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Laa diagrammes suivants illuatrant la mAthoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 1- c (Breat %ivcQ d ALFRED LORD /n A STUDY OF HIS LIFE Bv ARTHUR VVAUGH, B.A. Oxon. ; -o/u.,!,, v,i.h Twenty /llustra/ions and Five Portraits, prue 6s. nJr^vvTlTeer'Jf'v' ^"'^'"s evidence of a faithful studv of Tennyson's sssiiiiiissssss The Athenaeum.-'- A cha^^l:^g monoj,c-,',ph.- has fh^t 1? "^ ,""' '"" '""^'^"" •■^'"""f-' '""'l"" biographer ^ He ^h ;'"^'"^' °^ '^"^ "■"'' I'io.-rapher, .lehcacy ; he has hkewise and ,.„. 'm. w™«h°ia:-:;L„,v i^': t^::«'ns£,rcr^L'„";i::"^- snerally a,,|.„S»i:" ' ' ' ' ""' '" """'" "• >' •''''■y "^ »»■! Li. Ntir.; W!LLIA.\! IIIilNLMANN, ., Hkhkhr,, Sikkei. W.C. es.-"This book is based on the confessions of the Empress herself ; it gives striking pictures of the condition of the contemporary Russia which she did so much to mould as well as to expand. . . . Fevv stories in history are more romantic than that of Catherine II. of Russia, with Its mvstenous incic'ents and thrilling episodes; few characters present more curious problems." The Spectator.— "A singularly vivid picture of the Empress. The atmosphere of her Court, too, has been rendered with great success." The Guardian. very high praise." The Bookman. -".^ lancinating character for psvchological study, and M Uahszewski has made the most of his opportunities in this entertaining yet becomingly serious book." The Observer.-" M. Waliszewskis bright and eminently readable biography of one of the most striking figures in modern European history. ^ The Wostminster Gazette.-" .\ marvellous picture of the Russian Court of those days. . . . M. Waliszewskis life of Catherine is incom- parably the best that h. nppeared. and has been very well translated." The Morning Post.-" One of the best accounts of the famous Empress that have yet appeared." The World. -" The historical and political portions of the L • are full of Hiteres', and impor'ant to such readers as desir.^ to undei stand the growth and mechanism of the vast empire which has witnessed so many tragedies of the base and sordid kind." Truth.-" A book which will certainly and deeply interest you." The St. James's Buriget.-" To say that the book is interesting is to give a very poor idea of it : for it is entertaining and attractiv. from end to end." The sketch. " .\n intimate and a very interesting study from the impartial pen of M. Waliszewski. ' LoN.iu.N: WIl.LI.v.M IIEINE.MANN, .1 1!ki.h,ki. SiKy.Ki, W.C !3rcat Xfrea an5 Events THE STORY OF A THRONE (CATHERINE II. OF RUSSIA) By K. VVALI3ZEWSKI In One Volume, with Front isp-eie, price 6s. 1 he Times.--" Readers of M. Waliszewski's former work will not need Lndl ctatlloUil''""'^Th 'T1 ^^ f ^■^•''^ °"^' '"" °^ intimate touches The World.-- No novel that ever was written could compete with tH, historical monograph in absorbing interest." ^"'npeie witn this The Daily Chronicle.-" These two volumes are as good reading as any novel which tae publishing season has yet produced and Se? or heartier praise we cannot give them." "igner or -r mrUwf "^ ^^^s^ " The book is, without doubt, one of the most useful contributions recently made to the history of a great reign." The Standard.- " The book brings vividly before the reader the entourage o the Lmpress, and gives passing glimpses of many soldiers courtiers, diplomatists, and scholars who lent luttre To her C(^n.'' ' NAPOLEON AND FAIR SEX By FREDERIC MASSON In -ine rolume. mitli Frontispiece, price 6s. The Times. " It is a work of much patient and labjricus research " viJichv^'hT'?^^''"' r^***' "-V ^'^'^°" '^•"''=« ^^»h brightness and \uacit>, he sh.nvs m.iustiy in his research into the scandals of Tho Lum.on: WIl.l.F.AM 111 lA'KMA.\-\, :, Hr.uFORi ."^IKEKT, W.C. <3tcat livee an^ Events A FRIEND OF THE QUEEN (MARIE ANTOINETTE-COUNT FERGEN) Bv PAUL GAULOT fn One Volume, with Frontispiece, '■rice 6s dunng those troublous ti^es with which C^^t ^er^en wafconnltfd ■■ ^^ woTk or M°rsTa^hS°H ;r'' V '' T' P''^'^'"« '°° ™"^h either M. Gaulofs surrounded the ni-fl^d :Uane Antoir^-t e and Th ° '"T^r'^ ^^' ^'"^>-^ .anant .oun, Swede deserves ^^^^^L^^^ S^T ^:^ MEMOIRS OF THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE (Translated from the French by Lady MARY LOYD) Ir, On, Volume, with Seventy Eight Illustrations ly the Author, price 6s writen. fs'^full'or pK^ ma;t''e?\n'd°f ; ''""^'^ '''' , ""P-tentiously with the rrince han o iolTfh. /rnrh T "' '" T"*-^'^ ^"-''^^^ charity men^ber of his familTwt hil written a' b^:?"" "''' ''"''-" ^^''^ ^">' °''-' capta,n of a fri.ate, was long aftSwa,t har^ d hh tI"dT..'o7br?'-'' twenty-f,,urth year of the T^J^^^-,, tottnt s^^kT;^.^"^ "^'^ The Speaker. -" This is nothing short of a cauitil hn^^i- ■ ^^ sa>Iorl.ke, humorous book. I.'or a book that clrr?e til metier 'i",h,'^r''' gives him every now and arain a hnirtv h.^-^hul u u ^'^^'■^^^ ^'K"' along, Lonmn: WILLIAM IIEINLSLU^,, „k„„„„ 5^,^,.^ „. j. a Xtrei 6rcat Xfres d Erents THE NATURALIST OF THE SEA-SHORE Other IVorks l>y Mr. Edmuxd Gosse \\ ! On yiol and Flute / Pt -. \- j ■ ■ '^\ '^73- ^nu edition. /Sg6 /Cmg^rj,. i8j6. %t.inucd. i8gj In Russet and SUver. /Sg^ Northern Studir. !.y /'Mil.-,/; jSyg. PopuU (.i:„o„. jSgo yfij£Gruy. t8S2. Ke-v;sed cdu,on. iSSg. ,Sgb ^cnteeml-UnturySiudus. ,SSj. TA:,ded,u.n. ,SgO LiftjjfCongreve, iS88 AHiuory of EigMcenth. Century Lnerature^ ,88g. .Second edit 101.. i8gi GjssifJna_U^..ry. jSg,. Third edition. ,8g4 The Stcrtt of Narcn s^^R^^ ,g^^ l^tlioHi at hiHt. jggj Criiiea/ Kit- /Cats. iSgb THE NATURALIST OF THE SEA-SHORE THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE BY HIS SON EDMUND GOSSE HON. M..A. OF TRIM lY Cor.IEGE, CAMURIUGE I- ON DON WILLIAM n V I M tr TV I.S()6 T \ XT XT [AJJ . -tj rtserviJ] First Edition, i8go First printed in ^^Gra,t Lives and Events;^ ,8^6 TO EDWIN RAV LANKESTER, F.R.S., LL.D., J">.REI.I_ PROFESSOR OF ZOCO^iV AND COMPARATUK . NATOMY IN ■NiVERSITY C ,LLEGE, LONDON, AND HONORARV FELLOW OK EXETER COLLEGE, OXFORD. Dear Lankester, No one who reads this book will that there were many points of vital re(]uire to be told im iportp.ice upon which your convictions and those of the suhie "L>ii.-v „, „.„^ uiugiajjiiy were aia- metrically opposed. Yet yoa respected him and he admired you, and of all our friends you were the earliest to urge me to under- take this labour of love. I desire to inscribe your name on this first page of my book, not merely because of those pleasant relations which have sc lon.o: existed between your family and mme, but as a hint to such readers as may come to the perusal :-( It with oi.inions strongly buissed in one direction or in another, that it is wise to "condemn not all tlun^s in the Council of Trent, nor approve all in the Synod of l)„rt." N'ou, at hast, in reading this life of your old acquaintance, uill be pleased where yo'i ca 1 share his beliefs, and interested in the attitude of his mind where you wholly disagree with him. Believe me to be \ uuis very sinceiely, KuMiNi) Gossn. Getok-i; 1890. PREFACE. Although my father never made any direct reference to the subject, the condition of his papers left us without doubt that he had contemplated the probability of the publication of a memoir. We found that he had ar- ranged his diaries, notes, and correspondence in strict order, and as though with a view to their use as bio- graphical material. In 18G8 he became greatly interested in all that reminded him of his early life. He paid a visit to the haunts of his childhood, he wrote to such persons as were likely to recall the events in which he was interested, and he amassed a great quantity of anecdotes and memo- randa. As is usually the case with the autobiographies of elderly persons, his interest in the task dwindled when he had passed the period of childhood ; but it did not quite erase un' '^"'"^^ -''"'^. «i,l be to for. for h,™t™; :;:!:;;?;: "n" '"= ™^" ccaied or manipulated any of his P^Har ti 7 m' "r endeavour has been to present mv fitl,7 u ^ °"'*' » doins r have felt ,J. fT '" ""^ "■^"' ^"'' >" ■■■n.ed.a.ofahaird';s::rrbr.Trtr^*'T -r=— ----^^^^ private standard of his o«n I I, , '^ ^ '° " truest piety to repres „■ 1 ''^''" '' '° ""= '^e have found him, ""'"'»■ ^' ' ''"">■ "™ and n>d::ter::°«,ei:rr„bi", r ™^"" -^-^ ' - ..andfather. Mr. xla^rOo ^ :/:'* "'"'''^ "' "- venerable uncle, Mr. WilhamG; ,e aITT" "' "'' I have ,o thank- for their fcindne s in ^ T " " ""^ duce this vo,un,e, , must mel J f.:'7» "^^ '° "™- "u:r^^:-tt^f-r-----C™^ :s;s:;:e';:v-^'-'— '--4::i cox T E \ T S a [I. III. t\. \'. \i. \ H. viir, IX. .\. \i. Chii Diioon (iSio-iS27)... \i:\vror\i)i,.\ND (1S27, 1S281 XFUroi-XDI.ANI) (1828 1835) Canada (1835-18381 Alaha.ma (1S38) LnrRARY .STRUGC.I.ES (1839-1844) Jamxk-a (1S44-1846) Lnr.RAKY Work i\ Loxdo.x (1840-1851! Work at the .Ska\>i Nkars (1864-1888) General CuAKAriERi.si ics Aii'FNnix I. Ali'ENDIX II. I 30 61 89 no 149 180 206 235 271 306 3-24 353 373 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE, F.R.S. CHAPTER I. CHILDHOOD. 1 8 10-1827. £ ARLY in the spring of 180; a middle-aged gentleman diruLU in Worcester bv thp T^afK l ceeded to modest lod^in^^s lh7 u ' ' '"^ P''^' *■ ^""^'"gs, where he was almari,, n knonn an" ivory of which G ;u-av h ' f ^ "^""^ "ifn-aturcs — tant in the previo s . "" ''^ "^"'^^ ^^-o-s now filtered down to "h" lo ""?"• '"'^ '^^'^-" ^-^ ^eccethe practice^a; rLr^.t ""T. ''' ' '^ SO round the country fron. town to o' ' "' ""' ^° -ou,h in each pj.ce to paintT.ead T' Tr' ^°"-^ they met with. Thomi Cn , '"^^ ^'"'"^^ ^"^ £:du-ard Penny, R A had ' ° '"' ^^"^'^■^"^ "-'- -uerorth.^p;;;:,r-— ^--^^^^^^^^ h's own long practice ,n mezzotint' "'^ '^^""^ accuracy. Never inspired o. "^ '° '''"^ "'^'^ '^^'•niatures are nevertheless flf " '""^ ^''^ ^'■^^-'■^*^' ^'^ best of them possess a ^ J ''^"^"^Pl'-^hed. and the timidity from -inv .H ^ '^'"''"'^' '"'^h extreme of life. ^ >^'"' ""'' he ..as ready ,„ despair >ndMrs. G,.en peoolerr , '"''' *"« " -^Ir. '"ble the n,i„i ,reti„ e? . , T' «'""'-." "i-.e and his Parson Ad„3 ^ ' '■'■'■'' "' Thooeritus «--s occasion he ^:rj e"fi ?"""^>'^ -'™-- On ".oir es.ablis™.„t a IZ J """ '' "■'=* '""'••'<= of ^bt'uous ..o'sinon ,fa °'. '"="'>'.--. "ho occupied an *c- Green household, rl^t^:;:::!'^^'! ""p--. ■•" THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. Her father, Philip Best, of Titton Brook, near Stourport, was a yeoman, who cultivated his paternal acres, and added to his income occasionally by working for hire under neighbouring farmers. His wife, the mother of Hannah Best, was a virago of a bygone type. She was a thorough shrew, who kept her children, and for that matter her husband, in wholesome awe of her tongue and hand. Even when, her daughters were grown women, Mrs. Best would scruple not, when her temper was aroused, to whip off her high-hetlcd shoe and apply personal chastisement in no pcrfunctoiy fashion. It was while smarting under one of these humiliating inflictions that Hannah Best had fled to an asylum in the house of Mrs. Green, in Worcester. The beauty, the strength, the pastoral richness of the nature of Hannah Best produced an instant and extra- ordinai/ effect on Thomas Gosse. She was one of his Sicilian shepherdesses come to life again. Theocritus him- self seemed to have prophesied of this beautiful child of a race of neatherds. Like another daughter of I'olybotas, she had but just come from piping to the reapers on the Titton farm. He fell violently in love, for the first time in his life. Hannah Best, wlicn he proposed, was startled and repelled. This gri'\ and withered man, who never smiled, without fortune, without prospects — what sort of husband was that for her? iUit Mr. aiul Mrs. Green, ghul perhaps to have an embarrassing knot thus opportunely cut, presented other views (•>{ the matter to her. He was a gentleman and a man of education, such as Hannah couiii not hope otherwise to secure ; he was a man of pure corduct and pious habits ; lie would doubtless tlirive when otice iicr strciiglii ot puiposi- and practical good sense should su]>ply a backixmc to liis character. Not cnthusi- asticuiiy, si»c eonseuieii lo in.ii ly ium, and .iiLi.i .i iasiuun V 4 d CHILDHOOD. 5 she 'earned to love him T ^, ^ iiurried and jnrpccnnf ...-i ■ - Hu .ncessant pilgrimages of the oarents of Laurence Seerne. The firs. ,„ove„,e„t was to gL .e/ al rr ^T" '' '"""^ '° "" ^- ^ portrait ;■ Wd„cd for a few months, near the Hot Weils Thoma, Gosse pa,nt,ng " valetudinary " and other ladies and teart ■ng drawm,- ,vieh tolerable sueeess. On April m fsox' BrZ ""rs.;;" "" •'"*-■ -^ -™"o".'-t p':r;::-:trttc:e^-? Upton-on-Severn, thence to Eve 1, '"'*"'; ''^""^'^" ^^ to Worcester h, V • "' ''"^ ^^'^'^' ""^^' '""^e a „1 ",','"■ !'?■'' ''°''^'' "-^ •'=""" '^"'1" "f Thorn. . . H nnah <.,sse, „•:. born in lo.l,i„,s over ,1.; '•-e yet another .niraU.,,, ^'^ ZZ ""'T'' •hoy tool: l„,,,,i„g, ,„ vv,3, ^,^^,,,,^, ',C"Von.ry, where Coventry i.roved to h„ "• '^ hard. |..,r some months had ,Z!S^.J°.'^:'""''^" -"'■■0. a„,l Mr. Gosse ■"^■'■■' '"'t ill i >cccmh(-r /.r »i, th.y u-erc off again, and now ' """ "^■^'- Leicester. Mrs. G uSSC, THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. however, was by this time weary of such an aimless life, such incessant pitching of the tent a day's march further on. She swept aside the objections of her husband's gentility, and determined to see whether she could not bring grist to the mill. While Mr. Gosse was away painting his portraits, she obtained permission to turn the front room of their If ' :^ings into a shop. She was " at the expense of a large and finely sashed bow-window," and this she stocked with groceries. The consequence was that, when her husband made his next proposal that, as usual, they should move on, she declined to leave Leicester, and allowed Jiim to start on a professional tour through the east of England alone. She was, however, in spite of her energy, unskilled in the arts of shopkeeping, and when he returned, she easily agreed to make one more flitting — as far as she was concerned, the final one. Three of Thomas Gosse's elder sisters had married well, and were all domiciled at I'liole. in Dorsetshire. In the autumn of i8i i he went thither to visit them, and was struck by the a(lvantai.Tes that might accrue from settling in the neighbourhood of these three well-to-do establish- ments. His visit to I'ooie, moreover, was attended by the exhibition in the heavens of a comet of unusual splendour, and this imposing spectacle impressed his wife as an omen of favourable import. Thomas (iossc passed the winter in visiting his three sisters in turn, was encouraged by them all to come to r.vsiilc in Dorset, and in May. 1S12, returned to Leicester to prepare for the lin.ii (lilting. The family .set out by stages in the coach, their furniture following them by waggon. They spent a W\\ da>s at Titton Hro ik with the gran(i parents, and on tiiis occasion my fath'-r formed his earliest durable recollection of a scene. lie was two years and one month old at the time, aiul his record ol the f,i. t may be given as the iii-il example of the CHILDHOOD. astonislu-ng power .f .memory which was to accoraninv ..... through hfe. .. , was i„ „y ,..hcr's arms," TZl n a memorandum dated ,868. ^ .he bottom of tt front garden [at Titton], ,vhere it >v , divided by a hedge rom the road. There came uy a team of o.en or ho res dr,ven by a peasant who guided them by his voice :-■ Gee Captam! Wo, Merryman ! ■ These two names I vivid y T.tton Brook, and ,t ,s cnrtain that no portion of the im- press^n could be derived from later kno>vled.,e Travd .ng by Uirmingham and Salisbury, tl,e Gosses came m .t:i,do;crarr'^"^''''"'"^-"-- '--»-" Tl,e borough and county of the borough of Poole to ..ve ,t „s fun honours, possessed in those d^-s a populalion oi about SIX thousand souls It wis ^ „„ .- . tmvn „!,„ J • P."s)crous litt e to«„, whose good streets, sufficiently broad a,:d well oav^,l -re hned with solid and comfortable red-briclc house ' T c upp„ „, f ,^, ,^^„,_^,^ ^^.^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ... ™ « ..ch „ was built aiding a rapid drainage after r^in / >-iiuuj,n , uniic the nose was rprt-n'nl,, ., . regaled by the reeking odours of ,„e < ,„ . "uthT -res and piles of salt cod. its ranges:, L^l^ 'm *:..;i:..:f:rtsir';:;:v:'r'"'--' ^'' -■"-«^-- ,,, r . • '"'"^'t""^'s too obvioush- in the in,'; ter '::"" "r" ""' '■«• """"'« -'-' '""- ,d 1 r ,h '"T " "''"""■""^' »--'-- •■...J cleanliness. ■^ .1 .< re. ,l,„„..l, ,|,e „,e„,„ry i, „„,. „f „„^, :x.!:iz::"" "■-"-»»'— i.„o,eofh,s " The Hiiatr ....♦I. -v ^ I •„_ , . ""' ' ' "'"" " 'l'l""K -tiKi sailors ; their sonrrc •....l-.of.,.cavew,thawHl,yoho,,l,,j;^:;^;; THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. "chants Dustlinf^ to and fro; fishermen and boatmen "and hoymen in their sou'wester?, guernsey frocks, and " loose trousers ; countrymen, young bumpkins in smocks, "seeking to be shipped as 'youngsters' for Newfound- " land ; rows of casks redolent of train oil ; Dobel!, the "gauger, moving among them, rod in hand; customs- " officers and tide-waiters ti king notes ; piles of salt hsh "loading; packages of dry goods being shipped ; coal "cargoes discharging ; dogs in scores ; idle boys larking "about or mounting the rigging, — among them Bui " Goodwin displaying his agility and haidihood on the "very truck of some tall brig ; — all this mi-'-f^s a livcl}' "picture in my memory, while the church bells, a full " peal of eight, are ringing merrily. The Poole men "gloried somewhat in this peal ; and one of the low inns " frequented by sailors, in one of the lanes opening on "the Quay, had for its sign the Eight Bells duly depicted "in full. " Owing to the immense area of mud in Poole Harbour, " dry at low water, and treacherously covered at high, " leaving only narrow and winding channels of water "deep enough for shippin;; to traverse, skilled pilots " were indispensable foi every vessel arriving or sailing. '' From our upper windows in Skinner Street, we could "see the vessels pursuing their course along Main " Channel, now a[)proaching Lilliput, then turning and "apparently coasting under tlie sand-banks of North "Haven. Pilots, tishci'nien, boatmen of various grades, " a loose-trousered, guernsey-frocked sou westered race, "were always lounging about the Quay." Su! h was i:'. iSiJ, and such continued to be for the next twelve ycirs, the background to the (.(imestic fortune- of the Gosses. Thomas Gosse presently departed, in ais customary nomadic way, and spent the winter at Yecwii, CHILDHOOD. in Somenict. Before leaving his wife and children, he took the house No. i, Skinner Street, which is mentioned in the above quotation. The ~isters-in-law helped with the furnishing: and ITe pror to be far more pleasant with Hannah Gosse than ever before ; but the protection of these relations was tempered by a kind of conscious condescension, and Thomas was not allowed to forget that he had been guilty of a mesalliance. I have heard my grandmother describe how deep an impression was made upon her by the loneliness of her first winter in Poole. She was timid and not a little inclined to superstition, and she had newly come into what seemed to her a large house with not a soul to relieve her nocturnal solitude, except her two sleeping babies. She used to keep them in a crib in the pa. lour till she went to bed, as some feeble company These painful feelings were much increased by a terrifying circumstance, which was never satisfactorily accounted for There was no shutter to the back-parlour window, and late one dark evening, in the depth of the winter of iSi-^ one of the bottom panes was suddenly smashed, by no apparent cause. Perhaps a cat had lost his footing on the tiles, and P.tching on the sill, had rebounded against the glass But 't was the last straw that broke my poor grandmother's philosophy. Partly to increase her income, partly to lose this dreadful sense of loneliness, Mrs. Gosse let some of her rooms as edgings. They vere taken by two ladies of the name of Bird, whose occupation was that of teaching a mysterious art known as " Poonah painting " in private, but on their printed advertisement described as ••Oriental tintin^ " \ good many young ...dies came to learn ; but th. fa^V pro- cssors affected great secrecy in their process, and bound tlicir nnniU b" -■ -■'•■ -'- \ ■„ • _ , ,. ; - '•■ = = H'*-='k^" i*^' Kit|) liu; secret ot "the Indian formulas." This greatly stimulated Mrs. Gosses 10 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. curiosity, and when, long afterwards, the ladies left, she tried to worm out the secrets of the art by pumping the servant-maid. All thattb-^t poor oracle could tell, however, was that she had been frequently sent to the chemist's for " million ; " this the united brains of the family translated into " vermilion," and it was felt that a considerable discovery had been made. Immediately after the family had removed into Skinner Street, Philip was seized with a serious attack of water on the brain, and for a while his life hung on an even balance. His subsequent health does not seem to have been impaired and through life, in spite of frequent temporary disorders, he enjoyed a very tough and elastic constitution. He acquired the rudiments of book-learning from a vener- able dame, called " Ma'am Sly," who taught babies their alphabet in a little alley leading out of Skinner Street. To her he went at three years old, to be out of harm's way. A little later, he began to suffer from a phenomenon which would perhaps not be worth record! ig if it had not shown, in our family, a hereditary recurrence, having tormented the early childhood of my grandfather and also of myself. My father has thus described it : " I suffered when I \va^ about five years old from some " s'irange indescribable dreams, vhich were repeated "quite frequentlv. It was us if spac- v.as occupied with "a multitude of concentric circles, the outer ones im- " measurably vast, I myself being the common centre. "They secned to revolve and converge upon me, causing "a most painful sensation of dread. I do not know that " I had heard, and I was too yourg to li.ivc read, the "description of KzekicFs ' dreadiul wheels.'" At the age of four, the instinct of the future naturalist was first aroused, as in later years he was fond of repeating, by a vision which imprinted itself rpon his memory with CHILDHOOD. II perfect clearness. Being alone in the Springwell F.elds from am.dst the tall ripening wheat he saw rise, close to the footpath, and within a i^^ yards of him. a large white grallatonal bird, which he was afterwards sure was the great white heron, or else the stork ; both of them, even jn 1814, very rare English birds. In the next winter betu-een his fourth and fifth years, the child observed with much interest, a robin, sitting day after day, pouring forth h.s cheery song from the corner brick of the summit of the parlour chin^ney in Skinner Street, right above the yard, - which the delighted Philip stood watching him. Of his sl.ghtly later inclinations towards natural history, a note of his own shall speak more fully .— ^^ "My love for natural history was vety early awakened In Mr. Brown's library was a complete ^^ series oi E,u lopcdm Pcrthcnsis, of which father also possessed the first seven volumes. For some time I was accustomed to call ^-\^^^ Encyclopaedia Panntnesis. ^ Well, .he plates of animals in this work, poor as they were, joh„ j i ,.,,, „^^^^ ^.^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^ .^ . f "' ^'^"'■•^ °^ '^^Py'"- But at Uncle Gosse's I had ^^ the opportunity of looking over the Cjrfop.d.a ^^2;.'^.,.., which, though a work of inferior value, had m ch n.ore pretentious figures of animals, nicely 00,, Aunt Bell and Cousin Salter both cultivated natural history, and when I found any specimen that >H>pcared to me curious, or beautiful, or strange. I should learn something of its history from her I learned something of the metamorphosis of insects from her, though 1 do n<,t recollect actually rearing any ^_ caterpillars except that of the gooseberry or ma..ie to fi.id the pretty ermine moths (both the buff and 12 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. "the white) under the window ledges, and once we "found on the doorstep a very large moth with light " brown deflected wings, which Aunt Bell took for her "cabinet. I presume it was one of the eggers. A "little later I found, at very low springtides, around " Poole quays, the commori forms of Actinia mcsem- " bryantkemuin, but I think no other species of sea- " anemone. Aunt Ball taught me their name ot " Actinia, and suggested that I should keep them alive "in .1 vessel of sea-water. I recollect finding a very "shovvy specimen of the strawberry variety, round 'oy " Oakley's Quay. It was too much trouble to get fresh " sea-water, and there was nothing known in those days "of aquarian philosophy, so the poor things were kept '■ involved in their mucus until the water stank and they " had to be thrown away. I well recollect them stand- " ing in jugs of sea-water in the kitchen winaow." To "Aunt Bell," then, belongs the distinction of having been the first person to suggest the preservation of living animals in aquaria of sea-water. This was Susar, the fourth and by far the most intellectual of the children of William Gosse ; she was remarkable for her gracious sentimental manners, and for a devotion to science, then so rare in a woman as to be almost unique. She had ^^«cn born in i;52, had in 17.S8 married Mr. Bell, a surgeon of Poole, and was the mother of Thomas Bell, afterwards an F.R.S. and a distinguished zoologist. From this cousin my father in later life received much sympathy, but they did not meet in the youth of the latter. Thomas Bell was eighteen years my father's senior, and left Poole for Guy's Hospital in 1813. At home in Skinner Street, the early partiality for animals was not welcomed so warmly as by Aunt Bel! : — "Constitution ITill, not quite two miles from Poole, on CHILDHOOD. "the Ringwood Road, was the hmit of rny walking in th.s d.rec .on, but here, scrambling up a gravelly diff on the lef on a broad expanse of heath, with a fine vjew on all side, one day in summer, probably in "vlh-^hT-"?- ^^'"/""^^^ ^"'"^ beautiful green li.ards. vvh.ch I mchne, from recent evidence, to believe w^-r-^ tnc true Lacerta virzdis of contmental Eu.-ope. not- withstanding what Thomas Bell says in :.is 'British Reptiles. Wdham brought them home in his hand- ^ kerchief; but on showing our treasures to mother ^^ she was terribly frightened, supposing them to be' ^^ venomous. She ordered us to kill the ' nasty things,' ^^ which of course we immediately did. though with great regret, on the pebbles in front of the house. If Mrs. Gossc lacked a due appreciation of repiiles, she was none the less an admirable mother. Her life was by no means an easy one. The peculiarity .f her husband's profession made him absent from home for ten or eleven rnonths of every year, and during his prolonged journeys all the responsibility fell upon ae - The income of the family was extremely restricted, yet she contrived all through Uie anxious period of their childhood to bring .-p three sons and one daughter in what they were able to iook back upon as a "reputable subgcntility ; " she took care that they were always clean in person and neat in cloth- ■ng, sufficiently fed and decently educated. Mr Gosse's earnings were not very considerable, were so irregular that they could not be depended upon, and were to a lar^e c egree expended by himself i„ his ceaseless wanderings. J^ut h,s u.fe had an abhorrence and terror of debt and 'arely ,ndeed was the rent not paid on the very day it -a^ cu. To secure this, the greatest frugality and industrv were rc-. ,.;,■,.. I .„,! ... - . ^ ^ ij , ,, ' ' ^"^"■•^'^■^■' <^-^*i else ui ingenuity. Bctueen Mrs. Gosse and h.,- husband th.re was an ever- 14 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY COSSE. widening alienation, arising from their wholly different habits of thought and life. Each respected the other, but the pecul'arities and weaknesses of the painter jarred more and mc -e on the narrow sympathies and practical energy of his wife. It was an unceasing matter of dispute between them that my grandfather was always scribbling. For, in truth, he was a most voluminous writer, producing volumes upon volumes of manuscripts, which he was always en- deavouring, and always vainly, to palm off upon the pub- lishers. His works were varied enough — tales, dialogues, allegories, philosophical treatises, in verse as well as in prose. He completed two epic poems, if not more ; The English Crciv '^mntcring in Spitsbergen and The Attempts '^f the Cainite Giants to re-conquer Paradise still languish in the family possession. Mr. Thomas Gosse is p-rhaps unique as a very voluminous author who never contrived to publish a line. My grandmother, soon perceiving that all this writing brought no grist to the mill, and even interfered with the painting of miniatures, which was fairly lucrative, waged incessant and ruthless war against it, scrupled not to style it "that cursed writin'," and scolded him whenever she found him at it. Many years after, when Philip was in the stream of successful literary life, and indeed supporting both parents in their old age by his pen, the war still continued. Grandfather would meekly object, " But there's Philip ; he writes books ; you don't find fault with him ! " " Philip ! no, his books brin^ in bread-and-ch'jpsc for yoi: and mc ! When did your writings ever bring in anything .?" And the meek author of the Cainitc Giants would fall back on his favourite ejaculation, "Pooh ! my dear ! " and let the discussion drop. Like all prudent housewives, Mrs. Gosse had a strong aversion to tramps. Her husband, on the contrary, was as easy a prey to them as the great Bishop Butler was, CHILDHOOD. li and squandered his halfpence on the.r ill-desert Once l:;. hi r™ '' ^'"— ^=="S- -o>.ed to e' door the ma,d came in and told the tale. My „a„d mother refused-" Nothing for hin, - » But grandffthe' soft compassionate heart stayed the denial. « Oh yes heres a halfpenny for the poor man." The beggar .vho' through the open parlour-door, had heard all, shouted in :;ma„7" "^ '°''"' " ""'' '■ - *= -^-b"' »"he Thomas Gosse uas a great reader, especially of poetry but h,s w,fe had no approval for this exercise e.therTn iater years the children often recalled ho>. he would ivh, e engaged ,„ finishing a miniatu.e in the back p."'! down h,s brush and take a volume of vers, till on hearmg Mrs. Gosses footstep in the passal h" m ha^ly Whip it under his lit.le^,reen-bar.r2 ' anV™" ork on the ,vory. My father well remembered the bor - vmg of Scotfs Za^j, ,f ,,,„ Lake and the Lo'dlf j' 'Sks m their original quarto . and especial ,, fb u. Ts t the arrival of a batch cf Byron's T„,„ ,^, "*""' .-n particular Tl. Su,.ofZM-rTr """' """"' ="" read and re-read w.^h '^'^^^ ^ZC\fT''''' curiosity of his little second son, in ,° m ^ ' ,f"' Oossc, from her absol™::: ^ l":.?; have appreciated or even comprehended it. ""' When the miniature-painter wa, e^ineclcl l,„ c one of hi, journeys, his little son.,, cv n af ., '"r. "" summer-time, would go up »o the An„e f' ! » '" Place, and wait on the pavc^entli . "^'lH"^ ''^*" came rumbling in. The particular da of h co^Cr"" never announced, and tl,„ ,i,;,.>-.. ^ . . '""""« "'as pointed. til, at lengthinecve:;;!;:::,-:-^-;;; i6 THE LIFE OF PmUP HENRY GQSSE. hair, the strange costume, the I'amiliar tall thin figure on the box. The dress in which he would reappear v/as ever a subject of speculation. Once he arrived in yellow-topped boots and nankeen small nlothes ; another time in i. cut- away, snuff-coloured coat; and once in leather breeches. Expostulation on these occasions wis thrown away ; his unfailinp^ resource under my giandmothei 's sarcasm was, " Pooh ! the tailor told me it was proper for me to have ! " His copious head of hair had grown pure silver before he was fifty, and was extremely becoming. In spite of the beautiful and venerable appearance with which nature had supplied him, he nourished a guilty hankering after a brown wig. My grandmother had long suspected the existence of such a piece of goods, but he had never had the t'rm.rity to produce it at home. At last, however, when Philip was thirteen or fourteen years of age, the old gentleman came home from his tr.xvels daringly adorned with the lovely snuff-coloured peruke. My grandmother was no palterer. Her first salute was to snatch it off his head, and to whip it into the fire, where the possessor was fain rurl'ully to watch it frizzle and consume. Mr. Thomas Gosse had collected a considerable mass of miscellaneous literary information, and his son after- wards often reg-etted that he so seldom felt drawn to impart it to his children. The m.emory of his second son would certainly have borne away the greater portion of any instruction so given, and as a very extraordinary instance of the child's retentive power, I may mention the following fact :— My father happcr-d once to relate to me a conversation he had with his " thoi about the year 1823— that is to say, nearly half a century previously— in the course of which Mr. Thomas Gosse had quoted a stanza of a poem on the Norman Conquest, in which there UTTo mnn\7 ^ 1 ■v/'in 1 ^- »-»■> L^ CHILDHOOD. »7 heard a second tfme. had never met with in any book and «Withthil.a force he hic.-n. to the ground, • An- was demaismg ^ow to take his life ; When from b -hind he gat a treach'rous wound G.ven by De Torcy with a stabbing knife O treach'rous Non-nans, if such acts ye do The conquer'd may claim victory of you " ' elder brother ;,t ^v u , . ^^ "'' J°'"ed his uiucner ar the school of nn^* ri^^-i o n establis'iment was at fW . u ' ^'"'' '^"^^'^ ni.s much. It;va.s before this, in 181: that PbJlir. " .,an to form a friendship which lasted w,>f, i for March. i^S^: ^^"^ ■'^"""' ^"-'y Years Ago," in Z.„^.,.„V ,,^,.,,,^ i8 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. lodged in the Skinner Street house in succession to the fair professors of the mystery of Poonah-painting. The two little boys, wlio were identical in age, and who shared several peculiarities of temperan^cnt which were not found in any of their playmates, immedialjly became and - .1 1 inseparable companions from morning tonight. A" . faiher has recorded, " My tastes were always literary. .IS earl) as I can recollect, a book had at any time more attraction foi me than any game of play. And my plays were quiet ; I always preferred my single playmate, John Brown, to many." In another note I find this statement enlarj7cd : — o " From infancy my tastes were bookish. I can recall "myself, when a very tiny boy, stretched at full length "on the hearth-rug before the parlour fire, reading with " eager delight some childish book , and this as an "ordinary hai.it. The earliest bon/,>n Cries, The Historv of Little Jack, and " Prince Leboo. Old Mrs. Thomp n. our former land- " l''^<^'y. R-'^vc me a Sparrman's Travels in South Africa "and the East Indies. This became one of my most "valued books, yet. owing to my morbid bashfulncss, I "could 1 't be persuaded to formally thank the old lady " for her gift. Robinson Crusoe was an early delight, of "course, and Ti/xnini's Proj^^ress another. This latter " I knew nearly by heart when I was ten or twelve years "old. It was the fust jiart only that we had. "Christiania's adventures 1 did not know unt:! Ion-- "after, and wlu n I came to read them they never "possessed for nn- the same (h.niii a> Cliristian's. I "could not iHTsuaele myself that tiny were genuine." The first break in the monotony of the child's life occurred when he was nine years old. For seven years Mrs. GoS'^C !l "' !">♦ K'"!'P Ikh- •->t!--!>!.^ ••;•..! ir-. .'.:■'.-. it. !- i CHILDHOOD. She m.Vht go to Titton. it was necessary first of all to find a place whore she could leave her children Th-^^- -cre accordingly boarded at the house of a farmer m the v.lla^e of Can.ord Parva. a rr.ile from ^Vimbor„e. This was the first experience of the country, or of anything, but t c tarry quays of Poole, which the children had enjoyed. My fathers memory of it was very vivid, but it was divided between the meadows and the orchards, on one hand and as 00, ,., ^ ^^,,,^,_^^^ ^^^^^^^^^ ^^ ^^_^^ ^^^^^^^ . ^^^^ Lady Morgan, wh.ch had just come into fashion, and had found the.r way do.n into a cupboard of the Dorset farm- house. It was here, moreover, that he read Father Clancnt^ and formed, at the tender a,.^ of nine, the basis of tha violent prejudice ajjainst the Roman Catholic faith and "^^^^^^^^^-^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ AtCanf:;' Ma.^na there was a nunnery, and the precocious little n^cstant shuddered m pass^ :' its ::;::r"^" ^''^^' "'^ "^"^'---'^^ ^^^ It is pleasanter. and more .;^reeahly characteristic to no^c:U U,e eu.nt which, aw all others. iUuminatd tl> v.s.t to Canfnrd Parva was the discovery of a kin^- fi-^l-rs nest. Just beyond th. faru. a .sho,.t'a„, ,,,,:; anc ran down to a bend of the river Stour. In this In 1-e was a lou gravelly cliir over a horse-pond V; til ;;;; r '■" ''- -''' --^ - ---,,0 bnina: "itic pcm lly ,,ut many t mcs a div n,„l •■ • r. Ill . 'Jaj. and as often rotnm • "•■ llH .i„l,. ,uiy ,„ a ,,„a| r,,,,,,-,,, ,,,.,„,^, „,,,,, ,' ■'.'>■' 20 THE LIFE OF PHI. 'P HENRY GOSSE. Next year, in July, 1820, the boys had another brief outing, this time by sea to Swanage. It was haymaking time, and they were playing in the hayfield. whence the crop was being carried until pretty late in the evening. It was quite dark, when Philip found, moving rapidly through the short mown grass, already wet with dew, a half-grown conger eel. though the field va, a long way, perhaps half a mile, from the seashore. The incident was a decidedly curious one ; though far from unprecedented, and, in fact, mentioned b>- Yarrel! as having occurred within his experi- ence. About the end of this same year, I'oole, like other country towns, was almost universally illuminated on occasion of the termination of the trial of Queen Caroline in accordance with popular sympathy. The ! use of the Gosses became, on this occasion, the cynosure of Skinner Street, fc^r while neighbours wer(> content with a candle or two in each window, the Gussc b^ys adorned their front with licads and figures borrowed from out of the paternal portfolio-the queen at full length, a dark bandit who did duty for "\„n mi ricordo" Majocchi. a priest, a scara- mouch, and other vaguely effective personalities, handsomely illuminateci from bcliind. The first incident which could be called a landmark in this uneventful career was the .ieparture of the elder brother 1.. make his way in the world. Early in 1822, William, being fourteen years old, sailed from' Poole for service in the firm of his uncle, in the port of Carbonear Newfoundland. Philip accompanied him on board the ship, returning in the pilot's boat, and William's last act was to tie a comforter round his brother's throat just as tin. Litter was leaving the ship. This mark of brotherly care would bring tears into the younger boy's eyes for months aftiru.irds. whenever he thought of it. It appears that the (lei)arture of VVi!!.....i iore CinLDHOOD. 21 attention to Philip, whose curious cleverness in certain un- famih'ar directions began from this time to be more and more p subject of local talk. In spite of his mother's absence of education, she knew the value of book-learning, and the aptitude which her second son showed induced her to make peculiar sacrifices for his advantage. She was determined to give him a cha.:ce of acquiring some knowledge of Latin, and in January. 1823. she contrived to ^et him admitted into the well-known school at Blandford. Of his brief stay in this school not many memorials exist. But one anecdote may not be thought too trivial to relate because it illustrates the early development of the boy's independent curiosity in all matters connected with literature :— " One day. when we boys were out walkin - on the "VVimborne Road, and had just come to the openin}-ll, un.uded.the soIuli..n, snappc.i my fingers at •• I5i..ndlord. and these two were sufficient unto, he, selves -ou,houMhe,rschool-da3s there. My .a.her. at no tnne 'f fc- much g.ven ,., pro,niscuous cordialhy. doesnot seem '• l>>n.e fi)rmed lasting acquaintanceship. w„h any ,f his HIaudford .schoolfellows. fobn Pnuv„ „k1 he en, thcr zooIng,cal studies with unabated ardour, and at this »'""^ l-J^'H to make coIoure' "'''"'"'■ •"■•"'y -on read fairiv wC! behaved, habitually truthful, modest, obedic, t .t^ f sy.s.„d,ou,,, ingenuous." ,. was „.e f^r him o !„ ' bread.w,n,„ng, but what was to be done with hin, P Pode eTere'd T' "' ^""""'^ "'^ """^ W""^™ "ad er d l,fe ,n a merehanfs coun.i„,.h„„se ; why should one of them spoke to Mr. Garland, the much-rcspected head of a large mercantile house in the Newfoundland trlde There was ajun.or place vacant in his Poole business and he sen, pcrm.ssion for Philip to call on h.n. Accor S,, y Ms. Gosse took him to the office, where the kind and s^M Id gen leman readily offtred to engage the bov as a ^io clerk, at a salary of ^jo per annum to begin wit,, This of course, would no, pay for his food, yet it was better than y.ng ,dle, and there were hopes that it might lead to some- thmg better. The p. „p„sal was thankfully accepted The counting-house of Messrs. George Garland and Sons w s a spac.ous old-fashioned apartment, adapted from a sort of corr,dor m the ran.bling family mansion The hut off by a ra,l, was occupied by three an,ple desks, which looked down mto the back-yard. The firs of thes^ del- was occ„p,ed by Mr. Edward I.isby cnief cicrl- . little man of about twenty-three Th, e 7 '"™" t„ ,^ "ty inrcc. 1 lie second was ass uncd o young G<,.,.,e, and the thir .. l.or,ent„ush„sl,: broken' ' ^^•■-•.Mug Of pen.s, was ..ccustomed to reign i„ CHILDHOOD. that solemn apartment. There was not nearly work enough o keep the boy employed, and he enjoyed a great deal of leisure The time he spent at Mr. Ga.land s office was very pleasant. The further end of the counting-house was occupied by an antique bookcase, in which were many old books and a i^^ new ones. There was an extensive series of the Gentlana,fs Ma^.,i„e, and another of the Tozon and Country Ma^a^inc ; and these the boy read with great avid.ty. But, far m^rc important to record, it was in this bookcase that Philip discovered a volume which exercised as he has said, "a more powerful fascination upon me than anything which I had ever read." This ^,as the first cd,t,on of Byn.n's Lara, the issue of 1814. with Roger's A..7../...prmted at the end of it. To the clo.e of his days my father used to avo.v. with rising heat, that it was most .mpert.nent of Rogers to pour out his warm water by the s,de oi Byron's wine. Lara he had till now, in kS->5 never even heard of, bvt as he read and re-read, devouring tl^ romantic poem with an absorbing interest which obhterated the worid about him, almost the entire book ||"pnnted itself upon his memory, and remained thet "^dehbly ..pressed. The reading of Lara, he says. " was an era to me; for it was the dawning of Poetry ;„ my ma^natio. It , ,. ^, ,,^, , ,^^ ^^^^^^y^ ^^ _ J sense. Ikfore tins I had. of eourse. read some poetry many standard pieces of the eighteenth century, inld f ' -"-thi.g ., Couper, Thomson, and Shensione b ' .Shakespeare. Milton, and D.yden I knew onlv by the extracts in my school-books, and of the modern .sensational school nothing at all" \hnuf fi, ■ ''^'""'ii ,^ an, about the same time, the two v..lu„,es .,, U„rd».vor..V.s /,,„„,/ ,.