried on there. Here he had ample leisure and opportunities of studying the natives and their habits and customs, and in his ‘History of New South Wales,’ he gives an interesting account of the aborigines of Australia, now so rapidly approaching extinction. The governor, Philip, made unceasing efforts to win their friendship, and even went to the extent of forcing his acquaintance on them, by the summary method of capturing a few, and keeping them in friendly durance; hoping thus to gain their good-will, so that, on their release, they might report to their friends that the white man was not so bad as he was represented. But it was all in vain; for, beyond a very few converts to civilisation, the savage remained untameable.

By the purchases which Barrington had made at the Cape, as well as the presents he had brought from England, he was enabled to furnish his house in a rather better style than his neighbours, and, moreover, he managed to collect around him a few farm-yard animals, which, together with his great love for horticulture, made his life far from unendurable. His position, as peace-officer of the district, was no sinecure; for the criminal population over whom he had jurisdiction gave him very considerable trouble, more especially after the introduction into the settlement, by some American vessels, of New England rum, the baneful effects of which were very soon apparent: the partiality of the convicts for it being incredible, for they preferred receiving it as the price of their labour to any other article, either of provisions or clothing.

Barrington’s tact and good management in the numerous disturbances that arose, as more convicts were poured into the station, were very conspicuous, and his conduct was altogether such as compensated, in a great measure, for his former misdeeds. His domestic matters improved by degrees, so that his situation was equal, if not preferable, to that of most of the settlers there, and, to crown all, in September, 1799, the Governor – Hunter – presented him with an absolute pardon, complimenting him on his faithful discharge of the duties which had been entrusted to him, and the integrity and uniform uprightness of his conduct, and, furthermore, said that his general behaviour, during his whole residence, perfectly obliterated every trace of his former indiscretions.

Barrington was further appointed a principal superintendent of the district of Paramatta, with a permanent salary of £50 per annum (his situation having been, hitherto, only provisional) and, eventually, the confidence he inspired was such that he was raised to the office of Chief of the constabulary force of the Colony, on the principle, it may be presumed, of ‘setting a thief to catch a thief.’ In this post he gave great satisfaction, and died, much respected by all who knew him, at Botany Bay.

He wrote ‘The History of New South Wales,’ &c. London, 1802; a most valuable and interesting book. ‘An Account of a Voyage to New South Wales,’ London, 1803. ‘The History of New Holland,’ London, 1808; and a book was published with his name as author, ‘The London Spy,’ which went through several editions.

MILTON’S BONES

In the first series of Notes and Queries, vol. v. p. 369 (April 17, 1852), is a note from which the following is an extract: ‘In vol. v, p. 275, mention is made of Cromwell’s skull; so it may not be out of place to tell you that I have handled one of Milton’s ribs. Cowper speaks indignantly of the desecration of our divine poet’s grave, on which shameful occurrence some of the bones were clandestinely distributed. One fell to the lot of an old and esteemed friend, and between forty-five and fifty years ago, at his house, not many miles from London, I have often examined the said rib-bone.’

The lines of Cowper’s to which he refers were written in August, 1790, and are entitled

STANZASOn the late indecent Liberties taken with the remains of the great Milton. Anno 1790‘Me too, perchance, in future days,The sculptured stone shall show,With Paphian myrtle or with baysParnassian on my brow.But I, or ere that season come,Escaped from every care,Shall reach my refuge in the tomb,And sleep securely there.’16So sang, in Roman tone and style,The youthful bard, ere longOrdain’d to grace his native isleWith her sublimest song.Who then but must conceive disdain,Hearing the deed unblest,Of wretches who have dared profaneHis dread sepulchral rest?Ill fare the hands that heaved the stonesWhere Milton’s ashes lay,That trembled not to grasp his bonesAnd steal his dust away!O ill-requited bard! neglectThy living worth repaid,And blind idolatrous respectAs much affronts thee dead.

