[River Front of Hungerford Market.]
Title: Monthly supplement of the penny magazine of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, issue 21, June 30 to July 31, 1832
Editor: Charles Knight
Release date: October 7, 2025 [eBook #77005]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, 1832
Credits: Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
[River Front of Hungerford Market.]
An act was obtained in 1830, incorporating a company of proprietors for the re-establishment of Hungerford Market. The site of the old market has been purchased, together with the surrounding houses, those in Hungerford-street, and some few in the Strand, in order to ensure a proper frontage and secure a convenient access to that thoroughfare. Many of these buildings are pulled down. The architect of the New Market is Mr. C. Fowler. The front to the river is completed externally, and forms a very elegant structure, as represented in the above view. The basement of the centre next the river constitutes the Fish-Market. The wings are intended for taverns, connected by a colonnade with a terrace which occupies the entire front. From the Fish-Market the ascent is by a spacious flight of steps in the centre externally, and two staircases within, at the extremities of the portico, which is separated from the hall by a screen of arches. The hall, exclusive of the porticoes, is 157 feet long by 123 feet wide, consisting of a nave and two aisles, besides ranges of shops against the side walls, with galleries over. These galleries are approached by four staircases at the extremities. The floor of the hall will be occupied by ranges of stands for casual business, with convenient avenues between them. The galleries will be appropriated for the sale of such articles as require a neat display, and will be disposed somewhat in the manner of a bazaar, with a range of counters, &c., and a walk in front. The roof of the nave, or centre compartment of the building, being raised above the other parts by a tier of open arches, ensures an ample supply of light and air; the roofs of the aisles are likewise open in the centre, in order still further to secure that important object. Underneath the whole of the hall is a range of arched cellars or vaults, having approaches in various directions. The upper court corresponds nearly with the lower court or Fish-Market, but at the level of a story above it. The colonnades are here combined with shops and dwellings for resident shopkeepers. The columns, stairs, pavement, and parts of the front of this important building are of granite.
We subjoin the measurements of the different divisions of the Market. The width of the upper and lower areas is that of the uncovered space. That of the Great Hail is the total width:
| Length. | Width. | ||
| feet. | in. | feet. | |
| Upper Area | 140 | 0 | 69 |
| The Great Hall | 157 | 0 | 123 |
| Lower Area | 130 | 0 | 63 |
| The two Colonnades connecting the divisions, and leading to Gallery-Staircases, each | 11 | 6 | |
| Total width of building, river front | 126 | ||
| Total length of building from River to Hungerford-street | 475 | 6 | |
This little volume claims our attention by the high poetical talent it displays. It professes, moreover, to describe the actual state of feeling amongst the poor, or the labouring body in England—that class of society to whose wants and improvement our humble labours are mainly directed.
The author thus beautifully opens his subject:—
But from this description of the village itself the author passes to its inhabitants, and then would prove to us, that this external beauty is but a veil to cover what is in reality a more disgusting place than a charnel-house. For within the village, he says, there is nothing but tyranny and slavery,—pampered luxury on the part of the few, and the most abject poverty on the part of the many. There is not one family, he would show, in those happy circumstances, below wealth but above poverty and dependence—there is not a single industrious contented labourer. All here is misery—the most degrading, unrelieved suffering, and unrepented crime, among the poor; from the rich few, there is not to be drawn a single gleam of commiseration or charity to break the horrid gloom. Were all the plagues of Egypt busy at once on the devoted place, the village could not be so loathsome as it is here represented.
We are fully prepared to admit the existence of evils among the labouring classes of this country, but we are sure that the state of things represented in this poem has no more foundation in truth than those poetical pictures of rural life which our author, justly enough, pronounces to be only poetical.
Has the “Country Curate” seen anything of the condition of the peasantry in other countries?—If not, let him ask those who have, and they will assure him that it is nearly every where inferior to that of the peasantry of England. We do not say this from any overweening national pride, or from any desire to make the people idly contented with their state as it is, and indifferent to future improvement. No! we would say to the peasantry, as to every other class, Keep your eyes ever open to your rights; strive to make what is indifferent—good, what is good—better; and persevere in that moral and intellectual improvement which can alone render you sensible of your rights, and fit you for their enjoyment! You are not now what you were a century or two ago, because you are better informed and more civilized than then; and a century hence your condition will be so much the better, as you will be more civilized than now. We would rescue the wealthier body from the insane jealousy and hatred which the verses of the “Country Curate” have a direct tendency to excite against them in the breasts of the poor; we would hint at the exertions now pretty generally made by that body to promote the welfare and instruction of the labouring classes, with which their own welfare is closely linked. But still we would not have the poor depend entirely on what the rich may bestow upon them, or assist them in obtaining. We would have the peasant or the artisan work out his own mental improvement, and then, most assuredly, will he find his moral dignity elevated and his comforts increased.