■„//„,/, c.„„e ,,„„ ,„•, hands, and caused hi,n .-rca. pleasure, tame, however, i, ,„u„ 26 Tm LIFE or rmup iie.vry gosse. There was fn the office bookcase a copy of Sc»rr„„' farccal classic dcli,h=ed .he boy a^a^injly, allu^h t coarseness a little shocked him. He enioved ittfi t , nt^e tha„ .. O^.., .hich be had r^a 'lirt":": before I erhaps my boyish mind," he says, •• could not apprec.ate the polished ,vit and satire of Cer^ntesl ^^ as the broad gnns and buffoonery of Scarron." But Don in , ir " '°"' '""■''■'=" "^^ -■''''■-" '"""ffh iik;: .nexpheab e aversion. Another novel in the office book case was the immortal/,..^/, ,^„,,,,.,, ,,;,, „„i,,'„°°°^\ efra n from takn.g ,t home to read aloud in the evenings fo the delectat.,.n of his mother and his sister, ^t th b "TTT "■""'■ '"■ """ "■" °^-"«' as he read 1.0 book to hmrself however, became painfully patent M '•'"; "f : ■•" ■' '»• '■' ""-^ °f 'ho „,ale children of the Muses be had to mak. an excuse and leave the tale half J. Among other literary stores laid up in tins delight- bookcase were the "Peter Porcupine" pamphlets f \Ml.am Cobbett. and these, when everything else was e.xl.austed, were waded through for lack o'f bet er re .Z 111 many unoccupied hours. "^ John ]?rou-n .x.naincd at school in 151andford until mid le Ou V"; '"""''■ ''''' '"''' '' -""tin,-hou.sc on the Quay, and after officc-hour.s, which clo.sed at five in each ca.se. the tuo lad.s uere always together. They read and studied science to,^erhor, tried th.ir hands at .nusic and stauiei t>- ir clothes uiti, -i, ■ > '■■usic. ciotnts uith chemicals, on one occasion comm<; n^ear to a public scandal with the unparalleled "' " "-' •''''''^"'' ^"''^'^»"- A iaryc room at the top CHILDHOOD. cha„,cal, I'hilip i„^,i„^j ,„ I J""" ''■"^ mc- boo,,H. O. expe,,.e,n of iL' r™,"; Z:^!, Tt or :;;::,'" '-^^ °^ "- --^P-' .fat Icd r. „ a P .H„" . t """ '° "■•-■ *^-=''-<' '"'o ">- son of o„;„;'"''^:-"''^'"»--"'=<'='ose beneath .he as if from I en° " '"■°'"'"" «"="-«. which rose by. But e se^ • •" "" "'"" "'■ '^^^'^ Passers- sou^e ; ;',t ?l ^?*=T F™- "--y available eagerly rea'd „ '1 „ !1 P '' °' "'""''' '■'■""^• zoological k„o>vled:e ' ™'"' ="''='"'"■'> "f ba::krr ",:;£::-, ,:':;^/«"-n^ophi3Uea.ed, such a show as Sir X 1 , ' """''-" """'^»'od in of natural hi ;r7th'* ^ ^""^'^-llin, exhibit.on pontics. ItuastlL lect on: -cir; " '''"'' °' '°"' -hicl, ,l„t awakened in Phh g! "'";' "™"°"°'' Pa.ssions of his ],f, , ' ' '■' ^'-"••'.'•- ™= °f 'he faster Lever .M,-,eun, ''t ""'" ''^'"■''"l"e-- The t-er„ies oriotr;:, ,.,::■ ;'/ '"= ^'-r' ■'■■'-^■^- .IA-„,./,„„_a„d this cr ~ "" '"''"'""^ '"'"^''"' •he bo,, heart to :., , , ■;;-""■•-->■ longing i„ creatures for himself" Tt '"'"'"■' """'' '"'P"'"' -bibited the ,o . , „ "■"' """"'^ ""'^ ■*""• 'hat u-as 1,.,.,,,; , '''■"• "' " mermaid, •■ radiant in fen,!,,,'.,, bi^ ■.o:;::;;;;,;;^;'? ""'"'"'■■ ""' "- boy i,ad studied ..) »"h fa, too much care to be deceived for one 28 THE LIFE nr^ PPTt td trc^jr^-,, - - -r/ijj^/r HEXRY GOSSE. m men Uy the rea, object, a shrivelled and blaekened Japan fi T' '^ "" "•«="''">' <" -">= -«ally Japanese fisherman out of the head and shoulders of a monkey and the body and tail of a salmon. I, t :„ he year ,8.6 that Philip m,.de his first ,/,*« ;„ th ^i d of letters, m a veiy humble wai. H„ 'e"ona ol article on "TI,.M , ^' composed a little amele on The Mouse a Lover of Musie," and sent it to the edttor of the 1 W/.. M.„.,!„, j, „;, „,„^ = ' /, J° tended ,„ f ;^ ,^,,_^^.^ ^_^^ ^^^^^ a the door of Mr. Lester, the member for Poole. He had addre,ssed the envelope to the publishers, "Messrs Hamdton, A ams. and Co. ; ■■ the footman, as he tit «. m.sread the "Messrs.' for "Miss," and benevolentlv -.Img, nallied the lad on its being "for his you I lady^ Theme„,ber franked it, however, and in due time°to the .ne..press,b,e joy of its author, "The Mouse a Le'er f One day. in ,s,6. he had a narrow escape from death by drowmng. Standing at the edge of tl,e quay b:rtilr-ias ri,*; .r: t °"^ " ""-^' «ood fortune he fell astr.dt ^^r .S^lnCr^h^ lashed a,o„gsideat that point, acting as . • fender "a,^ he was ho,sted up again, ja.rred and'errified, bu „n„ t havmg escaped the death of a rat by a u.cre hand-b a ' this year by h,s enjoyment of Carapbells /.,„, A/„„ then recently published in the N„, M„„„,i,, .,^„„„, J' " "' .ought it very noble, as indeed it i., but' in mr^t ^'co, or .t for l.,s fnends he must needs, an infant lie.'tlev be CHILDHOOD.] .ampcnngwith the te., and, in his .e.arUbl. .evisj "The aggregate of woe," takes the place of Campbell's (truly rather feeble) " That shall no longer flow ! " end tc, ar>.. the close ol ,836, when they found thev had no further use for a junior clerk. Mr' Gosse bTeame anxtous once n,ore, and was constantly urging pm"™, show h,mself about on the Quay," thai the si^ht o hi™ m.gh keep hi.n in the mind of mercantile ac<,:a „ an ! But he had no liking for the babel ef the Qu^y, and at"; go,ng th,ther he used immedia.e.y .0 take llse f ff o 'e the ' : ^T- """' "= """"^ »'' f- <">-" in one o solT? k' r° '■" "■= ^'-'P'"*"'^' y-d'. -ding ome book wh.ch ho had brought in his poekc. Friends Lowever. would appear to have noticed hin, as he strolled across or else their n,en,ories needed no such refresh g Mes rs. Harr.son. Slade, and Co. offered the lad emplov mcnt as a clerk in their eountiug-house at the port of Carbonear, m Newfoundland. He dreadM ,--.. -,,; ° and this proposal did not meet with his wis'hTs h ' p":; ::d ::""■ "t'^' '''°"' ^" °^j-"- - ' part, and he presently s,gned an agreement to go out for salary. On Sunday mornmg, April 3,, ,8,7, „, ,,„ ^^|, were rn,g,„, .„c people of Poole ,0 chrr h. 1 ,'; , few days before completed his seventeenth year Z" ina:;";.r;'>','r'>"-"-"pp« ""^ ">= ^"^ "a K . at r °" ';""'' "" '"« ^'"■''""■'"■. "■■>-" Hcib lyxn'r at btakes rcadv tr. n-.>f i ._ . loundland. ' " " "'""' ""^ '^' ' -^^■- ( 30 ) CHAPTER II. NEWFOUNDLAND. 1827, 1828. 'piIE brig Carbonear, on which Phihp Gossc sailed J- away for the New World, was a poor tub of a craft. Her sajhn. powers were lin^ited ; the voyagers suffered from a large proportion of westerly winds ; and the voyage extend, over not fewer than forty-six days. The preval- ence of fine warm weather, however, the pleasant society on board, together with the rare facult3' of observation which the boy pcsessed, and couM now exercise on so novel a length of the voyage to be at all teuious. Beside the captam and mate, there were three other passengers-Luke Thomas, a .ad two years younger than Gossc ; a Mr Phippard, sailmaker to the firm; and Mr. Ochlenschlacer a German gentleman from Hamburg, now going out to etta'b- hsh a mercantile connection in St. John's. The grown-up people behaved with great cordiality to the tlo lads and they formed a lively party around the cabin-table.' Phi ns sense of depression at parMng from home was very transient. As soon as he grew accustomed to the s.ckemng motion of the sea, his pleasures began. He soon learned to mount the rigging, and to take up a pleasant station in the maintop, delighting to sit and read there, m the wj^rm ^.nn.i,;., .-.i, ,, ., , ...... un lul; Luiiuuii 01 the NEIVFOUNDLAND. ship far below him. Of coursn fh^ ^ . • essayed this feat ho h a\ i '^ *™^ ^^^^^ he r""" >' ''"oted voyage, and';,::. a.?d:;':„,red°: '°"''''r °" "- that .seemed pain.able sueh as" hal "'"'"' °'^^">"'"'S downs," and other birds P„r '"'"'" ^'"-''W'. "hos- of which cnrious ^^ l^::^^^-^" '"''''""'■ several ; icebergs ■ Cine St F 'r ^^ "™''"'<^ted chronicled w re sma ?' ,"; '"'""""^^ ">'-'■ -re both for Pcnci,\;T e "zr i:;?^"":' ^-^"^■■- that the lad fom,,. I,' v , "" ""= Afantic acquired the arfo finT" ' H ""' ^"'''"="'^' '" "-= as t was tern d k^T J " "''"'"'S-'f " "ork-ins-up," During .,r V ;"; ';;:^r°" "^ ™.-"-nre.pa,-„,„/' -hat had been ^<^^ zCX^'iz:':^^::^'^ read his Bible diil.7 M , "-•'"- ^-^^^t he should vated the samettt.!"::*:,;",!':-'"'- ■'--'■■- 'or retirement, and as the^ lad ^Jas' tbii;:-::::^ 3» THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. pubhcif. it was not altogether easy to persevere. His y- ing shipmate, Luke Thomas, looked upon the practice with stern disapproval, and took an opportunity of advising hiin "to get rid of that sort of thing, as that wouldn't do for Newfoundland." At no period of his life, however, was my father affected in the slightest degree by considera- tions of this sort. H;. conscience was a law to him, and a law that he was prepared to obey in face of an army of ridicule drawn up in line of battle. At this time, he was far from having accej)ted the vigorous forms of reli- gious belief whicli he adopted later on. He was not, as he would nfterwards have put it. "converted;" he was as other light-heartc.i boys are, but with the addition of an inflexible determination to Cio what was right, and in particular what he had promised to carry out, however unpleasant the performance might prove to be. This was a personal characteristic with him, and one which will be found to have coloured his whole career. In an age which has mainly valued and cultivated breadth of religious feeling, he was almost physiologically predisposed to depth, even at the risk of narrowness. At length, on the morning of Wednesday, June 6, 1827, a long line (,f dim blue, ending in a point, was visible on the western horizon.— Newfoundland apparent at last in the form ,.f (ape St. Frnncis, the eastern boundary of Conception Hay, to which the brig was bound. Ail that dav the promontory c.iuinued t.. occupy the same jx.sition, for there was very little uin.l. A no!)Ie icel.rrg of vast dimensions was also in view ; and this, while they were gazing at it, majestically shifted its balance and turned about one-third over, cauriiv^ an immense turmoil of water and asw.ll tii.it was felt h.r a long time afterwards. To the impatient .ind imagina ive lad, fretting for H-c con- quest o( a new (.(nlinciit. this iceberur scrmrj ,,,, ; , i i - NEWFOUNDLAND. 33 ship wa. bowling 1': w.U a'f \ ■"'■"'™' '"" "'■= and bcautfful Bav ,r°r ^f'"'■>^«'■■ ""o the ample near (the [ . "! C-'ncept.onJ-TKe town of Carbo- by S ol 1 . r ,T '^° "'°"^' '=='■"5 ^■•'^•^^dcd only "KTC considerable place than he hH "' " ""'"' The number. respceiabiKtJ , "''"'"°'' '" ""''■ the cro„-d „; f .'"'"''''''">'• ^"J continuity of the house, ■ , """'' °' sl'ippnik', includin'. a fleet of -,h„,„ =^choone,-s just about to start for ah , '""^^ ^ boats l„,rryi.,. to and fr , ,'-»'="*"• i "'e small and movement I 1 ' sb^^l^lT: ':"""■ 1 "'" "' ^'^ :^rri:i^:r^'--- --'"--= early summ r ,« ;'T;"""1 "' ^'-"'■-ndland. ,. .as n.^., >ed ::L;,e:;i:,rT'vr' ''"'"'"-'■'''''■- "-.re around the , 1, L "h 1 ''""' "" "■""'"- «s ..n,i,in, every„.her: tt\^^' T VT un^ersa,d.nl.env,r„nme„t:fpi„et„o;s?^ '' "' ''' .ctZM,''"""'''''''°^="'''°""'=™'^-'->a,s,„ Gin";;::::;""-' :"■■" ""-' '■^"^"•'■-' -- ^viniam a code of r;:i!:;:,:::"::::;:!^.':r """-'-- "p of '"alter, a«»ell as„„,,fc,,,, ' "\"'''l'"-"^"— Pi'-ticated »l..nl in > In ■''"'"'"'''•""■""■■■" i" 'l.c- -upuiousiy oi er::';,," 7" ■"'—'' nineteen years old brter V "'"' """"" "' "'» fl.rt „ . r . , "'""■ ' '"-• presence of ll,,. 1 ,ai„ „,., ! 34 THE LIFE OF P/flLIP HENRY GOSSE. house. This office was pleasantly sif i-ited in the midst Oi" a large garden, in front of the d\veIlin--house of the firm, the resident member of whi Ji v/a:, a Mr. Elsoii. Of the' four clerks, the third was William Charles St. John, a lad of about twenty years of age, a native of the neigh- bouring town of Harbour Grace, where his parents rcsidtd. His father, Mr. Oliver St. John, belonged to a Protestant Tipperary family, wliich claimed relationship alike with Cromwell and with I.ord Bolingbroke. ^s the young St. John was destined for many years to be my father's mo.st intimate friend, I will now transciibc his portrait as I find it recorded among my father's notes :— "Charley was a youth of manly height, with features ^''of the Grecian type, exquisitely chiselled, formed in a '^vcry aristocratic mould, to which an aquiline nose of "unusual dimensions gave character. A mouth of " feminine smallness ; a finely cut chin ; a lofty forehead ; •'dark eyes and hair, the latter copious, and rather "crisp than lank, complete.l the physiognomy of my "new acjuaintance. which was continually animated "and lighted up by arch smiles, and by the frolic wit "and merry rc,.,,rtee which his prolific brain was "const.mtly fnrging. I saw in him a new type of "character; he was a fair sample of tin- Irish vonth at "his best. Sarcastic and keen. rca,lv m reply, un- "ab.islird. prompt to thn.w b -ck a Kojand for every jj Oliver, full ot lun and frolic, as ready at a practical as "at a verbal joke, possessing a strong perception of the "hidicrous side of evcryihi,,,;, „„,, .^„^, sdf-posse.s.sed, "already a well-nirm\hed man of the world, St. J.-hn ^'^' presented as great a contrast as can weli be nn,..;nRcl " to me. I wa-. thoroughly a greenhorn ; fresh ho,,', ,ny " Puritan home and companionships ; utterly ignorant of "llie \sorld ; raw, awkward, and unsophisticated : si..-.-!.- y countenance as unsuspicious in mind ;-thc very ^ quamtncss of the costume in which I had been sent ^^ forth from the parental nest told what a yokel I was A surtout coat of snuff-brown hue, reaching to my' _ ankles and made out of a worn great-coat of my _ uncle Gosse-s which had been given to mother^ enveloped my somewhat sturdy body; for I was '" Totus; teres, atque rotundus;' ''while my intellectual region rejoiced in the protection _ of a w/ute hat (forsooth !) so.newhat battered in sides _ and crown, and manifestly the worse for wear. Such ^^ was I m outward guise : the idea of a witticism or _^ repartee, made hot on the occasion, had never entered _^mynoddle;but then, had I not in my chest those __ manuscript pages of stale jests, which I had toilfully cop.ed out of ,he>- An/hr, with which I expected to take captive the laugh of the o.T^ce ? Uhat wonder _^ that I became immediately the butt of so keen an ■ircher as St. John, the inviting centre about which liie flashes of his sparkh'ng wit constantly coruscated ""^'l at length, by the verv inhalation of the "atmosphere. 1 learned gra.h.ally to play the same Rame. and to ,,a,v him hack witi, his ou n weapons > •'Intellectually I ,,„•„,, ux- were pretty „.uch on .. J'ar. We were l,oth readers, but p..ss,bly I h,ul read jnore books than he ; I ha■ I'is aciuaintance with chemistry. n,ainly _ acqu.,,, rr..n Parkes's Ou-nno.l Cateclns,,,, uluch I J^adbeenu.sed toseeatj.hn lin.uns. H„t th.., he __-sapoet;atIeast.heIudtlu..utorversi,:c.aion. ^^ ^ ■- '. h'-ver. he chiefly exercised in semi-doggerel " "udibrastu: satir!'-;!! !>•:-.■.--_• when I tai lie, on the Mctlii,di.st M jiocjii oi ills \v;is extant i.s-sionary Meeting 3fi THE LIFE OF PHILIP HE.VRV GOSSE. Of the preceding autumn-a merry lampoon on the ^^ preachers, and most of the people of the place, on the occasion of their satherin,cr. It was very smart and ^^ telhnjT. and entertained us greatly. His favourite poet was Pope, whose Essay on Man he was continually I' citmg, perhaps because it was dedicated to St. John, its "opening lines running — • " ' Awake, my St. John, leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the priJe of Kings.' "The philosophy of this poem, such as i'. is, formed " another of our staple subjects of discussion. His mode "of thinking was somewhat loose, dashy, indefinite- " mine, on the other hand, precise, microscopic, according "to rule. Withal, he was lithe and active in bodily "exercises, a skilful and much-admired skater, a " vigorous swimmer, a good Icaper and runner. He possessed, too. an inexhaustible fund of good humour; "was a jovial boon-companion on occasion; and, to' "crown all, a great favourite with the ladies, being hand- "some, gallant, attentive, with a fluent flattering tongue "ready wit. and a good store of frivolous conversation' "the small-talk which is the spice of life and means' "nothing." William Charles St. John and Philip Henry Gosse not only became knit in a warm friendship which lasted unM"! circumstances drew them apart, but the former had very much to do in moulding the far from susceptible mind of the latter. At least, their two minds grew very steadily togeth.M-, m the daily, hourly, n.omcntary companionship of several years of budding manhood. Th. two friends walked together, read together, discussed and ,hs„ute.l tn,r,.thcr on every imaginable subject; in the onice they "joked together, and spent their spare moments in .- never-ending ■.-.■.\-.-.t ... wcii SO t iJat iiic toumiiig-iiouse NEWFOUNDLAND. 37 became the arena of constant mental gladiatorship between these ardent and vigorous young inteUigences. " Whatever of humour or wit in conversation I possess," my father has written ; " whatever of logical precision of thought , what- ever of readiness of speech or power in debate, I largely owe to those years of merry companionship." St. John went to Boston, U.S.A., where he died on March 13, 1874. The establishment of Mr. Elson in Carbonear was com- posed of two contiguous buildings-thc upper house, where the family resided, and where the head of the firm slept ; and the lower house, where all the clerks slept and boarded! and where Air. Klson took his meals with them, spending the day from breakfast-time till about eleven o'clock at night. The lower house, a large but low structure of wood, was old and ramshackled ; the only ornament on its rude colonial front, opposite the counting-hou..e, was an antique sundial. Immediately before this fac^ade, and running al.,ng its entire extent, was a raised platform of boards, known as "the gallery," so old and rotten that in a year or tv\ o it was cleared away and replaced by a walk of hard gravel. On this platforn. it was usual for the officials to assemble, as well as all those captains of ships in port who were free of Mr. Elson's table, at one o'clock when a bell aloft was rung as the signal for dinner. re' they would funn in knots, conversing, until the man-cook appeared at th.- door and .innouneed that Mr. Klson was sci .ed. The bednuuns of the clerks were barns of places, destitute ol c ,-pet or curtain, the unpaintcd deal of the' walls and floors being black with age. Whatever bcddintr was required was supplied from the .shop, without any supervi.sion from Mr. V.U.n, and the yo.mg fdlows took care to sleet> v>;iiin ,.m,>.. 1. 'i-i. 1 .1 • . . - ■->'■ -i ::vy :is.u;e twcu' cwji uctis, and did for themselves wiiatever service was needed. 38 THE LIFE OF PHTT tp rrr\^i^-i, ^^ i^nij^jl JIEARY GOSSE. =5 - ■t;z;;:,rx— ■ " and attended no rol ^^'- ^^^'^^ was a Freethinker, icnaed no rclicrious service. On the fi.•^^ ^,„.^ .nto conversation with th,- I , T ^ ' """'='' and lent F,i,„ , regarding recent literature irce access at breakfast-time and on Sundays W. . , were bo.jrht but once a ve.r uh ■„ , ^"'''^' n>c-,nbcrs na. held i„ ";,/""• ^'^"^ '^ ^«'-"" '"-tin.:, of volumes u-as.^ T "'■'""'" '"'-^'^^'^^ I.-1 ,- ,, "'= i^lio'ce was mainly lei to Mr l-.lson hnnselC Of course ti.ere >,as the usu-,1 ' !-.i«n of novels, of wl,ie„ ,;„.,, „,„ ^ "'.'T'" """ Mo.^. of Scofs, „uKver's. Cooper's, G '^ "";^'''- -r,es were to be found at Car'lx.ne'ar „,;,■';: /^ piibhcation in I ondoM n: , " -i ><-ai of their even se..„,, ..... ^frV.. !'"^"''''>'- ''-"y. travels, and •-:y .ainy icprcsentcd, and tJie b, IS is of NEWFOUNDLAND. -^ a sound kn.,a'lcdge of contemporary literature could be, and was. formed in this remote harbour of Newfoundland. It would be interesting to know whether, in the course of sixty years, the colonial standard of civilization '.as risen or fallen, and whether the clerks of the Carbonear of to-day know their Stevenson and their Haggard as well as my father and his colleagues knew their BuKver and their Banim. At this point I may quote an amusing letter from the late Mr. VV. C. St. John to my father, dated May 25, 1868, but referring to events of the year 1837— "One of my first experiences with the ' old white hat ' ^"was an evening's walk on that most delectable of all "turnpikes, Carbonear beach, when the surf-worn stones "spread themselves out so invitingly to one, like your- ^'|sclf, but recently recovered from rheumatism in the "feet. Bad as is my memory, I remember the heads of "our confabulation. You told me about your school "curriculum under one Charles Henry Sells (I think), "and of a further p.ilishing-otT under a Unitarian minis- " tcr. You had begun the I-rench. and had made some "considerable progress in Latin. As I knew nothing "of the latter m\-seir, I felt flattered that I should have "a classical .scholar for my companion, and wasn't at all "unwilling that the street passengers should hear us "conversing: in an unknown tongue. So I asked you to "repeat some Latin verses, which you did very readily, "c-ver and anon, however, stopping to rub your toe or "ankle, as those outl\ing members would receive dama-c "from the treacherous stones. Your favnnrite poet "appeared (.■ be V.rgil ; and I hear you now g,,;,,- " me.isuredly and -., ith admirable ore rotundo and em" "phasis over the old Roman's * Bucohc '— ' auciuies Mus.-e, p lullo m Non om- ajora c.inamus [oil ! psiia ! my toe ! ho]-, hop, hop] I , 40 hi il I TB£ LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. Non omnes arbusta [ankle turns : limp, limp] Non omnes arbusta juvant, humil [p^ha!] ■..••• humilesquc myrica; ; Si cammus silvas, silv.-e sint Consule di.ma. !' "ass ;r ^r^'^-'"-^'y beautiful;' to which I and ..ukout ncsitation-r.^..,,,^. you, over ar.d over to repeat it. perhaps half a dozen times t^efore ue reached the bridge; and always w,th an eye to have >ou spouting the incomprehensible language just as "somebody-^it might be only Johnny Du:.! UieCpL -was pass.ng. But the naughty beach-ston.s sadly disturbed my calculation, and the audience was sure to pass m the midst of a parenthesis ; thereby render- ^^Hig the hmpmg sufferer anything but an object of envy oradm:rat.on I have picked up a little Latin since^ and many and many a time have those lines recurred ^^ to me,-wuh all their concomitants of ' p^ha ! O dear - ' "nat ; T^ ""' " ^''-^ ^'"""^ "^p^^^-- -' — tc;. nance at the mimita>^'- >( ( silva; sint Consule digna;.' J' On thi, memorable occasion you discovered Iha, I ^^ knew a l.t.le about Frcucb, and had dabbled somewhat ^ n chcm.s,,, and you were prepared .0 assure Tacks " neT ';"'"; ''"'" " '»"""'"« - '1-y took ■n tobe.- I . "nk it was ,his cvenin,. .ha,, on our return to our chambers, vou nrmliiro,! n i .. ., ^'''' >"" produced a volummous comp,latu,n of Joe Miller anecdotes- in manuscript n.any or winch you read to me. taWn, care to look Braveo„reac,n,,g «,./„„„, lest it should l>e thought ( s I took „) that you knew „„ better than to la.^^h _jit your own (compiled) jokes ! " =::^= ..w„3 u ..eu.uK For .. candle vva. not lu,i und.' u l^Zl?^ ' "'' 3. ]. NEWFOUNDLAND. Another walk whic'. Gosse took with St. John at a very early period may be recalled, because it gave occasion for one of those burlesque poems of the lattei which, if not quite up to the highest level, was quite good enough to gain for •'Charley" St. John a Ir- ' reputation as a dangerously gifted poet. T.k- laugh .s raised at Gosse's expense, and it is the butt him.clf who has preserved the ditty. On one of those June evenings the two friends havmg sauntered through the long town until they had passed the contiguous houses, had prof-acted their ramble to the very lonely lane near Burnt Head, known as Rocky Drong. 1 his " drong," or lane, was reputed to be haunted It was now ten o'clock at night, when, turning round in th.s desolate and gloomy locality, Gosse saw ahead what seemed a dim female figure in white, afterwards igno- numously identified as " one of Dicky the Bird's nieces coming up from the 'landwash' with a 'turn' of sand for her mother's kitchen floor." The young naturalist from Poole endured and quite failed to conceal a paroxysm of terror, and got home in an exhausted condition. Two days afterwards, Charley St. John produced at the office a piece of foolscap, from which he proceeded to read to a delighted audience the following doggerel effusion, the only surviving text of which is, I regret to say, imperfect :- ■ • . 'i'he otlicr night The moon it shone, not very hri-iit, Wlicr. lo.' in Rccky y^/rv/- aiijicar'd A form that made poor Gosse afeard. It secni'd to wear a woman's clothes, A horse's head, a buck-goat's nose ; ' And witii a deep and hiillow moan, It thus adilrcsscd the Latin drone— 1^' Young Man, I'm ha|)py for to say Thai i,,ng in i'oole you did not stay; For to your house that very niuht, The Devil claiin'd you as liis right. 42 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. A Parson who was right at hand, Told him you'd gone to Newfoundland " " Indeed ! " says Bdl/ " when did he go ' For he's deserted, you must know. But morrow-morning I shall post On every wall his bloody ghost. And, in a fiery placard, speak The following words, in broken Greek :— ' A'otice. ' Deserted from old Beelzebub, I Two nights ago. Pi , Qosse, my cub. ^' Had on, when left, an old white hat, * A brown surtout, choke full of fat, 'A [half-line missing], and in his box * VVere two old hooks by Doctor Watts ' One sermon by T^urant, and, dang 'ee, ' A book of riddles from his granny. 'Whoever harbours this my man, ' Let him beware ! his hide Y'A tan ! ' " q cUy tool. tl,e .one of .he Sa.on a„d p„rcly colonial m,nor,ty a,„o„g „.I„„„ ,,e had bee,, ,hro„„. A special -.^-ce of the toua of Ca,-ho„ear „-as .he abundance o nionsrel cur. ,„ .he ...-cCs ; and one day, ,vl,e„ yo„n. Gosso had s„.„,led do„.„ .„ „„.b„„,. k„,\. ,,„ ^.^^^ spo. a „„. ha|r-„.ay d„„.„ ,ho po,-.. .hich fo.„,cd a y general resor. as a .er™i,„„ ,o a .nodcra.e ,valk,. ,n com pany .v,.l, h., brother ^V ilian,, .„,, or .hrec of .ho ship,' cap.a,„s, and son,= clert., of var,o„s f.r„., he co„,„ ed an ,nd,scre.,o„ u-hic, ,ef. a s.ron, ,„„,,„,„„ ,,„ I me,„or. One of his eo.npanions ,vas a ^ery ,e„„en,a„: |;l-^-^lo>>^_caIled Moo^book-kccper to one of the ' liccl/ebul). ' " i NE WFOUNDLAXD. 43 snialL." firms. A captain asked Gossc how he liked New- foundland ; safe, as he thought, with none but colonists, he replied smartly, "I see little in it, except do-s and Irishmen." The silence that followed, where he had ex- pected approvinjr laughter, told him that something was wrong. At length his brother said, " Do you .,■ ^ u-now that Mr. Moore is an Irishman } " Philip Gosse was imme- diately extremely abashed ; but Moore replied, with great good humour, "There's no offence; I am an Ulsterman, and love the Papist Irish no better than the rest of you." The southern Irish were not slow, of course, to observe the feeling of which this conversation was an example. They immensely preponderated in numbers, and they already formed an anti-English party in Newfoundland, the rancour of which was an inconvenience, if not a danger to the colony. My father says, in one of his manuscript notes— "There existed in Newfoundland in 1827, among the "Protestant population of the island, an habitual dread "of the Irish as a class, which was more oppressively "felt thc-n openly expressed, and there was customary "an habitual caution in conversation, to avoid any " unguarded expression which might be laid hold of by "their jealous enmity. It was very largely this dread "which impelled me to forsake Newfoundland, as a "residence, in 1835; and I recollect saying to my " friends the Jaqueses, ' that when we got to Canada, we might climb to the top of the tallest tree in the forest, " ' ana shout " Irishman ! " at the t p of our voice, without " ' fear.' " Gosse's first summer i- Newfoundland was one of much freedom. Mr. Elson, not having seo.i his English partners for^ several years, took a holiday in the mother-country, and Ncvvaii, the c.t..y-guing book-iccepcr, ruled at Carboncar as his /oaon tenets. Besides this, the summer was always 44 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. a light thTie. The fleet of schooners sailed for Labrador >n the middle of June, and from that time till the end of October, when the crews had to be paid off and all accounts settled, there was very Httle to be done in the countin- house. Fortunately the brief summer of Newfoundland h a very deh^htful one. Of the winter pleasures of Carbonear I may wdl permit my father to speak for himself, nor interrupt the unaffected chronicle of his earliest loves :— ^^^" Parties were frequent, but they were almost always ^"' balls.' The clerks of the different mercantile firms, "were of course in demand, as being almost the only "young chaps with the least pretensions to a genteel " appearance. Jane Elson one day sent me a note, inviting ^'me to a forthcoming 'ball.' I had never danced in "my life, and so was compelled to decline. Her note "began, ' Dear Henry;' and I thought it was the proper "thing, in replying, to begin mine with 'Dear Jane.' " Having my note in my pocket, I gave it to her, as "I met her and Mary in the lane, just below the plat- "form. Lush, who had seen the action, benevolently "took me aside, and told me that 'it was not etiqu-ttc, "'to write a note to a lady, and deliver it myself;' at ^' which I again felt much ashamed. This igrorance of "t^ of dancing caused me to refuse all the parties, " and v -v much olated me from the female society of I' the piace. I do not doubt that this was really very "much for my good, and preserved me from a good deal "of frivoliiy; but I rebelled in spirit at it, and mur- " mured at the ' Puritan prejudices ' of my parents, which "had rot allowed me to be taught the elegant accom- "plishment. which every Irish lad and girl acquires, as it "were, instinctively. 1 supposed it was absolutely im- "possible to join these parties without having been "t..uyi,L, iiiuugii, m truth, such movements as sufficed NE WFOVNDLA.VD. 4S "for those simple hops would have been readily ac- " quired in an even' j or two's observation, under the "willing tuition of any of the merry giils. William, "indeed, as I afterwards found, went to them, and ac- " quitted \\\n\se- comme il fmit ; though he had no more "learned than I had. However, I believe I had some- "what of the 'Puritan prejudice' myself; at least, " conscience was uneasy on the point, as I had been "used to hear balls classed with the theatre. "My fami'.:arities with the Elsons never p-ocecded "farther than a making of childish signals with my "candle at nignt. My bedroom window looked across "the meadow towards the Upper House, in front of "which was the bedroom window of the girls. We " used to signal to each other, holding the candle in the "various panes of the window, in turn, in response to "each other. There was no ulterior meaning attached "to the movements; it was mere child's play. They "certainly began it. for I am sure I should not have "ventured on such a liberty myself Apsey, however, " took greater freedoms, for if he were on the platform' "waiting for dinner, when they happened to be coming " down the meadows to go into the town, he would way- " lay them at the end of the platform (which they were "obliged to cross) and not suffer them to pass, ii\ each " had paid him the toll of a kiss. It was readily yielded ; "and though they affected to frown, and said, 'Mr! '"Apsey is such a tease,' they were evidently not' much "discomposed, and bore him no malice, being of a for- " giving disposition. The toll was taken with full II publicity, in presence of i.s all, some of whom envied "him his •'mpudcnce and success. Ttl trilfll Tnn« T7I„„„ I tiic unconscious object "of my first boyish love. Before the autumn of this 46 THE LIFE OF PHI TIP IIENRY COSSE. ^" first season had yielded to winter, I loved Jane with '^1 deep and passionate love— all the deeper because I " kept the secret close locked in my own Dusom, " ' He never told his love ; But let conreahnent, like a worm i' the bud, I'ecd on his damask cheek.' "The chaps in the office used to rally me about Mary. Jwhovv-as indeed much the prettier and more vivr-.cious "of the two. anc' I never undeceived them; but Jane "was my flame. One night I awoke from a dream, in "which she had appeared endowed with a beauty quite "unearthly, and i:s it were angelic; so utterly unde- "scribable, and indeed inconceivable, that on waking " I could only recall the general impression, every effor^t "to reproduce the deti'.ils of her beauty being vain. " 1 hey were not so much gone from memoiy, a'ii from '^'the possibility of imagining There was in truth no "great rcser.iblance in the ratliant vision tt Jane's "homely face and person ; and )et I intuitive!" knew it " to be her. "My unconquerable bashfulness precluded my ever "hinting m\- love to Jane. A year ..r two afterwards, " I was at a ' ball ' at XeweH'.;, the only one M'hich I ever "attended, .md the i:ison gi-ls were there. It was cus- " ternary for the fellows each to esmrt a lady home: "I asked J,.ne to allow mv the h. :i(.ur. ..he took my "arm; an. I tlurr, nn.ler tlir moon, ve walked for full "half a mile, and n..; a word— litei.dly, n(.t a single "word— broke the iwful silence! I fell the aukwartl- "ncss most painlully ; but the more I sought something "to say, the more my tongue seemi'd tied to the roijf i)f "my mc.uth. "This boyish i)assion gradually vore out : J think .dl "traces of it haii ceased long ocfurc I visited iMis-land A'E WFOUNDLAXD. 47 "-■n ,832. About a year after that Jane married a "young merchant of St. John's, named Wood- and •' Mary accepted one of the small merchants of Car "bonear, one Tom Gamble, in June, 1836." What society Carbonear possessed was mainly to be met w.th in the houses of the planters several of whom were wealthy and hospitaolc. The name "planter" need^ explanation. It had no connection with the cultivation of the so,l, although doubtless inherited from colonies where It had that meaning. In \eufoundland the word de s.ffnated a m. n who owne- schoorer. in whicn he pro- secuted one or both of the two fisheries of the colony. that for .eals m spring and M,at for cud in winter. I„ Carb a , ,^^^„^^ ^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^.^ ^^^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^^^ -nhab.tants m iS.S. there were about seventy planters whose d:.Lngs were distributed amongst the mircant •uses of the place. Of these, about twenty-five were hted.utbythefirminwhi.-hmyr.,.rwasade,Mha orMessrs.Slade.KN,.n,andC,. In g..,eral, business wa! earned on upon the following tc:ms. The mercantile firm havmg a house in K.-,gland as well as one in Newfound-' ■- -'. '"ported ,nto the island, from various ports of Kurope and ; ;u;""' ^" ^^"""^^ '"""■• ^'^ '"^^' -nsu-nptiin •"!'' '-r the pro.secut>on of the fisheries, tue colony itself producu,g no provisions except fi.h. fresh nu-at. oats and a few vegetables. The planter wa. supplied b. his n,: ch|un. and alwa^. on credit, with c.-ervthing requis.te. the hoe^pj-oduceofh.s voyage being ,.,.,„.. to be' dehWd o t.e house, n,,. p,,„t,, shipped a acw. averaging about e,ghteen hau.ls to each schooner, who , in the 'eT fishery) canned one-half of the gross produce to bee v d among them ; th,. other half going to the own., wh, n most in<;l;iM,-/..- , , . . " "' lost instances of ihc crew liaviii-' b CO amanded his ow n \'v«tA Tl, ig been registered at tl '"^' ciuiiting-house 4S THE LIFE OF riHUP HEXRY GOSSE. each man was allowed to take up f}^oods on the credit of the voyage, to a certain amount, perhaps one-third, or even one-half, of his probable carninLjs. The clerks were the judges of the amount. For these goods both planter -.nd crew applied at the office, in order, and rccciv lhI tickets, or "notes," for the several articles. In the busy season the registering of these notes, delivcring'thc t;oods, and rnter- ing the transactions in the books would occu[)y the whole staff until late into the night. In his Introduction to Zooloj^y (i. no) my father has given the details of the seal-fishery, on which, as he was never pcsonally cognizant of them, I nvA-<.\ not dwell. Hut the preparation of the seal-fleet for starting was the busiest time of the year to him, the Nortli Shore, and particularly Carboncar, being, from the ist to the 17th of March, all alive v.'ith a very active, noisy, rude, and exacting popula- tion. During this fortnight, life was a purgatory for the clerks, who were besieged from moriu'ng till ni^Iit by these vociferous and fragianl fellows. Wy S' Patrick's Day, however, it was a point of honour for all the scalers to have sailed, and thence, until the middle of -Apiil, when the more fortunate schooners began t- return, the counting-Iiouse kept a sort of lioliday. Tlun, once more, a press of work set in. The seal-pelts brou;:;ht home were dclivr-cd m tale, all the aceouiits incur: ed had to be settled, .VA^\ amoiMits due to the successful crews to be paid them. Tiiis iiati to be done |);Mtl\- in cash— the Spanish dollar of foui shillings and twe[)ence sterling j)assing for five shillings — and pa-tiy in goods, which involved more " notes." Tile planters' accounts, too, had to be squ.ired and the profit or loss on the voyage of each determined. H)- this time May would be far advancod, and now all w.;s hurry, almost exactly a repetition ol the scenes in March ; on tins occasion, tlie cod-hshery bemg prepared \^i ^'EWFOVI^DLAXD. 49 f™. The same schooner.,, commanded by the same «k.ppers but with newly selected crews, were fitted ou on exactiy the same system of credit as before, wif. the l.abraj„,. ;,„^. ^.^^ ^^^^^^^^_ ^^ or " ..1 October, when they brought their produce b,c\ Th,s ,ntena, was nearly a four months' holiday for .he clerks, and n, the most deli,,htfu. part of the year The «ork m the „mce was then little more than rou,ine_t e "py.ni; of letters, keepin,- the foods' accounts of such cs, ents as dealt at Mr. Icon's stores, despatchin, two or h.ee vessels to i.-.n^lan.l with ,he seal oil of „,e sprin,. called the Shore f iicry. In c' coves round about, and cspeciallv alon- the North .hore"_that is. the coast of Cone'cption" I ay wh,c stretched from Carbonear to Point B,a'ccalao, Z n^boun,,, p,ee,pitous shore, much indented with small ■nlc t.s, bu, eontannnK no harbour, for shi„s_„,„„„ „„., Fnph,h a .1 Protestant, who posses,e,l no schooners, but I'l ."..II .sa.lmj.boats, witi, which, mostly by f„„i,ies Icy Pur,„..d ,„e eod.fishe,v in the bay The^.sh ,h y took were commonly of |,,r,er size, were betler cured and connnauded a ,n,her price than the l.abr ,r pro u „ U.e ,,uan„ty of it was strictly limited. Many of' Z st: n' ""■ '7" '"■" '"'• "■^"■'""'"■- "••"■'--■ fCIo sinKnil.uly .simple aiui -..jleles.,. uith -. m-.rL-n,I ;;:'■'■■'■' "^''■•- '..-M. .pniation of, he l:,:^'^^^:^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^la'z:: tin '"'""'" r'"' ""'-^ sot CO. ., I , ^^'''''^' ■''" ^'^^y had no re- March when",! '' """""^ i"^-noi,syf,r.st fortnight of March,«hcn,h. crews .'ca„u. to collar." ...sthcr. nr,val iti 5^ THE LIFE OF FI/ILIP HENRY GOSSE. i was called, the port was resounding every night with shouts and cries and responses, bandied from vessel to vessel, nicknames, ribald jokes, and opprobrious ej ithets showered on the inoffensive heads of the poor meek men from the North Shore. Their dialect was peculiar. It sounded particularly strange in the cars of the Irish, although it was really equally diverse from that of any English peasantry. One of its traits was an inability to pronounce the ///, which became / or d. Most of them were Wcsleyans, and it was amusing to hear them fervently singing hymns in their odd language : — " De ting my God dut hate, Dat I no more may do." With these simple folk the summer business of the counting-house was mainly occupied, they bringing their little buat-loads of exccdlent fi-'., according as it was cured, with such subordinate matters as fresh salmon for the house-table, and various delicious berries. Of these latter the Newfoundland summer produces a considerable variety, as cranberries, whortleberries, and the exquisitely dc icate cloudberry {Ritbus chamccniorns), locally known as "bakc-applcs." These were always saleable, and some- times, though not often, the North Shore men would bring a carcase of reindeer venison, nearly as large as a cow- an excellent and sav.nuy meat. Such minute transactions as these, however, lianlly broke the office holiday, ami alto- gether the work of thc>e four summer mouths woukl have been by no means oppressive, if pcrformeil in one. In October the harbour gradually (llletl again, and as the jist of that month was thj terminus of every en- gagement, no sooner did tliat murh-hatcd and die.uk'd y\Ay arrive, than the counting-house was beset by the clamorous rogues, a do/en or more crovvdin;^ m at once into the olli,., .ill shouting, swearing, and wrangling to- NE WFOUNDLAND. gethc, dirty and greasy, redolent with a commingled fragrance offish, oil, rum, and tobacco-one calling Heaven to wuness m the richest MHesian accents that a certain pa.r of i,ose charged in his account never went upon /.. le,s.show,ng the said legs at the same time, as a patent proc^ that he had no such stockings four months befor another affcctu.g great indignation, because the us.,!' charge of one shilling has been made ior "hospital-" anocher hnding the balance of cash due to him ratlL le;s han h.s v,v.d unagination has anticipated, and romping and teanng about, swearing tlu - he will not touch th^ uaty money, that the clerks may keep it, that he doesn't care two pms for the clerks, but presently cooling down pocket, ng the cash, and signing his beautiful autograph in he rece,pt-book. The hottest part of this settling busmess d.a not las. through Novcnber ; at least, t.e crews Mie roughest uttcr//.^., were pretty well done uith by the' end o hatmontn. But as the year .rew near its cl..c, books l>.ui to be wound up. long planters' accounts to be copied ample uucntories of all stock in the various stores and' 1-ps to be taken and cop.ed. various statements to bo drawn up f.r transnn-ssion to England, long letters to be U.nsa-,bed. and genera, arrears ,n n.any branches to be made up. The wuuer business, therefore, was ion. and pretty arduous. ^ The prices charged o account varied httle; in .encral ;h.y u.e,.e about double what they cost m En^lan^ 7^:^ .3 to say nonnnaliy. but the difference between tterlu,: and c-rency .ust be borne n. nnnd. To residents i^ tl e town who pa.d cash over ,W enunte, pr.ces were con .derably ,ess. The clerks had all tlu ,r goods charged to hem at the actual invoice pr.ce.s. to whiet t. enty- t , : cent, was then added, and .,11 ,. .,. , , ,^ ' ' ■■.m vii ,i\\ 11 vvas at Nctthr I'iue. turned mto sterling, and the c illcienee 4 !)' 