Leigh Hunt possessed a lock of Milton’s hair which had been given to him by a physician – and over which he went into such rhapsodies that he composed no less than three sonnets addressed to the donor – which may be found in his ‘Foliage,’ ed. 1818, pp. 131, 132, 133. The following is the best: —

TO – MD.,On his giving me a lock of Milton’s hairIt lies before me there, and my own breathStirs its thin outer threads, as though besideThe living head I stood in honoured pride,Talking of lovely things that conquered death.Perhaps he pressed it once, or underneathRan his fine fingers, when he leant, blank-eyed,And saw, in fancy, Adam and his brideWith their heaped locks, or his own Delphic wreath.There seems a love in hair, though it be dead.It is the gentlest, yet the strongest threadOf our frail plant – a blossom from the treeSurviving the proud trunk; – as if it said,Patience and Gentleness is Power. In meBehold affectionate eternity.

How were these personal relics obtained? By rifling his tomb. Shakespeare solemnly cursed anyone who should dare to meddle with his dead body, and his remains are believed to be intact.

‘Good friend, for Jesus’ sake, forbearTo dig the dust inclosed here:Blest be the man who spares these stones,And cursed be he who moves my bones.’

But Milton laid no such interdict upon his poor dead body – and it was not very long after his burial, which took place in 1674, that the stone which covered it, and indicated his resting-place, was removed, as Aubrey tells us in his ‘Lives’ (vol. iii, p. 450). ‘His stone is now removed. About two years since (1681) the two steppes to the communion-table were raysed, Ighesse, Jo. Speed,17 and he lie together.’ And so it came to pass that, in the church of St. Giles’, Cripplegate, where he was buried, there was no memorial of the place where he was laid, nor, indeed, anything to mark the fact of his burial in that church until, in 1793, Samuel Whitbread set up a fine marble bust of the poet, by Bacon, with an inscription giving the dates of his birth and death, and recording the fact that his father was also interred there.

It is probable that Mr. Whitbread was moved thereto by the alleged desecration of Milton’s tomb in 1790, of which there is a good account written by Philip Neve, of Furnival’s Inn, which is entitled, ‘A Narrative of the Disinterment of Milton’s coffin, in the Parish-Church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, on Wednesday, August 4th, 1790; and the Treatment of the Corpse during that and the following day.’

As this narrative is not long, I propose to give it in its entirety, because to condense it would be to spoil it, and, by giving it in extenso, the reader will be better able to judge whether it was really Milton’s body which was exhumed.

A NARRATIVE, &c

Having read in the Public Advertiser, on Saturday, the 7th of August, 1790, that Milton’s coffin had been dug up in the parish church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, and was there to be seen, I went immediately to the church, and found the latter part of the information to be untrue; but, from conversations on that day, on Monday, the 9th, and on Tuesday, the 10th of August, with Mr. Thomas Strong, Solicitor and F.A.S., Red Cross Street, Vestry-Clerk; Mr. John Cole, Barbican, Silversmith, Churchwarden; Mr. John Laming, Barbican, Pawnbroker; and Mr. Fountain, Beech Lane, Publican, Overseers; Mr. Taylor, of Stanton, Derbyshire, Surgeon; a friend of Mr. Laming, and a visitor in his house; Mr. William Ascough, Coffin-maker, Fore Street, Parish Clerk; Benjamin Holmes and Thomas Hawkesworth, journeymen to Mr. Ascough; Mrs. Hoppey, Fore Street, Sexton; Mr. Ellis, No. 9, Lamb’s Chapel, comedian of the Royalty-theatre; and John Poole (son of Rowland Poole), Watch-spring maker, Jacob’s Passage, Barbican, the following facts are established:

It being in the contemplation of some persons to bestow a considerable sum of money in erecting a monument, in the parish church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, to the memory of Milton, and the particular spot of his interment in that church having for many years past been ascertained only by tradition, several of the principal parishioners have, at their meetings, frequently expressed a wish that his coffin should be dug for, that incontestable evidence of its exact situation might be established, before the said monument should be erected. The entry, among the burials, in the register-book, 12th of November, 1674, is ‘John Milton, Gentleman, consumption, chancell.’ The church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, was built in 1030, was burnt down (except the steeple) and rebuilt in 1545; was repaired in 1682; and again in 1710. In the repair of 1782, an alteration took place in the disposition of the inside of the church; the pulpit was removed from the second pillar, against which it stood, north of the chancel, to the south side of the present chancel, which was then formed, and pews were built over the old chancel. The tradition has always been that Milton was buried in the chancel, under the clerk’s desk; but the circumstance of the alteration in the church, not having, of late years, been attended to, the clerk, sexton, and other officers of the parish have misguided inquirers, by showing the spot under the clerk’s desk, in the present chancel, as the place of Milton’s interment. I have twice, at different periods, been shown that spot as the place where Milton lay. Even Mr. Baskerville, who died a few years ago, and who had requested, in his will, to be buried by Milton, was deposited in the above-mentioned spot of the present chancel, in pious intention of compliance with his request. The church is now, August, 1790, under a general repair, by contract, for £1,350, and Mr. Strong, Mr. Cole, and other parishioners, having very prudently judged that the search would be made with much less inconvenience to the parish at this time, when the church is under repair, than at any period after the said repair should be completed, Mr. Cole, in the last days of July, ordered the workmen to dig in search of the coffin. Mr. Ascough, his father, and grandfather, have been parish clerks of St. Giles for upwards of ninety years past. His grandfather, who died in February, 1759-60, aged eighty-four, used often to say that Milton had been buried under the clerk’s desk in the chancel. John Poole, aged seventy, used to hear his father talk of Milton’s person, from those who had seen him; and also, that he lay under the common-councilmen’s pew. The common-councilmen’s pew is built over that very part of the old chancel, where the former clerk’s desk stood. These traditions in the parish reported to Mr. Strong and Mr. Cole readily directed them to dig from the present chancel, northwards, towards the pillar, against which the former pulpit and desk had stood. On Tuesday afternoon, August 3rd, notice was brought to Messrs. Strong and Cole that the coffin was discovered. They went immediately to the church, and, by help of a candle, proceeded under the common-councilmen’s pew to the place where the coffin lay. It was in a chalky soil, and directly over a wooden coffin, supposed to be that of Milton’s father; tradition having always reported that Milton was buried next to his father. The registry of the father of Milton, among the burials, in the parish-book, is ‘John Melton, Gentleman, 15th of March, 1646-7.’ In digging through the whole space from the present chancel, where the ground was opened, to the situation of the former clerk’s desk, there was not found any other coffin, which could raise the smallest doubt of this being Milton’s. The two oldest found in the ground had inscriptions, which Mr. Strong copied; they were of as late dates as 1727 and 1739. When he and Mr. Cole had examined the coffin, they ordered water and a brush to be brought, that they might wash it, in search of an inscription, or initials, or date; but, upon its being carefully cleansed, none was found.

The following particulars were given me in writing by Mr. Strong, and they contain the admeasurement of the coffin, as taken by him, with a rule. ‘A leaden coffin, found under the common-councilmen’s pew, on the north side of the chancel, nearly under the place where the old pulpit and clerk’s desk stood. The coffin appeared to be old, much corroded, and without any inscription or plate upon it. It was, in length, five feet ten inches, and in width, at the broadest part, over the shoulders, one foot four inches.’ Conjecture naturally pointed out, both to Mr. Strong and Mr. Cole, that, by moving the leaden coffin, there would be a great chance of finding some inscription on the wooden one underneath; but, with a just and laudable piety, they disdained to disturb the sacred ashes, after a requiem of one hundred and sixteen years; and having satisfied their curiosity, and ascertained the fact, which was the subject of it, Mr. Cole ordered the ground to be closed. This was on the afternoon of Tuesday, August the 3rd; and, when I waited on Mr. Strong, on Saturday morning, the 7th, he informed me that the coffin had been found on the Tuesday, had been examined, washed, and measured by him and Mr. Cole; but that the ground had been immediately closed, when they left the church; – not doubting that Mr. Cole’s order had been punctually obeyed. But the direct contrary appears to have been the fact.