The author of this book is a medical practitioner at Leeds; and the object of his work, than which there can be none more important, is to exhibit, in most cases from personal observation, the influence of particular occupations on the health of the individuals pursuing them and on the duration of their lives. His general impression is, that the employments of large manufacturing towns, such as Leeds, Manchester, Birmingham, and Sheffield, are decidedly unfavourable to health and consequently to happiness; and, he says, with regard to the town in which he lives, “every day we see sacrificed to the artificial state of society one, and sometimes two victims, whom the destinies of nature would have spared.” Doubtless, continued and laborious occupation in crowded rooms is not favourable to health; but, on the other hand, it should be considered that these very employments, by increasing the comforts of the great mass of consumers, have a direct tendency to secure the general health of the community; and that if the term “destinies of nature” is to be taken to apply to man in an uncivilized state, it is perfectly certain that the artisan who pursues his calling under the most unfavourable circumstances is far better off in his physical condition, and therefore in his capacity for long life, than the poor dweller in the forests of America or the wilds of Africa, whose supply of food and clothing is wholly dependent upon chance, and who is entirely without medical aid in sickness. It is a well-known fact, that in this country, a century ago, the average mortality in a year was one in thirty; it is now about one in sixty; that is, where one person in a year dies now, two died a century ago, as compared with the gross amount of the population. When it is considered therefore, how large a number of our countrymen are employed in manufactures, it would seem that, upon the whole, manufacturing employments are not so unfavourable to health as might at first be imagined. An attentive examination of Mr. Thackrah’s book will show, that even in the most apparently unwholesome employments there is a wonderful compensation in the power of habit; and it is beyond all doubt that cleanliness, temperance, and that habitual cheerfulness which leads the spirit to triumph over the most adverse circumstances, will enable those who would appear necessarily the most unfortunate, to pass through life with comparative happiness and comfort. Still, it is very important to examine what occupations have the most unfavourable influence on health,—not with the view of making those who follow them dissatisfied with their condition, but for the purpose of suggesting every preventive and remedial measure, within the range of human knowledge, to the attention of the capitalist, whose first duty is to provide for the happiness of those around him; and above all to show the working-man himself how much he has it in his own power to mitigate the evils which he cannot altogether avoid. In this point of view Mr. Thackrah’s book deserves the most serious consideration of all classes. It is most satisfactory to know, upon Mr. Thackrah’s authority, that “in many of our occupations the injurious agents might be immediately removed or diminished.”
For the convenience of his inquiry the writer before us divides society into five great classes, viz.—I. Operatives. II. Dealers. III. Master Manufacturers, and Merchants. IV. Men independent of business and labour. V. Professional Men.—The first section of 171operatives he sub-divides into—1, those whose employments are chiefly in the open air; 2, those whose employments are carried on in an atmosphere confined and impure; 3, those whose employments produce dust, odour, or gaseous exhalations; 4, those whose employments injure or annoy by acting on the skin; 5, those whose employments expose them to wet and steam; 6, those who are exposed to a high temperature, or great variations of temperature. When we state that in these six sub-divisions of the great class of operatives, Mr. Thackrah describes the peculiar effects of about two hundred different employments, it must be evident that we cannot attempt even to enumerate the occupations whose influence upon health is here noticed. To show, however, the interesting mode in which this inquiry is for the most part conducted, we subjoin an abridged extract, descriptive of the condition of the grinders and machine-makers of Sheffield:—
“Dr. Knight, in the North-of-England Medical Journal, states that the fork-grinders, who use a dry grindstone, die at the ages of 28 or 32, while the table-knife grinders, who work on wet stones, survive to between 40 and 50. Dr. K.’s paper very properly alludes to the combination of injurious agents and circumstances. It is not, merely the pernicious employment, but the want of sieve and ventilation in the apartments where the men now work,—the want, moreover, of that exercise in the open air which they formerly took in going to work and returning from it; and finally, the intemperance which results from their congregation, and still more from their desperation of life. It appears, that in 1822, ‘out of 2,500 grinders, there were not 35 who had arrived at the age of 50, and perhaps not double that number who had reached the age of 45; and out of more than 80 fork-grinders, exclusive of boys, it was reported that there was not a single individual 36 years old.’ The symptoms of the grinders’ disease are those of slow but certainly fatal consumption. The remedies judiciously recommended by Dr. Knight, are, 1st. Dusting the machinery, before the work commences: 2nd. Great reduction in the time of labour: 3rd. Use of wet stones as much as possible; 4th. Large flues to be laid on the floor for ventilation, and currents of air to be forced through them by the machines: 5th. Fork-grinding to be confined to criminals.