53 THE LIFE OF PHILIP FrENRY GOSSE. allowed to them. The wages Philip Gosse received were -small, but then board and lodgin- were provided. Wash- ing, however, he had to pay himself, and the following anecdote may bo permitted to illustrate the sysccm and his personal economy : — " It must have been in the summer of 1829 that I had "been a little exceeding my income, and Mr. Elson had "evidently his eye on my account. One little item " brought matters to a crisis. There suddenly appeared "in the ledger against my name, ' 2 ozs. Cinnamon, i.y.' "Th.s I had got at the shop, to chew, as a little luxury ; "but the skipper noticed it, and, suo more, said nothing "to me, but gave orders to Lush that Philip Gosse mus^ " have nothing more without a note from him. Soon after "this, my laundress applied to me— through her usual "messenger, a buxom daughtcr-for some goods on "account, for which I, suspecting nothing, gave !,cr a "note in my oun hand. This note was dishonoured ■ '•and a few days later, old Mrs. Rowe herself applies to " Mr. M, who comes with her into the office. It so "happened that I did not recognize her, having generally " done business with one or other of her daughters, and "I took no heed whatever to what she and Mr. E. were ^^ talking about, the chief of the discussion having doubt- " less ])assed before they entered the office. Mr. E. at "length gave her tlie note sh- asked in my name, and "she went out looking daggers at inc as she pas-rd. "The skipper presently retired also, sa>.ng not a word "to me; and not till then did I, throu.^h .St. John's ^"raillery, who had from the first app-ehemled the .state "of aflTairs, kn.,u what hac' transpired. Hoth Durell and "li<- had wondered at my coolness and nonchalance, •* uhich was now .-xpla.ned llien.cforward I was more' " economical ; and my disbursements, w.'lUi had not NEWFOUNDLAND. "greatly exceeded my earnings, ac length were overtaken "by them, and all was right again. It was a lesson I " never forgot." The remainder of this chapter shall be formed of a variety of desultory scraps, referring mainly to the years 1827 and 1828, whicl. I find in my father's handwriting They have never before been printed, and they may serve to complete the picture of his first years in Newfound- land : — " During the first summer, while the skipper (our "representative for the modern term 'governor ') was in " England, the dwelling-house had a narrow escape from "fire. I was standing alone at the office window which " looked up to the house, just after dinner one day " watching a vivid thunderstorm. Suddenly I saw what "appeared exactly as if a cannon h.d been fired directly "out of the house chimney. This was the lightnin .>..i, riic glasses dashed "dovvn, ,nueh row and terror caused, but uondrously httlc dan.age. The electric course could be distinctly 54 THE LIFE OF PhlLIP HENRY GOSSE. traced Plong the b.ll-wire half round the room, to the door opposite. The wfre had been melted here and ^ there; the gilding on the frames of two pictures on the uall had contracted into transverse bands, alter- •latn,, uith bands of bla:k destitute of gold ; the door ^^had been thrown off its hinges, though these were ^ unusually massive; and a fe.v other freaks of this playful character had sated the lightning's ire _^ '' St. John thus recalls to my memory one result of this ^ storm: 'Do you recollect Neuell's account of that event fthe thunderbolt ?) in his letter to Poole > We ;- amused ourselves with its diction, counting the ^^^prod.g.ous number of was-es crowded into the ^^^ sentences. " I was," and "he w.s." and " it was," etc.. vnthout end. 1 think >ou copied the letter, and fairly ^ oamed wuh laughter ;-bad boys as we were ! ' My fnend John I^rown wrote me, / tinnk, but one otter. I eft hm, .11 of consumption ; and the summer had scarcely set in, when he died at hon.e in Poole. The death of my early friend did not affect my feelings in _ any appreciable degree. It seemed as if I had for.cttten h-". was much ashamed of th.s, and, I ma> say even .shocked ; but. as it was, new .scenes, new frie.d- h,ps, had com. in, and. what was perhaps more to the ponu, I had. since I parte.l fron, him, brief as the Pcnod really was. changed f.ntl. boy into the- J!;: ihu. there .seemed a great chasm between my present f-lu,,s. asp.rations, and habits of thought, and those only a ^... n..nths before ; and it had sc happened /•^ t h,s phy.,cal transition had been exactly coin- c.entwuh the change .,f p.aee and circumstances. "th... Tk". " ' ''"' ^'""'■' '" '""''' t''-"> one sense, that r had migrated to ' The New World.' I NE IVFO UNDLAND. 55 " Charley would occasionally invite me to accompany " him over to Harbour Grace, about three miles distant, " to spend the evening with his family, sleep with him, "and return to business next morning. His parents "were a venerable pair of the ancicn rt^ghne ; all their " manners and their furniture told of high breeding and blue blood.' There was a vast oil painting, covering "nearly one wall of the dining-room, such as we " occasionally see in old mansions, representing a great " sp/ead of fruit, and a peacock, in all the dimensions and " all the splendour of life. Charley had two sisters— "Hannah, a sweet, sunny girl, with bright eyes and " auburn hair ; Charlotte (Lotty), a little deformed, very "gentle, but retiring, and less attractive. Both were " very sweet, amiable girls. "One day (I think within my first year), having "occasion to go over to Harbour Grace, I borrowed a " horse to do the journey en cavalier. I think this was " the first lime I had ever crossed a horse's back, unless " :t was in going with my cousins Kemp from Holme to " Corfe Castle, and then I had not attempted more than " a walk. Now, however, I was more ambitious ; and "as my steed broke into a gentle trot, I jerked from " side to side in a style quite edifying and novel to any "passing pedestrians, no doubt; for I had no notion of " holdin : with my knees. The success of the cxperi- "mcnt u il not encourage me to repeat it, and I didn't "know how to ride till I learned in Jamaica, in 1845. "The facilities for reading afforded by the library " I ca-crly availed myself of, particularly in novels, of " which I presently became a great devourer. Several "of .Scott's, several of Bulwer's, of DTsracIi's. I read ; but "the American tales of Cooper, and the Irish .series "published under the noin dc guerre of 'The O'Hara 56 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. Ij I i; Family were the prime favourites. As an example of the absorption ^r :,,erest with which I entered into ^^ these. marWr.n ..,.,;, i remember that on one ^^ occasion 1„ , . ...,,, (,827), I was sitting in my bed- room lat. a: night, finishing a novel, and when I had ^^done. It was some minutes before I could at all recall ^^ where I was. or my circurr-,.tances At another time ^ I actually read through t, . of .he three volumes of a novel at one sitting. ^^ " It was, if I am not mistaken, in The Collegians* one of the O'Hara tales, that I n.ct with the following .. TT": '-: '' ''■"" '^ '^^''y ^'^^-^^ - " - succession ^^^ of /deas, then to him whose mind holds but one ^^ ab.dmg Idea, there is no time.' This definition struck me forcibly at the time; and all through life I have ^^ recurred to it. ever and anon, when I have read the ordmary confused definitions of time, in which the motions of the hmu<^ni,, u^ i- ' neavenly bodies are prominently ^^ mentioned. There are indeed the ;.....;-.. of time but the essence of time is something quite distinct' from Its admeasurement. The sentence I have just _^ quoted formed the basis of many a discussion between ^ St. John and me; and we speculated much upon ^^ eternity, as ,f ,ts essence precluded succession We ^ talked too of God, as the schoolmen had done lone ^^ before us ; assuming that to Him there was no succes^ sion, but one abiding w:,: "vvhI'Vv'" ;'''/'''''' -^^' I l^-w by experience ^^ what Newfoundland winter was. It was by no means unbearable. The thermometer very rarely _^ descends below zero more than once or twice in the season; snow sets in generally by the end of Sep- * By Gerald Griffin. NE IVFOUXDLA.WD. " tcmber. and by the middle of November it has be- "come permanent till April. However, the weather is •'generally fine; we in the office kept good fires, took „ .^^'^^^ ^""^^ t° t'^^ g'-eat gun upon Harbour Rock, or in some other direction, and contrived to enjoy our- __ selves. Mr. Elson had returned in October and ^^ resumed h:s wonted authority, and Newell had sunk ^to mere book-keeper again. It was, I think, in this wmter that St. John urged me to write a novel. I at ' length complied ; and taking down a quire of foolscap began the adventures of one Edwin Something, -a youth ^^ ' about eighteen,' who 'dropped a tear over the ship's ^ s.de as he left his native country. I passed my hero through sundry scenes, and. among the rest, into a sea- ^^hght with a Tunis corsair, in which, I said, ' the Turks ^_ remau.cd masters of the field.' There was no attempt ^^ at fine writing ; it was all very simple, and all very ^ bnef ; for I finished off my story in some three or four pages. St. John read it very seriously, and mercifully ^1 restricted h,s criticism to the exnression 'field,' in the ^ sentence above cited, which, he 1, as the subject was ^ a .r...-f,ght, was hardly comme U faut. He did not • laugn at me ; but I had sense enough to know that it was a vcrj- poor afifair, and did not preserve it "In the spring of ,828, when the vessels began to ^^ return from the ice, I was sent to the oil-stage to take count of the seal-peUs delivered. The stage was a ^ long projecting wharf, roofed and inclosed, carried out _^ over the sea upon iles driven into the bottom. I take my place, pencil and pap., „, hand, at the open end of ^th.s stage, seated on an inverted tub. Before me is a wide hand-barruw. .\ hn.-.^ 1, ,L.,I .,, ^u. ;;-ith seal-pelt i, being slowly pulled i^m'o^ of^^he ■schooners by a noisy crew, mostly Irish. As soon as n I i 5"? f M m THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. " she arrives at the wharf, two or three scramble up, and " the rest, remaining in the boat, be-in to throw the '' heavy pelts of greasy bloody fat up on the floor of the " stage. At the same time one of the crew that has ^^ climbed up begins to lay them one by one, fur down- " ward, on the barrow ; singing out, as he lays down " each, ' One-two-three-four— tally,' I at each one "making a mark on my paper. Five pelts make a ^''barrow-load, and instead of the word 'five,' the word tally ' is used, for then I am to make a diagonal line "across the four marks, and this formula is called 'a " tally.' Immediately the word ' tallv ' is uttered by ihe I' loader, which is always with a loud emphasis, I also ••-say 'tally;' and then two labourers catch up the •' barrow, and carry it into the recesses of the stage for " the pelts to be skinned ; a second barrow meanwhile J receiving its tally in exactly the same manner, while ^'' my marking goes on, but on the opposite side of the "basal line ; so that the record assumes a form which "represents fifty pelts. This is very easily counted, "while mistake is almost impossible. I forgot to say " that one of the more responsible hands, perhaps the 'jm^tc, also stands by, and keeps a like tally with mine, " on behalf of the owner and crew. "Of course this was by no means so pleasant an 'J employment as that I had been used to in the warmth "and comfort and congenial company of the counting- " house. The dirt}-, brawling vulgar fellows crowdin'jj "around, uttering their low witless jokes, or cursing "and swearing, or abusing others, or bragging their " achievements ; the filth everywhere ; the rancid'grease, " which could not fail to be absorbed by my shoes and' " scattered nvrr „l„i-i ; :iw mat VvuCiiever, at beii- ' ringing or in evening, I essayed to join my companions, NE IVFOUNDLAS^D. 59 "the plain-sr.-.:.en r..;ucs would welcome me with— "'Oh, Gos.L, ^ .'.on'tcomc very near ! you stink so "'of seal-^il • . ,. at times, the bitter cold of winter, "not yet yuiciin., j spring, the snowy gales driving in "on mc, ani <:' ,,ig up through the corduroy poles "which made „,c rloor ;— all th-'s made me heartily glad "when the last r.chooner was discharged, and I was "again free to take my place with my fellows. " I picked up, however, during this occupation, a good " deal of interesting information. I became familiar with " t^e different species of seals ; learned much of their "habits and natural history, and of the adventures of the "hunters; and formed a pretty graphic and correct "idea of the circumstances of the voyage, and .sec-:- ?.\ "the ice. A good deal of this I embodied in a journal, " which I had continued to keep ever since I parted from " home, sending it consecutively to mother, as book after "book became filled. The one I now transmitted was " embellished, as I well recollect, with a coloured frontis- ^" piece, of full sheet size, folded so as to correspond with ^'' the leaves of the book. This represented an animated ^'^' scene at the ice, in which several schooners were '' m 3ored and several boats' crews were scattered about, " .vith their gaffs and guns, pursuing the young .,eals "others pelting them, and others dragging their loads of "pelts to their boats. Though destitute of all artistic "power, it was a valuable picture; for it r^^.resented, "with vividness and truth, a scene which then had "never been adequately described in print, certainly I' never depicted. I am sorry to say that this, with all '' the other records of those times and scenes, has long "been utterlv and unacc^nnf-Th''.' In^f • r-..-. >-.■-.. ^\. .:__ "been preserved, except in f)i'Iing mcinor3% of what I " took so much pains to perpetuate. Many sliiftings of '^■'i! i i 60 T//£ LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. ;; homes have occurred, and 'three rcaoves are as bad as a fire. "I have already alluded to my painful suscep. ibility __ to c^Lostly fears. In my imagination, a skelet. n or even a eorpse, was nearly the same thing as a ghost. ^ lh..s spnng. the body of a drowned sailor was picked J'P HI the harbour, and laid under a shed on our I^remises. covered with a sail, till it could be buried ^ My morb.d curiosity .-mpelled me to look on it; and 'Captau, Stevens turned bad: the sail, to sho.v me the yace. The corpse had evidently lain long in the water ■so that only the greenish-white bo les were left-at least "-" the parts not protected by che clothes. I fdt a' "great aue and revulsion as I looked at it; and Mk •'gnm grinding skull haunted my dreams, and would suddenly come up before my e)es. when alone m the "dark, for months. It was the first time 1 had ever " beheld the relics of poor deceased humanity. "Among the numerous scraps which had lain, from "time immemori.il. >n my father's great pertfolio. there "was an engraving by Hartolo/.zi. in his peculiar manner ;;'";'tating red ei>a!k. h was a Venn, bathing, after ' Cipnani.-a most exquisite thing. Tl.is I had .aken "possession of. and had brought to Xewfoundland. Ihcre was a servant girl, named .M.uv March. Pupt "•n one of the houses near our premises, whom I u.ed "to see occasionally, as she came will, her pitcher to "fetch water from the clear cold brook that ran alon^ "at the end of oi.r platfon,.. Mary was quite a toast " among our chaps-a pleasant, smiling, perfectly modest "girl ; but what attracted my eager interest was that her "face uas the exact counterpart of thai of my most '• lovely Venus of Hartolozzi's." ( 6i ) i I CHAPTER III. NEWFOUNDLAND {continued). 1828-1X35. -pARLY in Ai.c:u,st, 1838. Philip Gossc was sent for by Mr hison. and told that he must get himself ready ^- <^o and take his ph.ce in the office at St. Mary's 1 Ins he kncu- ni an^y as an obscure, semi-barbarous settle- ment on the south coast of Xcufoundland, where, as the clcr..s had gathered, the fir.n had just purchased an old cstabhshmcnt. The young man's heart sank uithin hin, as this command uas delivered to him in Mr. FIson's dry short peremptory n.anner. Remonstrance, of course, was out of , he f. in a dense .sca-fog. raw 'lamp. cold, and nuserable. On the second day he saw a curious phenomenon, which rou.se.i him a lifh- o„t nf his depression. Mounting the rigging some twenty feet or so ! ( .' 63 THE LIFE OF FHILIP HEXkY COSSE. above the sea-level, he found himself in bright sunshine, with the fog spread below him, like a plain of cotton. On this surface his shadow was projected, the head surrounded, at some distance, by a circling h.^lo of rainbow colours. This is the rare Arctic appearance known as the fog-bow, or fog-circle. On the third morning, still sailing in blind fog, the vessel got into the harbour of St. Mary's. It proved a dreary, desolate place indeed. There were perhaps three or four hundred inhabitants, almost all of the fisherman or labourer class, ami for the most part l-ish. There were Iwo mercantile establishments— the principal, which the Carbonear firm had recently purci ised ; and another, of much humbler pretensions, kej)! by a genial, jovial, twinkling little old I^nglishman, nani.d William I'hippard, who also filled the office of stipeii.liaiy magistrate. The manager of Klson's was (;ne John \V. .Martin, a i'oolc man, tiie son of a certain ."Mr. Martin who w.is a little fat man, with a merry laugh and a loud chirping voice, a jest ever on his lips, as he bu-.tlecl hither aiul thulu r. ulio had been in Gosse's boyhood one of thr fainihar (»l)jects of Toole life. Tlure was nothing genial about his son. John W. Martin, however ; consc(|uential and bumptious in his deportment, he enjoyed wielding his nxi of aiith,.rit>, and soon began to make his new clerk feel it. At the first meal young Gosse ate with his new chu f, the latter took his intellectual nuisure. Gos.se asked if there were any Indians in the neighbourhood. "What! you mean," .said Martin, " the abo— abo— abo— reeginces >." affecting learn- ing, but pronouncing the awful word with the greatest difficulty. Martin began at once to bore the young man uith constant petty tyrannies, which, after the liberty to ulneh he iia<| become nccustonied at Carbonear, were very galling. One day on the wharf, among the labourers, where Gossc was doing some duly or other, Martin took offence, NE WFO UNDLAND. 63 I and said, " You shan't be called Mr. Gosse any more • you shall be called plain Philip." The lad was very timid ; but on this occasion he thought he saw his advantage in the mana-cr's own ovcrwceninnr sense of dignity, and he pertly replied, " Very well ; and I'll call you plain John," which shut his mouth and stopped that move, while the labourers grinned approval. On Sundays only Philip Gosse was his own master at St. Mary's. Sometimes, while the summer lasted he took an exploring walk on this day. But though the' scenery seaward was grand, it was not attractive ; the land was a treeless waste, and the young man had no companion to interchange a word with. He therefore soon took to the habit of going round the beach to Phippard's immediately after b. akfast. spending the whole day there, and return- ing to his solitary bedroom at night. Phippard had two daughters-one married to an Englishman named Coles who cr.Pmanded a little coasting craft, and uh,, Jucd in' the house; the other a pretty girl, named Emma, who insensibly became the young clerk's closest friend and pnncpal con,pan,...n. The Klson stores and wharf had the reputation of being haunted. The Irish servants told of strange lights seen and unaccountable noises heard there at night, although there was insinuated, on sunshiny niornmgs,a sly suspicion that the demon was one Ned Toole, a faithful servitor and confidential factotum of Martins. It was quite salutary that such a superstition should prevail ; a - ^ ' is an excellent watch-dog. Martin affected to despise tue belief, but secretly nourished f^ notwithstanding. Gossc's bedroom was over the office and betwcett i and the other inhabited rooms there was a large unoccupied chamber called the fur-room. The house did a good deal of business in valuable furs— beaver, otter, fox, and musquash-and the uhole room «4 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HEXRY GOSSE. was hung round witli dry skins, received from the trappers awaiting shipment. It uas important that this very costly property should be protected, and so-this fur-room was haunted. The maid-seivants recounted to the young clerk a harrowing tale of an incident which had happened before he came. One night one of them told Martin that conver- sation was heard in the house, but no one could s-^ whence the voices came. He listened, and heard ne sound as of a man's grave tones, rather subdued, and occasionally intermitted. After a while it was concluded that it was the ghost in the fur-room. Martin, therefore, with a theatrical air of devilry, took a cocked pistol in each hand marched upstairs-the timid women crouching at his back with a candle-and, throwing open the door of the fur- room, authoritatively asked, " Who's there .' " Nothing however, uas h.cani or seen ; nor was any explanation of the my.Mcry attained. J^ut one of the g.-ls ,|uietly said, at the ch.se, that she thought it was r.nly tl e bu/z of a blue- bottle fly ! There can be no question that his timidity was increased, and his dislike of company which he was not certain would be congenial deepened, b>- Philip Gosse's dreary experiences at St. Mary's. One thing he learned which was aftc.-wards useful to him, book-keeping by double cntrv, both in prin- cipal and in practice. lie sat all day at the de.sk, mostly alone; but the work was not nearly sufficient to fill the time, there was no literature: m the place, and lu; was hanl set for occupation. His love of animals was known however, and the good-natured fellows in the port would' bring him oddities. One day a fisherman brougiit liin, a pretty bird, of .icn.sc, soft, spotless white plumage, calling It a sea-pigcon. I, was a kittiwake gull in remarkably fine condition ; as Philip was holding it in his h.tn.is. gazing on it with admiration, it suddc^ ••• darted its long ^'E^yFOUNDLAN■D. sharp beak up one of l,i, „„.,trils, brinsing down a pourin.. stream o blood, W/th such poor incident as thefc, .S^S passed gloom.ly and drearily a„-ay. But one ,„orni„. deetr,fied Gosso by .he announeemer.t that he was goin^ o send the at.er to Carbonear. Th. .ad was to travel ol n,o „ero« , o country, trackless and buried deep in snow, h.l.p thought uot for an ins.ant. however, of danger or aboa,. ,„ the joy of getting back to companionshi; and -c. Old Joe llvrne. a trapper and f.^riL. fanulial- Ti h the m,er,„r-a worthy, simple old fellow, and quite a wacter-was to he his pilot, and to , nry his liule kit h. cl^st remanung to be sent round „„ coast by the firs, spring schooner. Accordingly, the ne.xtday they left in a small boat and nverente.-.. Here was Joe's house, and here Philip Gosse rema,ned for one day as his gues.. regaled ,vith delicioul beaver n,ea.. „e declared .o .he end of his life that no flesh w.as so exquisite as .he hind quarters of beaver roas.ed. ■"■perfect I le came n, to .speed the travelling party and w.sh,ng .0 describe .he al.und.nue of p.arn.igan h e ■ntcnor, he assured .hem ,h.„ ■• ,„„ „.;„ ,ee ,° Ihousano panndgo, .and she will look you right in ,h= face,' A ," a a.,, reve on .he delicious .ail of .he beaver, la.e in ,he ^tcrnoon Joe and Hnlip Gosse s.arted to walk .o Ca ^near, s.r.kmg due nor.h for ,l,e head-wa.ers of Trin ,y Bay, some s.x.cen or seventeen miles dis.an. in a direct l.ne. Jus, before nightfall they arrived a, a li.tle - til, " o ■«'c hut, of Joes, made in his p„rs„„ of fur .a '„" Hero .hey .soon bull, up a g«,d fi,e and prepared ; cvenu,g meal, falling asleep a. las. in a fog 'f pn„„en wootl-snioke. " pungent it 66 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY COSSE. I The second day was far more laborious. In many places the snow was several feet deep ; the foot on being set down would sink to mid-thigh, and had to be slowly and painfully dragged out for the next step. Seven hours' hard walking only accomplished, by Joe's estimate, five miles. The over-exertion produced symp jms of distress in the physical frame of the young man, and he was utterly exhausted when they reached a second and much poorer tilt. They were now about half-way across the isthmus. The third day was more pleasant. The weather was fine, the snow tolerably firm, and the elasticity of youth began to respond to the necessit}-. A remarkable character- istic of the interior of Newfoundland is a multituile of lakes cr ponds, mere dilatations of the rivers and rivulets ; they occur ill succession, like links of a chain, or like beads on a string. These were now hard frozen and snow-covered ; but their perfect level, and the comparative thimiess of the wind-swept snow ujjon them, induced the old trapper to select these expansions '^A Rocky River and its tributaries wherc'V'jr their course woukl admit. .Some of the larger ponds were several miles in length, and were often studded with islets clothed with lofty hard-woods, such as birch and witch-hazel, forms of vegetalio.. not met with near the coast. This country the young man picture!.! as probably full wt hiMuty and variety in summer. Old Joe was communicative, and in his capacity of furrier and trapper his experiL!ice was interesting. He pointed out some large rounded masses of snow at the head of one lake, which, he said, covered a bcaver-house whence he had drawn many beavers. In other places he pointed out otter (or, as he pronounced it, "author") slides, always on the steep slope of the bank, where the water, even tiiroughout the winter, remained unfrozen. "These slides," says my father, "were as smooth and > il ^yElVFObWDLAXD. 67 s .ppcry as glass, caused by the otters sliding on them in play, in the following manner :-Several of these amusir- creatures combine to select a suitable spot. Then each in succession lying flat on his belly, from the top of the bank- she es sw, tly dou-n over the sno.., and plunges into the n-ater. 1 he others follou-, while he crawls up the bank at some distance, and running round to the sliding-place takes h,s turn again to perform the same evolution as before The wet running from their bodies freezes on the surface of the slide, and so the snow becomes a smooth gutter of ,ce. This sport the old fappe.- had frequently seen continued with the t.tmost eagerness, and with every demonstration of delight, for hours together." It reminds one of tobogganing, although the attitude is not quite the same. My father used to say that he knew no other example of adult quadrupeds doing so human a thin-^ joinmg in a regular set and ordained game. They had made fair progress in this third da\-, and at •ts end, as there were no more hospitable tilts, they u-cre fam to bivouac under the skies. Old Joe, huwever ^^•as equal to the emergency. With the axe that he carried at Ins belt, he promptly felled a number of trees in a spruce w.HHl, causing them so to fall as that their branches and leafy tops .hould form a dense w.dl of folia..e around an open area, w.thin which he lighted an immense blazmg fire, feeding it with the trtn,ks, which he cut into logs, and pUed up in store sufficient for th.e wh..le ni-^ht before he ceased labour. Next morning they trudged^n agam, and wlnle this fourth day was still early, they ar- nved at the sea ,n Trinity Bay. The long narrow inlet at the he..! was frozen over, and they walked down it he .ce was sohd enough, but fresh water had tlowcd over •t. flood.ng the whole to the depth of ab...,, a fo ,t This also had /rozcn over during the n.ght, but .0 thinly as to m :ii. ^M rtit 68 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. bear the pressure of the foot for only an instant. As soon as the weight of the body came, down went the foot through to the ice below. Trudging thus through freezing water, while the edge of the thin surface-ice cut the skin at every step, and this for a distance of two milc3, proved the most trying incident of the whole journey ; but the -sense of having reached the northern coast sustained them. A mile or two now brought them to the point whence they had again to strike across country to Conception Bay. The distance was still about a dozen miles, but along a regular beaten track, and they did it jauntily. Near nightfall they reached the head of Spaniard's l^ay, and presently ',-. alkcd into the familiar streets of the town of Harbour Grace, where, at the house of his friend Charley St. John, Gosse parted from his trapper pilot, and received a cordial greet- ing from the whole of the .-affectionate St. John family. A letter from Air. St. John takes up the tak;. "Have you for- gotten," he says forty years later (i868), "the night when, oti your return from St. Mary . to Carbonear, you stopped at my father's, and when I kept you awake until near day- break relating what had occurrcdtluring your absence, till my father had to tap at the partition to stop our clacking and laughing .' And how, when you went over next day, the lads were disappointed at finding their bottled ale all fizzled d.nvii flat and stale .' " Very shortly after this, W. C. St. John married, under son.cwhat romantic circumstances. and thenceforward began to run over to Harbour Grace for two or three nights of each week, returning to the office in the early morning. Still, he was not quite the same to Ills friends as before, and the marriage of a clerk without special consent was not looked upon with favour-. Mr. Klson, after a time, intimated that St. John must .seek some other employment, and in the autumn of 1830 he ceased to be one of the circle at Carbonear. NE WFO VNDLAND. 69 1 It was in the winter of that year that Phihp Gosse became consumed with a passion for poetry, a return to the feeh-ng roused three years before by the readin- of Lara. He began to devour all the verse that was to be discovered in Carbonear, and to form a manuscript selec- tion of the pieces which struck him as being the best, an anthology which he patiently continued to form until 1834. This collection, in two volumes, is now in my possession, and testifies to the refined, but, of course, somewhat conventional taste, of the lad. Much reading of poetry inevitably leads to the writing of it, and Philip wrote the words " Sprigs of Laurel " on the title-page of a blank volume which it was his intention to fill with lyrics of his own. He achieved a " Song to Poland," some scrip- tural pieces inspired by Byron, a blank-verse address to Spring, and then the laurel grove withered up and buddetl no more. His genius was not for poetry. .Music followed in the wake of verse ; ^furore for making musical instru- ments seized the clerks. Under the tuition ..f a !^Ir. Twohig, a carpenter, my father constructed in 1831 an ^olian harp and a violin, neither of which was unsatisfac- tory. In the same summer he taught himself to swim. Up to this time the record of my father's life has been the chronicle of a child, although by the close of the season he was actually well advanced in his twenty-second year. In reality, however, he was extremely young, unform.xi, without definition of character, without distinct aim of any kind, and lacking, too. the ordinary buoyancy of early man- hood. I le u as suspended, as it were, between the artlessness of childhood and the finished shape which his maturity was to adopt. This is probably no rare phenomenon in the youth of men burn to be remarkable, and \et placed in circumstances which arrest rather than advance their de- velopment. In glancing over my father's diaries and notes, f If •■^• I I i t 'i {^!l 70 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. I hnd no difficulty in perceiving that the year 1S32 was in •several respects the most remarkable in his life. In it he commenced that serious and decisive devotion to scientific natural history which henceforward was his central occu- pation. In it he first, a. he himself put it forty years later, "definitely and solemnly yielded himself to God; and began that course heavenward, which, through many devia- tions and many haltings and many falls, I have been enabled to pursue, on the whole steadfastly, until now." It was in this year also that, after five years' absence in Newfoundland, he once more visited his parents and his native country. This, however, was but a trifling matter in comparison with the great importance of the change which turned the soft and molluscous temperament of the youth into the vertebrate character of the man. In 1832 Philip Gosse. suddenly and consciously, became a naturalist and a Christian. On the former subject he must now speak for himself: — "The 5th of :vray was one of the main pivots of life " to me. The Wesleyan minister, Rev. Richard Knight. •• was selling some of his spare books by auction. I was j^ there, and bought Kaumachcr's edition of Adams's ''Essays on the Microscope, a quarto which I still " possess. The plan of this work had led the author to "treat largely of insects, and to give minute instructions " for their collection and preservation. I was delighted "with my prize; it just condensed and focussed the "wandering rays of science that were kindling in my " mind, and I enthusiastically resolved forthwith to collect " insects. At first I proposed only to include the more " handsome butterflies ?nd moths and the larger beetles of " which barren Newfoundland yielded a poor store indeed ; " but not knowing how to make a limit, I presently "enlarged my plan, and commenced as an entomolo-ist \ NE IVFO UNDLAND. 71 "in earnest. The Sirex gigus, which I had talv-cn in " 1829. u-as still lying on the sash of the parlour window ; "with this I began my collection. On the 6th of June " I took, on a currant bush in the -arden, a very fine "specimen of a very fine butterfly, the Cambervvell "Beauty {Vanessa A ntiopa), of which, strange to say, I " never saw another example while I remained in the " island. " Owing to the long continuance of the Arctic ice on "the coast, the spring of 1832 was unprecedentcdly late ; "so that my collection had not goi;e beyond a few "minute and inconspicuous insects, bc/ore I sailed for " England. " The preface to my Entomological J vinial, from which "I gather the above particulars, ends with thc.-.c pro- "'phctic sentences: 'I cannot conclude . . . without "'noticing the superintending Providence, that, without "'our forethought, often causes the most important '"events of our life to originate in some trifling and '"apparently accidental circumstance — to be, like our " ' own huge globe, " hung upon nothing " ! After years •"only can decide how much of that happiness which '"chequers my earthly existence may have depended " ' on the laying out of ten shillings at a book sale.' " The arrival of the spring vessels from Poole had an- nounced the serious illness of Philip's only sister, Elizabeth, but he had not felt any special alarm, until in the begin- ning of June news came that her life was in danger, and that she wished to see her absent brothers once more. Philip Gossc immediately took in the letter to Mr. l-:ison, who, in the kindest manner, said that he should go home by the next ship, which was to sail in a few weeks. It had been distinctly stipulated that this privilege should be given to the lad during his apprenticeship, and five out I It IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) % % #< fA :.o !fi I.I 1.25 28 22 12.0 IIIIIM 1-4 11.6 •7] 5# -'c* 'f^^ ^ m 6>/^> Fhotognipliic Sciences Corpordtioii f^ ^■^ s> "^^ 23 WIST MAIN STRfET WtBSTEl N Y I4M0 ( 714 I «72 4503 Mp< p 7a THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY COSSE. of the six years had now expired. The anticipation of the death of one so beloved as Elizabeth, and the tedium of waiting for the opportunity to visit her, produced a peculiar effect on the young ma.i's min.i. As has already been shown, he was by temperament grave and somewhat Puritanical. His giddiest flights cf spirit had not raised hun to the customary altitude of innocent youthful be- haviour, and nothing was lackin-; but such an incident as the Illness of Elizabeth to develop in him the sternest forms of religious self-devotion. He shall himself describe the course oi events in his spiritual nature, and I am the more ready to print his exact words, because their tcnour IS very unusual, and far enough removed from the conven- tional language of mcdern religious life :— " My prominent though.t in this crisis was legal. I "wanted the Almighty to be my Friend ; to go to Him " in my need. I knew He required me to be holy. He "had said, ' My son, give Me thy heart." I closed with "Him, not hypocritically, but sincerely; intending "henceforth to live a new, a holy life; to please and " serve God. I knew nothing of my own weakness, or yi the power of sin. I cannot say that I was born "again as yet; but a work wr.s commenced which was "l)reparatory to. and which culminated in. regeneration. " I came at once to God, with much confidence, as a " hearer of prayer, and He graciously honoured my faith. "imperfect as it was. "As illustrating the tenderness of conscience then " induced, I recollect the following incident :-The use of "profane language, .so cmmon around nie, I had always "avoided, until the last twelvemonth or so, when I had "been gradually sliding into it. One day, .some week "or two ,,ftcr my exerc isr u,th G,,tl. I was alone in the "oflicc, when some agreeable occui-ation or other was NEWFOUNDLAND. y, "suddenly interrupted by work sent down from Mr. "Elson. In the irritation of the moment, I muttered Damn it ! ' not audibly, but to myself. Instantly my "conscience was smitten; I confessed my sin before "God, and never a-ain fell into that ti nsgrcssion." Dn July re, 1832, he sailed from Carbonear, in the bri- Convivial, for Poole. The skipper, Captain Compton, was the most gentleman-like of the Elson captains, a man of immense bulk, genial and agreeable in manners, and he made the voyage a very pleasi'.g one. Philip kept a journal of this expedition, wh.ich still exists and bears witness to his increased power of observation and descrip- tion. On August 6 the young naturalist, who was now within sight of the coasts of Devon and Dorset, had the satisfaction of observing one of the rarest visitors to our shores, the white whale, or Beluga. Late in the evening ot the same day he stepped on Po .le Quay, and five minutes brought him to the familiar house in Skinner Street. As he knocked at the door, his heart was in his mouth, for he knew not what tidings awaited him His brother answered his knock. "Oh," Philip said, as he grasped his hand, -is all well.'" for he could not speak the name of I-lizabeth. • Vcs," was the reply. " very well • - and the new-comer felt a load lifted from him. Thou-h •still weak, h:ii/ai,eth was fast recovering, and had been removed to lodgings at Parkstonc. in company with her mother, f(,r jjurer air. I-iUK- did Philip sleep that night. Awake in eonvcMsa- t.on until past midnight, he was up at four o'clock next "x.rning. and .sallied forth, armed with pill-boxes, ready for the capture of any unlucky insect desirous to experience the benefits of early rising. During the voyage home his dreams had been nightly running in the pursuit of insects over the flowery meadows of Dorset. At length it was a 74 THE LIFE OF rniLlP HENRY GOSSE. I reality. He was in a humour to be pleased with every- thing ; but even if it had not been so, the morning was ^o fresh and bracing, the hedges so thickly green, and the flowers so sweet after the harsh uplands of Newfoundland that he could not fail of an ecstasy. In later life my father constantly recalled that delightful morning, which appears to have singularly and deeply moved him with its beauty " I was brimful of happiness," he said in a letter of a year later (November i6, KS33). "The beautiful and luxuriant hedgerows, the mossy, gnarled oaks; the fields; the flowers- the pretty warbling birds ; the blue sky and bright sun the' dancing butterflies ; but, above all, the unwonted freedom from a load of anxiety ;-altogcther it seemed to my en- chanted senses, just come from dreary Newfoundland, that I was in Paradise. How I love to recall every little incident connected with that first morning excursion !-the poor brown c.mefly, which was the first English insect I caught ; the little grey moth under the oaks at the end of the last field ; the meadow where the Satyrui.c were sjiort- ing on the sunny bank ; tlie heavy fat Musca in Heckford- field hedge, which I in my ignorance called a Bombylius, and the consequent display of entomological lore mani- fested all that day by the familj-. who freciuenlly repeated the sounding words 'Jiombylius bee-fly.'" The mother and sister soon returned from I'arkstone, and the circle around the table in Skinner .Street was once' more complete. I'hilip did n..t st.ay three miles from Poole during the whole of his visit. He foun.i little changed in l\,ole dming his five years' absence. "Our lane," which had i.een a a,l-d,-sac, was now a thoroughfare by the turning of the ol.I gardens at the en' degrees many of them were sur- mounted, and he learned much in the best and hardest .school, that of actual observation. He carefully recorded every fact which appeared to be of impo-tance, a habit which proved of the highest value. He dius became, not merely an assiduous collector of injects, but a scientific "''turalist. Immediately after his return from Poole he 1 1 7« r//£ LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. began to keep a methodfca! nietcorolocrical journal ; record- ing the temperature thrice a day by a thermometer hung outside the office window, and, after a few months, recording the weather also. These records were regularly published every week in The Conception Bay Mercury, and were the earliest meteorological notes which were issued by any Newfoundland newspaper. Philip Gosse now held the second place in the office His standing duty was to take a duplicate copy of the ledger, in three volumes, for transmission to the firm at Poole. This was easy work, for he estimated that he could have completed it, in a steady effort, within three months, and that without any distressing fatigue. There was additional work, such as occasional copying of letters and routme jobs ; and in the times of pressure-as in the outfits for the ice and for Labrador, and in the settlement of accounts-he bore his part. None the less, he enjoyed an easy time and plenty of leisure. Early in 1833, under the mfluence of the then much-admired apocalyptical romances of the Rev. George Croly, Philip Gosse achieved rather a long poem. The Restoration rf Israel, which i.^ scarcely likely ever to bo printed. His main and most absorbuig occupation, however, was from th time forth natural history, and, for the present, entomo.ogy in par- ticular. I have before me a large collection of letters written by Philip Gosse at this period, to his family and to Samuel Ha.rison in Poole, and to W. C. St. Juhn in Har- bour Grace. They breathe the full professional ardour of the collector ; they supply scarcely any facts concerning the hf" of the writer, but chronicle with an almost passionate eagerness the daily history of his discoveries and e.xpcri- ments. With the sudden development of intellect and conscience whi. h I have described as taking place m .832, there came the conscious pleasure in perception, and the' NE IVFO LWDLAI/D. 77 conscious power to give it literary expression. From the etters before me I will give one or two examples. On January 13. 