FROM the numerous instances on record, of individuals who have belonged
to the “gentle craft” (by which name those who have learned the art of
shoemaking are designated), and who by their talents have acquired
distinction and eminence among their fellow-men, as statesmen, patriots,
scholars, poets, or professional men, we select the following as
interesting, and appropriate to this work.
“The self-taught Sherman urged his reasons clear.”
Humphrey’s Poems.
Among the illustrious characters whose names are inscribed upon the
brightest record that adorns the annals of America, few possessed more
solid attainments than Roger Sherman. He belonged to that class of
statesmen who seek rather to convince the reason, than to triumph over
the passions of men. The vigor of his mind appeared more conspicuous in
the plain and simple manner in which it was elicited, than if it had
been ornamented with all the beauties of elocution. But the energy of
his address was not diminished by the absence of fanciful diction, nor
the solidity of his views less admired because his feelings were
partially suppressed. Without indulging in those brilliant bursts of
oratory which please and sparkle for a moment, his impressive manner
displayed ideas founded upon calm deliberation, and a clear perception
of the justice of his cause. By a uniform and dispassionate course, he
attained extensive influence in the councils of his country, and
attracted the admiration and esteem of his compatriots. It has been said
of him that he seldom failed to procure the adoption of any measure
which he advocated, and which he considered essential to the public
good.
Captain John Sherman, the ancestor of the subject of this sketch,
emigrated to Massachusetts from Dedham, in England, about the year 1635.
William, the father of Roger Sherman, was a farmer in moderate
circumstances, and resided at Newton, Massachusetts, where the latter
was born, April 19, 1721. The family removed to Stoughton, in the same
state, in 1723.
There is a striking analogy between the early lives and self-promotion
of Mr. Sherman and of Doctor Franklin. Surmounting difficulties which to
common minds would have been insuperable, they gradually ascended from
the humbler walks of life, to a prominent station among men. Of the
childhood and early youth of Sherman, little is known. He received no
other education than the ordinary country schools in Massachusetts at
that period afforded. He was neither assisted by a public education, nor
private tuition. All the valuable attainments which he exhibited in his
future career, were the result of his own vigorous efforts. By his
ardent thirst for knowledge, and his indefatigable industry, he attained
a very commendable acquaintance with general science, the system of
logic, geography, mathematics; the general principles of philosophy,
history, theology; and particularly law and politics. He was early
apprenticed to a shoemaker, and pursued that occupation until he was
twenty-two years of age. He was accustomed to sit at his work with a
book before him, devoting every moment that his eyes could be spared
from the occupation in which he was engaged.
Mr. Sherman was not one of those to whom the retrospect of past life was
unpleasant. During the revolutionary war, he was placed on a committee
of Congress, to examine certain army accounts, among which was a
contract for the supply of shoes. He informed the committee that the
public had been defrauded, and that the charges were exorbitant, which
he proved by specifying the cost of the leather and other materials, and
of the workmanship. The minuteness with which this was done, exciting
some surprise, he informed the committee that he was by trade a
shoemaker, and knew the value of every article.
The care of a numerous family of brothers and sisters, devolved on Mr.
Sherman at the age of nineteen, on the death of his father, in 1741. He
kindly provided for his mother, and assisted two brothers, afterward
clergymen, to obtain an education.
He removed in 1743 to New Milford, Connecticut, travelling on foot, and
carrying his shoemaker’s tools upon his back. Soon after this, he
relinquished his trade, and became the partner of an elder brother, a
country merchant at New Milford, which connexion he continued until his
admission to the bar in 1754. He was appointed surveyor of lands for the
county where he resided in 1745. Astronomical calculations of as early
date as 1748, have been found among his papers. They were made by him
for an almanac, then published in New York, and which he continued to
supply for several successive years.
About this time, a lawyer whom he had occasion to consult on business,
advised him to devote his attention to the study of the law. This
counsel his circumstances did not permit him at once to follow, but the
intimation he then received, that his mind was fitted for higher
pursuits, no doubt induced him to devote his leisure moments to those
studies which led him to honor and distinguished usefulness. Having
acquired a competent knowledge of the law, he was admitted to practice
in 1754. In the following year he was appointed a justice of the peace;
he was also chosen a representative in the legislature, and a deacon in
the church. Removing to New Haven in 1761, he was, in 1766, chosen an
assistant or member of the upper house of the colonial legislature. The
same year he was appointed a judge of the superior court of Connecticut,
which office he held for 23 years, as he did that of assistant 19 years.
His legal opinions were received with great deference by the profession,
and their correctness was generally acknowledged.
Mr. Sherman took an early and active part in our revolutionary struggle,
and in 1774 was chosen delegate to the first continental congress. Of
that body and the federal congress, he continued a member for the long
period of 19 years, till his death in 1793. In June, 1776, he was
appointed on the committee with Jefferson, Adams, Franklin, and R. R.
Livingston, to prepare the declaration of independence, of which
instrument, when reported, and adopted by congress, he was one of the
signers. John Adams said of Mr. Sherman, that he was “one of the
soundest and strongest pillars of the revolution.” While he was
performing indefatigable labors in Congress, he devoted unremitting
attention to duties at home. During the war he was a member of the
governor’s council of safety.
In 1784, Mr. Sherman was elected mayor of the city of New Haven. About
the same time he was one of a committee of two, appointed by the
legislature of Connecticut, to revise the laws of the state. In 1787, he
was chosen, in conjunction with William Samuel Johnson, and Oliver
Ellsworth, a delegate to the national convention, to frame the
constitution of the United States. In that body Mr. Sherman bore a
conspicuous part, in debate and on committees. Having signed the
constitution, as adopted, his exertions in procuring the ratification in
Connecticut, were highly important and successful. He published a series
of papers, under the signature of “citizen,” which materially
influenced the public mind in favor of its adoption. After the
ratification of the constitution, he was immediately elected by the
people, as one of their representatives in congress. Though approaching
the seventieth year of his age, he yet took a prominent part in the
great topics of discussion which came before the first congress. He
zealously co-operated with Washington, Hamilton, and others of the same
school of politics, in organizing the government under the constitution.
In 1791, a vacancy having occurred in the senate of the United States,
Mr. Sherman was elected to fill that elevated station, in which he
continued until his death, on the 23d of July, 1793, when he was
gathered to his fathers, in the seventy third year of his age. He died
in full possession of all his powers, both of mind and body.
“The legacy which Mr. Sherman has bequeathed to his countrymen,” says
Professor Edwards, “is indeed invaluable. The Romans never ceased to
mention with inexpressible gratitude, the heroism, magnanimity,
contentment, disinterestedness, and noble public services of him who was
called from the plough to the dictator’s chair. His example was a light
to all subsequent ages. So among the galaxy of great men who shine along
the paths of our past history, we can scarcely refer to one, save
Washington, whose glory will be more steady and unfading than that of
Roger Sherman.”
In regard to worldly circumstances, Mr. Sherman was very happily
situated. Beginning life without the aid of patrimonial wealth, or
powerful connexions, he, by his industry and skilful management, always
lived in a comfortable manner, and his property was gradually
increasing. He was never grasping nor avaricious, but liberal in
feeling, and in proportion to his means, liberal in acts of beneficence
and hospitality. His manner of living was in accordance with the
strictest republican simplicity.