“Draw-filing cast iron is a very injurious occupation. The dust is much more abundant, and the metallic particles much more minute, than in the filing of wrought iron. The particles rise so copiously as to blacken the mouth and nose. The men first feel the annoyance in the nostrils. The lining membrane discharges copiously for some time, and then becomes preternaturally dry. Besides the dust there are some very bright scales, called kisk, very visible though scarcely tangible, which rise from the castings, as these are taken out of the moulders’ boxes, and considerably irritate the air-tube. But these scales produce much less frequent annoyance than the particles detached by the file, notwithstanding the dust of the employ. Respiration is not promptly impeded. Of ten men whom I examined with reference to this point, but one had difficulty of breathing as a primary symptom. The subsequent symptoms are determined chiefly by intemperance, and the constitutional disposition to consumption. The machine-makers earn high wages, and many consequently are addicted to liquor. In all, the breathing becomes, in a few years, more affected by exertion; but in the intemperate it is most affected; the morning cough is attended with retchings, disorder of the liver and of the other organs of digestion becomes established, and at length pulmonary consumption closes the list of symptoms. Scarcely a filer can be found in health. Few bear the employ, even modified as it is by frequent changes of material, for twenty-five years. Only one instance have I been able to find of a working filer exceeding the age of fifty. What can be done to prevent this lamentable waste of life? Magnetic mouth-pieces, which attract the particles of iron inhaled in respiration, and thus greatly diminish the quantity which would enter the air-tube, were many years ago introduced in Sheffield, and ought ere this to have been more extensively tried. But there is a strange apathy both among the men and the masters.”
If the working-classes, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, have abundant evils in their employments, those who would appear to be placed under happier circumstances are not exempt from those corroding cares and unnatural excitements which injure health, and destroy life, as speedily as crowded rooms and extreme heat or cold. Let us take Mr. Thackrah’s description of the class of shopkeepers:—
“They are generally temperate in their diet. They injure health, not by direct attacks, not by the introduction of injurious agents, but by withholding the pabulum of life—a due supply of that pure fluid, which nature designed as food for the constitution. Be it remembered that man subsists upon the air, more than upon his meat and drink. Numerous instances might be adduced of persons existing for months and years on a very scanty supply of aliment, but it is notorious that no one can exist for an hour without a copious supply of air. The atmosphere which shopkeepers breathe is contaminated and adulterated; air, with its vital principles so diminished, that it cannot fully decarbonize the blood, nor fully excite the nervous system. Hence shopkeepers are pale, dyspeptic, and subject to affections of the head. They often drag on a sickly existence, die before the proper end of human life, and leave a progeny like themselves.”
The merchant and manufacturer is probably not more fortunate, though he may appear to have a greater command of worldly comforts:—
“Of the causes of disease, anxiety of mind is one of the most frequent and important. When we walk the streets of large commercial towns, we can scarcely fail to remark the hurried gait, and care-worn features of the well-dressed passengers. Some young men, indeed, we may see, with countenances possessing natural cheerfulness and colour; but these appearances rarely survive the age of manhood. Cuvier closes an eloquent description of animal existence and change, with the conclusion that ‘life is a state of force.’ What he would urge in a physical view, we may more strongly urge in a moral. Civilization has changed our character of mind as well as of body. We live in a state of unnatural excitement:—unnatural, because it is partial, irregular, and excessive. Our muscles waste for want of action; our nervous system is worn out by excess of action. Vital energy is drawn from the operations for which nature designed it, and devoted to operations which nature never contemplated. If we cannot adopt the doctrine of a foreign philosopher, ‘that a thinking man is a depraved animal,’ we may without hesitation affirm, ‘that inordinate application of mind, the cares, anxieties, and disappointments of commercial life, greatly impair the physical powers.’”
Let us see if the idle man of independent fortune is placed under more favourable circumstances for the enjoyment of existence:—
“A man supplied with food and comforts, without labour and care, has constantly full opportunity of attending to health. But man is a social animal. The Creator has ordained that no individual shall live to himself, and live in happiness. A man without an object is like a tree without a leading shoot. He has not the vigour of his fellows; his strength is either dissipated in irregular pursuits, or decays from listlessness. In professions and trades the nervous system is often exhausted by excessive application; here, as frequently it declines from the want of exertion. Need I add, that the vices which result from the want of employment, undermine the constitution and shorten life.”
Mr. Thackrah has stated, in many instances, the modes which he conceives applicable to the mitigation or removal of the evils of particular employments. It is, of course, not within our province to follow him in these details. But throughout his work he notices also those habits which are best calculated to preserve man in health in every situation. These best remedies, which are in a great degree within the reach of us all, may be comprised in the words temperance, cleanliness, exercise in the open air, and cheerful relaxation. It should be the aim of every working-man to employ these remedies for any evils of his occupation, as far as he can himself; it is the duty of every employer, as much as in him lies, so to regulate his periods of labour, that no artisan shall be unable, from want of time, to take his evening walk in the fresh fields, to cultivate his little garden, or to afford an hour to that improvement of his mind which will invigorate and refresh his body, by the cheapest and the purest of all pleasures.