1833. he describes to Sam Harrison an incident of his late return voyage to Newfoundland :— " Our passage to this country was long and rough, and towards the latter part very cold and uncomfort- able.^ An odd circumstance happened while I was on ^^ boara ; one of ti.c men coming up from the half-deck found sticking on to his tronsers a living animal, which the mate brought down to me. that it might have the ^ benefit of my scientific lore. The crew, not being much versed m zoology, could not tell what to make of ."t he ''.sa.d, for 'it did not seem to be a jackass, nor a tomtit, nor, m short, any of that specie.' After sagely gazing '• at the creature awhile. I pronounced it to be a ...;-//.;,. ^^ It was about two inches long, of a light-brown colour • when we would touch it, it would instantly turn the "pomt of its sting towards the place, as if in defence, but d.d not attempt to run. However, we soon put an __ end to Its career by popping it into a little drop of _ Jama.ca. and the follow is now in the possession of your humble servant, snugly lying at the bottom of a Ph,a, bottle. The wonder is where or how it could Kive come on board, for they arc never found in Enc.- • land. I tlnnk it must have been in the ship ever since "she took a cargo of bark in Italy last winter" To the same correspondent he says, on May -^c-and '" tins passage I socm to detect fo. the first time the complete accent of that peculiar fchaty in description which was eventually to make him famous :- "Of all the si;;hts I have witnessed since I be-an the "study of this delightful science, none has charm^.l me I more than one J observed this morning. On openin-r my breeding-box. I saw a small fiy with four win.^s 78 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. "just at the moment it cleared itself of the ptiparium. "The wings were white, thick, and rumpled ; the body "slender, and about three-eighths of an inch in length. "I took it gently out and watched its proceedings. It " first bent its long antennae under the breast, and then "curved the abdomen, in which position it remained. It "was some time before I could perceive any change in "the wings, but at last they began to increase, and in "about an hour they were at the full size, though they "did not attain their markings and spots till two or "three hours. I now discovered that it is a lace-winged " fly {Heiiicrobiiis), the fiist of the genus I have ever seen ; "and I cannot sufficiently admire the beauty and delicacy "of the ample wings, the gracefulness of the little head, "and the lady-like appearance of the whole insect. I "know not from what pupa it could have come (for "though it was evolved the moment I first saw it, yet I "was so taken up with the fly that I neglected to observe " the pupa-case, and afterwards I could not find it), unless, "which I think probable, it was from one of those little "silky cocoons, on the inner surface of willow bark, which "I found on the 19th of IVIarch, and which I took for "weevils! However, I shall soon ascertain, for I have "more of them." Another fragment of this copious correspondence may be given, from a letter of June 21, 1833, as an example of Newfoundland landscape : — "Before six this morning. T was on the shore of Little " Beaver I'ond, where I stood for a few moments in mere "admiration of the day and quiet beauty of the scene. " The black, calm pond was sleeping below me, reflecting " from its unrufilcd surface every tree and bush of the " towering hill above, as in a perfect mirror. Stretching "away to the east were other ponds, embosomed ir the NE WFOUNDLAXD. 79 "mountains, while funher on in the same dfrection ''between two distant peaK-s. the ocean, with the golden •sun above it, flashed forth in dazzling splendour. The "iow, unvarying, somewhat mournful note of the snipes "on the opposite hiH, and, as one would occasionally fly 'across the wate, he sh. t, quVk flapping of his wings, seemed rather to increase than to diminish the general '^feehng of repose. The air seemed (perhaps from its extreme calmness) to have an extraordinary power of "conveying sound., for I could with perfect ease keep up ' a conversarion with Snraguc on the other side (not less ''than o.c-eightl. of a mil. off), without raising the voice above tne pitcn used in ordinary di-course" The entomological work done in 1833 and "the personal record of it are so profuse, that the b.ographer is inclined to wonder whe:e the duties of the count-pg-house came in. ^ Jiut Mr. Elson was spending the summer in En-land wh.ch gave a little more leisure than usual, and the young man became a kind of interesting local celebrity X The sons of Mr. Elson had a pleasure-boat of their own the Red Rover, and she wa placed at Philip Gosse's service for visiting the isla.u.s. One of the captains Mr. Hampton, became an enthusiastic pupil of the youn- naturalist, and collected ardently for him in southern ports of Europe and Africa. Even the townspeople vied with one another to be on the watch for strange-looking insects for Gosses collection." His desk in the counting-house stood against one of the windows, and in the w^indow-sill close to his right hand, he kept his card-covered tumblers' ■n which he watched the development and transformation c many species while at his work. Mr. Elson never made V the slightest objection to this, and from these simple apparatus many a fact vv.s learned. In tne summer of 1833 he began, under the title of Entomoh^na Ten-^.„ov,r )( So THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. ' 1 to fill a volume with drawings of great scientific accuracy. Some of the figures were magnified, and for this purpose he had brought with him from Poole two lenses, which he contrived to mount very decently in bone, securing the substance from the dinner-table, and grinding and shaping it wholly by himself. The lens itself was neatly set in putty ; and this rough but sufficient instru- ment was the only microscope which he was able to procure for many years. It rendered him an immense amount of service in his investigations. He also made a scale for his own use, out of an old tooth-brush handle ; graduating it on one side to tenths, and on the other side to twelfths, of an inch ; and this, in contempt of all modern im;~rovements, he continued to use until the year of his death. His journal for 1833 closes with the following remarks : — ''December 31.— One year of my entomological "researches in this country has passed away. It has " been to me a pleasant and a profitable one ; for, though " I have not been so successful as I anticipated in the "capture of insects, I have gained a good stock of " valuable scientific information, as well from books as " from my own observations. The season has been, from " its shortness and the general coldness of the weather, "particularly unfavourable to the pursuits of the ento- " mologist ; several species of insects wliich I have "noticed in former years have been either very scarce " or altogether wanting. I have not seen a single "specimen of the large swallow-tailed butterflies this "year, nor heard of one, though some years I have " observed one yellow species in considcaljlc numbers. " The Cambcrwcll Beauty, too, I have not r.cc with. " Tiie claims of busines.'^, moreover, have prevented me " from giving so much time and attentior. to science as NEVVFOUNDLAND 8i •■I could have wished, so thai, considering my oppor "su"::':' ?t t ^=^'°" '° co^puin'of^r; .X • „ "'°'' "'"'■> ' ''^"^ to »cnd,.o England I ha^ collected in .he different orders as fol.^w 1 ( butterflies and 55 moths) ; Neuro„„a. 43 ■ Hy,L .:'■'"-"• <^' -" ^'>'--. 75. awaking a ota ofTs spec.cs, no. including the foreign insets received frol - abated, h' °T "'"'" ""= """"S y"'- "'A ""■ •• ttat Tf 1 ■ "7"" ''"^"'"^ expectations, trus.in, ••dpro, Kit ■:'"'" P^°"^ ^"" "-- ™«-,ul and profitable than the past " o Jls'tl'nde'rl' tT '"''If "" Newfoundland in wb tnunders. Ever since the colonial legislation h;,rl been granted, .he Irish par.y had been s.rivin°; gai a monopoly of political poiver Part,. «„■ . I Protestants went in moLl f , I ^ ' "" '"-'' ' vastly outnum r d Thl r;' 'l * = '^^'^ r^''^^^'^^^ . • '•"t-m, and threatening: f^ ances anH mutLcrinfr words hp<;pf- fi,« • • t.Jances and newspaper tI, PM , ^ """°"'^- ""^ ^'^ ■'"''ns and was edi"l C a vf '""' "" °" "' ''™^^'^"' =«=■ Winton, a mend^ myLrr"" ' H "*;'""'' "'"^ colonial cause with wit'and cou;,e :nd rf '"' sequence greatly hated. He was in th """ "inter, round in .he Hay coMec int'h """ °' *'= night, walking alone ^roTcTu "'""""' "*"" °"" be was suddenly seledTn,?," '° "'"*'""■ '^'■='^''- ;tr--^.-;::„iTtr-: t°:rc;; -raso^rraZi^tioTar^rr'""^ --.™;^e,butthe,rL flu^Xe^^di^^ 82 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. I- whom the clerks at Elson's were well acquainted ; but he escaped all punishment. The state of things which pre- vailed at that time in Newfoundland was a direct reflection of the condition of Ireland, at that moment swayed by the oratory of Daniel O'Connell. Large contributions were being sent home from the colony to swell "the O'Connell thribbit," as it was called ; and Newfoundland was fast becoming a most unpleasant place to live in. The year 1834 passed, almost without incident, in absorbing attention to natural history. To understand the difficulties under which Philip Gosse laboured, it must be borne in mind that no one in Newfoundland had ever attempted to study its entomology before ; that there were no museums, no cabinets to refer to for identification, in the whole colony— no list of native insects ; that the young man was entirely self-taught ; that he was poor, and could not buy what, in fact, did not exist if he had had the money. In October, 1834, Captain Hampton brought back for him, from Hamburg, a cabinet for insects which had been made there by Gosse's order and strictly accord- ing to his written directions. This was three feet high, three feet long, two feet wide, with twelve drawers, and folding doors. It was ill planned ; the drawers were not corked, and therefore the specimens had to be pinned into the wood, which was deal throughout ; the substance was but slight and when he came to travel, he found it very unsatisfactory. However, it served its turn, and Gosse was too good a workman to grumble at his tools. His only written guide was the system of terse, highly condensed, intensely technical generic characters out of Linnajus's Systemn Naturcc,^?, printed in the article "Ento- mology " in Tegg's London EncydopiCdia. These characters he copied out, and they were of great value. He studied them most intently ; was often puzzled, discouraged, but ^ElVFOUArOLAND. 83 ever returned to the attack H^ a which cvpencnce..rr/r "'"''^ "'^"'^ '"'^^^l^^s. cast him th "^ '°"''^'^'- '^'•^-^ -^"^ of books :^^.:Z:!Z^ ""-^: -^ - ^^ --^..^'cd on and Hvin. a so,id £ ''%^^1"''^'"^--^ -'th actual facts, n^i^ln^ain:, •:';!.' '°^ book-knou-,ed,e .henever it -ientific I hih^ ro T' '' '"^P P^^^ -'^h tne ^edinthat ";^r:;:::^t::;t"""^"'-^^^^^ in the ,'Z Ir r " '• "'^ f°™" =" ™">"i^t settled sun.,,:, .re- ;::::; : t;::;r: t"'"»" "'■' P'k^cs, jasted more than forty years inr^ ,> 1, 1^ u noted here that .> „.a • , ' ^ should be J^rc tnat It was mainly owino- to \h^ \r.(\ Decame paramount, namely, his belief th-,f ,> proper to exclude fr^m \.- ^^ '* ^^'^^ conscientiouJ^e an. ; " '" "' """" °^ ■■"'™- -cl, isolation 1 r:, ™7''"" "-' "^ -"'^ '^X in •'- range of „, ,,„p,,„ and air rtr''"' o' <-ourse, thought othcnvisc ll„ i l»«=V'^r, ■•My friendship „-„l, ,10 Ion,. ' "^^ '"°™"''^' ''•"■"■•ual life, u at "ed : " "" ""'' '"■''"'" '" ■"^' co,npa„io„,np of , 't.: e'T? '""'^' ''""" '"' Di-irp- ,> , Li-^o.ivcrtcd young men of tlic >■'--. .tvvas a „,arked eo„,„,enee,nen. of ti.a, course of 84 THE LIFE OF PHILIP IIEXRY GOSSE. derided scparateness from the world, which I have sought to maintain ever since." Although his religious practice then, as ever afterwards, was rigid and I'uritanic to an unusual degree, he had a seventeenth-century freshness: in mingling the human mood with the Divine. In letters of this period I find, side by side with outpourings of devotion and aspirations after godliness, quaint passages of simple humour. Philip Gosse took his place in the singing gallery at the Wcsleyan Chapel, where his brother William led the instrumental part with the first violin. "Other chaos," he remarks, " and a few ladic:, swell the choir." One evening in the week they met to practise in the gallery, and on a single occasion, at least, he records that they all walked to Har- bour Rock, a commanding eminence overlooking the port of Carbonear, and clustering there, sang a hymn under the summer stars before they separated. Two other of Elson's clerks, who had become "serious," in like manner attached themselves to the choir of th(; Established Church, and practised there in the evenings. Gosse would often join them, and the ])ar\v would go home together. The old parish clerk, one Loa, 1X^4;— " .\.nv I have a serious proposal to make to you, which "I h>'pe and ardently trust will meet not only your "■ipl""\'d, b.it \.,urwarm co-operation, 1 ,i.k by this ""l'l""l>'nit\- nH.th.r, fillur, and i -.li/al.eth to com.' < >.u can in procuring insects for "your cabinet, even of tho.se which you have already, as " It will [)robably be your hist opportunity of ever get- "ting English insects. If you have not time to set " them, never nuiul, only pin them ; it is not of the least "consequenci-. as I can do ihem agam at any length of " tune, and however tlr\ the\- may have got. . . . Mr "and Mrs. Jaques l;n..u that I am inviting j-ou to join "us, and they earnestly (ksirr you to come. I have " learned to stuff birds, and there ;ne bjauties in Canada. " We Could make a nice nviseum." It was the old story, tlie familiar and pathetic optimism of the emi-rant. !)ut that tiiey had to conii)reher.(i from .-id experience. I'"or th.e moment, every diiug favouretl the • All this uni'onscious Fouriirism curiimsly foresh.idow.s the coming cooper*, tive projects in Amenr.i. What my father proposcil in 1834 was allrin..i.-.! at Fruitlands by Alcott in 1839, and carried out, after a fashion, at bn.ok I arm in 1840. 88 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HE.VRY GOSSE. scheme. In the sprinr^ of 1X35 Philip Gosse received replies. His brother ardently responded; but the rest of the family had no such enthusiasm, md not only refused to join the farm colony, but soug-ht strongly to dissuade Pliilip from what they did not scruple to stigmctizc as madness. Ho was not dissuaded, however, and continued to elaborate t'.ie plans by which, with his slender savings, he meant to buy a hundred acres of virgin soil. He spent pretty nearly all his evenings with the Jacjueses, eagerly reading every scrap of information about Canada, forming plans, and discussing prospects. One evening, on coming y^ home, as Mr. Elson had not quitted the parlcnir, Philip Gosse went in and abruptly announced his intention of leaving. It happened to be a severely cold night, thr edect of which was to benumb his organs of speech, and he spoke ah-iptly, with a stumbling thickness of jironun- "y nation. Mr. lilson made nc remark, received the notice with coldness, offered no remonstrance, and expressed no sorrow at parting, nor ;iiiy allusion to his eight years' ]|( service. It is possible that, from Mr. I-'.lson's point of view, (iosse, with all his foreign interests, had ceased to be a valuable or even -m endurable occup.uit of the counting- iiouse, conscientious as he intended to be. After the Iriendly relations which had existed between them, it was none the less unfortunate that master and man should part nn terms so far trn.n cardial on either side. Hut Philip Gcsse hid unconsciously grown loo large a bird for the little nest at Carbonear. ( §9 ) CHAPTER IV. f CANADA. 18.3 5-1. S3S. QN Midsummer Day, 1.S35, Philip Gossc took a hnal ^^ farewell of the little towr. which had been his home for ei^cdit years, and set off, full of sanguine anticipations for a new life of liberty and e. crprise. He walked from Carbonear to Harbour Grace, where the Cmn///n was lyin- and went on board of her to sleep that ni^du, to be joined next mornin^r by Mr. and Mrs. Jac,ues. I„ the course of this, his last walk in Newfoundland, he saw in f ■• dit wh .t all those years he had been lookin.^^ for in vain-a specimen of the lar.L^re yellow swallow-tail buttertl)-. He -,ave chase to it at once, and, after a Ion- run, succeeded in capturin^r it cas.ly with his hat. fn, it was very fearless. In the evennv. .1 l>ny immdu out to the vessel for him a lar,^e cockroaeir <'f a knul not native to North Am.rica, whij, he had P"cke.l up in tin. streets, dn.pjnd p,.rhap. .,,,1 of some car-, of su-ar. This ,|„aint species of tribute was In's last g.ft from Newfoundland, ,. country in which he was destined never to .set foot a^ain. He took on board a variety of chrysalides, cat.rpillars, an.i eg-s. the premature transfo,- "'•"""' ol some of which gRvc him a -reat deal of anxiety How completely h.. was al.so,lK,l in his duties as the nurse ■"■f thc:ic in.sccia ui.iy be anuism-ly ^atiiered fro,;, i,is .Ijary '■' "tif'-li, for instance, m. turning n,r some inlorn.ation j is 90 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. \\ rcgardin<^ that important day nn wiiich he landed in the new country of his adoption. I find these words and no others : — '' J'- i)ene- trated to the ver\- he.irtufth.it Kind of promise ixoxw which they anticip.ited so much. They saw it in a golden light, and in these words, which i)ctr.iy his enthusiasm, I'lu'li]) Gossc di'scrii)ed his appro.uh in a 1- xx home : — "On Wednesday last, as we were f.ivoureil with a fair "wind, we ueigiietl and set .-^aii very early, proceeding "along the fertile ,nnl will-cultivated Isle of Orleans, "which, as well .is the south b.iuk of ti.e river, was "smiling in hixuri.ince and loveliness. When we had "passed tiie end of Orleans ue ojiened the noble " Catar.ict of .Montniorenci, a vast volume of foamin"- "waters rushiuL; o\er ,i din" of immense liei-lif UV •'now came m .Mght of the city of Quebec, whicl beiui; CANADA. 91 "on the side of a 'nil, and gradually rising, like the scat; " of a theatre, from the lower town on the water-side to " the upper town, and on to the lofty heights of Abra- " ham, far exceeded in grandeur even my raised antici- "pations. When the officers of quarantine had visited "us we went on shore and took lodgings. In the "evening we enjoyed a pleasant walk to the Heights." They had intended to settle, as has already been said, in the London district of Canada, on the shores of Lake Huron. Jkit already, at their first arrival, their hopes were dashed. Those in Quebec who knew the interior, and who were sympathetic with their inexperience, gave an account of that country wliich was very different from the roseate descriptions of the advertisements. At all events, said these new friends, decide nothing until you have at least seen the eastern townships of the Lower I'rovince. Thither accordingly, after four days spent in Quebec, they all proceeded in an open carriage, and visited a partially cleared farm in the township of Compton. This they agreed to buy, and ten days later they all came back to Quebec. This excursion, taken in the height of summer and when evcrythmg looked its very be.st, was admirably fitted to confirm the party of settlers in their convictior chat they h.ad found a land flowing with the milk and honey of prosperity. The profusion of butter- flies, which of course he cou d nui stop to catch, dazzled rinhi) r.osse's imagination, so that the important matter ol selecting a scene of residence and occupation Jor li/c, smce that was their intention, never once arrested his .seri.Mis thought. He wrote long afterwards, in reference to this settlement at Compton, "I felt ant! acted as if buttiMlly-calching had been the one great business of life." i:;;} iiiimcwi.iiei^ leuioveii irom ijuebec, uilii their sh^nder store of goods, to Coinplon, ,iiul took po.ssession .jf i 92 THE LIFE UF PHILIP HE.VRV GOSSE. 1! thc.r farm. The village was on the river Coatacook, a tributary of the St. Francis, in the county of Sherbrooke very near the angle for.ned by a line drawn south from Quebec and one drawn cast from Montreal. It was thirteen m.les dis..nt from the town of Sherbrooke, and about twenty from the frontier of the state of Vermont, U.S.A. What the farm consisted of. and what their labour in it, may be plainly seen, though still through somewhat rose-coloured spectacles, in the following extract from a letter written November 4, 1835, to his friend. Dr. P. E. Molloy, in Montreal :— " I like my location here very much ; it seems the "general opinion that our farm was a bargain :— one " hundred and ten acres of land (forty-five cleared), a " frame-house, a log-house, a frame-barn, young orchard "four tons of hay. etc., for £^cy,-£-,o in hand, thJ "remamder in two a- lual instalments. It is a pic- "turesque-looking place, containing hill and dale, hard " and soft wood, and streams of water. The first tiling " I did was t(3 cut the hay which was on my allotment "This I did by hired labo-r ; I made it chicny myself. " I then ploughed a field of about six acres, except " thrce-cjuartcrs of an acre, which was done by hired " labour. I {nnnd ploughing rather different from bo,.k- "kcei)ing. but not near so difficult nor so laborious as " I had expected. Since then I have been collecting "stones from the fields, which ..re very numerous in "some parts, and dragging them off I have had abjut "six acres of wild lane' (from which the heavy timber "had been cut before) cleared of !o-. ar.d bu.shes. and "am getting them ploughed ; though I intend trying to " do part of this myself. My intended next year's crops • will be as follows: -Three acres wheat; three acres oats; - *'>ie acre peas ; two acres turnips ; three acres potatoes ; CANADA. 93 " perhaps one acre buckv/heat ; eight acres grass ; and " four acres pasture. Sometimes at first, when vveary "with labour, and finding things rather avvk-.vard, I was "mch-ned to discontent; but that soon wore off: the "thought of projected improvements and anticipated "returns, together with the beauty of the country and " freedom from the bustle of the counting-house, have "dispelled the gloom, and I am now as merry as a " cricket all day long. I have made successful applica- "tion for the conducting of one of the Government ".schools through the winter, say four months, at the " rate of £i per month, besides board. This will help " my finances, though 1 am not compelled to have recourse " to It. having still a few pounds in my pocket-book. " Vou ask if we have to work severely: I think I may " say no ; our labour is occasionally hard, but not severe- "not nearly so hard to learn as I anticipated. As our "minds were set on the Upper Province, it is hard to "draw a comparison between our expectations and the "realization, as it is so different from our anticipations • "but I think I may say we are not disappointed On " no account would I change my acres for my place at " S ade, Elson, and Co.'s desk. Society here is almost ' wholly • Yankee.' Their manners are far too forward " and intruding for our English notions, still all are not ' -so ; the. . are some very agreeable and good neighbours. ' I much regret that you did not come here to reside the " winter. Pardon me for saying you codd have boarded "much more cheaply in the village than I take for "granted you would in a cify like Montreal, and perhaps j^ rca..e nearly as much practice. We shall eagerly look forward to the promised pleasure of seeing you in the "spring, if all bo well. \ fK;,,L. ,-...:; ,, :n c.a .- _ , "tagcous to cultivate a small farm in addiu',n\ry • 1 I cusc \\\y Lfokincss \\\ asking so many CAA'ADA. S5 "favours at once, especially as I have not had the hap- " piness of being able to confer any." In addition to what is s.^.id above, it may be explained that the hundred and ten acres which formed the farm were divided by the high-road into two portions. The one consistingr of fifty acres, but having a frame dwelling-house and barn, fell to Mr. Jaques ; the western section, of .' ixty acres, having a log-hut. an apple-orchard, a young maple- sugary, and four tons of hay, Philip Gosse took for his. This statement, however, gives much too favourable a notion of the enterprise. Only about a third of the acreage was cleared and in cultivation, and the whole farm although originally of good land, was sadly neglected and exhausted by the miserable husbandry of its forn.er pos- sessors. The new tenant bought a horse and a cow stabhng them in the log-hut. His first labour was to get in his hay, and then he undertook to plough about five acres, himself both holding and driving. He got three acres more cleared of bushes and underwood, and ploughed. by hired labour. Ihese eight acres were all his tillage' land at first and he divided them, as he had proposed between wheat, barley, peas, and potatoes. Tn all the farm work he was quite unaided by the Jaqucses, the notion of all toiling together, in an atmosphere of refined intelligence, for a common purse, having broken down at the first moment. The two laborious little farms liad to be worked independently, and Philip Gosse paid a n.odcst sum as a bcided lodger. In August they got into their house, p.nd one of G.^sse's earliest acts was to panu tiic outs:deofitwithamix.urcof.skim milk and powdered lime. The Jaquescs, in particular, were soon disillusioned Mrs Jaques, who had been brought up as a lady, and who was then nursiii'T a h.-iH^r C^,„^A , I to carry out the entire labour of the house hen elf, but't^iev 1 i I I II 96 r//£ LIFE OF nilLIP IlKXRY GOSSE. could afford no servant. The two men, also, found the practical drud-cry of the farm work very different from the idyHic occupation which it had seemed in fancy, and through the pleasant telescopes of hope and romance. Their hands grew blistered with the axe and the plough ; their backs ached with the unwonted stooping and str^in- 'ng; no intellectual companionships brightened their evening hours ; their neighbours, few and far between, were vulgar and sordid, sharp and mean ; they saw no books, save those they had brought with them. So far as my father was concerned, this painful isolation from the outer world of man, though disagreeable, was not harmful. It thrust him more and more on the society of nature. Entomology had been his pastime ; it was now his only resource, and what had been a condiment and the salt of life grew now to be its very pabulum. The toil at the plough was harsh and exhausting, but not nearly enough so to dim his intellectual curiosity. His mind, the tendency of which was always to flow in a deep and narrow channel, concentrated all its forces in the prosecution of zoological' research. In summer, as soon ps his labour in the fields was over, he woulu instantly sally back to the margins of the forest, insect-net in hand, all fatigue forgotten m one flapping of a purple wing. His entomological journals, continued throughout the whole of hi, residence in Canada,' are a memorial of his unflagging indu.-. • r-d '-uccess in the pursuit of science. It was these jo- nals v ■ ich latt.,- on formed the basis of his first pubiisncu volume, The Canadian Naturalist of 1 840. The toil would have been less difficult to endure, if the returns had been commensurate. ]?ut in these, as in almost everything else (e.xcei)t the butterflies), the emigrants were r;evou;,.y disappointed. '1 heir neighbours described their isor: aj abnoiiiiaiiy uiiprupitious ; frosts canic un- to ^ ...... CANADA. usually c.rly in ,S3«, so „,,, ,he unripe corn-crops were fro.cn and s, clod. From uhatover ca„sc it m.jh, be. and pcnur,onsly as ,hey lived, they presently found that they were not making both end, meet. K..is,in, as thev did in wretehed poverty, it u-a., depressing to find that, ^ven so the.r to,l was insufficient to m.-.intain them. Tfccy soon became convinced that they had made a serious mistake "J swervmg from their original in on.ion of choosing h Upper Prov,nce, but still more in buying a wasted and ex.„a.ted farm. It is true that about half of Philip Gosses acres were as , ct virgin forest, which he mioh have recla„.ed and cultivated. But thev consisted tr the most part, of ■■ black timber "-that is to say, the spiles °oll"rfi,'f"'"V"", '' "■'''■* '■"^■^•■"^ '"■•• -d --n-.p>- »o,l. unfit for ploughu,g. l-erhaps if he had more p t. meado,,. U ,t h,s personal strength and skill were not ased to have the power to hire even the poorest labour. "<- «as accustomed, long afterwards, to reflect with o.t erness on what he might have done if they had kept to he,r plans, and s.ruck for the shces of Lake Huron. But eel th , he result would have been much better No doubt he land they could have bought in the North-we," would h.ave been far more fertile than at Comp.on, but i «s clothed w,th heavier timber, which they would have been obhged to fell even before they could build a hut to eve,e, the hfe even more recluse and savage. But the - fact .s that my father had no natural gif^for agricti ! skilled m turnmg a sw.amp or a .sandhank i f...:.r..; ■■^K.. 1 he thoughts that came to him at the plough were II 98 I ij I T//£ LIFE OF PHILIP IIEXRY GOSSF. ciry thou.,hts ; there was no fresh flavour of the earth about then. If ,t had not been for the blessed insects he must nave died of ennui. It u-as not. hou-ever, for a lon^ while that P],ilip Gosse rcahzed h,s disappointn.ent. The rose-colour was in no hurry to rub off. In September. 183, he writes home to a fr.cnd m 1 oole. relapsinc, into tl,e old familiar vernacular I am now become such a farmer that I believe I could ■jn-ack .whip wirh ere a chap in the countv o' Dorset" He .-as full of enthusiasm for the natural beauties of the Canadian autumn. In the same letter he writes • •■ The rees are now be.,innin,^ to fade in leaf which causes the forest to assume a most splendid appearance. The f.lia-^e - "' the most ,.or.eous hues ; the brilliant rich ciim.son^.f t c maple, the yello. of the elm. the oran,e and scarlet of cr trees set o^ by the fine da,,c,reen of the beech and h nearly black of the cedars and pines. ,ive a beau, V a ^Plcndour. to tl„. landscape Which cannot be conceived bv hose who have not seen it" The following extract i^ from a letter to his father, d.ted June M, ,836 - " I have to work with my oun hands. To be sure I ^ h-u-e not felled many trees >-et. except for f,K I ; nor' is _^-tn<-ccssary,a. I have several lar,,e fields u huh have been many ye,e, in euUivation. Ho. .vei, if v, . eonld .,7'";^''''- >••"''-'•''•' •'•'Ply see me a, the tail of the J>lou,lU)aul,n.,.a, the top of my voice to ,h. horses ■ or ca.st,ng tne seed into the ground; or mowing the _ seedy grass ; or pitchin, the sun-dri.l hay to tl" top of ecai, 1 he country is a lovely one. especially a th..s most charm.n. season-/,,-,,,../../;;,,,, „,„„,l ^^ when the j^round is covered with grass and flowers, and tne woods adorned with masses of the richest foliage cnhvened by birds of sweet song and gay plumage l' "have seen the beautiful T.,.„...... ...... .. . " ^ •J, • ' '-..-t.-.v. ,\itii ins coat CANADA. ^ 99 " of brilliant scarlet and dccp-bluish win-s and tail. The "ruby-throated humming-bird, too, begins to appear, "with its loud hum as it sucks the nectar of some "syngenesious flower, its fine eyes darting hither and "thither, its wings invisible from their rapid vibration, 'and its throat gKuving in the sun like a flame of fire.' " Then the woodpeckers, with their caps of deep scarlet ; " the pine grosbeak, with its pink and crimson plumage \ •• and others, qiws nunc, etc. Vou asked me if I had shot " any turkc>-s or deer ; you know not how good a shot " I am. I have shot at a squirrel three times successively, "without doing him any 'bodily harm.' without even " the satisfaction of the Irish sportsman who made the •■bird ' lave tliat, any wa>- ; ' for the squirrel would not "leave the tree, but continued chattering and scolding "me all the time. However, wild turkey is not found "cast of Lake Eric. J)cxr come round in the winter, '•and sometimes get into ,,ur fields, and eat the standing "corn in autumn ; I have seen sonic that were sh<.t by "a n.Mghbour. but they were does and had nr, horns. "They looked much like our fallow deer, but larger. "The reindeer or caribou, as it is c.illed. and the moose "occasionally, but rarely, .,re take>i. I have seen .i {c^^■ " Indians, belonging to the St. Francis tribe : some of "them enrampe.l within ,, few miles of us last winter ; "but they arc a poor, debased, broken, half-civilizcd "people, not the lordly .savage, the red man of the far "West; not such as Logan or Metacom of Tokanoket." He was not, however, entirely thrown upon nature for intellectual resources at Compton. Teachers of the town- ship schools, which were held in the winter, were in demand and he f<.und no dinficulty in obtaining an engagement for the dead months of cacl; of tlu- throe seasons he resided in Canada. The teacher received free board and ^lo for 1 loo THE I. IFF. OF PHI LI F HEXRY GOSSE. i the season of tu-elvc weeks, which Philip Gosse found a very timely alleviation of his expenses, thou-h the occu^ pation was unpleasin^ to his taste and irksome to his rapid habit of mind. Put the ever-present stimulus of scientific •nvesfgation kept up his spirits, and there beran to -^row upwithm him a new sensation, the definite ambition to k^am scientific and literary distinction. The first en couragement from without which came to him in his career, the earliest welcome from the academic world arnvc.l ,„ the early spring of 1S36, in the modest shape of a corresponding membership of the Literary and Historical -Society of Quebec. This was quickly followed by a similar compliment from the Natural History Society of Monti .al. These elections, indeed, conferred in themselves no great honour, for these institutions, in those early colonial days, were still ••,! their boyhood, and too inex- perienced to be critical in their selection. It w.as none th-^ less a great gratification to the young nian. lie contributed papers to the TransacUous of either society, sending to Montreal a Uru^optera Comrtonunsa and to (Quebec an essay on Fhc rcwpa-ature of XezcJomuUami and~ Xotcs or the Lowpamtive Foruurr.hu-ss of the Spriugtn Xcrvf.:n,dhv,d and tauada. He also sent to the new museum at Montreal a collection of the lepidoptera of Compt.n. All the while ho was keeping his copious .lailv journal ,>f observations, a diary which lies before me n„w and fn.n which I extract one day's .ccord as a sample of the rest •- ''August 10. [1835].-! took a walk hcfn.v breakfast "to a maple-wood, where I .spuit a {^^^■ hours very "pleasantly. There was one large but quite decayed ' tree, whose trunk was pierced with very many hole "and in almost every hole were the remains of a Sirex, "almost gone to dust-a large species somewhat' ^ •s'.i'^'^ •'"'■■fc were also remnants ol CAXADA. lOI "many beetles, amon- which was a Buprcstis, like one I "cau-ht at Three Rivr; nd several bright red beetles ••new to me, which h. jme characters of Lucanns " There were mar.y oval cases, as lar-e as pigeons' e-crs •• containing r.i7.r7V.^o; some beetle, and in one I foun'd'a " ScaraiHCHs, as that of 8[h inst., complete though decayed •• In another rotten tree I found several >//. some of •■which were of gigantic si/e. While in the wood. I " heard a loud hum, and looking round saw what I took ■ to be a large insect, but viewing it more intently I "saw It was a humming-bird of an olive colour, poisin- m my entomological journal, and thcnceiorward 1 Ic nienly an en.on.ologist ; he became .i naturalist in ihe oroader and fuller .sense. n.iring the first eighteen months hi. i,tt,,, home were ■s^.ll sangum.. -.nd. de.spite the di.scomforts and limitations of ^he hfe at Compton. he continue/ to urge the members of h..s family to join him. In May. ,837. in fact, his > a.ger brother cume. but stayed only six months, .md rcH..±. b.tteriy disenchanted, to England. I do not, indeed, find il CANADA. "3 quite easy to comprehend my father's condition ot mind throughout this year, lie continues, in spite of all dis- appointment, portune his father, mother, and sister to •' be ready . .01 out and live under the protection of my win-" and tall^s, so late as the autumn of 1S3;, of havin- •• some idea of L^ettin- out the materials of a house in the followin- winter, to be erected in the south-west corner of my Le-horn Field." Yet he had already, in July of the same year, advertised his farm at Compton for sale, not failin- to mention in the terms his '"garden of rare exotic fl.nvers ; " for he had enclosed a corner opposite the house, and had cultivated with .uccess the seeds atui plants which his brother had brought from I'oole, and others that he had collected from friends around. As this season clo.sed in, and h,s crops, uhich he had sanguinely persuaded hnnself were better than those of his neighbours, proved to be lamentable failures, his thoughts, unwillingly ac first, but soon more and more, began to turn to some other scene and some ether occupation for the lixing winch seemed f. be obstinately denied to him in Canada. The di.sastnuis visit of his brother was the la.st straw, and the back of ills optimism was broken at length. During the autumn he was vexed and disturbed by having to appear in court to give evidence in a criminal case against one of his few neighbours ; ..nd for some weeks he was laid up with acute rheumatism. On November .|, 1.S37, he wrote a very melancholy letter to his sister Elizabeth, and, after upbraiding and yet excusing himself for having in- duced his brother to make so untoward .m expedition, he contir.uc;: — "For myself, I have lately been somewh.u brought II down by sickness : nothing very alarnung. but sufficient "todi.vthie me in a great degree troin l..l),n,r; in conse- "qucneeof wluJi I have becnme very backward m my k ! 104 r//£ LIFE OF Pinup HE.VRY GOSSE. work, such as getting in my crops and ploughing. I behove my complaint to be an attack of rhJumatism. b o ,,u on b a chill taken during a day's work in the field an.,dst h..vy rain. I^esides this, houever. which was tnflmg. though painful, I have suffered from a _/ron uh.ch I am not yet freed, though I am recovering ^ Could any employment be obtained at home ? I an> t,red o more than ten years' exile, far from friends and l^.ndred I have been thinking that I might do well ^ by e,tabhshn:g a school in Poole, or m . ,e of the ncgbounng towns. Is there any opening.. Would a school at I'ark-one do.P 1 should be very glad if 3-ou would let n,e know by the fl,.t spring vessel If _ you g,ve m,.any encouragement, I wi.l endea^our to -I -y f^,rm, and, please God, embark lor I>o.,c next •• c dcm r/ ^^" "^-P^"^-^^ '- take a respectable aademy. teachmg all the ordinary branches of cducat.on. mathematics, book-keeping. Latin, and the rudnnents of Greek and navigation. I should be .lad l^f^^hange of f;.,,d,f>r I live on buckwheat and p:::V About the same time he urged a f^.mer XewfHmd- 'an I con^.an,on, who had ,ust got a clerk s situation in ' hdadelph,a, to „.,.„■,.. ,Hat chances there were for '"-■n that cty, either mercantile or .scholastic. And '" ^''^'— "-unuer he lud made uo his mind ; for he ;;;::,;: ^"-^ --^ --' - -^^'-ary 3. ..,., as 'My purpose is to .sell my farm at any sacrifice, and ^_ take the first opj.ortunity of the Hudson navigation to proceed south. My eye is towards Georgia or South Carolina, as I understand persons of p,1„..,.;,.., .,,g -. "demand there, both ,n mercantile and acadanica! ^ ^ CA^^ADA. lOs "situations. I believe, however, that I shall take "Philadelphia in my cour.se. and if anything can be "done there, I shall not proceed further." This scheme soo-^ .ipened into accomplishment, and on March 2.', 1S38, having realized the farm and stock as best he could, he left Canada for the United States, his friend Jaqucs driving him in his waggon as far as Bur- lington, on Lake Champlain. This is the moment, perhaps, briefly to recapitulate the results of the three years which had elapsed since he left Newfoundland. As a monetary speculation, he had done deplorably. He was twenty-eight years of age, and he was not possessed, when all his i)roi)erty was told, of so many pounds. ]5y his change from Carbonear he had greatly increased his toil ; he had lived much more meanly and on a coarser fare, had been more poorly clad, and had suffered .n general health. To set against all tliese losses there were fvo or three consideration.s. The mercantile house which he had left in Xeu foundland had, during these three years, rapidly fallen into gra\e difficulties, and had broken up, the clerk.^ being dispersed to seek fresh employment. The state of society in the colony had by this time, through the ever-increasing turbulence and lawlessness of the Irith population, become almcjst unbearable for I'rotestant.s. Hut the great, the (,nly, counterbalance to the wretched di.sappointinen.s and privations of these years in Canada was thecon.stant advance in scientific knowled-e and range of mental vision, which was checked, if at all, only during the phj-sical trouble of the last six months. From the distressing correspondence of this period, with >ts patient record of poverty, fatigue. ;md deferred hope, ' t"ni gladly i.. the professional journals, with thri," nrilaggmg note o, trnnnpli. and I permit mvsdf one more extract, ll ,s not thrilling, perhap.. but l' take it as an l| if m io6 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. example Of .hat extraordina.y pc.r of retaining the results aL::'\? ^^'-^^^y^''^" ^^-'^'^^ -^^' -^ ^-^er unique ^vh ch .t was then necessary to go back to Gilbert White of oel borne • — ^" On September 5. .83;. I and my brother visited the O.S Brule U'e went up by Bradley s Brook, and on tl e bank I found a new thistle, with crenated leaves. ^ The first quarter of a n.ile hy through a very rough _ ash. where we had to climb over the fallen trees and ^ rough the limbs ; and, to make it worse, these were _ concealed by the tall wickup* plants with which the ^^l^nnnui was absolutely covered.and as theseed-pods were JUS burstn,g, every move.nent dispersed clouds of the ^1^1 tcottony dewn. vhich getting into .ur mouths and nostnls caused us great inconvenience. Presently we descended the steen binl- -,,.1 n , -^^M^ bank, and walked, or rather ^^ scrambled, up the ,ocky bed of t!>e stream by means of the stones nhich were above water, thou.-h, as they -ere wet and slimy, we occasionally wettJd our feef Ihus we went on, sometimes in the stream, sometimes among .ne alders and underwood on the banks, for •• n uit " T 'f ' '•'' ' """^ ''-'''' "^-^>- -^P— -'- of ^_ - and seeds which I h.d not ^0.. . before, espe- c d^ the orange cup-flower, the handson.e scarlet irmts of the wlute and the red death, bright blue berries, etc In prc.su,g through the brush, I g.t n.y elothes be- d. bed w.th a nasty substance, winch I discovered to P oeeed fronj thousands of the Atlus la,u,.ra, ^vhich J a c,,, , They were so thickly clustered round -c auler branches as to make a solid mass, half an UKl^^Uuck^overed wuh ra^^^cd hkunents ..f whhe CAXADA. 