In his person, Mr. Sherman was considerably above the common stature;
his form was erect and well-proportioned; his complexion very fair, and
his countenance manly and agreeable, indicating mildness, benignity, and
decision. He did not neglect those smaller matters, without the
observance of which a high station can not be sustained with propriety
and dignity. In his dress he was plain, but remarkably neat; and in his
treatment of men of every class, he was universally affable and
obliging. In the private relations of husband, father, and friend, he
was uniformly affectionate, faithful, and constant.
As a theologian, Mr. Sherman was capable of conversing on the most
important subjects, with reputation to himself, and improvement to
others. As an avowed professor of religion, he did not hesitate to
appear openly in its defence, and maintain the doctrines of
Christianity. Among his correspondents were Dr. Jonathan Edwards, Dr.
Hopkins, Dr. Trumbull, President Dickinson, President Witherspoon,
Doctor Johnson of Connecticut, and many others.
This gentleman, one of the most distinguished members of the bar in the
state of Virginia, a district of which he represented in Congress for
eight years, namely, from 1809 to 1817, was in early life a shoemaker.
His colleague, John Randolph of Roanoke, once alluded to the fact in
debate, in his usual sarcastic mode, to which Mr. Sheffey retorted by
acknowledging the truth of the allusion, and saying in substance: “The
difference, sir, between the gentleman and myself, is this: that if his
lot had been cast like mine, in early life, instead of rising by
industry, enterprise, and study, above his calling, and occupying a seat
on this floor, with which each of us is now honored by our constituents,
he would at this time have been still engaged at his last on the
workbench.”
Mr. Sheffey was a conspicuous member of congress, during the four terms
in which he served in the house, able in debate, and respected as a man
of genius and good judgment. In politics he was attached to the federal
party, and opposed to the declaration of war with Great Britain, and
other measures of Mr. Madison’s administration. On returning from
congress, two years after the conclusion of the war, he applied himself
to the practice of his profession as a lawyer, sustaining a high rank
among the members of the bar in the ancient dominion. On his death, in
December, 1830, the courts of Virginia, and others, united in public
demonstrations of respect to his memory, as a man of genius, a
distinguished counsellor, and an eminent and useful citizen. The records
of debates in congress, bear ample testimony to his talents as a
statesman and orator, among the able men with whom he was associated in
the councils of the nation.
Among the many enterprising sons of New England, who have risen from
humble life, and distinguished themselves by their industry and talents,
the name of Gideon Lee stands conspicuous. Self-educated, and
emphatically self-made, he rose to influence and distinction by the
practice of those virtues which secure the respect and confidence of
mankind. He rose from poverty and obscurity, to occupy, and worthily to
fill, the most honorable situations in the gift of his fellow-citizens,
and, by a long life of great public and private usefulness,
distinguished for honesty, industry, sobriety, benevolence—and beyond
this, evincing an enthusiasm in the cause of education, of the moral and
intellectual culture of the people—entitled himself to be ranked as a
patriot and public benefactor.
Gideon Lee was born in the town of Amherst, in the state of
Massachusetts, on the 27th of April, 1778. He lost his father when quite
a child, and was left to the care of his mother, of whom he always spoke
in terms of the warmest affection. After his father’s death, he went to
reside with an uncle, a farmer, in whose service he discharged the
humble duties of looking after the cattle, and was employed in such
other occupations as were suitable to his strength and age.
After remaining some time under the care, and in the employment of his
uncle, he was apprenticed to the tanning and shoemaking business, it
being then the practice to conduct both branches by the same person,
working at the former in the summer, and at the latter during the winter
months. For the tanning department, however, he always retained the
strongest partiality. Up to this period, his opportunities for acquiring
knowledge were extremely limited: a few weeks’ schooling during the
winter, and such books as accidentally fell in his way, were all the
means vouchsafed to him. After learning his trade, or trades, he
commenced business on his own account, in the town of Worthington,
Massachusetts, and, by his industry and strict attention to it, won the
regard and confidence of his neighbors. He was enabled to obtain credit
for the purchase of leather, which he manufactured into shoes; always
paying promptly for it at the period he had agreed. The first hundred
dollars he earned, and that he could honestly call his own, he
appropriated to educating himself at the Westfield academy. When that
sum was exhausted, he again betook himself to his trade. His diligence
and application were remarkable; sixteen hours out of the twenty-four,
he usually devoted to labor.
After prosecuting his business for some time alone, he formed a
partnership in trade with a friend; subsequently they were burned out,
and Mr. Lee lost what little property he had accumulated. He then
dissolved with his partner, and removed to the city of New York. But
before establishing himself permanently in the city, he made a voyage
to St. Mary’s, Georgia, taking with him a small adventure in leather.
The adventure not proving a profitable one, he returned to New York,
after remaining one winter at the south. The vessel in which he took
passage being wrecked off Cape Fear, he made the journey to New York, in
company with a Yankee friend, on foot. In one instance on this
pedestrian journey, his money being exhausted, he chopped wood for a
farmer, to pay for his food and lodging.
About the year 1807, Mr. Lee commenced business as a leather-dealer, in
a small building in Ferry street, New York. Being appointed agent for an
extensive tanning establishment in Massachusetts, called the “Hampshire
Leather Manufactory,” he laid the foundation in the city of New York,
for a trade in a branch of domestic industry, which speedily rivalled
any in the other Atlantic cities. His prudence, punctuality, and
economy, enabled him to accumulate means for enlarging his business; and
but for feeble health, the future to him was a bright path of success.
In this business, namely, the selling of leather on commission, he
continued for about thirty years, until his final retirement from
mercantile pursuits.
In the fall of 1822, Mr. Lee was elected a member of assembly, in the
New York legislature, where he distinguished himself by his close
application to the business of the house, being seldom out of his place
while it was in session. In 1833, he was elected by the common council
of New York, mayor of that city, having previously served several years
in the capacity of alderman. While discharging the duties of the
mayoralty, he withdrew entirely from active participation in managing
the business of his mercantile house, and devoted all his time and
abilities to the public service. It was a maxim with him, that “whatever
was worth doing at all was worth doing well.” In his communications to
the common council, he never failed on suitable occasions to call their
attention to the subject of public education;—it was a theme on which
he never tired.
In 1834, an alteration in the charter, made the office of mayor of New
York elective by the people. A nomination was offered to Mr. Lee, but he
declined a re-election, finding it necessary to return to his mercantile
business. From this period, he contemplated retiring from commercial
pursuits, and accordingly commenced winding up the affairs of his
long-established concern in Ferry street. It was not, however, until the
fall of 1836, that he felt himself in a situation to retire from its
management.
He then again entered for a short period into public life, and
represented the city of New York in the twenty-fourth congress, where he
was distinguished for his business habits, for his close attention to
the interests of his constituents, and, we might also say, for making
short speeches. Disdaining the arts of the demagogue, he made no efforts
to acquire an ephemeral popularity in the usual modes, and was
consequently not re-elected to congress. His political life may be said
to have ended with the termination of the session of congress, in March,
1837, with an exception. He was in 1840, chosen a member of the
electoral college of New York, for choosing the president and
vice-president of the United States.
In politics Mr. Lee was a democratic republican, and supported the
administrations of Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, and Jackson.