[Entrance to the Green Park, St. James’s.]
This fine gate, which was completed about five years since, after a design by Mr. Decimus Burton, was originally intended for a private entrance to the New Palace. Within the last few months it has been devoted to a purpose of more general utility, the road from Constitution Hill having been turned so as to allow access through the gate to those carriages which have the privilege of passing through the park, and also to foot-passengers. A new lodge has recently been erected in James Street, opening to the road connecting Pimlico with Great George Street, Westminster; and this road is free to horsemen and private carriages without distinction.
We are enabled, after many experiments, to present our readers with a plan of the Liverpool Docks, executed by a new process—namely, by a union of lines cut upon wood, and of moveable type. The completion of our wishes, in this respect, will enable us to illustrate any subject of geography or topography, by maps and plans, executed with more precision than we could have attained by any other means. We subjoin to this plan a short account of these extraordinary public works, which the growing commerce of Liverpool has created:—
The town of Liverpool was originally a small fishing-village, till Henry the Second, in 1172, first used its port as a station for the embarkation of troops to Ireland. This circumstance, with the gradually increasing commerce consequent on the connection ever since maintained between the two countries, and the excellence of its port, doubtlessly laid the foundation of its present magnitude and prosperity. Yet its growth for a long period was slow, and even at times seemed to retrograde. In 1571 the inhabitants of the “poor decayed town of Liverpool” petitioned Queen Elizabeth to be relieved from a subsidy imposed on them; and in 1630, while Bristol was assessed at 1,000l. for ship-money by Charles I., Liverpool was rated at only 26l.
The first great increase which took place in the importance of Liverpool appears to have been shortly after the commencement of the war with France in 1778, in the first year of which one hundred and twenty privateers, manned by eight thousand seven hundred and fifty seamen, issued from this port. Since that period its increase has been constant and wonderfully rapid. The population, which in 1801 was 77,653, in 1831 amounted to 165,175. In the year ending June, 1830, the number of vessels, entered inwards and outwards, amounted to 11,214, of which the tonnage was 1,411,964, and the customs duties 3,123,758l. 8s. 10d. To provide facilities for this immense traffic great exertions have been made, and vast expense incurred, in the construction of docks and the erection of warehouses. 173The plan we have given shows their position; and the following account, extracted from Lewis’s Topographical Dictionary of England, a valuable work recently completed in four quarto volumes, affords such information as may render the plan perfectly intelligible:—
For the security of the shipping in the port, and for the greater facility of loading and unloading merchandize, an immense range of docks and warehouses, extending nearly two miles along the eastern bank of the river (the Mersey), has been constructed on a scale of unparalleled magnificence, and forming one of those characteristics of commercial greatness in which this town is unrivalled. The docks are of three kinds, the wet docks, the dry docks, and the graving docks; the wet docks are chiefly for ships of great burden employed in the foreign trade, and which float in them at all states of the tide, the water being retained by gates; the dry docks, so called because they are left dry when the tide is out, are chiefly appropriated to coasting vessels; and the graving docks, which admit or exclude the water at pleasure, are adapted to the repair of ships, during which they are kept dry, and when completed are floated out by admitting the tide. The Old Dock, which was the first of the kind constructed in England, and for making which, an act of parliament was obtained in 1708, is not now in use, its site having been appropriated to the erection of a new custom-house, and other offices connected with the trade of the port. The Dry Dock, which is about to be converted into a wet dock, was constructed under the authority of an act passed in the 11th of George II., and is chiefly occupied by sloops from the north coast, which import corn, provisions, and slate, and convey back the produce of the West Indies, the Mediterranean, Portugal, and Baltic: it has a quay five hundred yards in length, and has communication with three graving docks; it has been considerably enlarged, and many of the buildings surrounding it have been taken down with the view of obtaining more quay room. The Salthouse Dock, so named from some salt-works formerly contiguous to it, was constructed about the same time as the Dry Dock; the upper part of it is chiefly for ships that are laid up, and the lower part for vessels in the Levant, Irish, and coasting trades; the quay is seven hundred and fifty-nine yards in extent, and is provided with convenient warehouses, with arcades for foot-passengers on the east side, and extensive sheds on the west side; between this dock and the river are some ship-builders’ yards, which the corporation intend to convert into docks for the craft employed in the inland trade. George’s Dock was constructed in the 2d of George III., at an expense of 21,000l.; it was originally two hundred and forty-six yards in length, and one hundred yards in breadth, with a quay of seven hundred yards in extent; but it has been enlarged, and the quay is now one thousand and one yards in length: on the east side is a range of extensive warehouses, in front of which is an arcade for foot-passengers: and on the west side are