107 "down. The insects were much larger than most of the " genus, and of a lead-grey colour. " W^e were getting nearly tired of the ruggedness of 'our path, when we suddenly came upon a new and " \cry good bridge across the brook, made of sound logs, " which connected a good broad bridle-path, from which "the fallen logs, etc., had been c' arcd away, and which " had been used for the purpose of drawing out mill logs. '• As its course seemed to be nearly parallel with that of "the brook (about south-west), we preferred pursuing it, "as being much more pleasant and more easy of travel. "Tiie sides of the road were lined with the stumps of "large spruces and hemlocks which had been felled the ••previous winter, and the road itself was strewn with " the chips of the a.xe-men. The cour.se lying through " a cedar swamp, the ground was mos.sy, and in some "places wet; here the scarlet stoneberry {Conn/s " Cauadr>!sis) was abundant, as well as the berries "mentioned befo,.. The former was ripe, and we ate "very many ; they are farinaceous and rather agreeable. •'We followed this path till it appeared almost'intermi- " liable, though its tedious uniformity made it seem "longer than it really was, as I suppo.se we did not walk •■mcn-e than a mile and a half on it, when I saw by the •'increasing light that we were approaching a large " opening. "We now pressed on and found that we had reached " the Hrule, which was not a clearing, as I had expeetjd, •but coverea witii stimted and ragged spruce, from "eight to twelve feet high, exactly resembling the small "woods of Newfoundland un the borders of the large "iiKuxhcs. I found also the .ame planl^, ^^\^^d^ I n.'nv "saw lor the lir.t time in Canada. The ground was "covvred with the same spongy moss, with shrubs of m ■At icS T-IE LIFE OF PHlLlt HE.VRV cOSSi. ■■Mian tea (i.rf,„„ /«„/). gould (AW«,V, rf„,„ ,„. a , „„„,bcrs of that curious pla„t, the !„dian cup or "' '"""■ -™"^'- -' brought home specimens as ,vell ^" other cunous flowers. The road merely toucl n tlf:! '?"■""' "■="' '''^'''" ^'^"'^^ ■•saadontr^r^ - ' """"- >v.. .>ent a httle way mto the Brul6 to see if there was 'J. dead, half.bumt spruce, ani therefore returned Th.s s,„.„ar piece of ground consists of son,; sands o acres, and i, said to owe its origin , ,1 bcav rs, wh,eh. were formerly nun,crous, damn.in^ „, t e streams, whi.h, spreading over the flat land hill IJlc growmg timber. It is a re»o,f „f , ■■ wild anim-Tls ,1, \, "* ' '""""^ °^ "olves and other '•th stiO "s ,"■' "" P"''^''"^'' "o -■»'■> of life in = ,1 less wh,ch pervaded the solitude; nor indeed .. b rds w ,eh were no. near enough to identify, a, a few nisign,fieant msects in the forest •• Having satisfied our curiosity, we began to return a, "ocame, until wear.,ved at the br.dge.rten insteld "f -tracng the course of the stream, we c osse U . d : and c„„tn,ued to pursue the road, wiueh for 'om di •■ ^f :' "^:^--^,v°---"^" -^p-- and he,:;::; ^ount^apL ^r^e:: :r„rcir"^ ''"";■'•'• :a.;'.e height of about tw:cK:;::rm;::r::;! per ectc.,ti„ued Gothic arch, or rathe .J ^ , ■■r;. forriirr";:™"^- '™^ '■'-"-' p'-"' .. , , ■ •""' ""^ """•'■■ ™ as it was .,u,te P'"*-'""*' o|'™<»l upon a large field CANADA. 109 ^vh.ch had been just mown, but which I had never before seen, nor could I recognize any of the ohjc ^s '■ wh.ch I saw. There appeared to be no outlet throu-^h ' the woods by which it seemed to be environed The^re "was the skeleton of an old log-house, without a roof in •'one part, and a portion of the field ^-as planted with potatoes. We at length saw a path through these potatoes, and ^^ walked on till, coining to the brow of _ a hill, we perceived the nver, with Smith's mills, and he rest of that neighbourhood. The road appeared to lead out towards Mr. Bostwick's. but we took a short •cut, and came by the back of Webster's barn, and so ■ by Bradley's mill, and home. I forgot to observe that •■ we were mu surprised in going up the brook, about ^. ni.le up, at coming upon a ruined building, which had ■ been erected over the stream, of which the timbers were • fallen down, and some of them carried some distance "downwards hv the freshets. I supposed it must have • been a mill, ' .t wondered at its situation so far from any re ad. I have since been informed that it was a •• sawmill, which was built by Messrs. S. and D. SpalTc rd "and that there was a good road to it. which went ■ through P. O. Barker's south-west field ; but bein^^ no-. ••overrun with bushes, it escaped our notice. The mill " has been disused near twenty years." ( 113 ) CHAPTER V. I. m i ALAIiAMA. I 8 VS. 'piIE only piece of valuable property which Philip Gos.sc took uith him from Canada uas the cabinet of m.ects which he had had made years before in Hambur- ind which was now fghtly stocked with the selected specie" of six years' incessant labour. The space in it was so limited that he had been f. n to use not merely the usual fioor of each drawer, but the tops as well, and even the s.des. As has been said, the thing had been a cheap affair at first, and none of the drawers being lined with cork the >.ns which fastened the insects had to be insecurely thrust into the deal wood itself. He had scarcely started from Compton on Mr. Jacjues's light traveling waggon whe. i began to .suffer f. ,m a mental agony uhich can sea ly be exaggerated. His poor shaky cabinet, with its frail con- tents, jolting over the hard-frozen roads, rough and desti- tute of snow, began more and more to give fcirth a rustlin- and faintly metallic sound which told lu-m only too clearlj that the pins were coming loo^e ; and soon l,c sat the^c in a condition of mi^erj- bcyo- ! Yvcch or tears, the witness of a catastrophe which he wa., absolutely powerless to avert, watching in a wretched iMlicncc the cabinet in which the delicate captures of his last years uere being ground to dust. ALABAMA. Ill His uas a tcmpcran,cnt uln-ch coi.lcl not, however for any ).^nc,rth of time be depressed. After three year'.- of confinen^ent to a dreary Canadian township, he was now ^^cu^ the world again, and, what was important, goin^. southwards, to warmth and sunlight. As they drov^ ^hroug^. the numerous villages of Vermont, he was capti- vated b>- the pretty, neat, and trim hovses of wood, bric^htlv panned, and as different as possible from the gaunt^oi^ houses of Compton. In the woods he saw for the firtt t.me glades foil of the paper-birch (Mr. Lowells -birch mon .shy and ladylike of trees"), with its dead-white Dark bnch. One n.ght they heard "from the ,nost sombre and gloomy recesses of the black-timbered fore.sc the tinkle of the saw-whetter. The unexpectedness of the sound struck me forcibly, and, cold as it was, I stopper^ ^ Miorse for some time to listen to it. In the dark- ess anc, ilence of n. m, t the regularly recurring sound, proceeding too fro., so gloomy a spot, had an effect on m>- ^ind •solemn and almost unearthly, 3-et not unmixed with peasure. ...haps the mystery hanging about the origin or the sound tc.ded to increase the eff.ct. It is like The measured tinkle of a cow-bell, or regu'ar strokes upon a rrih tt " • '"^"j 'r ''''■' '' ■■^ -^"^^p^-^ ^'^'^ ^-^ sau-.hetter IS a bird, but I believe that the author of this sound, un lar to New England woodsmen, has never been |)ositivcl)- iilcntificd. Late o„ tl,c third day the t,-a,elle„ reached Ii„rli„„t„„ The v„.t and frr.e,, ,.,he. a h„ge e.,,,.,„se c,f s„o„, er^ : ' .. every c reet,„„ by dirty sledge and slei.h traelcs J ary and tntin.ere.in,. J„,„e. i.nnu.di.ely ret,, ne i. a,u I h,h,, ,„,,se was left in ,hi,, remote X,„k,, ,„„„ """"■" ' »"'"'^ acuaintanee in .|,e „,de „-„,„ ^ -.-ed ,„ spi,-„s. ll„. same „i„|„^ ^;,_^^, j,^^._^. 'i .in 112 THE L/fE Of nni.lP HEXRY GOSSE. uas nothin- to tempt him to stay at Burlin-ton, he took h.s place in the sta-c-coach, a rou-h sort of leathern diligence, which carried a third seat hung transversciv between the iront and back scats. A middle-a-cd woman occupied one seat, and Goss. the .-her, and thus they '--cnt the night, swinging dully along the frozen n.ad with'- ..c a word passing between tliem. In the middle of the night, at some village where the concern changed horses. I'hilip Gosse got out for .some refreshment ; diz/y with broken sleep, he laid his purse down ,,n the bar counter, v.ith seven doll.ns in it. and stumbled back to the oiach without perceiving his less. The uno.ith Ma-e-coaeh dis- gorged him at Albany in the quiet of an e'arlv .Sunday morning. He instantly embarked on the steamer, and was running all that day down the beautiful ranges of the Hudson. Hut curiosity was almost as dead in him as hope He spoke to no one on board, he formed no plans and took no ob.servations ; only at the P.ilisade. he unke up to some perception of the noble , ,p,ces under winch they were passing. He h.ul not even the wretched excitemen't of examining the shattered contents of his insect cabinet for the stage-coach had peremptorily refused to take tli.it piece of furniture on board, and it had been left at i)iir!iii;,;t()n. In the evening he reached New York, land.-d on a crowded wharf and in Liberty Street, the nearest thorough- fare, sought out a sordid hole, in which he took one nivas ,„ Philadelphia that he f.rst enio,-ed tl . .«>-n>pa.hy ami help of ,„„„,„ ,„,„ ,, J„l">°'"\ l' n,use„mi„Chcs.„utStrcc:,heme.^,r.-,,,i,::,,-pe charm ,""" ""''' '" -"-''"•"■I'-- ■ """ence. „ ho charmed Imn at once, and surprised him b,- his deferential -vihtyand h,s instinctive recognition of.,,-, grim.fc a.™ 'd - --.yomh. as one destined .„ be .V,em:.body"' cxpeihlion to the South s,., . it- -^pranng Wilkes and I, ' "' *"■ '-"'""onant Charles V Ik.s, ,,„, he was parttcularly interested in the exouisi.e dran msec, which lip Gosse h, ,„/ f, 1= ™''t, '^ """■■'■ '"'^'nguished man of science was Pr„ fessor Thomas Xnttal, the botanis, whom he di cI r7d' " "r. "■"'" ' "' "« -^oademy of Natnr.al Science I., d,.ary my father calls him •■ venerable," although he wl iHuoTh :. "rr "" ""-■ "^ ''-f--' ■^-"'■' .,::, :::::'.'r,;"';'.':"-"'.'-'" "•^"■"s "-•■'•^°f 'hosocicv, l'hi|.„ri 1 '' ' "■>-'>'"Cl'e.,nra;„„,,, The distinguished imiadelplmu, zoologist Dr. Joseph I , idy. then a boy "f I I I*' H=. i4 I 114 THE LIFE ( F PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. M i sixteen, tells me that he recollects my father on one of these occasions— a proof that his personality, unknown as he had been, awakened some general attention. Thc- society and its visitors sat around a table in the cjreat hall of the museum, can'"js dimly and ineffectually lighting up the space. In the g; llcry. just above their heads, sat the skeleton of a murderer, riding the skeleton of a horse, the steed galloping, and the ghastly rider flourishing his up- lifted hand with an air of great hilarity. Part of the social entertainment consisted in looking over some fine coloured plates of American fishes, just out ; among which Gosse recognized, with interest, the large, richly coloured sculpen {Cottus), so common in the v,lcar water round the wharves of Carboncar. It seems to have been suggested to him by one of the savdfits of Philadelphia that he would find a useful field for his energy in the state of Alabama ; and this gentle- man—Mr. Timcthy A. Conrad, the conchologist— was so kind as to give him an intnxlaction to a friend of his at Clailjorne, which afterwards proved useful. On Sundays, while he was in Philadelphia, he went to the Dutch Reformed Church, in Sassafr.is and Crown Streets. There was no pulpit there, but a wide raised platform with chairs, riu- Rev, George Washington Pethune, an eKKpient And geni.d man, who dinl inurh lamented in iSOj, uaik, .1 t,) and fro as he discoursed, in the mairK-r since adopted by Mr. Spurgeon Put Cio.ssc'.s thoughts in Philadelphia wer^ almost exclusively occupied with the memories of Alex andcr Wilson, that greatest of ornithologists. Wilson was at that time his main object of enthusiastic admiration, and he occupied himself in vi.siting every spot which bore reminiscences of the noble naturalist. Here was his residence; in yonder house he " kept school;" h, le were the birds whkh his own hands had shot and skinned , ALABAMA. lyi if: of the „ h h '^'■""P'"" =^ ■'""'. *e former residence lateh report of cro„-s i„ multitudes. He found an old b . although U-i,,s„u ,,a„ been a constant v Ito t' .;-ora.e. ••u..on:„d"^t^,;?:,r:;:r: ^'■.'P"t.n, about the spa„o». He „-„„« have „ parrow. h„e .ere different fton, those , the e„ e u t t '"::irtf':^^';:T'''^''r'-^"'''- tint the \ ■ ' ■"■'"^'>' '"^■^'■ssao- to say t!,^, ■"'""•"" '"■-»■ '-' «i-"y 'ii^tinct fL th!. Tiie ctday in the hopitablc citv of VhU-,Ar] i- ft^/ r „ ^'.'""S* '''^Kaired a passage in the //7„V, fW ..„,dl schooner b,„n„lt„ , he p,.„ of M„„ile. He m :::;/,''"''■"■■'"'' '''^■™^^«='--yP---nne an c::;irizT;ii:H^i;:rt;rv-'- - -'^ .nirror-likc .surface of the river. At 1-ist ;^-- '"'tcr.n,^ th.. ,„ean fi.shin,, village of Delaware C i ' tl'yy were off d„u,. t. the ...... U u.. ...l:..-^.!,^: coid. ailhou,i, they uf,e ,„ „,.. ,,,„„,, .,,■ n^l^^ ''''ij •if ),' ! ! ii6 Tl'E LIFE OF riHLir IIEXRV COSSE. 19 Philip Gossc was very misnmble. He was the only pas- senger, and the skipper was a churh'sh, ilh"teratc fellow, with a crew of tnc same stamp as himself The fact that Go e was a " liritisher " was quite enough to -varrant them in the perpetration of a score of petty incivilities, just short of actual insult '■ The conversation," he says, " was of the lowest sort, and it was not liic smallest infliction tl.at every night I was compelled to hear, as I lay in my wretched berth, the interchange of obscene narratives between the skipper and his mate, before I could close my eyes in sleep. Dirt, diic, was the rule everywhere ; dirt in tiie cabin, dirt in the caboose, dirt in the wat?r-cask ; dirt doubly begrimed on the tablecloth, on the cups and glasses, the dishes and plates that servcil the food ; while the bo)- who filled the double office of cook and waiter was the xery impersonation of dirt." The cabin was a filthy hole, hardly large enough to stand up in, redolent of tar, grea.se, fu.sty clothes, mouldy biscuit, and a .score of other unendurable odours combined, such as only those can imagine who have been the tenants of a small trading craft. The single berth or. cither side •• in dimensions and appearance resembled a dog-kenncl more than anything else, the state of the blankets being, thanks to the grave- like darknes.s of the hole, but partial'y revealed, to sight at least." The only resource was to cat with as little thought as possible, to .sec as little as possible, and to be on deck as much as possible, and this List habit as furthered b\- the glorious weather whieh set in soon after tiny were well out to sea. For the first few days he was horribly sick, and spent the time in his little, close, dirty cabin, with nothing to relieve the tedium of the voyage. But on the -4th he came on deck to find that they were in the l.-itit •.■!!- of Savannah, and had entered the Gulf Stream. He fished ALABAMA. 117 up some of the gulf-weed and amused himself with examining it : — " Many of the stems and berries were covered with a "thin tissue of coral, like a very minute network; manv "small barnacles {Lepas) were about it; some shrimps " of an olive colour with bright violet spots ; small crabs "about half an inch wide, yellow, with dark-brown spots " and mottlings, one with thv; fore-half of the shell white • "some small univalve shells, and some curious, soft! " leathery things, almost shapeless. I put all the animals " I could collect into water, and watched their motions. " One of the small shrimps swam near a crab, which " mstantly seized it with his chuv. With this he held it "firmly, while with the other claw he proceeded v^Ty "deliberatel)- to pick off small portions f the shrimp " beginning at the head, which he put into his mouth. "He continued o do this, maugre the struggles of the "shrimp, >ometincs shifting it from one claw to the "other, until he had fnii.hed ; he picked off all the " members of the head, and the legs, before he began to " cat the body, chewing every morsel very slowly, and " seeming to enjoy it with great gusto ; u hen only the ^"tail was left, he examined it carefully, then rejected ^t. " throwing it from him with a sudden jerk." Within a week after the sha.i^ frosts already mentioned the vertical rays ,.f the sun were making the deck almost too hot to touch. ]}ut to one who had languished so long in sub-arctic climates, this was a blessed change. On they swept through the meadow-like Gulf Stream, ploughing their noiseless way through the yellow strings of sargasso*! weed, or accompanied by splendid c aturcs unknown to the colder waters ..f tlu> \.„th. Kudder-f.sh. with nnje spots, would pass in and out beneath the stern ; a shoal of porpoises would come leaping round the buus, in the cool- 1 ^1 Its THE LIFE OF PHI LI F IIEXRY GOSSE. i i ncss of the moonlight, and start off again together into the darkness. A shark would play about the ship, with its beautiful little attendant, the purple-bodied pilot-fish. The exquisite coryphenes, or sailor's dolphins, were the ship's constant companions, their backs now of the deepest azure, almost ^lack, and then suddenly, with a writhe, flashing with silver or gleaming with mother-of-pearl, lounging through the water with so indolent an air that to harpoon them seemed child's play. One of the crew, however trying this easy task, fell off the taffrail with a splash. On May i they caught the ^^elcome trade-wind blow- ing from the cast, and this fresh breeze carried them cheer-ly in sight of the West Indies. They rapidly passed the southern point of Abaco, one of the IJahamas, and Gosse saw for the first time on its precipitous shores the tan-hke leaves of the palm tree. While in sight of Abaco two beautiful sloops of war passed them, beating out, and a httle schooner, all of which hoisted the British fla- at the gaff-end. It was three years since the exile hrd Teen this pleasant sight, and he hailed uith deep emo^'on the colours of that " meteor flag " which has " braved a thou- sand years the battle and the breeze." Next day the White Oak had an excellent run, and rushing before the freshening trade, threaded an archipelago of these count- I'-ss " kays," or inlets, which animate the Florida Reef " The water on this reef," say. the journal, "is ver>' shoal, which is strongly indicated by its colour; instead c,f ihi deep-blue tint which marks the ocean, the watcT here is of a bright pea-green, an.! the shallower the water, the paler IS the tmt. To me it is verv pleasing to peer down into the depths below, especially in the clear water of these southern seas, and l,„,k at the nuny-colourcd bottom.^ sometimes a bright pearly sand, spoiled with. ^\vAU L..\ corals, then a large patch of brown rock, uhose gaping ALABAMA. 119 clefts and fissures are but half hidden by the waving tangles of purple weed, where multitudes of shapcles'^ creatures revel and riot und-'sturbed." Almost through one day their course bore them through a fleet of " Port'u- gucse men-of-war," those exquisite mimic vessels, with their sapphire hulls and pale pink sa-ls, whose magic navi- gation seems made to conduct some fairy queen of the tropics through the foam of perilous seas to her haven in an island of pearl. All these glorious sights in halcyon weather did not, however, last long. The ship was already within sight of the last kay of the long reef, when a violent siorm o^f rain and a westerly gale came on. They were glad to drop anchor at once between Cayo Boca and Cayo Marquess, two green little islands of palm trees and sand. 1 he crew set themselves to fish in the rain, and soon pulled out of the water plentiful fishes of the most extraordinary harle- quin colours, vermilion-gilled, amber-banded, striped like a zebra but wiMi violet, or streaked with fantastic forked lightnings of pink and silver. Next morning. May 5, broke in radiant sunshine, and as the wind continued foul, the captain proposed to go ashore and take a peep at C.ro Boca, a suggestion which Philip Gossc warmly seconded. The sailors rowed for a long white spit of sand, and the naturalist leaped ashore, and rushed into the bushes brandishing his insect-net. He expected to find this first specimen of West Indian vegetation stuuded with brilliant tropical insects, but he was disappointed. The bushes had tliick saline leaves, and insects were viry rare. Gosse pre- sently turned luck to the -lu.re, and found the corals an.! madrepores more interesting than the entomology, lint tlu- wind had veered, and he was forced, rchutantly. to iiumour the eaptam's impatience to return to tlie ship. A little white butterliy danced away to sea with them, lint- IIO THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. i; I ! Ij gaily back to her home in Cayo Boca past the Tortugas, numbers of sharks u-ere suinmin^ oun ,,,, ,^ vesseUccompanied by a mu.tituci: same oe ' 1 "^ "^P^"^' ^" ^'^ >'-"^' ^--^ -^ the amc pec.es. As one or two rose to the surface, however y urned out to be remoras, or suckin.-f.h. The men Mth a barbed spear, and secured them alive. These specimens my father thus describes :- •'They are about two feet \n len,nh, very slender, ^^l.ppcry. not covered with scales, but a sort of lon-^ flat pnckles, concealed under the skin, but causing a ron-, the old woman appeared, went to another house! and began to ■iiuut, '= 'Aa^ James I Mas J ames ! " Jkit : faster James was even more impassive than she had been herself, and made IZ4 THE LIFE OF rillLlF IIEXRV COSSE. door T ■ "■ f, '"''"= '"'"'^ "' ^S--- q>l>carcd at Ik- wno rubbed his eye; stater) thnt- fj, himself „.crc the'^onirpet ^'^.r"" "■™'" ""' 4. ui , , , •'^ persons on the prem r^es anH tumbled back into bed TN„ . ^ '"-"" ^S' ^"a ,.1 J ■'"^ woman then raked in the a .OS and prepared Gosse some break-fas, his bg-a"! all and, on the simultaneous annearanm of / r,Mf of <-u , 'M^pearance of a dozen negroes in.eba,™;\^*'^;^,f;:™,^;';;^-;eappea,., orr::r ;'r - ■™''- -- -^^ .x;; "^ nearest oaks, a pair of summer rcdhfrri- fr nock of those dehcatc bmternies, the hairstreaks ( /../„, carae dane.ng to him down a glade in the fores. Under these pieturesquc conditio!.. .,e ..ained hi, fi, -, • of Southern life. " ^ "' '"'Pi-^sions A. the pace of one mile an hour ho spent the remainder of the .lay ,n reaching Dallas. The road lay thro, * the romant,c forest, descended into eool ,le,s u ^'c h.d. en r,vnle,s ran bran-ling under bowers of the prll scarlet uoodbine. emerged in high clearings >vh e flow n, , ,,,„ ^ ^„^^^,^^^ =^ . mt r>.nccs. He passed fields where negro slaves, the first he had sec, at work, were ploughing between ro^-s of co.t, buz „rds were performing, „„„e too soon, their scave,^ f:.li?;" a '--dorous carcase ; he feasted uPon wi", vuj^inian strawberries; and, at ALABAATA. t25 last, late in the afternoon, arrived at Dallas, where he was hospitably welcomed by the family of Judge Saffold, and in particular by his son, Reuben Saffold, j'un lor who was to be his pupil. This youth, who was of a cnarmin- modesty and courtesj , had been at college, and had learned the rudiments of Greek. At Dallas Thilip Gosse spent several agreeable dav- rhile arrangements were being made for hi., school to be opened. This house was large, but rudely built, and furnished with an elegance which contrasted with ■ ough architecture In this respect, no doubt, it was not uistinguishcd from other residences of wealthy planters at the time. What more par- ticularly struck Philip Gossc w. ^ 'he gorgeous furniture which Nature itself, in the rich June weather, had provided tor the front of it. The wide passage, with rooms on eith.r side, which ran through the house, was completely em- bowered with the lovely Southern creepers; the tuistcd cables of Glycine frufescens flung their heavj- branches of lilac blossom about the walls, and wherever space was left it was filled with more d-^ -ate forms of profuse bloom, with the long pendulous trumpets of the scarlet cypress-' vine and of he intensely crimson quamoclit. sweet-briar that made the hot air ache with perfume, and deep ^•erm.llion tubes of the Southern honeysuckle, in which great hawkmoths hung all through the twilight, waving their loud-humming fans, and gorging themselves on sweetness. " Here," he says, in a letter f. om Dallas. " par- ticularly r.t the close of evening, when the sunbeams twinkle obliquely through the transparent loliage, and the cool breeze comes loaded with fragrance, the family may usually be seen, each (ladies as well as gentlemen) in that very elegant po-^ition in which an American delights to sit, i---:-%.- upL.;; iiiv, two iuuu icet, or leaning back against the wall, at an angle of forty-five degrees, the feet i fit^ 126 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. '.pon the highest bar. the knees near the chin, the head pressing against the wall so as now and then lo push the chair a few inches from it, the hands (but not -f the .adics) engaged in fashioning with a pocket-knife a piece of pine-wood into some uncouth and fantastic form." He was not, however, to spend his time lolling and whittling on the verandah of Dallas. The neighbouring village of Mount Pleasant was chosen as the site of his school, and lodgings were found for him in the house of a planter, a Mr. IWianan, in the hamlet itself. It was a rough frame-house, standing in the middle of a large >-ard, which, with the combined screaming of stark-naked little black children at j^lay, the squealing of pigs the gobbling of turkeys, the quacking of Muscovy ducks', and the cackling of guinea-fowls, was scarcely an abode of I)cace. It possessed a splendid example of that flowering tree of the South, the I'ride of China, and a wild cherry, the fruit of which was so tempting that all the noises were not able to scare away from it the persistent attenLions of the red-headed woodpeckers. 'Ihe schooNhouse was a little further off. a couple of miles outside the limits of the villa-e It was a queer little shanty, built of round, unhewn 1,^., notched at the ends to receive each other, and the inter- stices filled with clay. There was no window, l,„t as thr clay ha.l become dr> it had been punched out of several of these spaces, an.l the light an.i .lir admitted. The wooden door stood open night and day. The de.ks were merely split and unsa\v'n pine boards. i;nfashio„ed a'ui .nu)lan..l sl-'ping from th > walls and fastened with nracket.s'. The f.-rms were split logs, and the only exceptions to the ex- treme rudeness of all the fittings were a neat desk .,n.\ decent chair for the schoolmaster. The pupils were as rude as the building. Mo. t of ihcin, i„. writes, "han.lle the lonr i'iie wiii, iiHHh im,re ea.se and .lexterity than the gocsc^ ALABAMA. 127 quill, and are incomparably more at home in • twistin" ' a rabbit or trcein- a possum, than in conjugating a ve'rb '' But they proved to be decent lads, and a great affection sprang up m time bctucen them and their strange insect- collectmg, animal-lovmg master. They grew in lime to form a volunteer corps of collectors, and their sharp eyes to be most useful to the naturalist. The school-house was situated in a very romantic spot A space of about a hundred yards square had been cleared with the exception of one or two noble oaks, which had been preserved for shade. " On every side we are shut in by a dense wall of towering forest trees, rising to the bc.ght of a hundred feet or more. Oaks, hickories, and pines of different si)ecics extend for miles on every hand for tins little clearing is made two or three miles from any human habitation, with the exception of one house about three-cjuarters of a mile distant. Its loneliness, however,' I'hilip Gosse writes, '"is no objection with me as ,t necessarily throws me more into the presence of Irce and wild nature. At one corner a narrow bridle- path leads out of this -yard,' and winds through the sombre forest to the distant high-road. \ nice sprin.r cool in the hottest of these sun.mer days, rises in anothe^ corner, an.l is protected and accumulated by bein- en- closed ,,. four sides of .1 box, over the edges of whie'l, the supeiHuous water escapes, and. .unnin,: off i,, a -ur^^ling l>ro..k, ,s lust in the shade of the woods. To thi^ ■ lodge m 'iie vast wilderness,' ,hi. 'boundless contiguity of shade.' wend my lonely w.iy every morning, rising to an earlv brcaknist, and a.nvu.g in tune to open school by eight o clock. ** It is possible to recover something of a rccrd uf his tys>ical day in Alabama, it open, w,ii, ---eakfast at six oclock; the "nigger wenehes " b.in.Mn:; in the ..,,lkd ill ■' ■■ li; I I : t i 11 128 THE LIFE OF mi UP HENRY GOSSE. I i I chicken and the fried pork, the boiled rice and the hominy, the buttered waffles and the Indian bread. A little nc-ro-boy is cor.tinually waving a la.-c fan of peacock's feathers over the food and over every part of the tabic. l?re,ikfast once over, Philip Gosse seizes the butterfly-net which tands in the corn.er of t,ie room, and which he aUvays carries, as other sportsmen do their -un. and he sallies forth, startling the mocking-bird th^t is' hopping and bobbing on the rails of the fence. Me gives himself plenty of time to chase the zebra swallow- tails across the broad discs of the passion-flowers, to lie in wait for hairstreaks on the odorous be.ls of blossoming horehound. or t- eight o'clock; and for no less than nine hours of desultory education, mingled with pla>- and idleness, he is responsible for the troop of urchins. Hut five o'clock comes at last, even in the soundless depths .,r an Alabama forest, and he dismisses his wild covey of shouting boys, following m-ne sedately in tluir wake. Twilight falls apace. angrocs "11 the plantations, calling home the hogs at sunset'! It may be that two nr three of these pachydermatous grey- houn.ls, with their thin backs and tall legs, are rooting an.l grazing close to the path. From a mile off will be faintly heard the continual unbroken shout of the distant negro. Each hog will instantly p.ause, snout in air, and .hen ail i^ bustie ; and, each anxious to be first at lio,n,-. ALABAMA. 129 they scamper off on a bcc-linc for the villa-e. And so i'hil.p Gosse. too. cj„es home to supper, and to bed in a room with every window open, but latticed to keep out the bats and birds. licfore ^..ing to sleep, perhaps, he will sit a ^c^v minutes at the window, while the chuck-will's-widows call and answer from all directions in the woods, with their mysterious and extraordinary notes clearly enunciated in tl)e deep silence of the night. Gosse tried on many occa- sK.ns to see these strange birds, but they are e.Ktrcmely shy. although so neighbourly and t:uniliar ; nor was he ever successful, although he wearied himself in the search. Mount Pleasant proved to be an excellent centre for cntomologizing. and in particular there was a little prairie- k.ioll. about a mile from liohanan's house, which was one •nass of blue larkspurs and orange milkweed, and a n.arvelIo,.s haunt of butterflie:. l.'nun this small hill the Mnnniit ..f.m apparently endless forest could be Men in all directions, broken only by curls of white smoke arising here and there from unseen dwellings. Here he would r.nd the blue suallowtail (Papi/i,, pluu,on, with its shot wings of black and a/ure, vibrating ,.,, the (lowers of the milkwe.-,! ; the black swallowtail {PapUio astcnus^, an old iMcnd fn.n Xcw-'-.unullami ; the o.angc taunv Archippus ■ tlie American I'.tmted Heauty (0'«////,. //v.;/, r„ ^ with its' embroidery of silver liiuvs ,uul pearly eves; .,„.! „u,st gorgeous of all, tin- gicn-clouded swallowt.il U\tpino Trotlu.), over whose long black wings is dispersed a milky way of grass-green dots and orang.- crescents Tlic .ibun.l.mce of ,lK-se large species struck him with cvcr- rccurrmg wonder. I„ ,. leUer ..f July J^says : "An eye «!ttrn:;e3 of our own couniiy. the PoHtue, i^'iftetstr, and lUpMrchuc, can hard!)' piauie t, ,ts. If the gaiety o.' the .nr K %. Il ^ jy »30 THE LIFE OF FHILIP HENRY GOSSE. \\ lierc, where it swarr-is with large and brilHant-hued swallow- tails and other patrician tribes, some of which, in the extent and volume of their wings, may be compared to large bats. These occur, too, not by straggling solitary individuals ; in glancing over a blossomed field or my prairie-knoll, you may see hundreds, including, I think, more than a dozen species, besides other butt:erflies, moths, and flies." There remains, as the principal memento of these months in the south, still unpublished, a quarto volume entitled Entomo- logia Alabamensis, containing two hundred and thirty-three figures of insects, exciuisitely drawn and coloured, the delightful amusement of his leisure hours in the school- house and at home. Hi., powers as a zoological artist were now at their height, lie had been trained in the school of the miniature painters, and he licvelopcd and adapted to the portraiture of insects the procedure of these artists. Ills figures are accurate reproductions, in size, colour, .uui form, to the minutest band and speck, of what he saw before him, the effect being gained by a laborious process of stippling with pure and brilliant pigment,. it has always been acknowletlgetl, by naturalists uIk. have sren the (originals of his coloured figures, that he has had no rival in the exactitude of his illustrations. They lost a great deal \\ heiiever they came to be publi.shed, fmn; the imperfection of such rc^pro.hu ing proce.s.scs as wcu' known in Philip Gosse's day. The Entomologia Alabamcnsis, however, is one of those collections of his p.iimings which remain unissued, and it is possible that it may yet be pre- sented to the .scientific world by one ..I tin brilliant methods of reproduction recently invented. When hi- liist nroceedcd to Canada, he h,i,l .Irs. Min-d himself as a very bad shot; but practice had inipioxed him. and he was now by no means unskilful. II, e.xcrciscd his Mile considcrabh in .\labama. in I IIIMU a c ollcction nf ALABAMA. '3t birds, and particularly of woodpeckers. He lost himself in the forest one day in June, and in a dense part of the woodland, from the midst of a tall clump of dead pines, he heard a note proceedingr like the clan^ of a trumpet resounding in the deep silence and waking all the forest echoes. I hesc extraordinary sounds came from a pair of nory-bdled woodpeckers, the largest and most splendid of all the Pu- .. tribe. Picus prinapalis is a huge fellow nearly two ieet long, glossy black and v.hite. with a tower- ing con.cal crest of bright crimson, and, what is the main d.stmct.on of the species, a polished and fluted beak four mches long, which looks as though it were carved out of the purest ivory. With this pickaxe of shell-white bone the b,rd hews away the dead wood as it hangs openly on the perpendicular trunk of a tree, its head thrown back and ,ts gulden-yellow eyes alert for insects. It is far from bemg common, an.! my father was glau to secure these specnncis, which were in fme plumage. Other wood- peckers were nearer to his daUy haunts. One exenin-^ a boy came to him and told him of a gold-winged wood pecker {P.cus nuratus, at his very door. The' schoolboy iMd foimd a deep and commodious chamber dug out in the decaymg trunk ,,f a pine-tree in Mr. liohanan's peach- orchard. In the twilight the pair of marauders set forth carrying a ladder u,th them. After thnnvir ,, ., f,,; stones to frighten out tlu- ,,ld bird, she suddenlv rush -d out, an.! left the coast clear. "The boy," |.h,l,'p (i^sse writes, "pulled out one of the call,.w young, which I -Gently examu. .1. It was nearly fledged ; the young feathers of ""■ u„„.. b.mg very conspicuous from their bright golden colour. It was not pretty-young birds seldom are. I soon put it back again, ,.nd tlu-n, wiu the, the re., were con if g'.tuuaiing It on Its return, or what I you hatl heard tl ie odd snor • liin't kiidw , Iiiit .! '■ , ^ 1 t ^1 1^1 ■■'•■ ,1 Hi ' ■ i^H :;:'■ • ■ 4 ■ "ig or hissing that the f unil 132 THE LIFE OF PIT I LIP HENRY GOSSE. ! It ? \ . i \ 4 '^ ' W kept up for some time, you would have thous^ht the whole nation of snakes had been there in parliament assembled. The anxious mother soon flew in again when we had removed our ladder, gratified, no doubt, to find no murder done." He had no opportunity for making many excursions while he was at Mount Pleasant, and, indeed, the general monotony of the thinly peopled country did not greatly invito a traveller. On one occasion (June 2) he rode to Cahawba and back, and saw something of the central dis- tric*: of Alabama. Cahawba had then until Wtcly been the capital of the state and the seat of government ; it had, however, decayed so rapidly, that the legislature had removed to Tuscaloosa, Montgomery being as yet a little place of no importance The town of Cahawba stands on a point of land between the Alabama river and the Cahawba river ; it was, even then, a very desolate looking collection of a few stores, a lawyer's office or so, and two or three h(nises of business. Even the "groceries," as the rum-shops were called, seemed, as the visitor went by, to spread the hospitality of their verandahs almost in vain. To reach Cahawba from Mount Pleasant had involved a long ride through the dense pine forest, with hardly a break save where the path dipped down, through a glade of thickly blossomed hydrangea, to some deep and treacher- ous "creek" or n\ul'-t. The road led at last to tiic shore of tlu' broad Alabam.i, and tliere ^eenu-d no \va\- to crtjss. A shout, however, soon brought X.\ old " nigger fellows" into sight, slowly pushing a flat ferry-boat acros.s. There was no inn or house near by to put up his horse, so the traveller took him into a little wood, according to the , rac- tice of the country, and tied him to a tree. Ihr squirrels form a proniJiRiit ? 'atun- of forest-life in the Southern States. Deep in the woodlands tlu'>- .nc not ALABAMA. 133 to he observed, but they abound close to the house- of the planters, seeming to prefer the neighbourhood of man At Mount Pleasant, the large fox-squi.rol was most abundant chattenngr, barking, and grunting impatiently all day Ion-' until a shot from the rifle brings him \ rotracted repose/' and prepares him to appear on the planter's dinner-table. A httlc further away, in the swamps, and hidden under the pale and ragged tufts of Spanish moss that stream from the branches, is the sleepier and less attractive Caroline squnrcl, also excellent in the form of pic. While my father was in Alabama the squirrel question was one of great importance in local politics. These delightfully amusmg animals are. unfortunately, wasters of the first order; the> are in the cornfield morning, noon, and eve from the time that the grain is forming in the sheath to' the moment when what remains of it is housed in the barn W h.le Philip Gosse was at Mount Pleasant, a fellow from the North sent round an announcement that he would ecture m a neighbouring village, and that the subject of his discourse would be to reveal an infallible preventive for the thefts of the squirrels. The announcement attracted great curiosity, and planters assembled from all sides \ deputation started from Mount Pleasant itself, and Philip Gosse, thinking to luar what would be of interest to a "aturahst. was of the party. A considerable cntrancc-fec was charged, but vc.y willin,ly paid. At last the ro.nn was full, the dunrs were closed, and the orator appeared on the platform. He began by describing the depredations of the squirrels, the difficulty of coping with them, and \arunK ,.thcr ciirun.stanrcs with which his audience was '•^'""■■"- 11^- was a plai.sibK- fellow and seemed to have mastered h,s subject. .\t last he appnuJied the real kern.:! ..f Ins oiatiun. - \\m wisji, ' he said, "to hear my mfalhble preventive, the absolute success of which I am 134 TJ/E LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. !!• able to guarantee. Gentlemen, I have observed that the squirrels invariably begin their attacks on the outside row c; corn in the field. Omit the outside roi.', and they won't know where to begin!" The money was in his pocket ; he bowed and vanished by the platform door ; his horse was tied to the post, he leaped into the saddle and was seen no more in that credulous settlement. The act was one of extreme courage as ^wt\\ as impudence in that land of ready lynching ; but my father was wont to sa\- that, after the first murmur of stupefaction and roar of anger, the disappointed audience dissolved into the most good-humoured laughter at themselves. Another serious depredator, and one of a more sporting size, was the bear. One night in August, a negro bov rushed breathless into Ur. JJohanan's house, inarticulate with importance, and managed to splutter out, " Oh, mas'r, mas'r ! big bear in corn-patch ; I see 'im get over." All at once was bustle; bullets w^re cast-" a job," says my father in the letter describing this event, " that always has to be don'> at the moment they are wanted "-and the planter and his overseer crept out with their rifles to the field. Ikit it was too late. The prints of Bruin's paws were all over the place, but he had pruriently retired. Bears are very seldom seen in the woods, being shy and nocturnal in their movements. A curious case happened, however, while Pliilip Gosse was in Mount Pleasant, of a planter who was nd.ng ..,to the forest to search for strayed cattle, and who, suddenly seeing a huge bear start up before him. could not refrain from giving it a l.ish with his cow-whip of raw li"ie. To his dismay, the beast showed a disposition to figln. but turned tail at last, when the thought struck the planter that he might possibly drive it home, like a re- fractory bullock. II,. actually succeeded in doiu.^ this. wn>pp,ngthe bewildered In-.ir for six nnics alon.^ one of ALABAMA. »35 the cattle-paths, till he came close to his own house, when his son came out and put the weary bruin out of its misery with a rifle. My father was not an eye-witness of this adventure, which I record with all reserve. On August 14 he was, however, personally engaged in a sporting affair, which i lay be amusing to read, de- scribed in his own wora. in a letter dated the next morning. There had been great complaints of the rob- beries committed on the estate of a neighbouring planter. Major Kendrick, by the opossums, and Philip Gosse was courteously invited to stay at the house and take part in the nocturnal expedition : — "About half-past nine wc set out, a goodly and "picturesque cavalcade. There was, first, my worthy " host, Major Kendrick, a stout sun-burnt fellow of six > a.-., uudl evidently, >'ou woukl say, if you had not detected li ii »i ■'■^ i.f ^1 i r,. II ii t 1^0 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HEXRY GOS^E. 'th c moment before in the act of steal int^ oft: The " initiated, however, can tell a real dead 'possum from "one that is shammin^j, ana the overseer directed my '•attention to the last joints of the tail. This, diirin- " life, is prehensile, used to catch and hold the tu i.