Disapproving, however, of the measures of Mr. Van Buren’s
administration, he became what was called a “conservative,” acting with
the whigs after the year 1837, and was chosen by that party one of the
electoral college, which gave the vote of the state to General Harrison,
as president of the United States.
Shortly after retiring from congress, Mr. Lee removed to the village of
Geneva, in Ontario county, New York, where he had purchased a beautiful
estate; and in improving and adorning it, and in the education of his
children, he contemplated spending the remainder of his days. He had,
however, but barely commenced, as he expressed it, “winding up his end
of life,” in the manner he had so long and ardently desired, when death
removed him from his labors. He was seized with bilious fever,
accompanied by neuralgia, early in July, 1841, and on the 21st of August
succeeding, was gathered to his fathers, in the sixty-fourth year of his
age, leaving to his family an ample fortune, the honest fruits of a
well-spent life.
Of one who thus lived, it will create no surprise to be informed that he
was prepared to die. Death did not find him a reluctant or unwilling
voyager to his dark domains. At his beckoning he laid down his plans and
cares with cheerfulness and pious resignation to the divine will, and
sunk with calm dignity to his last repose, with a grateful heart for all
the blessings and mercies he had experienced. He died full of faith and
hope in the promises of his Redeemer.
“The lamp of life of such men,” says his friend and biographer, “can not
be extinguished without casting around a gloom; their absence from
society creates a void that must be ever felt. They may leave no blazing
reputation to dazzle or astonish, but they leave one that distributes
its invigorating influence, wherever virtue has a friend, or
philanthropy an advocate.”[3]
Those individuals who have raised themselves from obscurity to
distinction, always attract our notice; but when that distinction has
been attained in spite of obstacles apparently insurmountable, they
become the especial objects of our curiosity. This feeling is not only
laudable but beneficial. Curiosity leads to knowledge; knowledge causes
admiration; and admiration becomes an incentive to honorable effort. It
is this which gives to biography its value; and of few persons can the
biography be more instructive than that of the subject of this sketch.
Samuel Drew was born on the third of March, 1765, near St. Austell, in
the county of Cornwall, England. He was the second son of four children.
His parents were poor, but pious. His father, who earned a bare
subsistence for himself and family by his daily labor as a husbandman,
was a convert to methodism under the preaching of John Wesley, whose
society he joined in early life. His mother, whom he had the misfortune
to lose before he was ten years old, was a decidedly religious woman,
and of strong intellectual powers. Of her memory he always spoke with
reverence and affection; and the pious lessons which, in his infancy, he
learned from her, were never forgotten.
The poverty of his parents prevented him from receiving many of the
advantages of an early education. He however learned to form the letters
of the alphabet, previous to his mother’s death, but at eight years of
age, he was taken from school, and sent to work at a mill near his
father’s cottage, where tinners refined their ore. His wages were at
first three halfpence, and were afterward advanced to two pence per day.
When rather more than ten years old, his father bound him an apprentice
for nine years, to a shoemaker, in an adjoining parish.
During his apprenticeship, Drew had occasional access to a little
publication called the “Weekly Entertainer,” which was then extensively
circulated in the west of England, and contained many tales and
narratives which interested him. Into the narratives of adventures
connected with the war of the American revolution, he entered with all
the zeal of a partisan on the side of the Americans. He felt a strong
desire to join himself to a privateer, but having no money and few
clothes, the idea and scheme were vain. Besides these periodicals, he
read but little, and nearly lost the art of writing. The treatment he
received, while an apprentice, being such as his disposition could not
brook, he left his master when about seventeen, and refused to return.
His father compounded for the residue of the term, and procured him
employment, and further instruction in his business, at Millbrook, near
Plymouth, in which place and neighborhood he continued about three
years. In 1785, when about twenty years of age, he went to St. Austell,
to conduct the shoemaking business for a person who was by trade a
saddler, and had acquired some knowledge of book-binding. With this
employer he continued about two years, and then commenced business as a
shoemaker in that town, on his own account. A miller with whom he was
acquainted, lent him five pounds, as capital in trade, fourteen
shillings being the total of his own cash, his thirst for knowledge
having induced him to lay out in books such money as he could save from
his earnings as a journeyman. He joined the methodist society in 1785,
soon after becoming the subject of religious impressions, under the
preaching of the celebrated Adam Clarke, with whom he soon afterward
became acquainted; and the friendship and intimacy of that
distinguished divine, Mr. Drew continued to enjoy through life. By no
one were the peculiar and extraordinary talents developed by Mr. Drew,
more fully appreciated than by his friend Doctor Clarke. Soon after
joining the methodists, Mr. Drew’s abilities were called into exercise;
he was appointed to the charge of a class, and employed as a local
preacher. In this field, except as a class-leader, which he resigned
into other hands, he continued to labor until a few months before his
decease.
The occasional perusal of books which were brought to the shop of his
employer to be bound, awakened Mr. Drew to a consciousness of his own
ignorance, and determined him to acquire knowledge. Every moment he
could snatch from sleep and labor, was now devoted to the reading of
such books as his limited finances placed within his reach. One of the
difficulties which he had to encounter at this outset of his literary
career, arose from his ignorance of the import of words. To overcome
this, he found it necessary, while reading, to keep a dictionary
constantly at hand. The process was tedious, but it was unavoidable; and
difficulties lessened at every step.
A new world was now opened before him. All its paths were untried, and
in what direction to push his inquiries, he was yet undecided.
Astronomy first attracted his attention; but to the pursuit of this, his
ignorance of arithmetic and geometry was an insuperable obstacle. In
history, to which his views were next directed, no proficiency could be
made without extensive reading, and he had too little command of time
and money for such a purpose. The religious bias which he had received,
tended, however, to give a theological direction to his studies, and
from the apparently accidental inspection of “Locke’s Essay on the Human
Understanding,” he acquired a predilection for the higher exercises of
the mind.
In April, 1791, Mr. Drew married, being then in a creditable way of
business as a shoemaker. He was not yet an author, but had obtained a
name for skill and integrity as a tradesman, and was held in respect by
his neighbors. Doctor Franklin’s “Way to Wealth,” fell into his hands
about the time he commenced business for himself. The pithy and
excellent advice of “Poor Richard,” in that work, instructed and
delighted him. He placed it in a conspicuous situation in his chamber,
and resolved to follow its maxims. Eighteen hours out of twenty-four, he
regularly worked, and sometimes longer; for his friends gave him plenty
of employment, but until the bills became due, he had no means of
paying wages to a journeyman. He remarks: “I was indefatigable, and at
the year’s end, I had the satisfaction of paying the five pounds which
had been so kindly lent me, and finding myself, with a tolerable stock
of leather, clear of the world.”
By unremitting industry, he at length surmounted such obstacles as were
of a pecuniary nature. This enabled him to procure assistance in his
labors, and thus afforded him some relaxation. Industry and rigid
economy were still indispensable, but his ruling passion, the
acquisition of knowledge, he was enabled to gratify in a limited degree,
and for several years, every spare moment, and all the hours he could
snatch from sleep, were devoted to reading such books as he could
procure.
Referring to this period of his life, in conversation with a friend, Mr.