On Tuesday evening, the 3rd, Mr. Cole, Messrs. Laming and Taylor, Holmes, &c., had a merry meeting, as Mr. Cole expresses himself, at Fountain’s house; the conversation there turned upon Milton’s coffin having been discovered; and, in the course of the evening, several of those present expressing a desire to see it, Mr. Cole assented that, if the ground was not already closed, the closing of it should be deferred until they should have satisfied their curiosity. Between eight and nine on Wednesday morning, the 4th, the two overseers (Laming and Fountain) and Mr. Taylor, went to the house of Ascough, the clerk, which leads into the church-yard, and asked for Holmes; they then went with Holmes into the church, and pulled the coffin, which lay deep in the ground, from its original station to the edge of the excavation, into day-light. Mr. Laming told me that, to assist in thus removing it, he put his hand into a corroded hole, which he saw in the lead, at the coffin foot. When they had thus removed it, the overseers asked Holmes if he could open it, that they might see the body. Holmes immediately fetched a mallet and a chisel, and cut open the top of the coffin, slantwise from the head, as low as the breast; so that the top, being doubled backward, they could see the corpse; he cut it open also at the foot. Upon first view of the body, it appeared perfect, and completely enveloped in the shroud, which was of many folds; the ribs standing up regularly. When they disturbed the shroud, the ribs fell. Mr. Fountain told me that he pulled hard at the teeth, which resisted, until some one hit them a knock with a stone, when they easily came out. There were but five in the upper jaw, which were all perfectly sound and white, and all taken by Mr. Fountain; he gave one of them to Mr. Laming; Mr. Laming also took one from the lower jaw; and Mr. Taylor took two from it. Mr. Laming told me that he had, at one time, a mind to bring away the whole under-jaw, with the teeth in it; he had it in his hand, but tossed it back again. Also that he lifted up the head, and saw a great quantity of hair, which lay straight and even behind the head, and in the state of hair which had been combed and tied together before interment; but it was wet, the coffin having considerable corroded holes, both at the head and foot, and a great part of the water with which it had been washed on the Tuesday afternoon having run into it. The overseers and Mr. Taylor went away soon afterwards, and Messrs. Laming and Taylor went home to get scissors to cut off some of the hair: they returned about ten, when Mr. Laming poked his stick against the head, and brought some of the hair over the forehead; but, as they saw the scissors were not necessary, Mr. Taylor took up the hair, as it lay on the forehead, and carried it home. The water, which had got into the coffin on the Tuesday afternoon, had made a sludge at the bottom of it, emitting a nauseous smell, and which occasioned Mr. Laming to use his stick to procure the hair, and not to lift up the head a second time. Mr. Laming also took out one of the leg-bones, but threw it in again. Holmes went out of church, whilst Messrs. Laming, Taylor, and Fountain were there the first time, and he returned when the two former were come the second time. When Messrs. Laming and Taylor had finally quitted the church, the coffin was removed from the edge of the excavation back to its original station; but was no otherwise closed than by the lid, where it had been cut and reversed, being bent down again. Mr. Ascough, the clerk, was from home the greater part of that day, and Mrs. Hoppey, the sexton, was from home the whole day. Elizabeth Grant, the grave-digger, who is servant to Mrs. Hoppey, therefore now took possession of the coffin; and, as its situation under the common-councilmen’s pew would not admit of its being seen without the help of a candle, she kept a tinder-box in the excavation, and, when any persons came, struck a light, and conducted them under the pew, where, by reversing the part of the lid which had been cut, she exhibited the body, at first for sixpence, and afterwards for threepence and twopence each person. The workers in the church kept the doors locked to all those who would not pay the price of a pot of beer for entrance, and many, to avoid that payment, got in at a window at the west end of the church, near to Mr. Ascough’s counting-house.