sheds for protecting the merchandize from the weather: at the north and south ends of the dock are handsome cast-iron bridges; and a parade is continued westward for a considerable distance into the river: this dock has a communication with the two preceding docks, and also with the Prince’s Dock, by basins, which preclude the necessity of returning into the river. The King’s Dock, constructed in the 25th of George III., is two hundred and seventy yards in length, and ninety-six in breadth, and is appropriated to vessels from Virginia and other parts, laden with tobacco, which article is exclusively landed here: the new tobacco warehouses extend the whole length of the quay, on the west side, and are five hundred and seventy-five feet in length, and two hundred and thirty-nine in depth; the old warehouses on the opposite side, which were appropriated to that purpose, have been converted into sheds for the security of merchandize: ships from the Baltic, freighted with timber and naval stores, discharge their cargoes on the quay; across the entrance is a handsome swivel bridge of cast-iron: this dock has a communication on the south with a dry dock and two graving docks. The Queen’s Dock, constructed at the same time, is four hundred and seventy yards long, and two hundred and twenty-seven and a half in breadth, with a spacious quay, and is chiefly occupied by vessels freighted with timber, and by those employed in the Dutch and Baltic trades; at the south end it communicates with a basin of considerable extent, called the Brunswick Half-Tide Dock, which is also connected with the Brunswick Dry Basin. On the south of the half-tide dock, a new dock of larger dimensions 174than any of the preceding, for vessels laden with timber, is in progress, to be called the Brunswick Dock, with a basin to the south of it, and patent slips for the repairing of vessels, which will probably terminate the range of docks at the southern extremity. The Prince’s Dock, constructed under an act passed in the 51st of George III., was opened with great pomp on the day of the coronation of his late Majesty, George IV.; it is five hundred yards in length, and one hundred and six in breadth; at the north end is a spacious basin, belonging to it, and at the south end it communicates with the basin of George’s Dock. The quays are spacious, and there are sheds for the protection of goods from the weather: along the west side, near the river, is a beautiful marine parade, seven hundred and fifty yards long, and eleven wide, defended by a stone parapet wall, from which is a delightful view of the river and the shipping; at convenient intervals are three flights of steps leading down to the river, where boats are in constant attendance. To the north of the basin belonging to this dock, four spacious wet docks, and a large graving dock, which latter is to be fitted up with patent slips, are at present in a state of rapid progress; and, when completed, will probably terminate the range of docks on the north side of the town. The Duke’s Dock, between Salthouse and the King’s Dock, is a small dock belonging to the trustees of the late Duke of Bridgewater, for the use of his flats, with commodious warehouses. The several carriers by water have also convenient basins on the river, for the use of their barges, with quays for loading and unloading their goods; and the Mersey and Irwell navigation company have a small dock, called the Manchester Dock, for the flats employed in that extensive trade, and for the transport to this town of the productions of Cheshire, and the adjoining counties. The whole range of the docks, when the northern and southern additions are completed, will be two miles and eight hundred and twenty yards in length. Spacious as they are they are still considered inadequate to the increasing commerce of the port, and measures are in contemplation for their further extension. The sums expended in the formation of these docks amount to more than two millions sterling; for clearing them from the accumulation of silt brought in by the tide, a dredging-machine, worked by a steam-engine of ten-horse power, is in constant operation, by which fifty tons per hour are raised into barges, and deposited where it may be washed away by the current of the river.
To this we are enabled to add, from an official paper, the following table, showing the area of water and the quantity of quay-space of these splendid docks:—
| Area of water in Square Yards. | Quay-Space in Lineal Yards. | |
| Dry Basins. | ||
| Prince’s Basin | 20,909 | 509 |
| Seacombe Basin | 1,805 | 188 |
| George’s Basin | 16,372 | 455 |
| George’s Ferry Basin | 1,344 | 160 |
| Old Dock Gut | 7,737 | 447 |
| Queen’s Basin | 24,391 | 601 |
| Brunswick Basin | 23,622 | 572 |
| South Ferry Basin | 2,927 | 205 |
| Wet Docks. | ||
| Prince’s Dock, with its two locks | 57,129 | 1613 |
| George’s Dock, with its two passages | 26,793½ | 1001 |
| Dry Dock as altered | 19,095 | 500 |
| Salthouse Dock, with its passage | 23,025 | 759 |
| King’s Dock, with its passage | 37,776 | 875 |
| Queen’s Dock, with its two passages | 51,501½ | 1255 |
| Half-tide Dock, with its passage | 13,185½ | 497 |
| New North Works. | ||
| No. 1 Dock, with No. 1 Lock, and half of passage | 30,764½ | 1012 |
| No. 2 Dock, with Entrance-Lock, and half of two passages | 29,085½ | 839 |
| No. 3 Dock, with No. 2 Lock, and half of passage | 33,642½ | 1050 |
| No. 4 Dock, with its Lock | 29,313 | 914 |
| Half-tide Basin | 17,605 | 586 |
| New South Docks. | ||
| Brunswick Dock, with its passage | 60,824 | 1092 |
| Half-tide Basin | 9,245 | 483 |
This forms a total of dock-room of one hundred and eleven acres; and the quay-space extends to the length of eight miles, within a few yards. The whole length of the river-wall is two miles, eight hundred and twenty yards, exclusive of the openings.