Drew said: “I once had a very great desire for the study of astronomy,
for I thought it suitable to the genius of my mind, and I think so
still; but then—
“Chill penury repressed the noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.”
Dangers and difficulties I did not fear, while I could bring the powers
of my mind to bear upon them, and force myself a passage. To metaphysics
I then applied myself, and became what the world and my good friend
Doctor Clarke call “a metaphysician.”
As he could devote but little time to the acquisition of knowledge,
every moment was fully occupied. “Drive thy business—do not let thy
business drive thee,” was one of those maxims of Dr. Franklin, to which
Mr. Drew adhered; and his example shows that literature may be
cultivated, and piety pursued, without prejudice to our worldly
interests.
“During several years,” he observes, “all my leisure hours were devoted
to reading or scribbling; but I do not recollect that it ever
interrupted my business, though it frequently broke in upon my rest. On
my labor depended my livelihood; literary pursuits were only my
amusement. The man who makes shoes is sure of his wages—the man who
writes a book is never sure of anything.”
Mr. Drew’s first attempts at composition, like those of most young
essayists in the paths of literature, were metrical. The earliest known
effort of his muse, was a poetical epistle to his sister, and the next
an elegy on the death of his brother. These were followed by several
short poetical pieces, none of which have been preserved. He left in
manuscript a metrical piece containing about 1200 lines, entitled
“Reflections on St. Austell Churchyard,” dated August, 1792. It is
written in the heroic stanza, and has many excellent couplets, but is
too defective in grammar and versification, to endure the test of
criticism. The major part is argumentative—not unlike “Pope’s Essay on
Man,” upon which, possibly, it was modelled: and several of the
arguments tend to prove that the soul is immaterial, and therefore
immortal. This poetical composition is apparently the embryo of Mr.
Drew’s applauded “Treatise on the Human Soul.” From the year 1792, when
this poem was written, until the commencement of his “Essay on the
Soul,” in 1798, no particular circumstance of his literary life is on
record.
His own description of his mode of study at this period of his life is
as follows: “During my literary pursuits, I regularly and constantly
attend on my business, and do not recollect that one customer was ever
disappointed through these means. My mode of writing and study may have
in them perhaps something peculiar. Immersed in the common concerns of
life, I endeavor to lift my thoughts to objects more sublime than those
with which I am surrounded; and while attending to my trade, I sometimes
catch the fibres of an argument, which I endeavor to note, and keep a
pen and ink by me for that purpose. In this state, what I can collect
through the day, remains on any paper which I have at hand, till the
business of the day is despatched, and my shop shut, when, in the midst
of my family, I endeavor to analyze, in the evening, such thoughts as
had crossed my mind during the day. I have no study—I have no
retirement—I write amid the cries and cradles of my children; and
frequently, when I review what I have written, endeavor to cultivate
‘the art to blot.’ Such are the methods which I have pursued, and such
the disadvantages under which I write.”
The circumstances which led to his becoming an author, are these: A
young gentleman with whom he was intimate, by profession a surgeon, put
into his hands the first part of Paine’s Age of Reason, thinking to
bring him over to the principles of infidelity. The sophistry of Paine’s
book, Mr. Drew readily detected; and committing his thoughts to writing
in the form of notes, by the advice of two methodist preachers, to whom
he showed them, he was induced to publish them in a pamphlet entitled,
“Remarks on Paine’s Age of Reason,” in September, 1799. This little work
was favorably received by the public; and it procured for its author,
the steady friendship of the Rev. John Whitaker, a clergyman of high
literary reputation.
Upon the Remarks on Paine’s Age of Reason, which first brought Mr. Drew
before the public as an author, a writer in the Anti-Jacobin Review, of
April, 1801, observes, “We here see a shoemaker of St. Austell,
encountering a staymaker of Deal, with the same weapons of unlettered
reason, tempered, indeed, from the armory of God, yet deriving their
principal power from the native vigor of the arm that wields them.
Samuel Drew, however, is greatly superior to Thomas Paine, in the
justness of his remarks, in the forcibleness of his arguments, and in
the pointedness of his refutations.” Mr. Drew had the satisfaction of
knowing, that his “Remarks” were the means of leading the young man who
put the Age of Reason into his hands, to renounce his deistical
principles, and to embrace, with full conviction the doctrines of
Christianity. The Remarks on Paine, having been several years out of
print, were republished, in duodecimo, with the author’s corrections and
additions, in 1820.
The appearance in 1802, of the “Essay on the Immateriality and
Immortality of the Soul,” to which Mr. Drew is chiefly indebted for his
reputation as a metaphysician, brought him into honorable notice beyond
his native county. This book was dedicated to the Rev. John Whitaker,
whose patronage had, in a great measure, drawn him forth from obscurity.
The work has since gone through several editions in England and
America, and has been translated into the French language, and published
in France.
Encouraged by the favorable reception of this work by the public, Mr.
Drew continued his literary labors. His next important attempt in
metaphysics, was an investigation of the evidences of a general
resurrection. From this investigation, the subject of personal identity
was inseparable; and on these topics he recorded his thoughts till the
close of the year 1805. At that time he took a survey of his work, but
was so much dissatisfied with it, that he threw the whole aside as
useless, and half resolved to touch it no more; nor did it appear in
print (after being revised by the author) until 1809. It was then, like
the Essay on the Soul, published by subscription, and the copyright sold
to a London publisher. Fifteen hundred copies were printed, and a second
edition appeared in 1822. This work on the Resurrection has also been
republished in the United States.
In 1805, Mr. Drew entered into an engagement with the late Doctor Thomas
Cope, one of the founders of the Wesleyan methodist missions, to assist
him in his literary labors, which wholly detached him from the pursuits
of trade. From this time literature became his occupation. About two
years previously to this, Mr. Drew had undertaken, in a course of
familiar lectures, to instruct a class of young persons and adults, in
English grammar and composition. A similar course of lectures, with the
addition of geography and astronomy, was delivered by him, in 1811.
Mr. Drew’s various works introduced to the notice, and procured for him
the friendship, of several distinguished individuals. His intimacy with
Doctor Adam Clarke continued through many years, and with him he long
maintained a correspondence. In 1819, at the recommendation of Doctor
Clarke, Mr. Drew was engaged as editor of the Imperial Magazine. This
led to his removal to Liverpool, and thence to London, where he
continued to discharge the duties of editor until 1833. Besides the
editorship of the Magazine, he had the superintendence of all the works
issued from the Caxton press.
In consequence of symptoms of rapidly declining health, Mr. Drew left
London for his native place in Cornwall, in March, 1833, where he died
on the 29th of the same month, at the age of sixty-eight.
Besides the works already mentioned, Mr. Drew was the author of a life
of his friend Doctor Coke, a History of Cornwall, Essays on the Divinity
of Christ and the Necessity of his Atonement, and several other
religious works, of a high character. He was also associated with Doctor
Coke in writing several important works bearing the name of Doctor Coke
as author.
Mr. Drew was an acute reasoner and a close and laborious thinker. He
always discovered where truth lay; sophistry rarely escaped his
detection; and to his habit of persevering and patient investigation, we
are indebted for his most elaborate and convincing arguments. He has
been called the “Locke of the nineteenth century.”