I went on Saturday, the 7th, to Mr. Laming’s house, to request a lock of the hair; but, not meeting with Mr. Taylor at home, went again on Monday, the 9th, when Mr. Taylor gave me part of what hair he had reserved for himself. Hawkesworth having informed me, on the Saturday, that Mr. Ellis, the player, had taken some hair, and that he had seen him take a rib-bone, and carry it away in paper under his coat, I went from Mr. Laming’s on Monday to Mr. Ellis, who told me that he had paid 6d. to Elizabeth Grant for seeing the body; and that he had lifted up the head, and taken from the sludge under it a small quantity of hair, with which was a piece of the shroud, and, adhering to the hair, a bit of the skin of the skull, of about the size of a shilling. He then put them all into my hands, with the rib-bone, which appeared to be one of the upper ribs. The piece of the shroud was of coarse linen. The hair which he had taken was short; a small part of it he had washed, and the remainder was in the clotted state in which he had taken it. He told me that he had tried to reach down as low as the hands of the corpse, but had not been able to effect it. The washed hair corresponded exactly with that in my possession, and which I had just received from Mr. Taylor. Ellis is a very ingenious worker in hair, and he said that, thinking it would be of great advantage to him to possess a quantity of Milton’s hair, he had returned to the church on Thursday, and had made his endeavours to get access a second time to the body; but had been refused admittance. Hawkesworth took a tooth, and broke a bit off the coffin; of which I was informed by Mr. Ascough. I purchased them both of Hawkesworth, on Saturday the 7th, for 2s.; and he told me that, when he took the tooth out, there were but two more remaining; one of which was afterwards taken by another of Mr. Ascough’s men. And Ellis informed me that, at the time when he was there, on Wednesday, the teeth were all gone; but the overseers say they think that all the teeth were not taken out of the coffin, though displaced from the jaws, but that some of them must have fallen among the other bones, as they very readily came out, after the first were drawn. Haslib, son of William Haslib, of Jewin Street, undertaker, took one of the small bones, which I purchased of him, on Monday, the 9th, for 2s.

With respect to the identity of the person; anyone must be a skeptic against violent presumptions to entertain a doubt of its being that of Milton. The parish traditions of the spot; the age of the coffin – none other found in the ground which can at all contest with it, or render it suspicious —Poole’s tradition that those who had conversed with his father about Milton’s person always described him to have been thin, with long hair; the entry in the register-book that Milton died of consumption, are all strong confirmations, with the size of the coffin, of the identity of the person. If it be objected that, against the pillar where the pulpit formerly stood, and immediately over the common-councilmen’s pew, is a monument to the family of Smith, which shows that ‘near that place’ were buried, in 1653, Richard Smith, aged 17; in 1655, John Smith, aged 32; and in 1664, Elizabeth Smith, the mother, aged 64; and in 1675, Richard Smith, the father, aged 85; it may be answered that, if the coffin in question be one of these, the others should be there also. The corpse is certainly not that of a man of 85; and, if it be supposed one of the first named males of the Smith family, certainly the two later coffins should appear; but none such were found, nor could that monument have been erected until many years after the death of the last person mentioned in the inscription; and it was then placed there, as it expresses, not by any of the family, but at the expense of friends. The flatness of the pillar, after the pulpit had been removed, offered an advantageous situation for it; and ‘near this place,’ upon a mural monument, will always admit of a liberal construction. Holmes, who is much respected in that parish, and very ingenious and intelligent in his business, says that a leaden coffin, when the inner wooden-case is perished, must, from pressure and its own weight, shrink in breadth, and that, therefore, more than the present admeasurement of this coffin across the shoulders must have been its original breadth. There is evidence, also, that it was incurvated, both on the top and at the sides, at the time when it was discovered. But the strongest of all confirmations is the hair, both in its length and colour. Behold Faithorne’s quarto-print of Milton taken ad vivum in 1760, five years before Milton’s death. Observe the short locks growing towards the forehead, and the long ones flowing from the same place down the sides of the face. The whole quantity of hair which Mr. Taylor took was from the forehead, and all taken at one grasp. I measured on Monday morning, the 9th, that lock of it which he had given to Mr. Laming, six inches and a half by a rule; and the lock of it which he gave to me, taken at the same time, and from the same place, measures only two inches and a half. In the reign of Charles II. how few, besides Milton, wore their own hair! Wood says Milton had light-brown hair, the very description of that which we possess; and, what may seem extraordinary, it is yet so strong that Mr. Laming, to cleanse it from its clotted state, let the cistern-cock run on it for near a minute, and then rubbed it between his fingers without injury.