This is a volume which no one can read without improvement. It contains the history of a young Protestant clergyman, Felix Neff, who devoted his life to the duty of preaching the divine word to the scattered inhabitants of the dreary regions called “the High Alps” of France[1];—and who, in the discharge of this sacred trust, felt that he was advancing his principal object while he was improving the physical condition of these poor people, and leading them to the acquirement of general knowledge. The difficulties which this wise and pious man encountered could only have been overcome by the most ardent zeal. The labours which he underwent, and the privations which he sustained, ruined his health, and consigned him prematurely to the grave. But his career, though short, was one of permanent usefulness to the mountaineers in whose service he perished: and he has left behind him a new example of how much one man may accomplish for the benefit of his fellow-creatures, who goes forward in a good work with singleness of purpose, regardless of any other reward but the approbation of his own conscience.
Neff was not a man in whom book-learning constituted the only knowledge. He received a tolerable education from the pastor of the village near Geneva in which he was born; and the contemplative and devout qualities of his mind were called forth by the grand and beautiful scenery by which he was surrounded in his boyhood. But he had a strong love for what was practically useful, and he therefore learnt the trade of a nursery gardener; he had a stronger passion for romantic adventure, and he entered as a private soldier in the service of Geneva in 1815. At sixteen, when he was a gardener, he published a valuable little treatise on the culture of trees; and, within two years after he became a soldier at the age of seventeen, he was promoted to be serjeant of artillery, in consequence of his theoretical and practical knowledge of mathematics. His anxious desire, however, was to be a teacher of religion; and he at length quitted the army to devote himself to the studies which would be necessary previous to his ordination as a minister. He first assumed the functions of what is called a pastor-catechist; and was ultimately called to the vocation for which he was so anxious, by one of those independent congregations of England, whose ministers are received in the Protestant churches of France. Neff adopted the resolution to be ordained in London, for the satisfaction of some religious scruples. This ceremony took place in a chapel in the Poultry, in 1823; and within six months after he was appointed authorized pastor of the department of the High Alps. To form an estimate of the labours which such an appointment involved, it may be sufficient to mention that, in order to visit his various flocks, the pastor had to travel, from his fixed residence, twelve miles in a western direction, sixty in an eastern, twenty in a southern, and thirty-three in a northern; and that Neff steadily persevered, in all seasons, in passing on foot from one district to another, climbing mountains covered with snow, forcing a way through valleys choked up by the masses of rocks that were hurled down by the winter’s storm, partaking of the coarse fare and imperfect shelter of the peasant’s hut, and never allowing himself any repose or 175relaxation, because the ignorance of the poor people who were intrusted to his charge was so great, that nothing but incessant activity on his part could surmount its evils. Mr. Gilly has justly observed (speaking in his character of an English clergyman), “it is well that we should see how hard some of our brethren work, and how hard they live; and that we should discover, to our humiliation, that it is not always where there is the greatest company of preachers that the word takes deepest root.”
The course of Neff’s life, and the affection which he inspired, will be better understood from the following extract:—
“When his arrival was expected in certain hamlets, whose rotation to be visited was supposed to be coming round, it was beautiful to see the cottages send forth their inhabitants, to watch the coming of the beloved minister. ‘Come take your dinner with us.’—‘Let me prepare your supper.’—‘Permit me to give up my bed to you,’—were re-echoed from many a voice, and though there was nothing in the repast which denoted a feast-day, yet never was festival observed with greater rejoicing than by those whose rye-bread and pottage were shared with the pastor Neff. Sometimes, when the old people of one cabin were standing at their doors, and straining their eyes to catch the first view of their ‘guide to heaven,’ the youngsters of another were perched on the summit of a rock, and stealing a prospect which would afford them an earlier sight of him, and give them the opportunity of offering the first invitation. It was on these occasions that he obtained a perfect knowledge of the people, questioning them about such of their domestic concerns as he might be supposed to take an interest in, as well as about their spiritual condition, and finding where he could be useful both as a secular adviser and a religious counsellor. ‘Could all their children read? Did they understand what they read? Did they offer up morning and evening prayers? Had they any wants that he could relieve? Any doubts that he could remove? Any afflictions wherein he could be a comforter?’