Those who would estimate Mr. Drew’s mental powers, should bear in mind
the difficulties which he surmounted. From education he derived no
assistance. His youth was passed in ignorance and poverty; and he was
twenty years of age, before he began to read or to think. Yet before he
attained the meridian of life he had accumulated a vast fund of
knowledge. Nor was that knowledge limited to the subjects on which he
wrote; it extended to various branches of science; and there were few
topics of speculative philosophy, with which he was unacquainted.
The preceding sketches record the names of individuals who have
severally distinguished themselves in statesmanship, patriotism,
philanthropy, eloquence, and metaphysics. It is pleasing to add to our
list, one whose name is familiar as an English pastoral poet.
Robert Bloomfield was born at the village of Honington, Suffolk county,
England, December 3, 1766, and was the youngest of six children. His
father, George Bloomfield, was a tailor, and died before his youngest
son was a year old, leaving his widow to obtain a scanty subsistence for
herself and family, by teaching a small school, in which Robert was
taught to read. Two or three months’ instruction in writing was all the
scholastic accomplishment that he ever obtained. At the age of eleven he
was hired in the neighborhood as a farmer’s boy, but being found too
feeble for agricultural labor, he was placed with an elder brother in
London, to learn the trade of a shoemaker.
“In the garret where five of us worked,” his brother writes, “I received
little Robert. As we were all single men, lodgers at a shilling per week
each, our beds were coarse, and all things far from being clean and
snug. Robert was our man to fetch all things to hand. At noon he
fetched our dinner from the cook’s shop; and any of our fellow-workmen,
that wanted to have anything brought in, would send him, and assist in
his work, and teach him as a recompense for his trouble.
“Every day when the boy from the public house came for the pewter-pots,
and to hear what porter was wanted, he always brought the yesterday’s
newspaper. The reading of the paper we had been used to take by turns;
but after Robert came, he mostly read for us, because his time was of
least value. He frequently met with words that he was unacquainted with;
of this he often complained. I bought a small dictionary for him. By the
help of this, he in a little time could read and comprehend the long and
beautiful speeches of Burke, Fox, and North.”
When about sixteen years of age, Robert had an opportunity to read
Thomson’s “Seasons”—which was a favorite book with him—Milton’s
“Paradise Lost,” and a few novels. Soon afterward, he left the
employment of his brother, and spent a few months in his native county,
with the farmer with whom he had formerly lived; and here free from the
smoke and noise of London, he imbibed that love of rural simplicity and
innocence, which he afterward displayed in his poems.
Returning to his trade of shoemaker in London, he was bound to Mr. John
Dudbridge, and after he was of age, worked as journeyman for Davies,
ladies’ shoemaker. In a garret, while at work with six or seven others,
he composed his beautiful rural poem, “The Farmer’s Boy.” A great part
of this poem was composed by him, without committing one line to paper.
When it was thus prepared, he said, “I had nothing to do but to write it
down.” By this mode of composition, he studied and completed his
“Farmer’s Boy,” in a garret, among his fellow-workmen, without their
ever suspecting or knowing anything of the matter. That the reader may
judge of the merits of this poem, we quote the invocation:—
“O come, blest spirit! whatsoe’er thou art,
Thou kindling warmth that hoverest round my heart,
Sweet inmate, hail! thou source of sterling joy,
That poverty itself can not destroy,
Be thou my muse; and faithful still to me,
Retrace the paths of wild obscurity.
No deeds of arms, my humble lines rehearse.
No Alpine wonders thunder through my verse.
The roaring cataract, the snow-topt hill.
Inspiring awe, till breath itself stands still;
Nature’s sublimer scenes ne’er charmed mine eyes,
Nor science led me through the boundless skies,
From meaner objects far, my raptures flow,
O point these raptures! bid my bosom glow!
And lead my soul to ecstasies of praise.
For all the blessings of my infant days.
Bear me through regions where gay fancy dwells,
But mould to Truth’s fair form, what memory tells.”
The manuscript of “the Farmer’s Boy,” after being offered to and refused
by several London publishers, was printed under the patronage of Capel
Lofft, Esq., in 1800; and the admiration it produced was so great, that
within three years after its publication, more than 26,000 copies were
sold. The appearance of such refinement of taste and sentiment in the
person of an indigent artisan, elicited general applause. An edition was
published in the following year at Leipsic. It was also translated into
French, Italian, and Latin.
The fame of Bloomfield was further increased by the subsequent
publication of “Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs,” “Good Tidings, or News
from the Farm,” “Wild Flowers,” and “Banks of the Wye.” He was kindly
noticed by the duke of Grafton, by whom he was appointed to a situation
in the seal office; but suffering from constitutional ill-health, he
returned to his trade of ladies’ shoemaker, to which, being an amateur
in music, he added the employment of making Æolian harps. A pension of a
shilling a day was still allowed him by the duke, yet having now,
besides a wife and children, undertaken to support several other
members of his family, he became involved in difficulties, and being
habitually in bad health, he retired to Shefford in Bedfordshire, where,
in 1816, a subscription, headed by the duke of Norfolk, and other
noblemen, was instituted by the friendship of Sir Edgerton Brydges, for
the relief of his embarrassments. Great anxiety of mind, occasioned by
accumulated misfortunes and losses, with violent incessant headaches, a
morbid nervous irritability, and loss of memory, reduced him at last to
a condition little short of insanity. He died at Shefford, August 19,
1823, at the age of fifty-seven, leaving a widow and four children, and
debts to the amount of two hundred pounds sterling, which sum was raised
by subscription among his benevolent friends and admirers.
The works of Bloomfield have been published in two volumes duodecimo.
The author’s amiable disposition and benevolence pervade the whole of
his compositions. There is an artless simplicity, a virtuous rectitude
of sentiment, an exquisite sensibility to the beautiful, which can not
fail to gratify every one who respects moral excellence, and loves the
delightful scenes of English country life.
Nathaniel Bloomfield, brother of the foregoing, was likewise a shoemaker
and a poet; and although “Nathan’s” name does not sound the most
poetical in Lord Byron’s line, yet we believe many of our readers would
admire some of his pieces before some of the noble poet’s, for reasons
extrinsic of execution or subject. His stanzas on the Enclosure of
Honnington Green, quoted by Kirke White in his essays, would be admired
by most readers. We transcribe some of the remarks of the amiable
critic, including a quotation that will give an idea of Mr. Bloomfield’s
poetic abilities, whose writings are not so generally known as those of
his brother.
“Had Mr. N. Bloomfield,” says Henry Kirke White, “made his appearance in
the horizon of letters prior to his brother, he would undoubtedly have
been considered as a meteor of uncommon attraction; the critics would
have admired, because it was the fashion to admire. But it is to be
apprehended that our countrymen become inured to phenomena—it is to be
apprehended that the frivolity of the age can not endure a repetition of
the uncommon—that it will no longer be the rage to patronize indigent
merit—that the beau monde will therefore neglect, and that, by a
necessary consequence, the critics will sneer!
“Nevertheless, sooner or later, merit will meet with its reward; and
though the popularity of Mr. Bloomfield may be delayed, he must, at
one time or other, receive the meed due to its deserts. Posterity will
judge impartially; and if bold and vivid images, and original
conceptions, luminously displayed, and judiciously apposed, have any
claim to the regard of mankind, the name of Nathaniel Bloomfield will
not be without its high and appropriate honors.