-s like "a fifth hand; and even in the hypocritical state in "which I sau- it, the coil of the tail-tip was maintained. " whereas in absolute death this would be relaxed per- "manci 'ly. The propriet)- of correct classification was " imprL'sscd on me durin- my exammation. I inadver- '' tently spoke of it as ' a singular creatu-e ; ' but c rraturc, "or ratl,-r 'critter,' is much too honourable a term for "such an animal, bein- api)ropriatcd to cattle. The " overseer promptly corrected my mistake. ' A 'possum, " .sir, is not a critter, but a varmint.' " This letter is written, as will be ..bserved. in capital spirits. It is evident that his first months in Alabama were very happy ones, an.l yet there wer. elements of dis- comfort which (lid not fail '.o become accenUsated. He had not be.n received un-enerousjy ; on the contrary, a rou-h and tolerant hospitality had desired to make "the stran-er " feel at home. Jiut Philip Gos.se was not emi- nently pliable to .social pcculiantie.s. 1 le was proud of his I'me enun. i.ition, an,! was careful not to a.lopi an American accent - his " British broiruc " was in consequence brought np ;.s a charge against h-'ni ; nor ,uild he throw a.sidc a latent jingoism, as we shouKi call it to-day, a patrioti.sm that was ,,pt to become truculent because it was in exile. In Alabam... the jealousy of fjc " I^iti.sh " was ahr.ost humorously prominent ; the expression of contempt for Knglish opinion was so constant as to sugfjest an extreme sensitiveness to that opinion. l?ut Dulip Gosse was almost as thin skumed on this point as the planters them.sclvcs. ami ne lound iiic conliim.d illoppi.lg I'l i-.'norant U( judirc ALABA^rA. 141 very tvyhvg. On one occasion, when the papers announced -some trifling factory row in Paisley or Glasgow, a wealthy neighbour hastened to condole with him on the fact that '' the Scotch were throwing off the British yoke," for the ignorance of European life was snch as to make the picture in Marfin Chuzzlcivit, twelve y.-ars later, seem in no degree whatever a caricature. "The universal notion here," says my father in July, 1S38, "of Scotland, Ireland, and \Valer., IS that they are conquerctl pro\ inces, on a par with Poland! kept in a state of 'railing servitude by the presence of a' pow .Tful • British my." A'or was it ever suppo.sed that Lhe confident prcphecy that America would shortly "whip the British " could '>e other Jian plea.sant to the young Hnglish schoolmaster. La th xsc who arc ready to con- -. ]> y map was a law to him'-elt, and t<, curb the pa.s.sions w;.^ not understood to be a part of the .science of life. Wl,;it fir.st opened m\- father'.- eyes to the conditions of .\Iabaman .society was a little circumstance which occurred after n^ l-..id been .1 mo„th or luu ,,t Mount ]Mea^ant in the nc.vt village. A ti.ivelling menagerie h.id arrive, 1 tli.re; |,i,t, in .some way or other, its proprietor contiuid t,, offend an overseer, who, without scruple, called .some of his com- panions lorjether. and rolled the caravans over the edge of a steep ravine into tb.o crcrk Ki^i- The before they reached the uati. cfc broKcn • .1 ill I. am tin: iron cages, full of Ill '42 < I ili ■ ^i i If 7//i L/r£ OF PHILIP HEXRY GOSSE. beasts, were scattered on every hand. I-ortuiKitclv they were too strong to burst, but the houlin-s and roarin-s of the lions and ti-ers were something horrible to listen to. The loss of property was very s. ious ; the ain^lcss cruelty thus passionately inflicted on a .juautity of innocent animals was more scious still. Rut the- proprietor of the menagerie knew that he had no redress, and he sought none. Scarcely less daunting than this occurrence, ur^s a duel in the neighbourhood, in which the combatants almost literally hacked each other to pieces with bowie- k'lives ; and in many cases of vendetta, what the bowie- knite spared, ihc rifle devoured. Closely connected with these disciuieting elements in society was that central fact in Southern life, th-: institution of^ slavery. I'iiilip Gosse was not a humanitarian The subject ..f slavery wa. one whicii had not troubled his thougiits in coming to the South ; he had been aware of its exi.stencc, of curse, and he supposed that he had dis- counted it. J^■t he f.nind it more horrible, and the discus- sion of it more dangen.us. than !,e had in the least degree imagined. He was l..oke.l up„n, as ,m l-nglishman, wi,i, a peculiar jealousy, as a pcrM.n prcdi.spo.sed to .piestion "our domestic institution,- .,s it was call.d. He ...on hul un.iuestionahle proofs that h,s trunks were surreptitiouslv "I'-red an.! Ins leit, rs .xamnied. obviously to ascertain ulietiur his .onesponden.-e touclud u] this tenderest of themes, lie had. houcver. warned his friends, and he wis '■•'retui I.iins.lf to be mo.st guarded .,pon this subject It was nut until he was in act of leaving the countrv th.it he dared to put p,„ Uj paper on this theme. " W h.,i will be the end ot .\nurican s.avcry .' " he asks, and tlie query was one to whul, ui iSjS there .seemed no an.swer. "There •ue men here," he proceeds. " u !,o ,|.,re not entertain this question. They tremble when they look at the lutuic. Jt ALABAMA. '43 ■s like a huge deadly serpent, which is kept down bv .ncessant vigilance, and by the strain of every nerve and muscle ; while the dreadful feeling is ever present that some day or other, it will burst the weight that binds it' and take a fearful retribution." It was in September, however, when the bustle of cotton- p.ckmg made an unusual strain upon the native laziness of the negro, that Gosse was made p^hysically ill by th. --.th- Icss punishments which were openly inlhcted on all sides of hun. 'I he shrieks of women imder the cow-hide uhip cynically plied m the very courtya.d beneath his windows at night, would make him almost s.ck witli distress and .mpotent ar.ger. and I have heard him describe how he )>ad tned to stuff up his ears to deaden the sound of the agoimn,, cries winch marked the conventional pro.^ress .. tus ^c.ry peculiar •■domestic institution." U ith\he Alethodist preachers and other pious p.,,,,!, ,,ith who,„ he specially Iraternized. In: would occasionalK- attempt ver^• tumdly, to discuss the eth.cs <,f slavery, but alwavs ,o hnd .11 these mmisters and profes.sors of the go.pd c xactlv tiie sanu- jealousy ,,1 criticism and determination to applau.l cx.stmg cond,.,„ns. that could characterize the most dis- solute .uul savage <,ve,seer. as he sat and flicked his boots ^v.tli h,s cou-hule .,„ the verandah of., rum-shop Mv father saw no escape fm,,, thi couditi.,,, of thin-^s He ^vas obliged ;oadn,i, 'l-at slaves seemed md,sp..,Kable m Alabama, and that - U.r labour is out of ,he .p.-stion " i ut n s.ckcned hun. and u had much ,o do u „h h,s .bnipt depart U'e. ' From the day of 1,. ..r.,.,, ,„ ,,,, ,,,j, _^ ,^^^^^ sc.ent.f5c journal,!,,,, ,n .Septcmhc,- ,!,,, begins to fall off and early in Uctooer it ceases altogcth.-,. I',,,- the hst • scarcel th any -ccord, e.XM-pt a private elessness of improvement, were enough to cast him dcnvn in spirits. ]5ut in addition, the autumn in those hot, damp countries is exceedingl)- ilistressing to a stranger ; the neighljourh.HKl of the swamp is deadly, and the decay .,f tlie monstrous body of vegetation almost fata! to organic elasticity. Un- happily, however, in a manner I need not dwell u[)on at distres.sing length, my fuller, who would have hit witli luminous directness on the cause of such syniptouis in ,111 insect or a bird, saw in his own condition nothing less .serious than the chastisement of (lod on one who w.is sinning against light, 'ihe more wretched he teh, the more certain was he ol the Divine displeasure, and the more did he lash his fainting spirit to the task of religious exercises. His diary is full of self-upbraidings. penitential cries, vows of greater watchfulness in the future ; and it i downright pathetic to read the.sc effusions, and to know tiiai ■> was .lumine that tlie poor soul wanted in its ALABAMA. \ r • ^11 M5 innocent darl<„c,s. He beg..,, ,o ,vish to return to En..K„d o the dcv,I, beeausc it „,,„ld please hi,„ ,o re,„r, I., •..0 nrst tn.e ,r l,is ,,Te, ,,, „,,, ;„ , ,^^^ ^^M condition of mind. "^ ^ morbid Towards the middle of November his apathy and ^^loom deepened into positive i.lne.. He ^..^f:I X zi:::\ ;:';:^:^::: ^--^-^ ---'-^ ^-^-^e. on "B>- HKdicine and care my headache is at len^^th ^;cheved. tho,,, not yet removed, it has be.n Ic- companied by ,reat prostration of mind and body __b t,, H I have not been capable of mnc^ Jicvo inna exercise, I have been enabled to f,x my '"•"'' ^v.th niul confidence on God. . . I 1,,,,, ,,J ;;t]:e absurdity of .leferr,,,. the no,, of repentance and conversion U. a sick bed. which is very ill adapted ^ for such work. My sc.ool has clcsed. an.tiier ..'ule- nKinhavin. been en^a^ed to succeed me ;m tins, too. 1 see the haiul of (;,)d." >-;■" this last statement it uould ah^.^st seem as IH uH. in consequence of Philip (^...sscs failing, health, he had been arbitrarily superseded, but of this I „nd „.> ,.,her record. Fo, the next fortni-du the entries in his journal are tm.^cd with the deepest melancholia. ()„ ,VcemI>er 1 6 he .says — "'•■"'-11 the representations of Brother Jlearne (the presiding Kldcr cf this district) and Brother Nose- worthy, and their persuasions. I l,ave fjlvcn up the thoucrht of o.oini,r to KnKlan.l. believin-,^ it to b. my •'cliUy to labour here. I .uu not convinced bv their ;;^.^^b. near that U.V will standsopposed-.^ But a fc« days later he was persuaded to t;o off for a L "i Ti i -i ii t ^ i " I i »I? ! Ji i™* !• I u« THE Lll-E OF rniLIP HENRY COSSE. i( visit to Brother Noscworthy at the town of Selma. The ride did him good, and the change of air also. He was bustled up by the activity of Quarterly Meeting. On the 25th he writes, "The Methodist Society at Selma is in a much livelier state than ours, and I have had some profit- able seasons, though I find too much of a narrow bigotry with all." He came back to Mount Pleasant persuaded that he had a call to be a Wesleyan minister in Alabama, and convinced that he was to spend his life there preaching and visiting. What happened next I know not, but I suppose that the visit to Selma had quickened his senses, and showed him that life in Mount Pleasant was impossible, since exactly four daj-s after this conclusion to stay in Alabama for ever, he is fuund to have packed up all his boxes and cabinets, to have been up to Dallas to say farewell to the .Saffolds, and to be positively on boa- i a steamer on the Alabama river, in the highest possible spirits, and bound merrily for Mobile. He ate put of a splendid turkey for his Christmas tlinncr on board the steamer, his curious objection to everything which in any way sug- gested the keeping of Christmas as a festival not having as yet occurred to him. The voyage down the river from the upper cnintr}- occupied two tlays and a night, consider.iblc (K-lay bi'ing caused b}- frequent stoppages to t.ikc in cargo, until the vessel was laden almost to the water's edge witli bales of cotton. " I looked with pleasure on the magnificent scenery (^f the heights. There is something," he writes, " very romantic in sailing, or rather shooting, along between lofty precipices of rock, crowned with woods at the summit. Op'^ such strait we passed through to-day (December 30) just at sunrise ; the glassy water, our vessel, and everv'thing rear still involved in deepest shailov ; tiie grey, discoloured li licstonc towering up on ALABAMA. He was greatly amused bv the w;4w .'n i • u , stowed the camo Th .? i. ^ "^''"^^ ^^"^ ""^'^ into bale so tl^hth^h Tr T ''' '^^" already screwed i-possible I f ' 't "^ --P---n --.^ht seen, in conta '.i h , ''°"'' '''^'" '" ^'^^ ^old were forced th 7r ^'^^'^'' -«^J-^ ^ayer had to be ■•nto which a th- K ^ ' "'' "''" ^'^^ ^^^^'"^^ ^ -■•'^-■ce fh .. I -' ^'''-^""°"^ chicl" who hun- above OS ",' ::-''^"-;-'^<" ..o..s,-_.„„„,, „,„,„ „;,,:: PC ,t,'„r ""r "^'^■•""^' ' """^ "■= '-"- ™- proviscs the words, of which J l,->, . . i ;- ■^^^'^"^'-'^ • '^-^ -n.^nn,. one line au.nc and the clu,^wt cury ln,e, tdl U,e general chorus includes the ; \ i ■ 5 '"I think IheartheI)l:„k-co^. etc. All llic way to CaiKuiay, J'if(\ etc. i'l f", 148 THE LIFE OF PHILIP .lENRY GOSSE. To Canadny, to Canad \y, All the way to Canaday. (iin'ral Jackson ^airi'd tlie day; At N'ew Orleans ne gain'd tlic day ; Rith-o ! ri)ioo ! blaze aivajt Fire the riiigo / fir: a-way / ' " Later on t'«c lasi. cvcniiij^ of the vcar i^y,', he cn^-red Mobile, where he had to stay a .vcck iieforo procredin- to England. At Mobile he found his poor shattered insect cabinet from Canada, lying in a warehouse in a shocking condition, but v. ith the contents not so hopelessly destroyed as he had ever}- reason to fear that he should find di'cm. It was pleasant to ga;;e on his captures, after havin^^ been parted from them for nearly a >-L.r. hVom i\|pbama he carried home about twcuL/ specimens of the skins of rare- birds, and a few fur-peUs. I-, cash he found that he was, when he had paid hi^ passa-e to luiglaiid, even poorer than when he left Canada, .^^o poor was he tliat he was obliged, immediately on his arrival in Liverpool, to pari with his furs and skins hastil)-, and therefore it a ^vretcned price. His entomological collection he sold, for a fair sum, to the well-known instct-buyer, 'Slv. Akily. As a matter of fact, however, the rolling s' ).,e returned to England, after an exile of eleven years, with practicallv no moss whatever on its surface. He was completing iiis twenty-ninth year, and life still •H-enicd wholly inhospitable to him. He had not ■ ...need yet on the cmpl,n-men. for which alone he was fitted, but he had unconsciously gone through an excellent apprenticeship f.,r it. it was on his return voyage to England in January, 1839, that Philip Gosse began to be a professional author. ( 149 ) ;f!l CHAPTER VI. LITERARY STRUGGLES. i«39-i844. JN his diary of January .;, 1839, Philip Gossc ha .s re- corded : " I spent an hour or two in walking throu-h the pubhc bur;,.l-ground of M. bile. Many of the epitaphs u-cre nd.culous, but some very touching. I fdt my spirit softened and melted by .some of the testimonials of affec- t.on, ana I could not refrain from tears. Then I went on board the ship /sr.n- .^V:.A;;, lying in the bay, and so bade ad>eu to American land. .,robabi, for ever." This melan choly note is not inappropriate to mark what was in fact a great cns.s in his career, wlu'le the p-ophecy in the last words was actually fulfilled, since though his activity in the Nc.v World was by no means at an end. he was never to set toot on the American continent again. Asa part of the fresh religious zea? .vhich he had roused ■n himself during his latest weeks in Alabama, he bc-an n board the /saac Neivton the practice of speakin-"on the cond.ticn of their souls to those into whose companv he was thrown. This habit he preserved, with varyin'^ mtensity, til! the end of hi^ liiV. and in process of time I became easy a.id natural to hun to e.vhort and to ex- ammc. But it was difficult enough at first, and nothln. but an overwhelming conviction that it w.is his duty would' hnve enabled him to overcome his reluctance. He was '. Ml ISO THE LIFE OF FHIUP HENRY GOSSE. Hliy, and disliked addressing strangers ; he was sensitive, and hated to take a liberty. But he had convinced him- self thai *.. ')is duty to God to speak of sacred matters ■^ ^:. J -.a out of season," and he persevered in the san.e mdomitable spirit which forced Charles Darwin, in •spite of sea-sickness, to continue his experiments on board tne Beagle. In later years, I remember once quoting, to my father, in se,rVdc:.,.cc under his spiritual cross^ex- amination, Clough's " O lot me love my love unto myself alone And know my knowlfuje to the world unknown ! No witness to tlie vision call, Beholding, unhehcld of all ; And worship thee, with thee withdrawn, apart, AVhoe'er, whate'er thou art, \\ithin the closest veil of mine own inmost heart." "Mellifluous lines, enough ! " he replied, "but that is not what God asks from a converted man. It is not the luxury of meditation and the cloister, but the unwelcome effort to spread a knowledge of the truth." The entries in his journal of the voyage of January. 1839, are naive and pathetic :— "We have had much rough, cold, wet, and uncomfort- "able weather, but I have called the crew together on "babbath days (but not so often as I ought, having ".suffered from extrcm: reluctance to disturb them), to " hear the way of salvation. They listen with decormn " and attention, and perhaps fruit may spring up after "many days; and if not, I have not failed to be well ''paid even in a present blessing. ... I made an "opportunity of speaking to the captain on the subject " of religion. lie is an amiable and well-informed man, "a profane swearer, and one who seems to entcrt.-iin "considerable contempt for godliness. . . . The captain LITERARY STRUGGLES. '5' " continues to profess infidel sentiments, but kindly pcr- " mits his people to be assembled, and himself listens "respectfully." The voyage to England occupied five weeks, and during that time Gosse worked hard at the manuscript of his Cana- dian Naturalist, contriving to finish it, so far as it could be finished, before the ship entered the Mersey. In some respects the voyage was pleasant, but the whole vessel was stuffed with cargo, cotton-bales being piled even in the cabin, leaving scarcely room to creep in and out. lie used to recline on the top of these soft bales, reading natural history, and in particular Walsh's Brazil, which he had found on board, and which fascinated him. At last En'^- land was again his home, after twelve years' exile. He was furnished with ample and fervid introductions from his dear friends the Jaqueses in Canada to their relatives in Liverpool, and by them he was hospitably entertained for a fortnight. These kind people became sufficiently in- terested in him to perceive his talents and to deplore his poverty. They set thcmsclvo, with such slight means as lay a-L their hand.s, to find suitable occupation for him. A tetter addressed to ^Ir. iliam Clarke, of Liverpool, who had obti.iiied for Philip dosse the refusal of the oiucc of curator at some museum,— I know not wliat or where— may here be cpioted in fuh. It is a very characteristic document. To AIk. WiLLiA.M Clarke, Liverpool. " Winibornc, April 25, 1839. "My DEAR Sir, '* I know not in what terms to express, in an "adequate manner, my .sense of your most undeserved "kindnt>ss; it re-i"-.- .-.T-.,-.r£-..c.--- ..... a., .r ;. .. "enough that you loaded me with the kindest atten- ,11:1 i t *1 ]]i 15* THE LIFE OF PlflltP HEX'RY GOSSE. Hi "tions durinor my pleasant .sojourn in your friendly " farndy, you arc still carin- for my welfare, and devisin- ".schemes for my benefit, now I am far away. It i'^s "pleasing to know that though out of sight, I an not " out of mind. Do not think me ungrateful if I cannot '^-lvad myself of your very obliging proposal. I am •pamed that your goodness should be thrown away • "but I am really not qualified for the situation of "curator. I do not know the art of stuffing birds and "beasts; and, .though I have .some acquaintance with "natural history, I am totally ignorant of mineralogN- "which, I observe by the advertisement, is requirc-d "attendance, too, is required from 8 a.,.^.. till 9 pm — "tnirtcen hours a day ; and the whole time to be devoted " to the duties. "There are other reasons why I should hcsuatc t,. "fill such an office as that. I should tear that I shouUi "be thrown into situations in which I might find \ diffi ■ "cult to keep that purity of intention which I valuc^ "more than life ; and lil-cwise, that my opportunities of "bemg useful to my fellow-men, especially to their "souls, would be much curtailed. I view this transient "state as a dressing-room to a theatre; a brief, almost "momentary visit, during which preparation is to b<- "made for the real business and end of existence "Lternity is our theatre: time our dressing-room. So "that I must make every arrangement with a view to "its bearnig on this one point. Again I repeat my gratitude for )-our kindness ; ami "pray God to reward you a thousand-fold, for I am "utterly unable. Should it ever be my lot to revisit " L.verpc ol, I shall gratefully renew my acquaintance ^''with you and 3-our dear fannly. I have heard nothing "from Mr. T.inuc: ci'n.-o i i,^..,. i, 1 -.r.... -^^^.i ii^re — iuivo ^ ou .' I J My ki Mr daily it let' ci.n your LITERARY STRUGGLES. ,^3 nclcst wishes and most respectful regards wait on A and my love to the dear young folks— espc- '< .r Henrietta, and William, and Charley ; and family, too. There, I have namsd all; for I -c no exception. May every happiness be "^nd theirs ! " Believe me to be, dear Sir, " Kindly and sincerely yours, "P. H. GOSSE." The excuse for not accepting seems, even from his own point of view, curiously inadequate. The position of curator at a prr \incial museum is not commonly looked upon as one of peculiar temptation to worldliness, and the writer was, besides, reduced to a poverty so extreme, that one might suppose an independent spirit, such as his, would leap at any honest way of getting a livelihood. But the fact appears to be that he believed himself called to the ministry, and that his full intention was to become, if possible, a Wesleyan preacher. His efforts in this direc- tion also, however, were met with disappointment. The rough discourses which had served in Alabama were not to the taste of the Methodists of Liverpool. I le wrote : " The large a.ul fine \Vcslc>-an chapels of Liverpool, the fashion- able attire of the audiences, and the studi-.l refinement of the discourses, so thoroughly out of keeping wic. my own fresh and ardent feelings, distress me. I mourn over the degene-a>:y of Methodism." And Methodism, in her turn, looked very coldly at this vehement colonial critic of her manners. Karly in March, 1S39. he ucnt by railway and coach to Wimborne, in Dorset, where his molluT was r.ow residing with a younger son. Here Philip remained for three months, taking at first a prominent place as a local m. '} i 'i iJ :i ! IS4 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HEXRY GOSSE. I* preacher ,n Win.bornc itself and in the neic^hbourincr vil- '^r- ^^ ^'^^--^y -M'P'y^ i the pulp.t of the minister at the Congregational eha,.J of the tow. . The fervour of rchgious zeal with which he had left Alabama now, how- ever began to abate. Many little things had occurred ^vhlch tended to diminish his ardour. His purpose was -st.ll to seek acceptance from the Methodist Conference as a travelling preacher. Put much of the enthusiasm which Kid prompted him to undertake this form of cn.plovment 'Kid evaporated by the sumn.cr. and. to his surprise he ^yas consc.ous of not being disappointed when, on appl'ica- t.on he found that he was past the limit of age at which candidates A,r the regular ministry are received. He was not destuK-d to be a Wcskyan preacher after all Why he lingered so long at Win^borne it ,s not easy to ^ay. Perhaps it was connected with an episode uhich nmst be recounted in the exact form in uh.ch he has chosen to preserve it among his notes :— " The uidow of a deceased Wesleyan minister, residing y Unnborne, Mrs. Button, had tuo unmarried daughters, to the elder of whon,, Amelia, an accom- Pl-«hcd. pious, and wint.in;; ladv. older than I and •'much pitted with the Mnall-pox, 1 at once formed a very tender atta. hnunt. It w.. as tende-ly .eturncd ; but the prudent mother made her sanction contin-^cnt •on my obtaining some permanent source of income " which at present was wholly /;, nubihus. This was not readily obtained. Amcha's years could lot well brook ' delay another suitor inter,H,sed, a W e.kwan minister ' m fuh employ ; she accq,ted him, and I was left to "mourn. And mourn I did. sadly and deeply; for my "love for her was very earnest. I could not, however " blame her decision." The conduct of Amelia Latton was as proper as that of LITERARY STRCGCLES. Kdmund Gibbon under similar circumstances. She sio-hcJ as a lover, but she obeyed as a dau^^^hter. It was no time, however, for Philip Gosse to be dallying with the tender passion. His fortunes were at their lowest ebb, and the summer of iSjy marks the darkest point of In.': whole career. It was a happy thought that made him turn, at last, to what should long ago have engrossed his attention, the field of literature. In the fervid and unwhole- some condition of his mind, he had set on one side the manuscript of his Canadian Naturalist. It was only by a fortunate accident that, in bis fuil tideof Puritanism, he had not destroyed it. It was now his one and only ehancc for the future, and London was the sole field into wnich he could, with hope of a harvest, drop the solitar)- seed. A constitutional timi.lity and that fear of London which is sometimes so strong in a sensitive countryman, held him •^hivering on the brink. At last, on June 7. iS^.;, he set yut on a coach fi.r the metropolis. While he had been in Dorsetshire he had earned just enou-h to prevent his being a positive burden upon his people, partl> by preach- ing for absent ministers, partly by teaching the elements of flower-panting. He thought to continue the second branch as a lucrative profession in London, hi.-, own dra.vings being, as his Canadian an' Alabaman specimens showed, of an exquisite merit. I hit his ignorance of London and of life were quite extraordinary. IL\ first lodging in the town was quaintly chosen, since, in consequence of some htcrary reminiscence or another, he selected Drury Lane as the scene of his operations, and took a cheap but infinitely sordid lodging on the east side of that noisy and malodorous street. His room was an attic, a few doors north of Great Queen Street, and the present writer vividly remembers how, in his own boyhood, his father, walking briskly towards the Uritish Museum with Charles if: r ' 155 King^slcy, boy th C "Ti THE LIFE OF Tin LIP HEXRy COSSE. stopped to point out to his friend grxmy window from which and to th( in th e dreariest he of h;« ';f, I, u I , , -■',■.. LUC ureariest hour of h,s .,fe, he had looked down upon the roarin^^ midnieht debauchery of the Drury Lane of fifty .ears a^o^ ' sh Ihn^s. Dnven by dirt and noise out of the Drury I an att.c, he took- refuge in another, a little nuictcr •„, \ in Farrin-don Street -it tl,o 1 . '''''''"'^'■• devoted in it. 1 ''' ^'^ ''^'-^ ''""^^' ^!>^" ^cvotcd, n. ,ts lower part, to the sale of Mor,i::.n s pills 1 he youn, mans only friend in London was the co' n ment.oncd ,n an earlier chapter. Mr. Thon,as Bc.ll a d n" aready emnK:nt in the profession, a naturalist, the "bl cat.on of whose Britisk Quadrupeds u. ,,.,7 had .ive him -IS. enable reputation, and a pronun..u 'uem,:: nis sister, I^hz abeth Green :— ■ _Mr. licll has very kindly offered to read my manuscript "mt ''^^^^^^- I -nt to got some permanent _ rr.cans of subs.stence. and one object of ,ny .vTitin. now .s to ask what you think my prospects would be o^ _teachn.g drawing (the finer branches, such as flower- pauumg, etc. -you know my manner) among the anstocracy and gentry of Sherborne, and whetiicr you think hero would be sufficient chance of success' to make It worth my ulule to con,c down and canvass the neighbourhood .>.. . ,f ,ou write home, give my love. I do not like to write there until I know wha^ my chances her. Things look dark at present ann all subsequent wanderings to the very end On Jx-bruary .y, ,840, The Canadian Naturalist was Pubhshed. the first of the long .series of my father's works I^ was very favotirably received, and sold firmly, though ratner slowb-. The form in which it was written was somewhat unfortunate, for it consisted of a series of con- versations hetucen an imaginary father and .on. "durin^^ successive walks, taken at the various seasons of the yeaP so that It may be considered as in some degree a kind of Canadian Katuralisfs Calcndarr The presentment of facts was by no means helped by the snip-snap of the ci.alogue, and the supposed father was found mos^ enter- tam.ng when he talked with least interruption from the young inquirer. The book was adorned by a large number of Illustrations, engraved in a very refined and finished "Mnner on blocks drawn ,n most cases by the author bnnself and in all designed by him. 1,, The Canadian Aatnra/ist, imperfect as it was as a final expression of his peculiar genius, Philip Go.sse opened out a new field of l.torature. In the eighteenth century, anud the careless pedantry of such zoologists as Pennant, had been heard I I I i % M .( ■ Hii H I 1 60 T//£ LIFE OF FIIILIP HENRY GOSSE. m the clear note of Gilbert White. Twenty years later, Alexander Wilson had bequn to issue the ei^dit volumes of his magnificent American Ornithcloi;y. In 1825 Charles Waterton had pviblishcd his sensational Wanderimrs. These three works are the only ones which can fairly be said to have preceded Tlie Canadian A\Uitra!ist in its own peculiar province, and of these Waterton's, at least, had little but a superficial resemblance to the new departure in natural history. It was from Wilson that Philip Gosse had learned most of the zoological art of his book, but it was his chief advantage to have been held long away from masters and teachers of all kinds, and to have been forced to study nature for himself In his preface he said, modestly enough, that "the author is fully aware how very limited is his acquaintance with this boundless science [of zoology] ; having lived in the fir-off wilds of the West, where systems, books, and museums are almost unknown, he has been compelled to draw water from Nature's own well, and his knowledge of her is almost confined to her appearance i.i the fore-t aiui the field." He very soon made himself ful!\- familiar with all that systematic zoologists hail arranged and decided. He became a learned as well as a practised naturalist. Rut the unacademic freshness of his early habit of mind remained, and cjave its pleasant tincture to all his subse- quent work. J I is function continued to be, as it had begun by being, that of one who calls his contemporaries out of their cabinets and their dis^:ccting-room.s into the woods and seashore, and bids them observe the living heart of Nature. Since his time, .such appeals have grown more and more frequent, until they have begun to seem commonplace. All can raise this particular flower now but it was Philip Gosse, in a very marked degree, wiio first found, or at least first popularized, the seed. The moment was IITERARY STSUCGLLS. ,5, one i„ .vhich, t,„,„„h„„, t„e ,™,y. , f,^,,^^ ^.^ ci 1: , f '" "'"■=' "" »^=^'-' °f -» Wolo^istl fir-s. pubUc appearance; while in New England one u^ om rron, a p,.e,y literary p„i„t of view, it i, „o,e u al to compare „i.h Philip Gosse, Henry Thorcau, u. ,.ade .hat week's voyage on the Concord and latr T^ .-.vcr, „h,eh he was .0 describe son,o ten years one or T ""■""' "' '" "'" '""'^•-- °°^='-' f- '^ eoncratio,, one of the most popular and useful ,vri,ers of h,s tiute arc ... be found ,n „, c„,,a,ian Nau,r„m,,-^, pictures! en ..s,as,„, the scrupulous attention .0 truth in' detail, 'L lcse„p,K . The pages devoted to the red squirrel "that atttasuc httle gcnt,e,n.-,„, .ith as many tricks a- a ™.t Cu,;d, J 'l-l'-ili- on the hard-woods of Lower Ca ada, the ep.sode of the sUnk.-.hese may he taken •IS t>p,cal exaniples of the felicitous character of the best passages, n„„g,ed. ,t is o„|y f,;, ,„ , „..,„ „,„^.,_ ^; ' . . „ ,„. of luerary experience, was put together without ttn of n r"'""" '""■ '"-■ ''"°"=" ''"•=-" "^-f "-"■>■ t.on o he ph,.non,ena „f a Canadian winter tempest - na A to the wind : how it howls and whistles through tops of „,e „,cs. hkc a close-reef gale through .. '"; ;r'-^ ■■'"' ""'-' "' •" '"•'■ -' -- Now i, sinks to a hollow „,oan, then sings again, uttering sounds ^ vlueh .„,e „..,ght fancy those of an .Eolian ha'rp. The leaves ny from ,h„se few trees which st.ll retain any, scathed hemlocks, stretching far „u, upon ,he blast, i.ke s,g„als of distress. Do, lu.n that crashin.: roar; Some mighty tree ha, boned .0 its dcstinjt n I >, i If I )" i i in I Hi ? 162 7//£ LIFE OF PHILIP IIEXRY GOSSE. " We are in danger until we can get out of the proximity " of the forest. Yonder is one prostrate across the road, " which has fallen since we passed an hour ago : see how "it has crushed the fence, and torn up the ground of "the field on the opposite side! There thunders "another! They are falling now on every side; and "the air is thronged with pieces of bark, shreds of " tree-moss, and broken branches, descending. It is "appalling to hear the shrieking of the gusts, and the "groaning of Jie trees as they rock and chafe against " each other, while they toss their naked arms about, as " if in agony.'' The record of the next two years is a very slight one. It was a period of obscurity and poverty, borne with an almost stoic patience. Philip Gosse was still, wliat indeed he never wholly ceased to be, timid, reserved, little disposed to form new acquaintances or to cultivate old ones. The success of his Canaduin Naturalist made a rip;)le in scientific society, and a more ambitious man would have felt that his foot was on the ladder and have made his own ascent secure. l?ut that was not Philip Gossc's way. He was not easily to be persuaded of his powers, and, without making the smallest effort to secure work of a serial or journalistic kind, such work as would have been easily within reach of his elegant and active pen, he fell back on his ilovxr-drawing and his elementary teaching. He was not, at this time, in go^d heahh. The miasma of Alabama was probably still hanging about his .system. His rare letters of this epoch, though always resolute and patient, Iiave a melancholy tone. He says to his sister Elizabeth, early in 1840, after a brief visit to Dorsetshire : "Now I am in London again, lonely and depressed, and almost without a friend— at least, without dear friends. What a sad word is 'farewell'! Hm, by-and-by, there LITERARY ^vill be a state where the STRUGGLES. I6; a household word, shall be sound of farewell, n„wfaaiil altogether unk al together unheard In his dreary lod nown. May we meet there lar as of and ngs, his thoucjhts ;aunts_of his boyhood in Newfou itti silver lakes that mountains, — I me like cxceedingljV he write went back to the ndland, "the beautiful ecp among the spruce-covered hould an a mile or two in from shore. I , William at St. John's ^'^^'^''^ \ ''^°^ ^° '''' ^^^^^^ to paper for me i , \ ''^""'^ '''''''^^' '^^^ views one^o .;:::; f,:;'-^"; t ^'^^^'^^ •■ ^'-^ ^-y '-^^'>' Hison-s ii.; r I "; •'^r'"""'^^' ^^^ ^'-^ ■^-- f-^ rond etc w t ; '."./^"^"-^ '^^"^" ^°"^'' ^^'-^- Duck and th ;; 1 '"-^ °' ^'^^^^'^^^■^'^^- - ^'-^ ^.-^tance. -aceCtk::'i;:::;:t::rp:ir'^r-"^-^ the north shor '" '"^ '■^'^'"^''"-^ '^^"'-^^^''^nds .f ^.luici lloucis. sprigs of bushes ctr • ,> ; ■ ,• , .rouble, when ,„„ ,,, ,,,„,,,„^,, t' ;;„'„:,, ^ ""'= Hatter myself you will do it." In the summer he was himself applied to to f,l fiT a Imtory of that to>v„, bnt „.„ „„, a i,-,.,,, '"°»"P'"^'' .H^- P..wica...„ of „.o „„,, , „„^, .„VV ^ 7;- ;;; U„w„ art,st appended ,„ them, i„s.eaj „f hi, ^^ ,1" on,, a,„e, to the „„J h,,e,.. hat ohtalneU ..eithe;:. ',, il ; ,L E,,: tl' a'"-' 'T= *° ■'^'-=*''™-vhe„ y vcr, Lh/abith Green, after a brief illness, died ^ i 'I ' • i - •if %^ k \ n iir 134 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. on July 26, 1840. The loss of Mrs. Green left him more lonely than ever, for she was one of the few persons to whom he was attached. In the course of this summer he was once more reduced to such straits that he had almost determined to "again cross the Atlantic, cither back to the Southern States, or to the West Indies ; for," he says, " I cannot live thus. I get no new pupils, and am losing money. In the States I can be sure of £200 or ^250 a year, but it is such an exile. I should seek a school as before, and at my leisure get up the material of another book." I'his idea of a school, cither in England or America, had long been haunting him, and early in 1840, as his own acquaintance with Greek was but elementary, he set himself to a close and earnest study, with grammar, lexicon, and Delectus, reading thirty pages a day, until he became, what he remained, a fair Greek scholar. In June he ran down to Colchester, to inquire about a school advertised for sale, but with no result. In September he arranged with a retiring schoolmaster in London Lane, Hackney, to take over his fixtures and three pupils. His printed announcement to the gentry of the neighbourhood now lies before mc, a faded scrap of elegant satin paper. It is worded so quaintly, and carries about it such an old-world air, that I cannot refrain from reprinting it : — AC.ADKMY. "Mr. p. H. Gosse respectfully announces to the "inhabitants of Hackney and its vicinity, that he intends " to oi)en a Classical and Commercial School for Youni>- "Gentlemen, at the large and commodious School-room " in London Lane, in the rear of the Temperance " Hotel ; where, by assiduous attention to the morals, "comfort, and intellectual progress of tlic Pupils intrusted LITERARY STRUGGLES. I6s ^ merit a share of "to his care, he hopes t patronage The School will commence on Wednesdav the 30th September, 1 840. ^'X.B.-Mr. G.'s residence is at No. i, Retreat Cottages, " Hackney." The school was not quite a complete failure; indeed it ynjoyed a miti.^ated degree of success. J^hilip Gosse's Jdeas of education uere as free as his science from ra ..onal rule. But in his .ay of teaching there seems to have been something .f the freshness of his natural observation. From a letter un^ten at this time I extract a passage which is not unu-orthy of preservation as the "I am a friend to boys' getting their lessons (the _ mere words of them) well fixed in the memory I c.nce thought it enough H the .v.. were secured but on cons.denng how little bo>-s in general reflect on the meannig of uhat they learn, and how often the verbatim words stick indelibly to the memory in after ^ }-cars. I attach a great value to the mere learnin- of jwords-that is. learning them thoroughly (not hammer- mg and stammering, and fingering the buttonhole, with . S°P'Y^'-tc.sir!' 'Icouldsayit.justnow,sir! and so forth) to say nothing of the vast increase of " acuirT ??"'■• "^ °' "■^■^>' "^'-^■- '"^^^I'-tual vey m,ch of school learning I. a matter of ;.ere ^^ abstrac memory-conjugations, declensions, lists of Jie terochtes and pxceptions. conjunctions, prepositions, ,. f''^'' '" ^^'■'^'"'"- = "-^-^-s of places, distances, and .. ^'':'"^': '" Scography ; dates in history ; tables in anthmet.c; in all which, and many others, no assist- i >!■ !:i I 1= ri: 'i I: ^>. %. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) W // / :/ < /^./. >. & 1.0 ^i^ I I.I 1.25 25 f i:£ 12.0 IM 111116 i iiUiOgi"ci[jiiiL Sciences (br{3orci{i()n =- y-" n..^l.c little sho n th r , „, His life, but they were full of iutellect:: Aiabana ,;'"""f'"" "" '"''•'"' '°^' '" Canada and Alabama he was f.tt.ng himself to compete on equal terms w,.l, men who had been better equip^ Chan lu i,l More than anything else, hou-ever. he was training, and cult.vat,ng by cea.sele.ss miscellaneou.s note.s his poutrs of ••hserv.n. and recording natural fact.s. To print the -ult,tud.nous records of s.al, scientific observations .th accun. ated for h.s o.n nse ...Id be tedio.s and ..-CSS to the t^eneral reader. Yet some example o.,,d,t l>|^Hup to be given here as a specimen of his ^oces:,^ -if-.ducat,on. I select at random, and tran.scribc from the almost m.croscopic writing in faded ink. one little ser.c of -nsecut.ve notes, one brick out of the immense edifice '>' his records ; — m i68 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY COSSE. \\ "February i8. — Having caught some water insects, and "put them into water with a little duckweed, I found a " few Cyclopida- among them. One was a largish plump "fellow, which under the lens presented a very pretty "appearance, being of a pellucid white, brighMy shining "in the light, like a polished egg. On the l6th I put "this, with two little ones, into a clear phial, with water "and a little duckweed; neither had eggs. The next "day I could see no more of one of the little ones ; but " to-day the remaining liitle one has a capsule of eggs " on each side the tail, projecting. "■February 19. — This morning, while I was looking at " the Cyclopid.x, the large one suddenly darted at the "little one, and they had a tussle; immediately I per- " ceived that nearly the whole of one capsule of eggs was "gone from the little one, abcut five eggs only remaining "on the right side, attached to a portion of the ovary. " I dare say the former one was devoured. In the aftcr- "noon, on looking again, I see the large on.- has got " two projecting ovaries attached. "February 20.— To-day the small Cyclops was desti- " tute of eggs, and with a lens I found many little "creatures, exceedingly minute, darting hither and "thither, nothing in form like the parent, but much like " mites, with four projecting feet and two antenna.*. " February 32.— The larger Cyclops still carries her "eggs, but the smaller has acquired another double " series. I fancy them to be of a paler grey, when first " extruded. " ^'■'^'"^'':;' 24.— Thi.". afternoon I see the large Cyclops "is divested of her ovaries, and the water now swarms "with the little cjuadrupedal young." It is noticeable, in dealing with these -icntific diaries, that although they were not intended 1 r pub'ication. •w LITERARY STRUGGLES. ,6g literary form is never neglected in them. The extreme clearness of observation found its natural expression in perfect lucidity of language. The consequence was that if, in future years, the naturalist had need to transfer to a manuscript his old notes on any particular species, he could do it almost without revision, and thus save a great deal of labour. All this time he had conti.iued to act as a class-leader and local preacner among the Wesleyan Methodists There still exists a manuscript book of skeleton .sermons preached by him in the chapels around London, from 1 039 to 1S42. He has attached to it a note, written forty )-cars later:— "This volume possesses some interest, as showmg how very poor and crude my theology was at that timt He was, in fact, approaching a great crisis in his rchg.ous hfe, to be marked, in the first place, by his formally severing his connection, early in 1843. with the Wesleyan Society. The present writer is entirely without competence to deal with this particular phase of religious conviction, whicii, however, he does not icel at liberty to ignore. To misrepresent it would be even worse than to neglect it, and a succinct account of it will be found printed, in I'hilip Gossc's own words, in an appendix.