“It was thus that he was the father of his flock, and master of their affections and their opinions; and when the seniors asked for his blessing, and the children took hold of his hands or his knees, he felt all the fatigue of his long journeys pass away, and became recruited with new strength. But for the high and holy feelings which sustained him, it is impossible that he could have borne up against his numerous toils and exposures, even for the few months in which he thus put his constitution to the trial. Neither rugged paths, nor the inclement weather of these Alps, which would change suddenly from sunshine to rain, and from rain to sleet, and from sleet to snow; nor snow deep under foot, and obscuring the view when dangers lay thick on his road; nothing of this sort deterred him from setting out, with his staff in his hand, and his wallet on his back, when he imagined that his duty summoned him. I have been assured by those who have received him into their houses at such times, that he has come in chilly, wet, and fatigued; or exhausted by heat, and sudden transitions from excessive heat to piercing cold, and that after sitting down a few minutes his elastic spirits would seem to renovate his sinking frame, and he would enter into discourse with all the mental vigour of one who was neither weary nor languid.
“When he was not resident at the presbytery, he was the guest of some peasant, who found him willing to live as he lived, and to make a scanty meal of soup-maigre, often without salt or bread, and to retire to rest in the same apartment, where a numerous family were crowded together, amidst all the inconveniences of a dirty and smoky hovel.”
We have already stated that the benevolent pastor of the High Alps was intent upon improving the condition of his people as to physical comfort, at the same time that he proclaimed to them the hopes and consolations of religion. Let us see how he set about this work:—
“His first attempt was to impart an idea of domestic convenience. Chimneys and windows to their hovels were luxuries to which few of them had aspired, till he showed them how easy it was to make a passage for the smoke, and admittance for the light and air. He next convinced them that warmth might be obtained more healthily than by pigging together for six or seven months in stables, from which the muck of the cattle was removed but once during the year. For their coarse and unwholesome food, he had, indeed, no substitute, because the sterility of the soil would produce no other; but he pointed out a mode of tillage, by which they increased the quantity: and in cases of illness, where they had no conception of applying the simplest remedies, he pointed out the comfort which a sick person may derive from light and warm soups and other soothing assistance. So ignorant were they of what was hurtful or beneficial in acute disorders, that wine and brandy were no unusual prescriptions in the height of a raging fever. Strange enough, and still more characteristic of savage life, the women, till Neff taught the men better manners, were treated with so much disregard, that they never sat at table with their husbands or brothers, but stood behind them, and received morsels from their hands with obeisance and profound reverence.”
He taught the people of the valleys how to irrigate their lands, so as to increase the crop of grass, which is exceedingly small. He found the utmost difficulty in explaining to his hearers that the water might be made to rise and fall, and might be dammed up and distributed accordingly as it might be required for use. The labour and expense appeared to them insuperable difficulties. In spite of their prejudices he accomplished his object, working with the people as a common labourer, and applying his knowledge as an engineer for their exclusive advantage. By thus teaching them how to double their crops he saved them from some of their most severe privations. He taught them also how to cultivate the potato with advantage. But he did more even than this. He incited the people to build a schoolhouse in one of the districts where knowledge was most wanted: and that proper teachers might be spread throughout these regions so shut out from the ordinary means of education, he persuaded a number of young persons to assemble together, one or two from each community, during the most dreary of the winter months, when they could not labour in the fields, and during that time to work hard with him in the attainment of that knowledge which they were afterwards to spread amongst their uninstructed friends and neighbours. The perseverance of these young people was worthy of their zealous pastor. To accomplish this good work perfectly he obtained the assistance of a studious young friend, who was preparing himself for a great public school. Neff’s own account of his progress as a schoolmaster is so interesting that we are sure our readers will not complain of its length:—
“The short space of time which we had before us, rendered every moment precious. We divided the day into three parts. The first was from sunrise to eleven o’clock, when we breakfasted. The second from noon to sunset, when we supped. The third from supper till ten or eleven o’clock at night, making in all fourteen or fifteen hours of study in the twenty-four. We devoted much of this time to lessons in reading, which the wretched manner in which they had been taught, their detestable accent, and strange tone of voice, rendered a most necessary, but tiresome duty. The grammar, too, of which not one of them had the least idea, occupied much of our time. People who have been brought up in towns can have no conception of the difficulty which mountaineers and rustics, whose ideas are confined to those objects only to which they have been familiarized, find in learning this branch of science. There is scarcely any way of conveying the meaning of it to them. All the usual terms and definitions, and the means which are commonly employed in schools, are utterly unintelligible here. But the curious and novel devices which must be employed have this advantage,—that they exercise their