“That Mr. N. Bloomfield’s poems display acuteness of remark, and
delicacy of sentiment, combined with much strength, and considerable
selection of diction, few will deny. The Pæan to Gunpowder would alone
prove both his power of language, and the fertility of his imagination;
and the following extract presents him to us in the still higher
character of a bold and vivid painter. Describing the field after a
battle, he says,
‘Now here and there, about the horrid field,
Striding across the dying and the dead,
Stalks up a man, by strength superior,
Or skill and prowess in the arduous fight,
Preserved alive:—fainting he looks around;
Fearing pursuit—not caring to pursue.
The supplicating voice of bitterest moans,
Contortions of excruciating pain,
The shriek of torture, and the groan of death,
Surround him;—and as night her mantle spreads,
To veil the horrors of the mourning field,
With cautious step shaping his devious way,
He seeks a covert where to hide and rest:
At every leaf that rustles in the breeze
Starting, he grasps his sword; and every nerve
Is ready strained for combat or for flight.’
“If Mr. Bloomfield had written nothing besides the Elegy on the
Enclosure of Honnington Green, he would have had a right to be
considered as a poet of no mean excellence. There is a sweet and tender
melancholy pervading the elegiac ballad efforts of Mr. Bloomfield, which
has the most indescribable effects on the heart. Were the versification
a little more polished, in some instances, they would be read with
unmixed delight.”
William Gifford was born in 1755, at Ashburton, in Devonshire, England,
and for several years led the miserable kind of life which is common
among the children of a drunken and reckless father. His father died
when only forty years of age, leaving his wife with two children, the
youngest little more than eight months old, and no available means for
their support. In about a year afterward his wife followed, and thus
was William, at the age of thirteen, and his infant brother, thrown upon
the world in an utterly destitute condition.
The parish workhouse now received the younger of the orphans, and
William was taken home to the house of a person named Carlile, his
godfather, who, whatever might have been his kindness in this respect,
had at least taken care of his own interests, by seizing on every
article left by the widow Gifford, on pretence of repaying himself for
money which he had advanced to her, in her greatest necessities. The
only benefit derived by William from this removal was a little
education; as Carlile sent him to school, where he acquired the elements
of instruction. His chief proficiency, as he tells us, was in
arithmetic; but he was not suffered to make much progress in his
studies, for, grudging the expense, his patron took him from school,
with the object of making him a ploughboy. To the plough he would
accordingly have gone, but for a weakness in his chest, the result of an
accident some years before. It was now proposed to send him to a
storehouse in Newfoundland; but the person who was to be benefited by
his services declared him to be too small, and this plan was also
dropped. “My godfather,” says William, “had now humbler views for me,
and I had little heart to resist anything. He proposed to send me on
board one of the Torbay fishing-boats. I ventured, however, to
remonstrate against this, and the matter was compromised by my
consenting to go on board a coaster. A coaster was speedily found for me
at Brixham, and thither I went, when little more than thirteen.”
In this vessel he remained for nearly a year. “It will be easily
conceived,” he remarks, “that my life was a life of hardship, I was not
only a ‘ship-boy on the high and giddy mast,’ but also in the cabin,
where every menial office fell to my lot; yet if I was restless and
discontented, I can safely say it was not so much on account of this, as
of my being precluded from all possibility of reading; as my master did
not possess, nor do I recollect seeing, during the whole time of my
abode with him, a single book of any description except the ‘Coasting
Pilot.’”
While in this humble situation, however, and seeming to himself almost
an outcast from the world, he was not forgotten. He had broken off all
connexion with Ashburton, where his godfather lived; but “the women of
Brixham,” says he, “who travelled to Ashburton twice a week with fish,
and who had known my parents, did not see me without kind concern
running about the beach, in ragged jacket and trousers.” They often
mentioned him to their acquaintances at Ashburton; and the tale excited
so much commiseration in the place, that his godfather at last found
himself obliged to send for him home. At this time he wanted some months
of fourteen. He proceeds with his own story as follows:—
“After the holydays, I returned to my darling pursuit—arithmetic. My
progress was now so rapid, that in a few months I was at the head of the
school, and qualified to assist my master (Mr. E. Furlong) on any
extraordinary emergency. As he usually gave me a trifle on these
occasions, it raised a thought in me, that, by engaging with him as a
regular assistant, and undertaking the instruction of a few evening
scholars, I might, with a little additional aid, be enabled to support
myself. God knows my ideas of support at this time were of no very
extravagant nature. I had, besides, another object in view. Mr. Hugh
Smerdon (my first master) was now grown old and infirm; it seemed
unlikely that he should hold out above three or four years; and I fondly
flattered myself that, notwithstanding my youth, I might possibly be
appointed to succeed him.
“I was in my fifteenth year when I built these castles. A storm,
however, was collecting, which unexpectedly burst upon me, and swept
them all away.
“On mentioning my little plan to Carlile, he treated it with the utmost
contempt; and told me, in his turn, that as I had learned enough, and
more than enough, at school, he must be considered as having fairly
discharged his duty (so indeed he had); he added that he had been
negotiating with his cousin, a shoemaker of some respectability who had
liberally agreed to take me, without a fee, as an apprentice. I was so
shocked at this intelligence, that I did not remonstrate, but went in
sullenness and silence to my new master, to whom I was soon after bound,
till I should attain the age of twenty-one.
“At this time,” he continues, “I possessed but one book in the world: it
was a treatise on algebra, given to me by a young woman, who had found
it in a lodging-house. I considered it as a treasure; but it was a
treasure locked up; for it supposed the reader to be well acquainted
with simple equations, and I knew nothing of the matter. My master’s son
had purchased Fenning’s Introduction: this was precisely what I wanted;
but he carefully concealed it from me, and I was indebted to chance
alone for stumbling upon his hiding-place. I sat up for the greatest
part of several nights successively, and, before he suspected that his
treatise was discovered, had completely mastered it. I could now enter
upon my own, and that carried me pretty far into the science. This was
not done without difficulty. I had not a farthing on earth, nor a friend
to give me one; pen, ink, and paper, therefore, were for the most part
as completely out of my reach as a crown and sceptre. There was indeed a
resource; but the utmost caution and secresy were necessary in applying
to it. I beat out pieces of leather as smooth as possible, and wrote my
problems on them with a blunted awl; for the rest, my memory was
tenacious, and I could multiply and divide by it to a great extent.”
Persevering under these untoward difficulties, he at length obtained
some alleviation of his poverty. Having attempted to write some verses,
his productions were received with applause, and sometimes, he adds,
“with favors more substantial: little collections were now and then
made, and I have received sixpence in an evening. To one who had long
lived in the absolute want of money, such a resource seemed a Peruvian
mine. I furnished myself by degrees with paper, &c., and what was of
more importance, with books of geometry, and of the higher branches of
algebra, which I cautiously concealed. Poetry, even at this time, was
no amusement of mine—it was subservient to other purposes; and I only
had recourse to it when I wanted money for my mathematical pursuits.”
Gifford’s master having capriciously put a stop to these literary
recreations, and taken away all his books and papers, he was greatly
mortified, if not reduced to a state of despair. “I look back,” he says,
“on that part of my life which immediately followed this event, with
little satisfaction: it was a period of gloom and savage unsociability.