* We may return to the more external features of his career. The school, \vhich had for awhile promised well, began to fall off; i'^vcral ot the elder and more intcrc ling pupils ceased to' attend, and were not replaced ly others ; so that, by the end of 1843, the number of scholars was reduced t. >M-ght A far more lucrative and interesting source of income' ^^as, however, opening up to I'hilip Gosse at last In the spring of ,843 the Society for Promoting Christian Know- ledge wanted an Introduction to Zoology. Professor * Appendix II. i-! I70 TITE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY COSSE. T homas Bell, who was on the committee, was deputed to Hsk Mr. Van Voorst who would be a suitable person to write such a book. " Why not your cousin, Mr. Gosse ? " was the reply and Bell at once assented. With his ordinary diffidence, however, Philip Gosse was far from ready to believe that he was competent to fulfil the task, and it was w'th difficulty that he could be persuaded to' undertake it. At this point Philip Gosse's career as a man of letters may properly be said to open. He had reached his thirty- fourth year not only without distinction, but without gaining any confidence in h's own powers. His practical training had been excellent, but he needed to be pushed into active literary work. At last the impetus had been given, and henceforward to write for the public became the natural and obvious thing for him to do. He had no sooner accepted the commission which the Soc:-ety offered him, than the plan of his work assumed form in his mind. He entered upon it with a timidity which scon gave way to enthusiasm, and he pursued it expeditiously with ever- increasing zeal and interest. In this and future relations with the Society my father invaiiably met'with great consideration and cour^-sy. He had scrupulously'' felt obliged to let the comm .tee know that he was a noncon- formist, but they desired that that matter might never again be alluded to. For the two volumes of the lutro- Juction to Zoology, the Society paid him ^170. It was composed in less than a year, without interfering in any way with 'he author's other puisuits. It was therefore the cause of valuable augmentation to his small means of subsistence. The preparation of these volumes took Gosse a great deal to the Natural History Department of the British Museum, and he began to form acquaintanceships vhicli LITERARY STRUGGLES. ,y, npened into valuable friendships. Edward Newman had been one of the first to welcome with enthusiastic appre- c.at:on the peculiar qualities of the new writer, and he had "ot only reviewed Tke Canadian Naturalist, but had sou<.ht out .ts author as a contributor to his own periodical. Tke Entomologtst. He was introduced by Newman i. 1843 to Edward Doubleday, a naturalist of great promise, a little younger than Philip Gosse. and these two formed a friend- ship eminently profitable to each of them, which only termmated with the premature death of the entomologist n I 49^ Edward Doubleday. like his new friend, had travelled m America as a collecting naturalist. haVng returned laden with treasures in 1837. In 18,9 he haS obtamed the position of assistant at the British Museum and was put in charge of the lepidoptera. When Philip Gosse first became intimate with him. he had iust arranged the national collections of moths and butterflies in an admirable manner. In company with Edward. Gosse made frequent pilgrimages to the home of the Doubledays at I'-Pp.ng. where th. widowed mother and the more eminent and the elder of the two brothers, Henry Doubleday- probably the greatest entomolo^Kst whom England has produced-involved a demure and noiseless Quaker home -n an atmosphere of camphor. But Gosse never came to know Henry Doubleday, whom he found reserved and ci.sp.ntmg, so well as the mercurial Edward, with whom he ■ormed one of the warmest and most easy friendships of Hs h e. It was through the Doubledays. if I mistake not, '^■'^ 1 1;.1.P Gosse was encouraged to become a contributor o the I roceed.ngs of the Royal Society. The first of , lengthy senes of papers read before that body was . Nou on an EUctnc Ccntiprde, published in this year .84^ Other associates of this period were Baird. Whymper ^\cstwood. Adam WhUe, and the Gra>s. Dr. U .llLm I7a THE LIFE OF FHILIP HENRY GOSSE. in Baird, a biologist of some distinction in his time, had been an assistant in the British Museum since 1841 ; Whymper, the principal water-colour painter and engraver of scientific illustrations in that generation, was an habitiu' of the scientific departments of the Museum, in which John Edward Gray and George Richard Gray already held posi- tions of considerable influence. Of the brilliant, affec- tionate, and eccentric Adam White, little now remains in memory, but if he was the least distinguished, he was far from being the least beloved. Of the whole group of young naturalists, then all full of ardour, and already either famous or on the road to fame, the only one who survives is the venerable John Obadiah Westwood, now in his eighty-sixth year, but still Hope Professor of Zoology at Oxford, who in 1843 was already eminent for his Ento- vwlogisfs Text-Book o{ 183S and his British Butterflies of 1841. Association with those and other scientific friends cftected a rather sudden expansion in Gcsse's social nature. The reserved and saturnine young man, absorbed in his own thoughts, developed into the enthusiastic companion m and sympathizer with the studies of others. The journey from Hackney to the British Mus.um began to prove a tedious waste of time, and towards the close of 1843 he moved further into London, renting a small house in Kentish Town, No. -jis Gloucester I'lace, the last, at that time, on the northern side of the street, recently built, having b. hind it a long "garden " of heavy clay soil, mere broken meadow not yet subdued. Hither he and his mother removed, and soon he invited his aged father— who was now quite an invalid, and in his seventy-eighth year— to come up from the West of England and join them. Behind the garden of this house, there stretched away waste fields to the north, and here, one night in the early LITERARY STRUGGLES. sumner o," ,844. Philip Gosse, for .he first and las. .ime i^ h fe. was run in" by .he police. He had fas.ened a bull s-eye lan.ern .0 a tree, and was anxiously wa.chin. for ne adven. of insects, when .he would-be capturrwa 1-nseif suddenly cap.ured, on suspicion, by a cZ, o hrv"'^'""- "= ''^'' - S-" difficulty in exp latin, .to h,s conduc, if eccentric, proffered no Ll d^,:: t A little before Christmas iS^? \vi, u- .X. , "isLiucis, 1043, vVhymper sufp-ested tn H™ that he should write a book about t h'e oceaf T ,cr: >.as a sudden access of public interest in .he new Zl iTa? •;r:c.:"°fr°' '''"-'^^ ^^"-- ^^^ ja::; r acific n " °™ *"'" epoch-making voyage in the popular .oology c^- I'dctl: 'r,TH '"^'"^ °" '"^ Philin r„. , '^ S'" '"' acceptable, and contain this fragmen h ch ha ""'"^''P'"^"^''' 'J^ ""' orinf i, !,„ ' """ '"^'=" published. I pru,t ,t here as a characteristic specimen of the stvla „f the author at this period :_ ^ „ ■' ^^."'"."e <"" Pnvile.je of breathing the thin and elastic a r, let us des<-on,l ;„ ■ ■ .«■""•'"■" and us descend in imaguiation to the depths of ocean, and explore the gorgeous treasu.es Ua a orn ,be world of the mermaids. We will cho ,e fo ■■^ Hy . The' :,„Tr",' ''""" "' - '-^^- "thP ,1 \u r , "° longer visible throujrh tne depth of the incimhrnf i ^ i.icjmbcnt sea ; but a subdued »7» THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. " greenish light, soft and uniform, sufficiently reveals the " wonders of the scene. We find ourselves at the foot of " a vast perpendicular cliff, the base of a coral island, "entirely composed, to all appearance, of glistening " madrepore, of snowy whiteness, but, in reality, perhaps " only encased by it. Every part of its surface is seen, "on close examination, to be studded with minute "orifices, from each of which projects a little fleshy " polyp, which spreads its six green arms, like the rays of " a star, waiting for prey. On touching one, though ever " so slightly, it contracts its arms and witiidraws. Many " other corals rise around us, most of them assuming the " form of stony trees or shrubs, of singular variety and "beauty, some crimson, some grey, some white, some "black, while the rocks at our feet are alnost covered "with brainstcne.i! of vast size, mushroom-corals, and "other madrepores, of the most p;: otesque forms. " Enormous sea - Hins wave their netted expansions "slowly to and fro in the long heavy swell • f the sea, "embraced here and there by the slender branches of " the jointed corallines. The beauty of form and colour " displayed by these productions is contrasted with the "sober hue of the sponges, which, in endless diversi/, " overspread the bottom of the sea. Their forms are no " less fantastic than those of the corals, and resemble " vases, or tables, or horns, or tubes, or globe?, or many- •' fingered hands; while from the larger orifices on their "surface, as from so many mouths, Lhcy pour forth " incessant streams of water with untiring activity. The "vegetable productions, however, display little of the " variety which marks their sisters of the upper .vorld ; " but the dull yellow bladder-weed and other fuci creep " among the rocks, and the brown sea-thon ^ and fea- " thery conferva wave amidst the coral branches. LITERARY STRUGGLES. All this forms the '75 ■■position. Bu. ,hese ZT;::;' :rr: °": "°^'' •■ the water .ee„s with life ,o an «e„. „ H " T " ^ •■ to the sunny earth above. Minute '„'' '''' •■■swarm in every part ,, ""'."^ "''"=<=™''^ animals "abound as Z^Tl ZS'TZ ''''"'V'^ '" "shd\,, „.l,ose loveliness Z Beautiful ■■by their leather; n'irT' T •''"'^'"-"led •the paper nautilus darls b '' °""' '"" ™^''»; ■■Habitation; and he " Lnf 11" o"'"^'"' '"' ^"^'"= ■■valves to feed in seeurity i! ^ ^e": '";'"™"" .■:::::s .Jr";^'~ -■'---'rjortt: ■■=ven.i:e:;;r3ire"r;rr^^^^^^^^^ " like a vvajnut • nor is th f r "'^' ^'^ '^'""^^'^^ "him who urt's TiVart '^'"^ ''""" '"^^^^^^^''^'^ ^- '•with the sutrnc of 7^""' ''""^"'^ ^^^ -^-^ "i-^mnf.H ", "' ^°^ ^ b,rd upon the wing. VVe are i^mptecl at first sight to believe that the., v ".-•ve birth to the most brilliant fl wel t l''^"^''^ "resemblance borne by the expand ' . '" '' '''' "lovely productions of the "rd „ ' w "'"' ^' '""■ " identify the aster th ^^^ "" ^'"^o-^t "ciaisyjhec ctus tho """'' '" ^""'°^^^^' ^^e ' " ^^'^'"^ ^^^hy animal-flowers that "'The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear.' -'thJ^:::rtLrt:rr::"^^'^^^^^^^^^ "i- varied tribes fi:Lr I- rr'"' '^ ^'^ "° ''withafleetnessemula ;,^t^ "inhabitants of the upper arr tL T' '''°""' "ing mail in which ma v ' f tl ^""'"'' "'' ^''"^'- ";,r^ . J ^ ^ ^'^'^■'^^ tenants of the deen are arrayed, rivals the hues of fl, ^ "humming-birds. The labru T ^"■'■"'^ °'" ^^^^' iiic labru., wlucn has just shot past i-s 176 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. pn " us, IS a notable example ; possessing in its silvery "body, yellow head, and crimson tail, an undoubted "claim to beauty of decoration ; nor are the gleaming j' hues that flash from the pearly sides of that troop o{ "coryphenes, as they play in the changing light, less "charming. Now they ha^ . caught sight of yonder "shoal of timid little flying-fishes which are making " their way to surface, to seek a momentary refuge in •| another element,— and away they dart, pursuing^and "pursued. And here comes, stealing by, the fellest "tyrant of the deep, the grim shark, attended by his ''M^s Achates, the little pilot-fish, in a livery of brov/n II and purple. The very countenance of this grisly " monster, the expression of settled malice in his" eye, "in.spires an involuntary horror, scarcely increased by "a glimpse of the serried lancet-like teeth which arm " those fatal jaws. " It is night. Yet darkness has not fallen upon the " scene, for the whole mass of the sea is become imbued "with light. A milky whiteness pervades every part, "slightly varying in intensity, arising from inconceivably "numerous animalcules, so small as to be separately " undistinguishable, but in their aggregation illuminating "the boundless deep. Among them are numerous "swimming creatures, of perceptible size and greater " luminousness, which glitter like little brilliant sparks ; " and when a fish swims along, its path becomes a bed " of living light, and we may trace it many fathoms by "its luminous wake. Some of the larger creatures also " are vividly illuminated ; the medusa^, which by day " appear like circular masses of transparent jelly, now "assume the appearance of cannon-balls heated to LITERARY STRUGGLES. ;;vvhitencss; and yonder sun fish seems like a Jl, The composition of .l,c book of which ,l,is li„le essav .a n.c.„ ^ , ^^^ ^^^ ^J^ ol 'S44. He was pa.d £,,0 for the copyright of n, ^'::^ T "•'"■*='' ''"' '■" "'■'■ "^■'-"^ ™^o as auay .„ Jamaica. The success of this volume was urpnsmg and first opened the eyes of Phiiip Go, e to e fact that he had in him the making .r , 7 Edition after edition was so, d ou ^of alfhr : '""'°" -*s f™ .howed a more steady ."^i^ tL" ^ nr:^ parted u,th the copyright, wnich set him mcd'-f-.ffn.r -hemes of puhiication which should be mo^ a DlT o': handl ■ '" "^"^^™™' "f - ^~^- "- W» mo^e'vari"" '■ 1 "r""' """" '"' P^°''"'">' --""' = more van,,! crele of readers than any of my fathers boo s. ,t ,s not the most read or best h.ed of L„,, b« '" the one w,„ch has perhaps enjoyed the widest cir- culation. It ,s eloquently written, and in freedom of ^r.„r.,,s, r,,e openmg chapter deals with the genera] fe.urc., of ocean, treated poetically and sentimentally the -tor the^ turns to the sublet of which he as yet knew It^c a first hand, but which was presently to absorb h m enfrely. the fauna and flora of the shores of Great ir,tan. The sueceedin.g chapters deal successively wuh the Arctic seas, the Atlantic, the Pacific, and the Indian Uceans. The book is copiously illustrated by U'hymper aud by the naturalist himself; the natural history subject bemg drawn on the block by Gosse and cut by Whymper ■n a way which often does great credit to each artist. The »78 THE LIFE OF Phi LIP IIEXRY GOSSE. rii > drawing of the white shark, on p. 2S4. is a capital instance of this double skill. With the warm reception of The Ocean, in 1845, Gosse may be said to have bc-un to be distinguished ; but when fame found him, he was far away in the tropics. A new chapter of his career had opened. Larly in 1S44, while he was chatting one day with his friends in the insect-room of the British I\Iu um, Edward Doublcday suggested that Pliilip (iossc u-ould do well as an insect-collector in the tmpics. Demerara was origin- ally pijposcd; then Jamaica, as being less known" to naturalists, and, cntomologically, absolute virgin ground. The British Museum had almost nothing from Jamaica, nor was anything known of the natural history of the island since the days of .Siaane and Browne. (]osse jumped eagerly at the suggested propo.sal. He had already had some experience in Newfoundland, in Cana.la, and in Alabama, and the prospect appeared to him delight- ful in the extreme. He immediately began to i)rep",r-3. He read up all works which toucheci upon the zoology of the \Vest Indies, made drawings of desiderata, especially of orchids, butterllies, and humming-birds, constructed collectmg-l,...xe.s, a-d gradually bought the necessary materials. Doublcday introduced him to Hugh Cuming, of (lower :-^treet, as an ag.nl for s.lling the o.lleclLns to be made, and this gentlrm.m, himself .1 .,„■, rssful collector, gave Gcssc some us,-ful iiistriu ti..ns. He aK,, t.K.k Iiim' ^\^^^^^^ to K.w (.ardens, u lu-re he ' began that lih- Ion- aequ.,intanre with Sn- WiM.nn Hooker, whuh was to be "I such lasting profit and pleaM.-e to him. His kucst occupation .,1 a pinvly Ih.r.ny n.,t,nv, before .startin- was t- -r„c f;>r Ab.M... Il.uvcy and Darto. a Chr^unas •'""ual, wluch appealed the cMisuing wu.ter under th.' title oi Glimpses of the Wonderful. This little volume -anv LITERARY -STRUGGLES. t" appear on'the ml^' tT '" '"'"'" '""'"' Mr. and Mrs r„« " ''""'""" ""= ^Wcr -. .«44, .heir s„„ .,„:,"', "^"]^y- "" Oc.„b„ ■.v«scl bound for Ja„,ai„ T, J'"''"?" "" ''"■■'"' >»o other voun-. n ' "^'""- ""^ '"»" «""e cii./ons. I..rh To, r ,? "■' "'" "" '=°"-""8 expo- to be their sole a,.e„,: ""-ements ,vi,h Curan,;; 'f! II ( ISO ) 1; ! I! CHAPTER VII. JAMAICA. i.S44-i,S4(^. TN [770 Gilbert White of Sclborne wrote to Daines A Harrington : " A sight o'' the hiyiDidiiits of that hot and distant islat I of Jamaica would be a great entertain- ment to me." Seventy-four years later the ornithology of that ancient colony remained, as liell has said, scarcely better known than it was in White's time. It was now to be carefully and indeed exhaustively investigatetl, with the result that since Gos.-e's v^isit but few new facts of an>- importance have been ackled to knowledge. Jle silent eighteen months in Jamaica, during which time his atten- tion was maiul)-, though not exclusively, directed to the i)irds of the island. When he arrived, the ornitholoLr\- of Jamaica \^as in a chaotic state; when he left, nearly two hundred s[)ecies of l)iril> were clearly ascertained to belong to the island fiuiia. (){ manunalia. reptile^, and fishes he was able to add twent_\ lour lu-w siircics to science. The voyage out was not a remarkable one. l"p>m the zoological point of view its interest culminaloi in tin- observation, in nml Atl.uitic, of a very rare, if not absolute!)- undescribed, eetace.ni. There seems to be very litlh- >■ my.de said.. 1.00- at the IVakI' Hook,., •"tenth, dnectin.^^ my gaze to the ..ei. hb.unhood of »he " horzon. where I supposed it was to be seen ; hut nothin.. bi.. tiK-dull whit.. .NhhIs „,,t my eve. • I'p there T' ;;^^a,dn,yn,(onnant;an.I his linger pointe.l up int., tin. ^_sky;a,ul thtn. nulee.i was ,ts n.,ble head fp^Hups ^ecvat. by rehactionl, a cnical mass, darkly blue ^^abovc the den.sciu.,l.tf ,.,,„,, „,,, ,,„„,,,.„„, ,-,; _^s.de.s.and envelope.! all b.nea.h its t.nve.n,. elevation. .. , •'..*' -tuatedfu- „,!an.!,and was then full forty ^_m,le.sd..stantfrom.,ursh,, hut n,,du .soon fell, and ^^as vvc were .sonu wh... anxiously w.,tehin,r for the l.-,ht' ..^" ";'' "'"'■""• ' "•"' ti"hh,e.ure of first seeing it rrom ,!„■ ,na,n rigginj; W. .. ,,, ,,„„ ,i„.^,_^,^ ui K^nd II t82 THE LIFE or- PHILIP HEXRY GOSSE. I m. I iii "as wc passed on before an incrcasinj^ breeze, that "tempered the tropical heat with its refreshin^r breath, ^'uc saw the coast dark and ni-h only a few miles off! "Many iitrhts were seen in the scattered cotta-cs, and " here and there a fire blazed up from the beach, or a " torch in the hand of some fishermen was carried from " place to place. My mind was fidl of Columbus, and of "his feelings on that eventful night when the coast of '^'Guanahani lay spread out before him, with its moving "lights and proud anticipations. With curiosity and " hope, somewhat analogous {parva coiiiboiure mngitis), did " I contemplate the tropical island before me, its romance "heightened by the indefiniteness and obscurity in which " It la>'. I was on deck several times during the night, "and in the intervals was still engaged, in dreams^ in "endeavouring to penetr ite th.e darkness of the shore." At daybreak next morning they were off I'ort Roval but becalmed ; they l,ad leisure to enjoy one of the most brilliant N-iews in the world, the olue crystal sea, the whit, c.ty of Kingston, the majestic Peak, toweriug eight thousand feet into the a/ure sky, and contrasting, in "its uniform tone of blue, with the purple ridges „f the lower .nountain ranges. Three black pilots boarded the vessel about nine, but it was noon before a gradual breeze sp; ,ng up and carried them in to Port R,,yal. Cxssc was pu't ashore at the wharf aiul walked ,.ir to the Palisades, the long san.ly spit which makes a sea-lake ..r the ample harbour of Kingston. " I found it barren enough ; but it all was Strang -, and "to feet which for nearly Iw.. months had n.,t hit the "iinu earth, even a run along the beach was exhilarating, " I he graceful cocoa-nut palm sprang up in groups from "the water's edj.e. waving its hathrry fro.n.ds ovc.- !!- = • iippling waves that dashed about its fib lous fuut. JAMAICA. ,o, "Great bushes of prickly pear and other cacti were "k^rowing on the low summit of the bank, coverin- lar.^e •'spaces of ground with their impenetrable masses, J-esentmg a formidable array of spines ; as did also a ^^ species of acacia that grew in thickets and single trees. All along ,he line of high water lay heaps of seaweeds, drymg ni the sun, among which was particularly abundant a species of Padina, closely resemblin- the "pretty ' peacock's-tail' of our own shore, though less "regularly beautiful. Sponges of various forms and "large fan corals, with the gelatinous flesh dried on the ^'^' horny skeleton, were also thrown up on the higher "beach ; and I found i.i some abundance a coralline of "a soft consistence, and of a '.right grass-green hue "Shells were very scarce on the sea-beach. Several "specnn.ns of a brilliant little fish, the clurtodcu. wore "suunnnng and darting about the narrow but deep "pools; tncy were not more than an inch in len-th " marked with alternate bands of i,',,ck and golden-yelhiw' " In the vertical position in which they swim, with the "eye of the (.bservcr looking down upor. them, they " appear to bear the slender proportions of ordinary fishes • " and ,t ,s only by accident, as in turnin.r, or on capturino' " one, that we detect the peculiar forn>, !ugh and vertically n.itten<;d, of this curiou' genus." Next day (December;), they got unJer w.tvat dasbreak and, avouling Kingston altogether, s.nled for Alli.s.tor ''<""'• ■' 'Ixary little settK-ment surrounded by he-vy clnttsol sand, n here C.sse became lir.t personally intro- |l'^c-l l<. the exouisitc. //r^aw/;,buttcM]ics. and to a man^^o '"•nnnmg-bu-d [Lamponns po,pl,yrurus\ ^.,s^^\^v^ his ,2,y k^orget n, the sun wh.le ,,„,!.,ug the -ulphur-coloured II- !!iu;s3om I'licKiy pe.ir. 1 h 'lays in the iieighbourh, )(hI .f .\1 e ve--sel s(a\ed several 'i;-;ator I'ond, and th'- M 1 1 •« ; ■)- n IS4 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HE.VRY GOSSE. i i J yoiin- naturalist took advanta-c of this fact to make every day a fresh excursion inhmd with his net. A planter. Mr flaffenden, of \eu- Forest, hearing of the arrival of an lui-Hsh savant, hospitably invited him to dine and sleep at his house, and sent a horse for him. Tlie estate was s<.me miles up the valley, and the house one in the most splendid cnlcnial style. The balcony offered a view of Sreat breadth and ma-nifurence ; the eye roamed over many miles of open savannah. " ]^ut the most strikin- feature was an enormous mountain risin- immediately in front of the house, covered to the summit with dark woods ; so steep and touerin- that, as I hxy in bed in a loftj- n)om,' I :ouUl but just see a little p(,rtiun of the sky m the upper corner of the window." Tiie top of this mountain was Mr. ilaffenden's coffee-plantation. While (iosse was stayin- at New Forest, he occupie.I himself in collcctin- specimen blossoms of the \arious exquisite orchids, especially Hrou^ij^hfovia and Bnuavola. which -row about the rocks in the forest, Tl,e ne-ro -room who had been sent to accompany him was bewildered at this behaviour, .uul ..Itcruards confided to .Mr. Uaffenden th.it the "stran-e buckra had taken the trouble to -et panrls of luisit ! " The Can>/^nc had Luuied her mails and principal pas- sengers f,,r Kin-ston at I'ort Roy.d, and u..s nnu ver^• leisurely, elf .ly at ni-ht, ereepin- fmm port t., port round the .south-. estern coa.st .,f Jam,.ica. T, ,,as not until December uj that she reached the point at which i'h.lip (.o.s.se had determined to leave her, tiiat po,t of Savannah- le-Mtr which lives i,. literature in a m,.st brilliant and paradoxical fra-ment of I )e (juincey. In enterinr ,he harbour, the ship suddeniv struck upon the reef^hat divides the lornur (torn the . ^panse of lihieCelds Hay. 'Iliis mi-ht have !)roved a fr.d aoident. hi.t she =!!:! „^f strike heavil)-, and, .Utei t\\ h oil is ird no us exertion, the JAMAICA. 185 •Ship uas off asain. When morning broke, they were runnn,, i„to Savannah-le-Mar through a very narrow channel, the coral reef ah..o.st touching, them on either s.de .esse mounted a little way up the shrouds, and saw the beaut.ful bay beneath hin, so calm, pure, and trans- parent that ,t seemed simply like ^.azin.c; down through a ';.-oad sheet of plate glass. After some days in the deplorably dead-and-alive town of Savannah-le-Mar the captam of the Caro/nu^ lent Gosse the cutter to Bluehelds the house of a Air, and Mrs. Coleman. Arora^•ian mis-' -onar.cs with whom he had made arrangeuK-nts to lod^^e ^Sev.-ral knully faces were waitmg to welcome him on the' beach, and the good-natured negroes c<.mpcted for the honour of taking his boxes and cases up to the mansion. Blueficids. which was now to be his hon.e for eighteen months, ,s marked on the maps as if it were a town of some .mportance on the coast-road from Savannah-le-AIar to Black nver, on the south-west shore of Jamaica. In pou.t '"^^"•"•■^-^•^^'^ - solitary house ; one of the "hiest an,i lar,.st of the planters' mansions in the pros- P-us tunes, but already, in ,N,4. ndlcn into partiauLy '^' "'^'^•:^"'-^---''-'--^*' ruinate ''plantati..' 't figures n, hterature in the pages of that very spirited and ..nterta,ningn.,vel,y;..Ov,^.Z,^ which giL an unsurpassed p,cture of .,,,,, Jamaica W...S in the 'op.„n,„ years o the century The gaiety and opulence of M.chaei ^cott^s Januuca had. however, given place to commercial ' the :s!and were h.df desolate, and the planters -Li e. her cease.i to reside in their mansions. .,r had p„ifulK- retrenched their expenses. With all this h.ul rn,n,. -, .,„-...'. •'- P.et,Mn, an.iI51ne.iel.l.. n, particular, seems to have been •'■^•ee.Un. of a m:^.i,,nary actn i,y. in th • hands of the ^f ^^1 i- 1 i. i ;i ■ i i i i 1 .( t • J i iS5 THF LIFE OF PHILIP IIEyPY COSSE. ifl: 'V.. 1^ It- Moravians, which radiated into all parts of the county of Westmoreland. On board the Caroline Philip Gosse had made the acquaintance of a :vrr. and .Mrs. Plessing, German Moravians, who were coming out to Jamaica to be em- ployed as missionaries. Their account of Blueficlds had struck him as singularly attractive to the naturalist, while the religious views of the .Moravians, which were quite novel to him, e.xerciscd a fascination over his religious curiosity. On arriving at Alligator Pond, therefore, the Plessings had written to know whether he could be received at Bluehelds as a tenant, and without waiting for a reply since Blueficlds was large enough to admit a regiment of tenants— they proceeded on their leisurely vox-age thither. Had they waited for an answer, the reply would ha\-c been in the negative ; for Mr. Coleman and his wife were both. da; ^erously ill, and in no position to receive a guest. In that climate, however, in a very large house, and sur- rounded by willing negroes, the responsibility of a hostess may be minimized, and Philip Gosse took up his abode in a suite of lightly furnished rooms without disturbing the Colemans. The position of Blueficlds was one not only of excep- tional beauty, but of singular convenience to a c(jllecting zoologist. It lies a little above the sea, on a gentle slope, with steep woods rising t<. the back of it, and a noisy rivulet, always exquisitely fresh, brawling under its bam- boos and guava trees down to the sea through the heart of tile estate. Behind the house, a riile of four or ^^\■Q miles leads to the sum-rit wf the lofty Bluefields M jaiui.liv I, l,N 4.1. IC Cll'M Samuel Canipbrll by b, -I "L-ijro !ad of ciVlite en, ipli.^m ^nd Sam by na inc, to give ■a^H i8G THE LIFE OF PHILIP HEXRY GOSSE I i him his entire services for r .alary of four dollars a month. This arrani,^ement continued until the naturalist return.-d to En-land, and proved eminently successful. He says : — " Sam soon approved himself a most useful assistant " by his faithfulness, his tact in learninj^, and then his " skill in practisin^i,r the art of preparing natural subjects. " his patience in pursuinc^r animals, his powers of obser- "vation of facts, and the truthfulness with which he "reported them, as well as by the accuracy of his "memory uith respect to species. Often and often, " when a thintj has appeared to me new, I have appealed " to Sam, who on a moment's examination would reply. No, we took thi.'^ in such a place, or on such a day,' "and I invariably found on my return home that his " memory was correct. I never knew him in the slightest " degree attempt to embellish a fact, or report more than " he had actually seen." Sam became so intelligent and serviceable, that, at length, he could be trusted upon expeditions of his own, and he added not a few specimens, and some of them unique, to the general collection. For a long time, almost the only brer.ks in the tranquil life at Uluefields wci'e occasional visits to Savannah-le- Mar. After the silence of the vz-ek, Saturday would present a scene of unusr.al bustle, and not less than one hundred i)ersons woukl assemble at sunrise on the beach at IJluefields, a population drai.ietl from man)- square miles of the interior. Three or four canoes, laden with fruit and vegetables, are slowl}- packed for the market of Savannah-le-Mar, and but little room is left for the legs of any would-be passengers : " The jabber is immense : a hutidred ncn-oi^ m.T!T.- .-.f "them women, all talking at once, make no small noise • ~\iV. JAMAICA. 1S9 ^ and the wh,te teeth are perpetually shining out in the sable faces, ps the merry hugh-the negro's own Jaugh-nses continually. The figures of the women' ^ many of them not ungraceful, though plump and ^_ muscular are picturesque, clad in short go.vns of ^ showy colours, and wearing the peculiarly set handkcr- ch.ef for a head-d.ess, in for. of a turban, often also of bnght hue. though in most cases white as snow They move about amongst the bustle, crowding up to the canoes to stow their ware ; tucking up their frocks ^^st.ll h.gher as the depth of water increases, regardless o^ dKsplaymg their bronzed legs. At the edg; of the water, on whose mirror-like surface the mounting sun ^_ begms to pour torridly, the little children sit, .suckin^. cane or oranges, while the elder one. play about them^ nelping to augment the noise. " It was during one of these occasional visits to Savannah- le-Mar that he received the news of his father's death. Almost .mmed,ately after Philip's departure for Jamaica the old gentleman had been seized with an ailment which defied med.cal .skill ; it proved fatal on November 26 rS.. while h,s son was crossing the Atlantic. Mr. Thomas Gosse' was serene in mind to the last, and died apparentlv without pa.n, and almost without a sigh, conscious, but cntireK tranqu ._ He would, in eight months more, have com- 1^0 ea , ,„,,,, ^.^^^^ ,,^^ ^^^,^^ ^j^. ^^ ^^^^.^^ ^^^^^^^^^ n the cahn of h.s resigned cheerfulness was the men.or^- of one of those hopeless works in prose and verse which he had so vamly u.ged upon the publishers for more th.n half a century^ Mi.s latest words referred to an epic poem rhc nnpn.us Rehcllion, that he thought he had, on one of the' ast occas.ons upon which he walked out, left for inspection ^^ ith Messrs. IJlackwood, at their T.onHnn n,......> t r . doomed, ho I « mM ucver, to live and die ineditcd, and when hii 190 THE LIFE OF rHILIP HEXRY GOSSE. heirs inquired for Tlir Impious Rcbdlion, behold ! a rare thin£:js will, it had vanished. Philip Gossc's life at Blucficlds now took an almost mechanical uniformity. The house was, as has been said, a well-built mansion ; it was raised, in the colonial fashion, high above the ground, so that its dwelling-rooms were reached by climbing an exterior staircase. The naturalist had no return of those malarial sym;ose, a b.,,^s-eye lantern, .so u.seful a; inst^^^ t.. hands of northern entomologists, but aaluuKdi he repeatedly took it out after r.ghtfall. searching in "every 'n-cct,on,he never made a single cloture in jaa aica by 1- means. There were one or two ioc^l exceptions to tns general scar ,y ; a certain .ile on the road above Content was ahve .-ith insects, and most of the specimens Gosse secured were captured in this one locality, which did not appear to differ in any other way from all neighbourin.. places where no becdes or butterflies could be found^ \Micn he was at home, or during the periods of tropical ra.n, he was actively engaged in drying and packin- his plants, preparing his birds, wrapping up Lis orcLs :an >n. b,s shells, and putting all these captures into a p o^e. ^ond,t,on to be sent off to his sale agent m London L made seven successive shipments to England durin^. his stay .n the island, and all of these arrived in favou:ab co^non. He had become very adroit in the prepa::^ of speamens for transit by sea. and, except in orchids suffered few and inconsiderable losses a r!v'""r' "'''°"' '''''' '' -----O-tation was not a favourable centre for tnc pursuit of scientific enterprise. But th,s was not the case. Gosses sympathies u ere with ^hc Moravians, and their gentle manners won his affection, i - -uect ■• bush ■ and "vermin " wa.s, no doubt, eccentric • 1] if I w ff* 192 TJ/E LIFE or- nrn.ir ///■:. vky gosse. but, then, the whole habit of hfc at tlie Moravian settlement was averse to rule and tradition of every kind. I- this collection of odd. pietistic, and irrc-ular white men, sur- rounded by an emotional crowd of affectionate and half- converted blacks, nothin- was considered irre-ular, except rc-ularity. They were exceedingly averse 'to an\-thin- which savoured of formality, even in their reli-ion, and one or two of the leaders, after the len.L,^thy Sundav ser\ icc-s, would .^., out with their ,c,uns on horseback for the purpose' of " testifying " a-ainst any supposed sanctity in the Lord's Oayas a day. If on their side tl y never criticized or disturbed the naturalist, he on his was much interested in their form nf Christianity. It is true that some of their oddities puzzled him. He notes in his journal, after the hrst meetin.L,^ at which he was present, which lasted si.v mortal hours, "the -reat weariness of body which so I.^.i- a sittin- induced prevented me from enjoyin- the occasion nearly .so much as I had anticipated." But he soon fell u!to their way.s, and consented to help them in tluir .services. It was presently proposed that he should preach each alternate .Sunday at a coffee plantation called Content fifteen miles east of IJluefield.s, hi-h up iu the mumUain.s. This proposal fell in well with his .scientific projects, for the fauna .uul flora of Content differed ver\- con.sidcrably fn .m these of Blucfields. and represented a less marine atmo- -I'h.n^ and a higher altitude. There was a little cotta-c at Cnnlent, romanticall.N- percb.ed on a ma.ss of bare rock under the shadow of the mountain, and hue he made it a practice to lod-e for three or four days every lortni-ht, shootinj,r and collecting in the vicinity. In this way'' he' would ride far into the interior, sometimes stayin- all nij^rht at a hospitable planter's hou.se, and becmin- thoroughly acquainted with the aspect and the products of this part of the colony— never before or since, perhaps, visited by any JAMAICA. »93 one accustomed to express his observations in words His c^ d u.th one part.cular series of scenes, v.hich he visited puhaps. nK.re o.tcn than any other. A lonely road led ov.rt^^ho.,der^ e ted coffee plantation called Rotherhithe. Philip Gosse ^ - rreqnent >. accustomed to rise two hours before dawn -d. s.ttu,, loosely in the saddle, to ride slowly up th s' -..n.c ascent by the li,ht of the stars. ..HstL^:':: •^ --^ys, to the rich .nelodies poured forth by dozens In; r^-'-^''^ fro. the n-uit trees and .rov^s of th ; - 1,11s, n.anagn,g to arrive at the brow of the moun- ^^- " -t sunr.se. Then he would leave his hnr... and t row,n, the bridle over his neck, allow him to ,raze on' a I'ttle open pastu.e until my return." while he would >-•- .n foot the road towards Rotherhithe which hs of:::r '^-'^— 'K.haun.ofsevera,rarebi': -f . -.bar uuerest-of the eccentric jabbering crow, of the ohtaae. and of the lon.,-taiIe94 THE LIFE OF PHI LIP HEXRY GOSSE. a gentleman at Spanish Town, a magistrate and lcadin.4 planter of the name of Richard Hill, who was understood to shoot birds and to preserve their skins. To him, then, wholly without introduction, Philip Gossc had the happy inspiration to write in the autumn of 1845, and the result was such as to make him wish that he had written a year earlier. The following was the very agreeable rc})ly which he received : — " Spanish Town, November 6, 1845. "De.\r Sir, " On the receipt of your letter, I took down from "my bookshelves The Canadian X^fnralist, and finding "the same 'P. II.' preceding your name there, as in "your letter, I perceived that you were already known "to mc. I acknowlctlgc with ple\;,.irc the rcceij)! of "\our communication, and, as an earnest of my desire "to assist in turning your time to profit during }-our "sojourn among us, I send you a list of the birds of this "country, both migratory and stationar)-, wlr'ch are "common to us with Central and xN'orthern America. "As I have sot them down f'(..n the list of the prints oi "Musignano, you will be in no uncertainty as Id the "objects to which I dircrt _\our .. tenlion. Tin .ulvaii- "tagc of this list to you will consist in tlu> mmibcr of "birds with which } . in oiiiei (icpaiiniciits ni)- ,ic- JAMAICA. 'quaintance is only general. Oi «95 ir vertebrate "consist out ot the a"-oiif; --. ^ '^t-outi, ^usjproaa; and the air,, " of the AT.. ■ curly-haircd, brown variety , the Mexican terrier, now so <^cncTi\W l-n "the favourite lap-dog called the mJ" ' "" "^ " Mexican bein. he white '" """P'^' '^'"^ ^"r^e, being a.most the only ones vet .!,. scribed to European reader, n t, J , ^ " been nnde f hn K f ^''^''' ^'^^'-^ ""^"^^^Y "of the i is ,;:'"^ of investigation. Dr. Parnel' •I'ur j.ars ago, attendet, however ,.v,^i, • . your rc.rn ,o E,,™,,., ,.„, „,„ t,. „„, „';,.'.'" '■ Museum. ^^'^-••taincd .species m the BritisI, ■•:4';;;:"-;Sr^f;;;:;,:r -'--'" "'^ "t-ating.nirniitholo.v 'Z^'^'' ^^ ^^ ^^ "'^ i"us- ■■Alfred .Ic MalLcrb. m 1„ r , '" " "'"""^■'" ■■'' "todirf.r^ ,t, ,• , ^ '""'^^"•if^'y •-" u-ill see all that I h iv ■ ,*7" '-»-^ '"^'"■^'vc. '•natuial h.Mon- ,, ^ J '''^ i'"'''-'-' - "- local .-, '-.r >(iiailer sessions 'sittin S> .111(1 uiiii lutlc t line at n 'y dispo.sal ; hut I it I J li 196 THE LIFE V PHILIP IIEXRY GOSSE. :|ii "shall not fail to renew iny intercourse with you, if "you should in any further communication desire it. " With much respect, pray believe me to be, dear sir, "Very faithfully yours, "Richard Hill." This was the opcninj; passage in one of the warmest and most intimate friendships of my father's life, assidu- ously cultivated long after his departure from Jamaica, and not wholly interrupted .ditil the death of Mr. Hill. In 1S51, when sending the preface of his Natiir friend Mr. Deleon ofifering him a seat in his gig lie had thus the opjior- tunity of crossing the country twice, and of si-eing the interior to advantage , but he found it, from I he scientific point of view, disappointing. They passetl, aniung other things, the remote plantation of Shuttlewood, remarkable fiwui ihe circumstance tliit it wa~. here tliat a bag of grass .seed, broi.ght from Africa to l)c the food for a cage of finches, was emptied out ^011 the fertile soil, ami in due time becanu' tl le nucleus Ironi uIikIi guinea-grass, one o f JAMAICA. the best pastures in th- West Ind IQ7 les. Jamaica. The approach to the town of spread to all parts of ver\' fine, and so cl ]\I lands of Cuba, ninety m ear was the atmosphere that onte^ro liay was lies aw no rth-wcstern hori the high- ay, were seen faintly on the zon. Philip Gosse was th It Montcnro Bay of Mr. and Mrs. J. L. I cntleman he Iiad already corresponded tions, and had obtained usef-i! e guest while ■ewin. With th IS on zoological qucs- natiiralist's experience in the north of J to persuade hini that he had d notes from h im. Th( ill the southern district of th imaica was sufficient perfectly right to settle and fl and e island. He found the f, ora in the country of St. James distinctl less valuable than in 1 Elizabeth. Tl lis own West sion us was the most extcn.^ s which he took from the central sometimes riding out and Content, trusting to th launa \' more scanty moreland and St. sive of many cxcur- stations of l^lueficlds nitil nightfall, and c nevc.-failing Jamaica hospital'-ty to supply him with a bed I-or a whole year his health when Sam got the fev was excellent, and ev en tions in damp hot hollows of the fc er m conscciucnce of their cxnlora- scot-free. Towards tl 'rest, his master escaped aft er stalking ) ic end of December, 1X45, h owever. 'el low bitterns for a d morass, ami end iiig \\\^ with >^e\ er,d hour m the deep mud of the f,,tid pelicans and kingfishers, boih t ;iy or two in the spent knee-deep creek. Jcttiii''- hots ,it I 'lack one weic laid !'• white natuialist and tlu up Four days later, th with a very sharp attack of fe ver. agai fort h n, .shooting snipe and ey were both down in the creek morass 'hilip Go:^se w, jrourd-doves. !iut fnun this t sickness at quicidy recun began to jiut his hou IS liable to violent hcadacl ing int. rva He ime les and t, consequently se in order, catalonrnin,. 1,;^ and preparing to leave t !'■ countr\- On March 3, i.v.^f,. i,e nule wit! 1 •'^■•im to Sr.vannah-le- i. ! ■-': VjZ TlfE LIFE OF rniLir HEXRY GOSSE. I ' III I\I;ir, and took berth on board the steamer Rarl of Eij^iu, which was coastincj eastwards. After a day's pleasant steaming along the south shore of Jamaica, they got into Kingston Harbour at nightfall. The tossing of the Ca- ribbean Sea was exchanged for the smooth surface <>f the iand-Iocked harbour, over which a flock of gulls were flying and hovering. He proceeded to a noisy hot hotel, where the contrast willi the still cool nights of Blueficlds, -carcely broken by the note of a bird or a bat, kept him awake till near morning, or at least till long after a riotous party of billiard-players had finally decided to break up. He rose early and walked about the dirty and unattractive capital of Jamaica. Having despatched a note to Mr. Richard Hill, in Spanish Town, to announce his arrival, he paid some cills, and drove out a little way into the country, ^.o find, on his reti"-n to the hotel, that Mr. Hill had instantly responded to his .summoi s, and was in the parlour waiting to welcome him. This wa: the first meet- ing of the brother ornithologists. The next day Mr. Hill did the honours of Kingston, and in particular took Gosse to the rooms of the Jamaica Society, where they examined together Dr. Anthony Robin.son's drawings of birds and plants. The specimens in the town museum were {^w and in wretched preservation, yet the objects in themselves mostly good. By the afternoon tr.u",! the friends left Kingston for Spanish Town, and spent the evening in examining a large collection of drawings of birds, made by Richard Hill himself Philip Gosse's brief stay at Spanish Town was made extremely pleasant to him by tiie assiduous hosjiitalities of Richard Hill. On the loth. in company with Mr. Hill and a young collector. Mr. Osborne, who had been invited ♦ ,. ..w^t .1,., |r i:..u __. 1- . ._• _ ^_ . .. ^ . . :• • •- •-::•- »,;ij.;:;.