understanding, and help to form their judgment. Dictation was one of the methods to which I had recourse: without it they would have made no progress in grammar and orthography; but they wrote so miserably, and slowly, that this consumed a great portion of valuable time. Observing that they were ignorant of the signification of a great number of French words, of constant use and recurrence, I made a selection from the vocabulary, and I set them to write down in little copy-books words which were in most frequent use; but 176the explanations contained in the dictionary were not enough, and I was obliged to rack my brain for new and brief definitions which they could understand, and to make them transcribe these. Arithmetic was another branch of knowledge which required many a weary hour. Geography was considered a matter of recreation after dinner; and they pored over the maps with a feeling of delight and amusement, which was quite new to them. I also busied myself in giving them some notions of the sphere, and of the form and motion of the earth; of the seasons and the climates, and of the heavenly bodies. Everything of this sort was as perfectly novel to them, as it would have been to the islanders of Otaheite; and even the elementary books, which are usually put into the hands of children, were at first as unintelligible as the most abstruse treatises on mathematics. I was consequently forced to use the simplest and plainest modes of demonstration; but these amused and instructed them at the same time. A ball made of the box-tree, with a hole through it, and moving on an axle, and on which I had traced the principal circles; some large potatoes hollowed out; a candle, and sometimes the skulls of my scholars, served for the instruments by which I illustrated the movements of the heavenly bodies, and of the earth itself. Proceeding from one step to another, I pointed out the situation of different countries on the chart of the world, and in separate maps, and took pains to give some slight idea, as we went on, of the characteristics, religion, customs, and history of each nation. These details fixed topics of moment in their recollection. Up to this time I had been astonished by the little interest they took, Christian-minded as they were, in the subject of Christian missions; but, when they began to have some idea of geography, I discovered that their former ignorance of this science, and of the very existence of many foreign nations in distant quarters of the globe, was the cause of such indifference. But as soon as they began to learn who the people are who require to have the Gospel preached to them, and in what part of the globe they dwell, they felt the same concern for the circulation of the Gospel that other Christians entertained. These new acquirements, in fact, enlarged their spirit, made new creatures of them, and seemed to triple their very existence.
“In the end, I advanced so far as to give some lectures in geometry, and this too produced a happy moral development.
“Lessons in music formed part of our evening employment, and those being, like geography, a sort of amusement, they were regularly succeeded by grave and edifying reading, and by such reflections as I took care to suggest for their improvement.”
The unremitting labours of Neff destroyed his health, and he was at length obliged to quit the inclement district in which he had accomplished so much good. He lingered for some time in a state of great debility, and died at Geneva on the 12th April, 1829.
We cannot better conclude this brief and imperfect notice of a truly valuable and delightful book, than by the following observations of its author on the character of the admirable individual whose noble labours he has recommended to the imitation, not only of every Christian minister, but of every one, however humble, who feels a desire to advance his own real happiness and that of his fellow-creatures:—
“It was his anxiety to build up the Christian on a foundation where self dependence, vain-glory, and imaginary merit were to have no place whatever; and yet every act of his ministry proved that he set a just value on knowledge and attainments. It was his labour of love to show, that whenever any addition is made to our stock of knowledge, we not only gain something in the way of enjoyment, but are laying up a store for the improvement of our moral and religious feelings, and of our general habits of industry. The spiritual advancement of his flock was the great end and object of all his toils; but no man ever took a warmer interest in the temporal comforts of those about him, and this he evinced by instructing them in the management of their fields and gardens, in the construction of their cottages, and in employing all his own acquirements in philosophy and science for the amelioration of their condition.… He so condescended to things of low estate, as to become a teacher of a, b, c, not only to ignorant infancy, but to the dull and unpliant capacities of adults. Beginning with the most tiresome rudiments, he proceeded upwards, leading on his scholars methodically, kindly, and patiently, until he had made them proficients in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and could lead them into the pleasanter paths of music, geography, history, and astronomy. His mind was too enlarged to fear that he should be teaching his peasant boys too much. It was his aim to show what a variety of enjoyments may be extracted out of knowledge, and that even the shepherd and the goatherd of the mountain-side will be all the happier and the better for every piece of solid information that he can acquire.”
1. The High Alps were originally peopled by Christians who fled to these sterile and gloomy mountains and valleys to escape persecution for their religious opinions. They were a hiding-place for centuries.
A statue to the memory of Major Cartwright has lately been erected, by public subscription, in Burton Crescent, where the venerable reformer for many years resided. It is of bronze, and was executed by Mr. Clarke, late of Birmingham.
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