By degrees I sunk into a kind of corporeal torpor; or, if roused into
activity by the spirit of youth, wasted the exertion in splenetic and
vexatious tricks, which alienated the few acquaintances which compassion
had yet left me.”
Fortunately, this despondency in time gave way to a natural buoyancy of
his disposition; some evidences of kindly feeling from those around him,
tended a good deal to mitigate his recklessness; and especially as the
term of his apprenticeship drew toward a close, his former aspirations
and hopes began to return to him. Working with renewed diligence at his
craft, he, at the end of six years, came under the notice of Mr. William
Cookesley, and, struck with his talents, this benevolent person resolved
on rescuing him from obscurity. “The plan,” says Gifford, “that
occurred to him was naturally that which had so often suggested itself
to me. There were indeed several obstacles to be overcome. My
handwriting was bad, and my language very incorrect; but nothing could
slacken the zeal of his excellent man. He procured a few of my poor
attempts at rhyme, dispersed them among his friends and acquaintance,
and when my name was become somewhat familiar to them, set on foot a
subscription for my relief. I still preserve the original paper; its
title was not very magnificent, though it exceeded the most sanguine
wishes of my heart. It ran thus: ‘A subscription for purchasing the
remainder of the time of William Gifford, and for enabling him to
improve himself in writing and English grammar.’ Few contributed more
than five shillings, and none went beyond ten and sixpence; enough,
however, was collected to free me from my apprenticeship, and to
maintain me for a few months, during which I assiduously attended the
Rev. Thomas Smerdon.”
Pleased with the advances he made in this short period, it was agreed to
maintain him at school for an entire year. “Such liberality,” says
Gifford, “was not lost upon me: I grew anxious to make the best return
in my power, and I redoubled my diligence. Now that I am sunk into
indolence, I look back with some degree of skepticism to the exertions
of that period.” In two years and two months from what he calls the day
of his emancipation, he was pronounced by his master to be fit for the
university; and a small office having been obtained for him, by Mr.
Cookesley’s exertions, at Oxford, he was entered of Exeter college, that
gentleman undertaking to provide the additional means necessary to
enable him to live till he should take his degree. Mr. Gifford’s first
patron died before his protegé had time to fulfil the good man’s fond
anticipations of his future celebrity; but he afterward found, in Lord
Grosvenor, another much more able, though it was impossible that any
could have shown more zeal, to advance his interests.
Gifford was now on the way to fame, and he may be said to have ever
afterward enjoyed a prosperous career. On the commencement of the
“Quarterly Review,” in 1809, he was appointed editor of that periodical,
and under his management it attained a distinguished success. After a
useful literary career, Mr. Gifford died in London on the 31st of
December, 1826, in the seventy-first year of his age. Reversing the
Latin proverb, it might be justly observed, that in him a shoemaker
happily went beyond his last.
Noah Worcester was born in 1758 at Hollis, New Hampshire, where some of
his ancestors had been ministers; but his father was a farmer. In early
life he received very little education, and the greater part of his time
was consumed working as a laborer in the fields. He afterward became a
soldier; but, horrified with the vices of that profession, and the
slaughter which he saw take place at Bunker’s hill, he abandoned it for
ever, and betook himself to farming. He now commenced a course of
self-instruction; and to lose no time while so engaged, he employed
himself in shoemaking. His diligence was unrelaxing. At the end of his
bench lay his books, pens, ink, and paper; and to these he made frequent
application. In this way he acquired much useful learning; and a
pamphlet which he wrote had the effect of recommending him to a body of
ministers, by whom he was advanced to the clerical profession.
In a short time an opening occurred for a preacher, in a small town in
the neighborhood, and to this he was promoted by universal consent; yet,
in a worldly sense, it was a poor promotion. His salary scantily
supported life, being only two hundred dollars, and as many could ill
afford to pay their proportion of even that small sum, he was
accustomed, as the time of collecting it drew nigh, to relinquish his
claims, by giving to the poorer among them receipts in full. The relief
granted in this way sometimes amounted to a fourth, or even a third part
of his salary. He was thus made to continue still dependent for his
support in a great measure on the labor of his hands, partly on the
farm, and partly in making shoes. But he was far from fancying this
scantiness of pay and necessity of toil, any exemption from his
obligation to do the utmost for his people. On the contrary, he was
ready to engage in extra labor for them; and when it happened, for
example, as it sometimes did, that the provision for a winter school
failed, he threw open the doors of his own house, invited the children
into his study, and gave them his time and care as assiduously as if he
had been their regularly-appointed teacher.
His short experience of soldiering, gave him, as has been said, a horror
of war, and against this scourge he preached with untiring zeal. In
1814, he gave vent to his whole soul, in a remarkable tract, “A Solemn
Review of the Custom of War,” one of the most successful and efficient
pamphlets of any period. It has been translated into many languages, and
circulated extensively through the world. It is one of the chief
instruments by which the opinions of society have been affected within
the present century. The season of its publication was favorable; the
world was wearied with battles, and longed for rest. “Such was the
impression made by this work,” says Dr. Channing, “that a new
association, called the ‘Peace Society of Massachusetts,’ was instituted
in this place [Brighton, Massachusetts, whither he had removed in 1813].
I well recollect the day of its formation in yonder house, then the
parsonage of this parish; and if there was a happy man that day on
earth, it was the founder of this institution. This society gave birth
to all the kindred ones in this country, and its influence was felt
abroad.” He conducted its periodical, which was commenced in 1819, and
was published quarterly for ten years. It was almost entirely written by
himself, and is remarkable not only for its beautiful moral tone, but
for fertility of resource and ingenuity of illustration. He wished it to
be inscribed on his tombstone: “He wrote the Friend of Peace.” Eight
years after he began to write the “Solemn Review,” he declares his
belief that the subject of war had not been absent from his mind, when
awake, an hour at a time, during that whole period. This concentration
of all the powers of an earnest and vigorous mind, enabled him to
produce a greater effect than perhaps any other individual. Dr.
Worcester died in 1837, in the seventy-ninth year of his age. Of
character Dr. Channing thus speaks:—
“Two views of him particularly impressed me. The first was the unity,
the harmony of his character. He had no jarring elements. His whole
nature had been blended and melted into one strong, serene love. His
mission was to preach peace, and he preached it, not on set occasions,
or by separate efforts, but in his whole life.... And this serenity was
not the result of torpor or tameness, for his whole life was a conflict
with what he deemed error. He made no compromise with the world; and yet
he loved it as deeply and as constantly as if it had responded in shouts
to all his views and feelings.
“The next great impression which I received from him was that of the
sufficiency of the mind to its own happiness, or of its independence on
outward things.” Notwithstanding his poverty and infirmities, “he spoke
of his old age as among the happiest portions, if not the very happiest,
of his life. In conversation, his religion manifested itself more in
gratitude than any other form.” His voice was cheerful, his look serene,
and he devoted himself to his studies with youthful earnestness. “On
leaving his house, and turning my face toward this city, I have said to
myself, how much richer is this poor man than the richest who dwell
yonder! I have been ashamed of my own dependence on outward good. I am
always happy to express my obligations to the benefactors of my mind;
and I owe it to Dr. Worcester to say, that my acquaintance with him gave
me clearer comprehension of the spirit of Christ and of the dignity of a
man.”
A celebrated bookseller of Finsbury Square, London, and proprietor of
the great bookselling establishment there, which he called the “Temple
of the Muses,” was born in 1746, and brought up a shoemaker, at
Wellington, in Shropshire. By industry and perseverance he succeeded in
the bookselling business, almost beyond precedent. On the publication of
the seventh edition of his memoirs, written by himself, in 1794, he had
set up his carriage, and his profits in each of the two preceding years,
were £5,000 (equal to $24,000). He observes that—
“Cobblers from Crispin boast their public spirit,
And all are upright, downright men of merit.”
Lackington mentions a brother shoemaker, named Ralph Tilney, who died in
1789: “one who had not dignity of birth or elevated rank in life to
boast of, but who possessed what is far superior to either, a solid
understanding, amiable manners, a due sense of religion, and an
industrious disposition. Among other acquisitions, entomology was his
peculiar delight—his valuable cabinet of insects, both foreign and
domestic, supposed to be one of the completest of a private collection
in the kingdom, all scientifically arranged, with peculiar neatness, and
in the finest preservation.”
“Honor and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honor lies.”
“You’ll find if once the monarch acts the monk,
Or, cobbler-like, the parson will get drunk,
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow,
The rest is all but leather or prunella.”
Lackington’s memoirs bring his life down to 1793. His memoirs abound in
severe remarks on the methodists (whom he had joined in early life and
afterward left), both as to life, and doctrine; these Lackington
subsequently repented having written. Uniting himself again to the
Wesleyan society, he endeavored to obviate the injustice of his sarcasms
by publishing a confession of his errors. Much of what he had stated, he
acknowledged to have taken on trust; and many things he now discovered
to have been without a proper foundation. These “Confessions,” which
appeared in 1803, never altogether accomplished their purpose; so
difficult is it to recall or make reparation for a word lightly spoken.
In sincere humiliation of spirit, Lackington retired to Budleigh
Sulterton, in Devonshire, where he built and endowed a chapel, and
performed various other acts of munificence, and spent the conclusion of
his days. He died on the 22d of November, 1815, in the seventieth year
of his age.
Joseph Pendrell, who died in London about the year 1830, had received at
school nothing more than the ordinary education, in English reading and
writing. At an early age he was apprenticed to a shoemaker, which
business he followed until his death. He had when young a great taste
for books. Stopping at a book-stall one day, he laid hold of a an
arithmetical work, marked four pence sterling; he purchased it, and
availed himself of his leisure hours, in making himself master of the
subject. At the end of the volume he found a short introduction to
mathematics; this stimulated him to make further purchases of scientific
works; and in this way he gradually proceeded from the elements to the
highest departments of mathematical learning. When a journeyman, he made
every possible saving in order to purchase books. He subsequently
acquired a knowledge of French, Greek, and Latin, and formed a large
collection of classical books, many of which he purchased at the
auction-rooms, always concealing his name as purchaser. The late Bishop
Lowth became interested in him, from occasional conversation at the
auction sales, but the shoemaker, from extreme diffidence, declined
telling his name, although the introduction to the bishop might have
drawn him from his obscurity. Pendrell’s knowledge of mathematical
science, was profound and extensive, embracing fortification,
navigation, astronomy, and various departments of natural philosophy. He
was also familiar with poetical literature; and had a thorough
acquaintance with most English writers in the department of belles
lettres.
Thomas Holcroft, an English miscellaneous writer of considerable
reputation, was born in Orange court, Leicesterfields, December 22,
1744. His father was a shoemaker in low circumstances, and the son,
early in life, was employed in the stables of the honorable Mr. Vernon.
He also worked at his father’s business of shoemaking, but being fond of
reading, and his fellow-workmen sneering at his efforts to acquire
knowledge, he left the trade, and opened a school in London. This not
proving successful, he tried his fortune on the stage, but after much
suffering, being often almost reduced to starvation, he abandoned the
stage as an actor. In the midst of his distresses, however, he retained
his love of books, and had made himself extensively acquainted with
English literature.
He then turned dramatic writer, in which he was more fortunate, some of
his plays being very popular at the time. Besides these productions, he
wrote several novels, and translated a number of works from the French
and German languages. At the commencement of the French revolution, he
espoused the cause of the republicans, and was committed for high
treason; but when Hardy, Tooke, and Thelwall, were acquitted, he was
discharged, without trial. His last speculation was a publication of his
travels in Germany and France, in two volumes quarto. Many of his works
exhibit high talents, and have an established popularity in England. He
died in 1809.
This eminent Christian missionary, and distinguished oriental scholar,
was born at Paulerspury, Northamptonshire, England, in 1761. He followed
the business of shoemaking in early life, during which time, he learned
several languages, studying with his books by his side while at work. A
gentleman in New York, has preserved in his library, among the works of
Dr. Carey, a pair of shoes made by him.
Dr. Carey commenced preaching as a baptist minister in 1783; in 1793 he
embarked as a missionary to India, and in 1799, he took up his residence
at the Danish settlement of Serampore, which became celebrated for being
the seat of this mission which was sustained by Carey, Ward, and
Marshman.
Dr. Carey’s philological labors in preparing grammars and dictionaries
of different languages, and in making versions of the Scriptures, were
immense. He lived to see the sacred Text, chiefly by his
instrumentality, translated into the vernacular dialects of more than
forty different tribes, and thus made accessible to nearly two hundred
millions of human beings. In addition to his extensive philological
learning, Dr. Carey was well versed in natural history and botany, and
made valuable communications to the Asiatic society, of which he was for
twenty-eight years a member. He died at Serampore, in Hindostan, June 9,
1834, in his seventy-third year.
George Fox, the founder and first preacher of the Christian sect of
Friends, or Quakers, was born at Drayton, Leicestershire, England, in
1624. He was bound by his father, who was a weaver, to a shoemaker and
grazier; and the occupation of his youth was divided between shoemaking
and the tending of sheep. He did not, however, long follow either of
these occupations, as, in 1643, he began his wandering life; and, after
retiring to solitude, and at other times frequenting the company of
religious and devout persons, he became a public preacher in 1647 or
1648. In his pious zeal, Fox visited, not only England, Ireland, and
Scotland, but he extended his travels to Holland and Germany, to the
American colonies and the West India islands. He died in London, in
1690. His journal was printed in 1694, his epistles in 1698, his
doctrinal pieces, about one hundred and fifty in number, in 1706. The
name of quakers was first given to him and his followers, at Derby, in
England.
James Nichol, of Traquair, Selkirkshire, Scotland, was the son of a
shoemaker, and he also learned the same trade of his father, and
continued to labor at it, in the summer vacations, after he had entered
college. With the manners of a gentleman, Mr. Nichol possessed uncommon
talents. He was a most able and eloquent pulpit orator; an eminent
scholar; and an acute, ingenious, and liberal theologian. In early life
he published two or three volumes of poems, of considerable celebrity.
He wrote several articles in one of the encyclopedias, and in various
periodicals; and left a number of theological and literary works for
publication.
This late celebrated and popular preacher of Providence chapel, Gray’s
Inn lane, London, worked for some time as a shoemaker, as he informs us,
in his “Bank of Faith,” a work singularly curious and interesting.
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