-,;i ii.ilur.iiKil, .i.ilu ,iiivi triv.. iftttCi" asceii.Kd Highgatc, a peak of the Liguanca Mountains, Hbout three thousand foot above the sea. From this point t'^-e ,s a famous view, which has several times been l--r.bed • not only does the sinuous southern coast of Jama.ca he spread out before the spectator, but .he ■-rthern sea, near Annotto i5ay, can also be seen shinin<^ - -en the peaks. The ascent occupied .x hours, and uhn another hour had been spenr in searching for shells --J '-sect, .t u-as tnne to take shelter for the night in a i-use under the bro. of the mountains. Here L tem^ porature was delightfully cold, and the travellers were ev->n k^lad to roll blankets around them in their beds Xe^t "'ornmg they gazed again on the magnificence of the unr.valled prospect at their feet, but soon after sunrise it >vas necessary to start for Spanish Town. He thus describes the drive back in his journal (March , i ,846; - "Wc returned by a different route, skirting the sum- • m.ts of the Liguanea Mountains, and passing through smiling plantations, in order to descend ^nto the " romantic parish of St. Thomas in the Vale. After a •'^vh.le, we crossed and recrossed, many times the ■'^vnd.ng Rio d-Oro, and at length enterc. the ma^-nifi- •■cent gorge called the l^og \wUk M.e. Ooaua-z, a sluice) "through which runs the Cobre, formed by the union of "the Negro and the D'Oro. The road lay for four " miles through tliis deep gorge, by the side of tlie river "and afforded at every turn fresh scenes of surpassinn^ "w.ldness, grandeur, and beauty. The rock often rose " to a great height on each side, leaving only room for "the lushmg stream which seemed to have cleft its "course, and (!,e narrow pathway at its side. Sr.ne- " times, across the river, the side of tlie ravine receded "ni the form nf a very steep but sloping mountain euveieu with a forest of large timber, and so cl.Mr of '• underwood, that the eye could peer far up mto Us : i ; it] I C tfi l-j- i'.. il , ■ 1 ^ If n Nil 200 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HEXRY COSSE. r i ! "gloomy recesses. Here and there the course of the " river wr.: dammed up by islets; some of them mere " masses of dark rock, others adorned with the elegant " waving plumes of the graceful bamboo. Tiut the most "remarkable object was the immense rock called "Gibraltar, which rises on the opposite bank of the " river, from the water's edge, absolutely perpendli-ular, " to the height of five or si.v hundred feet ; a broad mass "of limestone, twice as high as St. Paul's." At nightfall the .same day, their carriage 'rove into the streets of Spanish Town. Two or three days later, the friends began a revised list of the birds of Jamaica, the discoveries of each being able to fill up gaps in the exnc- r-ence of the other ; and this was the occupation of each successive evening. On the 17th they finished their list, making out i,S4 species of birds more or less clearly. Sam was all chis time activel}- engaged on daily excursions, usually alone, and he rarely failed to bring home at night at Last one interesting rarity. The next day the friends betook themselves to K'-.igston, and in the rooms of the Jamaica Society carefully compared their list of birds witii that in Robinson's manuscripts. It should here be ex- plained that Dr. Anthony Robinson, a surgeon practising in Jamaica in tlic middle of the eighteenth century, had lelt bclhnd him a . .y valuable mass of infunn.ition on the zoology and botany uf the island, which had been preserved, in five folio volumes, in the archives of the Jamaica Society in Kingston. " The specific descriptions, admeasurements, and details of colouring," Philip Gossc' wrote in reference to these collections, "are executed with an elab(Hate accuracy worthy of a period of science far in advance vf that in which Robinson lived, and accom- panying the manuscripts are several vohn.ics of carefMl'v executed dra wmgs. mostly coloured." On "March • ji 7AMAICA. ^, Hiilip Gossc. accompanied by the ever-faithful San, took- leave of his hospitable friend, and started fro,,,' I^'ncTston in the coasting steamer Tkc Wave. An easterly breeze from Port Royal carried them roughly but su-iftly back to Bluenelds, the captain making k specal exception in the naturalist's favour by droppin.^ the tu-o passengers at Biuefields, instead of carrying the,i^ on to Savannah-le-Mar. No one had eve. enjoyed this Prnileg before, and the wanderers were u-elcomed with as much bewilderment as delight. They had been exactly three weeks away from home, three weeks wh.ch formed a dehghtful oasis of intellectual cxatement in Philip fosses monctonous existence. He had left Biuefields d..sp.r.ted and poorly; he returned in buoyant health and spirits. H. once more fell into the regular and monotonous life ot the collector, riding out to shoot every day. .endin-^ ^^am. anj other lads whom he had trained, into the fores'^ 'o' plants and insects, and .pending his evenings in pre- ^^ar.ng his captives for the transit to England. On J;"'-^ '>\ 1S46, he rather suddenly determined to brin- k's stay at J^luefields to a close, and sent to the bav to ^n.?age a passage for himself and Sam on board a sloop or '^>pv-. which was just starting fV. Kingston. His parting ^^•'f'^ the kind and faithful Colemans was a pathclic one, and when he set foot on the vessel, he turned "to gaze fnr tlic last time at a place wl.ere I have spent so many pleasant months." The voyage occupied seven dreary ^iays mitigated by a day agreeably spent on shore, at i.lack R,v,.r, with .n,ne friends. He had the pleasant consciousness, uhile knocking al.out under Pecho l^luff that the English packet, which he had hoped to catch, m«^t' be then jusi leaving Kingston. On the „ning of the last day (June 26) he had a curious and veiv en^barrasv,,.. TffI ' I 1 f.' i mtt 1 ^H ,/,» 1 :^i ■ i IHj I . 202 THF LIFE OF PHI LIT IIE.XRY GOSSE. 'I m I! it' r 5 < 11 it c\i)cricncc. While lying in the berth of the h'ttle close cabin, he was awakened b\- a severe twinge in the side of his nock ; on putting his hand to the place, he took hold of some object which was so firmly fastened to the flesh that it required a sharp tug to make it let go. By the din; light of the cabin-lamp he discovered that he had caught, fortunately by the tail, a large scorpion. The pain was sharp, but perhaps not greater than that of a wasp-sting ; the wound swelled rapidly, but, being rubbed with rum by the old skipper, speedily healed, "One of the most curious of the results was a numbness of some of the nerves of the tongue, perceptible in the papillce of the surface, which felt as if dead." They entered Kingston Harbour that night, and finding that, as he anticipated, he had missed the packet, Philip Gosse took lodgings in the town, not altogether displeased to be forced to see something more of thr capital of Jamaica. Next day he engaged a berth or. board tlie steamer Avon, which was to sail on July 9. He mcl Riv-hard Hill, by a fortunate accident, that same afternoon, and reccivetl from him the welcome news that the Jamaica Society had resolved to entrust him with the Anthony Robinson manuscripts to take with him. to Europe. Ifc went up then and there to the society's rooms, and secured these valuable papers. After a fiMtnight, divided between Spanish Town and Kingston, and much spoiled by the distress of an ulcerated leg, nc at length said fare- well to his friends and to Jamaica, Richard Hill waving adieu to him from the quay at Kingston, and another friend. Dr. Fairbank, kindly accompanying him, for com- pany's sake, so far as Port R(,yal. His la>t glimpse of Jamaica was the twinkling of the lighthouse on Point Morant. Next day, at daybreak, the mountams of Hayti were visible, and "during the whole day we ran along the JAMAICA. 203 ,^-c.t promontory of Tiburon, the ancient province of Xavagna, once the happy do..ai.. of the beautiful and unfortunate Princess Anacaona." On the followin,^ morn- ■ng. when he eame on dec), the Avon uas puttin, off n.ails n he land-locked harbour of Jacmei, in Hayti. " There had been rah. in th ni.ht, and the shaggy hill-tops were parfally robed ,n fragnnenrs of cloud, undefined and changn,,, wh.ch contrasted finely with the dark surface of He forest. Inland the n^ountains in the morning sun looked nn.tmg; and I noticed that they displayed the same s.ngular resemblance to crumpled paper, as 'those in tne eastern i^art of Jamaica." The ./r.. stramed acro.ss to Puerto Rico, and ran all through the ,3th, along the northern shore of that isllnd e land th.kly strewn with cultivated estates, spotted -■th clumps of trees, and presenting a very beautiful appearance, contrasting in this respect with both Jamaica and Haj-t., whose forest coasts display little trace of culti- vation, and look rude and uninviting." Soon after noon ^I'e Aloro, or fortification which protects the town of San Juan was in sight, like a white wall projecting into the s^a and four nours later the steamer moored ander it "The town, walled and strongly fortified, reminded me w,th us turret-like houses, and little balconies to ^^ each wmdow, of engravings of Spanish cities ; and |vhen Iwent ashore and wandered through the streets, ^_ lad.es m black mantillas, opening and shutting their fans as they walked, solemn priests in black robes and _ shovel hats, the children, the men, the/.W.^. (tavern- ^ everythn^g had such a novel character as I had r^ "r " before seen. For, in all my travels. I have neve ore set foot m any other country than such ... .r. ;r.u. ■ b.ted by the Anglo-Saxon race. After partaking of a httle nicety in a /.Wl mien, \-ery often, when the person who approached luin wondered whether those oracular lips woul.l fulmii ite the oracle himself was onl.v specul.itiiu: how soon he could flee away mto his .study and be at rest. The air of ■seventy was increased b.v the habit of brushing his strai-ht black ha,r tightly away from the forehead; it was occa- sionally removed by a cloud of immeasurable tenderness passing across the great brown lustrous orbs of h,s eyes. His smile was rare, but when it came it was ex-piisite/ That his standard, both for himself and oth-rs, was higli, and that his manner towards an offender could be form, - dable, it would be easy to pn.ve. .\t this juncture <,ne stnkmg example m.-y suffice. One of tlu- difficulties of the Moravian misMoa at Hluefields had been liu: unaltcr- al'I'- prejudice ag liusi tieatiii;; the negroes as exact e.iual. with white mm and wo.neu. It was especially hard to overcome the feeling of .shame an,I repulsion with which West Indian srKi(-t\- regarded the idea of mixe.l marriages between uh.ies and blacks. To the iMoravians. li"w.ver, It appeared that no difference siiould be made wlun the Church had received members of the two races A venr remarkable accidental portrait of my father, as he I.H.ko,I when he was abou. sixty year, of n«o. evM, i„ the nu.seum a. ilrus,ds. l-hHip (icsse m-u U have .at or the nun. holding a critnson missal, who kneeU in he \2 h.in.l wmK of the triptych, l^y Ikmard van (»r!.y (N. ... i,. ...^ r -v . except that .he „o.e i. .00 large an,, rtat. The icsaJ:. ^ , ^ he g'en ) 1 form of the face, and the colour of the sk.n arc mar-^llously identi^af II 'i 3o8 THE LIFE OF miLIP IlEXRY GOSSE. to a like communion, and a certain person, apparently to gain prestige with the body, had expressed himself willing to marry a converted negro girl, a..' h'id gone through the ceremony of betrothal at l^luefields. But on his returning to England no more had been heard of hin; and Philip Gosse was commissioned to remind him of his promise. He did so immediately on his own arrival in London, .'nd received a lli})pant reply. To this he returned the follow- ing answer : — " I have received your note of yesterday. I cannot "say that it would give me any pleasure to see you, " knowing as I do your behaviour to Sister Stevens. I " desire to\\ o in a humiliating sense of my own failure, "yet in faithfulness I must say that the w'l.ule affair, "the breaking of a solemn engagement, the coolness "with which you could crush a sister's happiness, and " above all tlic insincerity, I had almosc said the duplicitv, " whicii has markeil your whole course in it, renders any " c- — :>-conscieneeai.„n.it.„.;::n.r„,:ir::: tl.an,o„rpa.se„tc„,„|„aeene>.; to ilin, Heave >.ou "iN-emaininer " Vour.s in much sorrow, "P- H. Gos.sF." The conditi,,n. under which IMuIip Gos.se had ,ro„e out ^^x:,tnrx-r:;::^:o;:;::;--r'T "MvoKARSn, "^*^'^^-. Augusts. ,846. "V.Mn- favour of the ,oth of April, acknow I-l..n,therece,ptof..,,, ,,.„.;^,„J,„^;,.;2 ^^-.cnved. due course, in Ma, , ..pp., an.ut ot of spccunens. and that vessel. I understand has -n here some little tnne. That I d,d not write bv her, g.vmg yea an account .,f the consign ^ "o^ving tt, (ht f.,t t!,.. I i I ^""-^'KHmcnt, wa.s .. f ,• ^^ ' l»li.\r,i myself on the noii.f of.sa,ln« , or l.:n,lan,, ,,,„„-„ ,Kr : ,0,^ f, lie ' p ■ H :i 2IO THE LI IE OF riiii.ir itexry cosse. "and am it w only ju.t arrived by the Clyde. I have "taken some pains to ascertain the botanical names of " the woods, but liave not succeeded in ail cases. What- "cvir little persiiiial trouble I have been at in procuring " these woods, I bey- you to consider has been undertaken ''con amor:. It is but a very small return for the kind- " ncss you exhibited towards me in so very promptly " advancing; me aid when I was rather short of casli. "Any allusion to i)ecui)iary remuneration, direct or " indirect, for this, will only Ljrieve my feelings, so that " ytni will [)erinit me gratefully to decline it. The "expenses actually incurred I have no objection to )-our "refunding, though it will be pleasing to mc if you will "accept this also. Hut a^ \ou might find this disagree- " able, I enclose a little note of the cxjienses incurred in ■' pn)curing aiul shi[)i)ing the specimens. .Should you "have an o[)portunity of seeing Mr. John A. liankey, " I beg that you will iireseiit ni)- compliments to him, "with cordi.il t.ianks tor his politeness in allowing my "specinv :s of natural h:4ory to p;...;, freight free." i It appears fiom this letter, and fiom other documents, that, eminently successful as the Jamaica trip had been, it h,ul not leil to an_\- detuiitc addition to Gos.sc's means of income. IK natl su[)ported himself with iniUpeiulencc in the Vest Indies, and he had brought back, in addition to his sales, a collection of miscellaneous objects for wiiicii he slowly founil purchasers ; but he had no security for the future. The Hritish Museum proposed anotlicr excursion, this time to the Azores, .uui he made some prelirninaries towards starting in the winter of 184G, bought a Portu- guese grammar, learned the mode of arriving at I'.iya! from Madeira, and beg.m a list of Azorean desiderata. I'ut tiie scheme fcl! fluough, mainly because an abundance i-MI LITERARY nORK IX Loxdox 211 of literary work iinmediar^ly came fn I,; ■ nu-sed to be quite as luerative a ' V . "'^'' '"^ P™" '"uch less laboriou r ''''"' "'"""'°" •'-' moreover to .^T , r ' ""' "''^' P^''f^^^'>' ^"-^'"-S -^coverir:^:::".Jn^f;:.;:;^^^ oneof rh . thcfoliow.n- March. This vv.s i.,li„., „ ,T ""^ "' ^"miiosiiion by com- ■t ha. been u-ell reviewed in Germanv" tL J oi The Bir.U nf '^ rinanj I he publication i ne inras of Jamaica laised riiilii. C -"-- ■•■"- -^.«c'::r:;;:;:~ this o,,portmnty ..f n.akin.- hi. nerson;,! .. ■ ■^ ^"-'501131 acquaintance -m.J gave cxprcssi.m to their idmintinn ''*"ce. and WW , ,. "imiration, were prom nent Si- --rd, of science, .,„u U c.„u,ue. .„ pi L J cl : ! '"'r -de., since, wl,i,e iu sc,c„,.nc Ucf,„',.„„s "rlT;" ."J 1 I(S 1 M ij I 1 HI '*' 1 ii ! ^S? IMM ill ^f i 1 f f^^l 21. IHE LIFE OF ririLir IIEXRY GOSSE. i| rl l| II X W and detailed, no observation of habits and no characteristic anccdotc was omitted to fill up the portrait of each successive bird. The only complaint which was made by the reviewers was the entire lack of illustrations, the absence of which was presently explained and removed, as we .shall see in due course. On the title-pa_i;c of TItc Birds of Jainaica the words "assisted by Richard Hill, Ivsq., of Spanish Town," succeeded the name of the author, althoui;h L^^reatly a^Minst that modest gentleman's wish, and the publication was delayed by the fact that every sheet was sent out to Spanish Town to be read in pnjof by Mr. Hill. riir Birds of JamiUdi once launched, Philip (josse immediately be.;an, in a (]uiet way, that labour in the popularization of science which was ultimately to form so lart^^e a proportion of his life's work. Once more the S.P.C.K. sugt^ested to him that a series of si.iall volumes, stiictl)' accui ite from a scientific point of view, but giving zoological facts in a form easily to be comprehended by the public, wouUl be of great service to the general rcailer. Nothing of the kind existed, and he gladly undertook to open such a series. He began the Maiiniudia in June, 1 Sj7, and it was ]niblishcd a )-car later, having occupied but a small part of those months. It was copi(nisly illu,- tratcd with woodcuts designed by the author and by J. W. \\ li)-nip(,'r. in 1 iu' spring of iS.jj, while stoo])ing to dig ii]) gl.idiolus bulbs fnini the grass-jilot of his friend, Mr. William I'erger, my I itlur was ^uddenl)- conscious uf pain, apparently causeil by ,i strain ti> the liver, ami from tin's time forth, for fifteen years at least, he was more or less continuously sui)Ject to what v.'as supposed to be dyspepsia, often very acute in ih iracter, and causing great depression of spirits. The fact that lie w.is constantly reatling and wrilinp, .inscure word f,,r 1 )iL:citrv and Miiloveh- ieixis first L^^ther.■d l^tiniiin- and when i'hilip Gossi lound .1 d room m JIacknev, tins I t.iM, socialism, with all it t"pian dream of a Christ ■s Minj)lH ity, HdivtHl a iid earnesi are ian ■ith. ll % '1 1 ii m^ ! r I 2t4 T//-/- LIFE OF nil LIP IlEXRY GOSrE. 1 ' t II m was one at which those who knew human nature better might smile, but which was neither ignoble nor unattractive. These early Brethren had at least one strong point. The absence from their ritual of any other book threw them upon the study of the Bit le, and the fact that most of the founders of the sect were educated and, perhaps it may be added, somewhat eccentrically educated men, made their exposition of the Scripture deep, ingenious, and unconventional. One result of these new religious ties was the form Uion of fresh scruples with regard to any action of a worldly kind. The Brethren held that it was the duty of the Christian to leave all revenge to God, to bow to injury and insult, and, above all, on no occasion to use any form of word.': stronger than affirmation. In the autumn oi 1S47, while Philip Gosse was looking into the window of a print shop, at the corner of Wellington Street, Strand, a boy picked his pocket of a silk handkerchief. A police- man saw the thief, caught him, and dragged him to Bow- Street, where the victim of the theft was asked to prose- cute ; " but I," says my father in a letter recording the incident, " from Brethren's notions of grace, refused, and they would not restore mc the handkerchief." Soon after- wards, while his mother, he, and the servant-maid were all out at meeting one Sunday morning, the house was broken open and robbed. A watch, some miniatures, and other valuables were stolen. The po'^cc came to make inquiries, but, for conscience' sake, the owner refused to take any steps in pursuit. I shoukl add tli.it the extreme punctilio of w hich these trilling occurrences are examples was after- wards modified ; but my father always retained a great repugnance to the pro.sccution of individu;'.! criminals, Amon'j those who met, with this austere simplicity, at LITERARY WORK IN LOXDON. 2i: the mcctmg-room at Hackney, was a lady of American parentage, equally remarkable for her outward charms and her mward accomplishments. Of this lady, destined to take so large a part in the life of PhiUn Gosse, her only son may be permitted to give at this point a more particular account. Although Miss Emily Bowes was born m luigland, on :;ovember lo, iSo6, both her father Wilham Bowes, and her mother, Hannah Troutbeck werj Bostomans of pure Massachusetts descent. Her people had taken the English side in 1775. When "th-^ Boston teapot bubbled," her father-who had been duly baptized as befitt.^d a good Bostonian, by Dr. Samuel Cooper at Brattle Street meeting-house-was hurried away by 'his parents whose nerves the "tea-party" had shaken, ,0 North Vales, where the family settled in the neighbour- hood of Snowdon. But William Bowes, with his undiluted Massachusetts blood, had been forced to be a loyalist in •am, for, once grown to man's estate, to Boston he went oack for a wife, and secured a x\ew Englander as true as himself in Hannah, daughter of the Rev. John Troutbeck formerly King's Chaplain in Boston, U.S.A. Mrs Bowes was born in 1768, clo.^e to Governor Winthrop's house in South Street, Boston. She lived to be eightv-three, and the writer of these lines has been seated in her arms. I„ Dr. O. W. Holmes's words — "She had heard the muskets' rattle ..fthe Apnl running l.attle ■ I.nrd I'er.ys hunted solcliers, she could see their red coats still,'' and, when he thinks of her, h-.- grandson thrills with 1 divided patriotism. Through her ladier. Miss l^owes was directly descended h-um one of the most distinguished families of Neu i-ngland. Her greaf-fjrruidfath.'.T Xir!-...!.- i> .- iJoston, born in ,706. graduate of Harvard, and for'iucniy years minister of Xcw Bedford, married Lucy Hancock, i! I 2l6 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HEA'RY GOSSE. If m Mil m h aunt of the famous Governor John Hancock, whose sic^na- ture stands so h'v^ and bold on the Declaration o*" American Independence. Succcedinij Bowcses had iiit.rmarried into good Massachusetts families— Whitneys and Stoildards and Remingtons— and iiad thus preserved to an unusual extent the purity of their local strain. Miss Eniil>- ]k)\ves had suffered from severe vicissitudes of fortune. Her infancy, and that of her two youn_;cr brotliers, hnd been spent in moderate circumstances ; but her father, who had a sj^'endic; capacity for the dispersion of wealth, had meanwhile inherited a large property and spent it, nearly to the last penny. Almost the only advantages which had accrued to his daughter from the few years of their opulence, were comprised in the very complete and extensive education which Mr. Ho\ es, proud of lier intellectual gifts, had provided her. She was not only taught all that girls at that time were supposed capable of learning, but, at her own desire, excellent tutors had been engaged to ground her in Latin, in Greek, and even in tiv,jrcw. She had great force of chararter and rapidity of action. When the crash came, her brothers were at that critical age when to p'M-suc education a little further is the only means by which what has been learned can be made of an\' service in the future. ICmily Bowes untlertook the training of the boys, and when the time came for the eldest to go to college, she devoted the inter , St of her own small capital to his maintenance there, and went out as a governess that she miglit add to that scanty sum. A governess she remained until her brothers — excellent young men, but with none of her force of mind — were started in life, and then, with deep thankful- ness, she retired from work to the irksomeness of which '^I'e p''c'cr''e'l t'v nic--* ^■>ued ; and in September he was alreaily beL;innin,L,\ for another firm of publishers, his Popular I)n'/t iliuslraliuus we.e of a verj- rcugli character. I'rom Tottenham, on Noveinlur 22, 1848, he brou^'ht home his bride to the little house in Trafalgar Terrace without so much as a single day's honeymoon. Hi- immediately took up again the suspended task of '1 lu ffhto.ry ^/////'/^T'T, which, however, occupied him for many more months. The next year was one of extreme scclu- LITF.KARY IVOR A' IN LOXDOX. 321 s.orr To Ph,l,p Gossc, secure of the sympathetic presence of h.s UMfe. tliere was now no need of entertainment auay from home ; but to the new wife the strain of the chan-e was not a small one. Kmily Bowes had been of an en?i- nently modern tcn.peramcnt-lively, sociable, talkative accustomed to see movin- around her a cloud of female' friends. She soo„ found that visitors were not welcome to l^cr husband, that fresh faces disturbed his ideas and awakened nis shyness. His ideal of life was to exist in an even temperature of d.nnestic solitude, absorbed in intel- lectual work, buried in silence. Vor hours and hours Airs Ph.hp had no one to speak to but the servant-maid or her formuiable mother-in-law, wI,o, po.ssessin,. no intellectual resources herself looked with suspicion on those who did Km.ly (.os.c's only refu.^^e was in her husbands stud\- vvh.ch no oru- but herself nn.ht enter, and n here she ^vould s„ for hours and hours, fretted by the unwonted rcstnnnt, n, a silence broken only by the regular ulnsper o the pen on the paper or of the pencil on the stone She possesse.1 ^reat command over her H^elin^s, an.l she was very mtelh^ent and .sensible |5,f„„, ,,„;„ ,,,^, ,^^^, tlic approach of „th.,- , ares and bus„-r interestr'to occupv '^^•'■- '•'" '"'■ ""• "^nc bcin^r tlu- stram was verv real the ■sudden cloistered seclusion fr om the oprn world very trymfx and distressing. She fdl ha, k upon iu-r studies "f be^" -'^ -n elegant l.alian hand, u, the bright bh,e •■'Y''^ '';;•■;■■-;'■/;' ■'".-tate an huerleaved copy of the ''^■'•-, ■■''''■-^ 1-1. MHiexi.sts to testify to her ind ^'" I-ebruary ,. ,,S4,>. the /.V/-,A, i„ ,h, s !> , K series was published; and on the .;th .,| that ,„,„„!, ti,.. ,,.o ,' began the volume called RrrnUs. I,, this s,;,ne I^bruarv the Pornla. nn^sk OnntUology ua, p.d.hshed. an.l 'on May o !>l„|,p Gosse began to u.ue ins Text-Hook of Zoolosy for Scho V. The composition of this volun.c 'I 11 11 Mi fi I ii j*:illi 222 THE LIFE OF Ell II. IP IlESkV UOSSE. not published until 1S51. led to a very important crisis in his intellectual career. He had hitherto t.iken but a super- ficial interest in the lower forms of life. In order to write the first chapters of his T,xt-Book\ he f)und himself obliged to study what was known of tin se forms, and the fiscina- tion of invertebrate, and particularly of microscopic natural history, suddenly took hold of him. lie determined to study these forms at first hand. ICarly in June he bought a microscope, and this purchase revolution'.zed his whole life. lie instantly threw himself with that fiery ener"-y which eharaeteri/ed him, into the literature of ihc subject, and particularly into Friteliard's still classical History of the I):fnsoria. On June 11, 1S49, he made his first independent exami- nation of a rotifW under the microsco[)c, and the date may br ut.rth notin- as that of the opening of one of tlie most important of all the branches of his labours. The extreme ardour with which he took up subjects sometin-es wore itself out rather rai)i(IIy. lie grew tired of birds; after- wanls he grew tind of his o.icc-beloved sea-anemones. Hut in the rotifos, the exciuisitc little wheel-animalcules, whose history he did so much to elucidate -in these he never lost his zest, and they danced inuler his microscope ulieii he put his faded eye to the tube for the last time in ISSS. ,\ we, 1; after jiuie II, he was alread\- deep in observation of Stiplitvioccros, that strange and beautiful creature, whose "small pear-.shaped bod\-, with ri( h -rccn and brown hues glowing beneath a glistening surface, is lightly perched on a tapering stalk, and crowned with a diadem of the daintu-.st plumes ; while the whole is set in a cloud. •,! c.ystal vase of quaint shape and delicate texture." He was seized with a determination to collect on a large scale. l->om a wholesale glass factory in Shored itch he bought an army of small clear phials, and ro.sc at three LITERARY WORK LV LOXDO.V. 223 a.m. next i.K.rnfn- walkin- to the Ilampstcad Ponds for dirty water which mi-ht prove to contain sparks of hTc Icapinnr, twinklin-, and kickin- under the microscope. Almost i.nmediatcly he bc-m to correspond with the leaders of microscopic science at that time, with John Qiickett and with I5owcrbank, ncitlicr of wh< -, however, had given any special attention to the Roti/era. He pre- sently fixed in his crarden a set of stagnant open pans or reservoirs for infusoria, which, from the prevalence of cholera at the time, were looked upon with great suspic^,n by the n< ighbours. In the midst of all this, and during the very thrilling examination of three separate stagnations of hempseed, poppy seed, and hollyhock seed, his wife pre- sented him with a child, a helpless and unwelcome appari- tion, whose arrival is marked in the parental diarv in the following manner :^-"Iv delivered of a son. Received green swallow from Jamaica." Two ephemeral vitalities >nages. The absorbing dev.nion to the microscope, which now began to be the dominant passion of Philip Cosse's life was distinctly unf.vourable to the prosecution .,f p,,yin- w-rk !),Min.; the second half of i.S.,., hr pro,!,„ed com"^ P"Mt,volv Ihtlr ,,f a marketab!.- character. altl,o,„d, at no "-nr ol |,H life was he engaged more closelv or on labour which demand, -d more intellectual force. P>ut 'a hat he was doing was uuied with full appreciation in the scientific world, and he was regarded with greater .serioi.snes.s than ever before. ()„ Xovcmber .4. upon Howerbank's pro- po.s,t.on. he was elected a men.b. , ,,( the Micro.scopiral bociety. at whose .neetlngs he forthwith beca ne a re-ular iii I :ii l !l| 224 THE LIFE CF nni.ip miXRy gussf. I ! attendant. This was a much-nccdccl refreshment and stimulus in his monotonous hfc. He was, meanwhile, making very rapid pro-rcss in his investigation of thJ Roiifcra, a class at that time, and for many years after- wards, but little understood or studied. In 1X49 the one publishetl authority on the.se creatures, the book which— as Hudson and Gosse have put it in their great monograph —"swallowed up, as it were, the very memory of its pre- decessors," was the Die fnfnsioHsthinchcn pubhMied at Leipsic by Ehrenberg, in i.S,3.S. I'jiihp (ios.se found it impossible to i)roceed without knowing what l<:hrenberg had said, but unfortunately the Prussian savant wrote only in German, a language with which the English naturalist was not acquainted. I-:mil\- Gosse, however, knew German enough, and during the winter of 1.S49-50 he borrowed the precious volume from the couiuil of the Micro.scopical Society, and they turned I-.hrcnberg into English between them, Gossc's feverish anxiety to know wh.it llhrenberg was saying acting on his language-sense, for the moment^ like a .sort «)f clairvoyance. It was long his intention to publish this translation of ]':hrenberg, which his wife and he soon completed, with illustrative notes and additions of his own, i,ut he did not find any opportunit)- ^{ doing this, and the version remains iiK^dited. It becomes necessarj-, however, to write when " A life your .irnn unfold Whose crying is a cry for gold," and with the opening of 1X50 Philip Gosse .so arra.igcd his days th.il the book-making should occupy the mornings, and the .iltemoons ;ind evenings only be -iv. n to the microscope. The ilnndbook of Zoology was finished on February 4, and the very next day Sacred Streams, a volume describing liie n,itm-,ii history and the antiquities LITERARY IVORK IN LONDON. ^j of the rivers mentioned in the B.ble, was begun This was^ completed early in August, and was instantly suc- ceeded, without a day's interval, by the volume called Fishes, ,n the S.P.C.K. series. The last three months of the year were occupied in the composition of a work far more miportant than all these, A NatnraUsfs Sojourn in Jamaica, which was a record of his stay in that island ma.nly printed from the copious manuscript journal which he had preserved. Hitherto lie had not known what it \vas, smce his fint success, to have a book rejected ; but this, which is certainly in the first rank among liis original volumes, was returned to him by Mr. John Murray,"only to be accepted, to their ultimate advantage, by Messrs. Longman.s. The second year of married life was much more com- fortable than the fi-st had been. Mrs. Gosse was occupied by the care of her child, and her husband was neither so self-contained nor so isolated from out.- symj^athies as he had been. In .850 he was elected an Associate -f the L,nn.x^an Society, and he greatly enjoyed the 'neetmgs of this, as of the Micn.-copical Society. Jle was taken nut of hin,self by being more and more sou-^ht as an authority on zoological matters, and the life Of '■remitical seclusion which he ha.l chosen to adopt was t'roken in upon by a variety of human interests The circumstances of the pai ureover, were consideral,ly less straitened. His books were n.,t ill paid for. and they had become so numerous that tin little sums mounted up Tn July, moreover, Mr. and Mrs. (.,.sse were called duu „ le. Leamingtcm to th- d, ath-bed of ;.n ;n,nt w'-^ 'rO "- „, -, legacy. This was trilhng in amount, but the interest of .t was enough to form a pleasant increase f. an income "o sma!! as th iCir ■-> luui ueen. now relaxed, for the first ti Tile pinch ol j)overty was "ic in I'hilip Go.sse's life. 336 THE LIFE OF FHILIP HEKKY GOSSE. \V m although industry and thrift were still necessary to insure anything like comfort. A labour which belongs to the jcar 1850, and which must not be left unrecorded in the chronicle of his career, was his investigations into the genus of Rotifcra called by Ehrenbcrg Notommata. The German savant had left Notonimata in an unwieldy and heterogenous condition ; Philip Gossc now directed his particular attention to it, and in a succession of papers, read before his two societies, he reduced it to well-defined proportions. These, and his monograph, in the Ainiah and Magazine of Natural History, on the new genus Asplanchna, which he dis- covered in 1S50 in the Serpentine, attracted a great deal of attention from specialists, and opened up a long series of similar contributions to exact knowledge. During the latter part of the autumn he was once again in daily attendance at the Natural History Departments of the British Museum. On October 10 he was fortunate enough to be leaving the central hall at the very moment when the winged bull from Nineveli was being brought in. Thirty years later my father met, for the first time, with Dante Gabriel Rossetti's striking poem. The Burden of Nineveli, recording the same experience : — " Sighing, I turned at last :o win Once more the London tint and din: And as I made the swing-dcxjr spin And issued, they were hoisting in A uingL-d beast from Nineveh." It was in.jrcsting. and it greatly interested I'liilip Gossc to think, th.it in the little ciowd that watched the bull-god enter his last tcmpK-, he hati unonsciously stood shoulder to shoulder witii the brilliant young poet, those two perhaps alone among the spectators, sharing tlie acute sense of mystery and wonder at the apparition ■ills LITERARY WORK IN LONDON. 227 In Novemb^- much roarUnrr r^r t ,„ • , r • reading of Jamaica notes caused a a her sudden!,- ,„ a positive design ,0 visit the Vir,.i„ Islands and 1 ortugas. B„t onee more the schen,e cancel" noh,n,, „,, Gosses heait, p.=c,„di„, .he possi^^; "r her sharing so pa„„ul a romantie enterprise. Phil.p Gosse was one of those people who find it execedingly difficult to speak- o what lies closest ,0 their hearts, and' ,e some ils preferred .0 convey his intentions in writing, even to ho cccas,o„ by my father ,0 my mother, announcing to her hs final de.ermn,atio„ not to start for the Ues. Indies ; hi letter bemg, apparently, handed to her in the house In .t ho begs her not to refer to the subject in conversation nor to make the slightest efl-or. to change his plans, T ' er .s wor.,ed in tern,s of the most .levoted affection, and lut he wrote „ at all is a proof „f the almost impassioned lofSmg which had seized him to revisit those „ i ,out archtpelagos. ,f ^,rs. Gosse had been strong cnou^ : ear he journey, she co.dd not have left her mother who >as dy,„g, and who passed away on January ,4. ,,.,, Mr Bowes had preceded his wife by sf. months; he d,cd m his eightieth year, on June 10. t.Sjo The year ,«;, w.as notable for the publication „f no .«e th.a„ four of Philip Gosse's works. ,„ the month of larch ,s rr..,,.„, ,^ ^,„„^,^, ^-,,, ^^_^^_,_,^^. ^^^ lyvrs ..J ,1., mi.,.: were issued. In l.'ebruary he LL /"... the fourth .,l„„e of his series of mamul.: f » o«y for the .S.P.C.K., and this was publishe.l ,„ October of the same year Moreo,er, „i, „c,„bcr ,- -■'Pl-ircd ., Na,ura,M. S.y..„n, ,„ >-,„„„„„, a productio'n' - .- greater u.punancc li..m any of these, a handsome volume adorned u,il, litho^jraphic plates desij^ned and m Jfl Ifii jiH ■ J: ■ aaS THE r.lFE OF nriLIP HENRY GOSSE. • ft iJ i ( 14 coloured by the author. In the preface to this work, Phih'p Gosse took up a position which was new to the world of zoologists. " Natural history," he boldly declared, " is far too much a science of dead things ; a mrro/oi^y. It is mainly conversant with dry skins, furred or feathered, blackened, shrivelled, and hay-stufifed ; with objects, some admirably beautiful, some hideousl)- ugly, impaled on pins, and arranged in rows in cork drawers ; with uncouth forms, disgusting to sight and smell, bleached and shrunken, suspended by threads and immersed in spirit (in defiance of the aphorism, that 'he who is born to be hanged will never be drowned ') in glass bottles. These distorted things arc described ; their scales, plates, feathers counted ; their forms copied, all shrivelled and stiffened as they are ; . . . their limbs, members, and organs measured, and the results recordeil in thousa.idths of an inch ; two names are given to every one ; the whole is enveloped in a mystic cloud of Grajco-Latino-English phraseology (often barbaric enough) ; and this is natural history ! " The tradition thus scornfulh^ condemned was that which it was the writer's peculiar function to break through. And he was not, like so many reformers, ready to tear down without having an\- fresh materials or the design for a new edifice. This is how, in the elegant jMcface to the iXatniiii'ist's Sojiuint, he describes the science of zoology as he fain would see it eonducteil : — "That alone is worthy to be called natural history "which investigates and records the condition of living "things, of things in a state of nature; if animals, of "living animals: — which tells of their 'sayings and "doings,' tiieir varied notes and utterances, songs and "cries; their actions in ease, and under the pressure of "circumstances; their affections and passions towards "their young, towards each other, towards other animals. LITERARY WORK IN LONDON. ^^9 " towards man ; their various arts and devices fo nmtect "their progeny, to procure food, to escape from thdr "enemies, to defend themselves from attacks; their "ingenious resources for concealment; their stratagems 'I to overcome their victims ; their modes of bringing '' f 1, of feeding, and of training their offspring ; the "rcitions of their structure to their wants and habits ; "the countries in which they dwell; their connection' "with the inanimate world around them, mountain or " plain, forest or field, barren heath or bushy dell, open "savannah or wild hidden glen, river, lake or sea --this "would be indeed coo/,- case to the momentary limit of the ever-advancing tide of the scientific knowledge of the age. There remain the threi, Jamaica volumes, and if these alone had been published during these five years, it may be that their author's fame would have been quite as flourishing as it was. These were genuine contributions, not only to zoological knowledge, but to the new methods of natural history, the methods wliich their author now so openl>- defendcd. Then, of a less public character, there were those technical monographs read at the Proceedings of the Royal, and printed by the Linnrcan and Microscopical Societies, in which the new naturalist showed himself just as competent and as accurate in measuring, defining, and opying cabinet specimens as had been any of the old closet savants whose exclusivencss he deprecated. On all sides, the author of so mt^ny and so incongruou.- writings, he had widened the field of his experience, and he was now rapidly advancing along the pathway to dis- tinction. A sudden event changed the entire current of his being. The life he had led for these last five years had been cloistered and uniform in the extreme. Nothing could ex- ceed the monotony of his daily existence. As he became better known, social opoortunities had not been lacking ; invitations had rc;icbc'l liim "liirh h.-\:\ t!i.'--.- K-.--- -.,..,< j ' * ' '-•''-J "^s,4. *i^-LepieCi, might have led to others. But he accepted none of them. LITERARY WORK' IN LONDO.Y. 233 He was shy, he was poo.-, he grudged the time which such visits would consume ; but above all these conMderations there was the inherent dislike, constantly on the increase, of being compelled to adopt the artincial manner of genera' conversation. During these five years his social exercises were strictly limited to occasional visits, mainly in the daytime, to a feu scientific friends, such as Edu. Double- day and Adam White, and to ..uch a limited circle of religious comjjanions a:j straitly shared .wn peculiar convictions. He stayed at home at his study-table, writing. drawing, or observing, every week-day, and on Sunday he took no rest from his labours, for he usually preached on if not two, extempore sermons. The monotony of thi-, roMud of life was perhaps even more deleterious thn its severity. He gave himself no holidays of any description. With the exception of a {i,^^^ days in the summer of ICS50, spent at Leamington in att.:ndance upon the death-bed and' the funeral of a relative of Mrs. Gosse's, he was not out of the neighbourhood of London, even for one day, from August, 1846, until December, 1851. His most adven- turous excursions had extendc ■ ''•rther than Kew Gardens, Hampstead Heath, anc ■ of Do"s. Such a strain could not be Kepi up indefinitely ; the wonder was that his constitution sustained 11 so long.' In November he began to he the victim to persistent "head- ache, and early in December, after starting to go to the British Museum one morning, he became violently ill, and returned homo in a state of great depression and alarm. His brain .seemed to have suddenly collapsed, and he supposed, himself to be paralyzed ; bui; the doctors 'pro- nounced the symptoms to be those of acute nervous dyspepsia. They attributed the illness mainly to his seden- tary existence, and they insisted that he should leave town at once, and be much in the open air. He himself wrote : s--" if i'1 (,l i ' 1 f T. > ■*" 1 1 •fi fi^i l!l 1 If) 1 1 I ii !! ) : 234 T//-£ LIFE OF rHIUP HEyRY GUSSE. "Sitting by the parlour fire, doing nothing, is dreary work • and It is not niucl, mended by traversing tlie gravel walks of the garden in my great-c.at. There is nothing par- ticularly refreshing in the sight of frost-bitten creepers and chrysanthemums. To walk about the streets in the suburbs, or even in the City, is dreary too, when there is no object n. view, nothing to do, in fact, but spend the tnne. Hut, after -.11, the dreariness is in myself: I am tiiorough!)- unw(.Il. overworked, and everybody says there must be rustication." On December 15 his wif ■ and he started for five .'ays' ramble in the Isle of Wighi. hoping that this modest e.vcursion would meer the re.iuirements of the case. Hut the symptoms ,„ c(,ngestion of the b^ain returned. It w.is impossible for the patient to read or wr.te, .a-id to put his eye to the nu-cro.seope was a-ony Ihe 1,1st day o| tile year 1S5, saw the whole familv in\ed each (hstrcs.ingly ij] in his or her way. ( )KI Mrs. Gos.se had !Klo,e this g<,n, into separate I,.dging^ of her owi . it was .letermir.e ' that .he establishment at lla.knev should iHO'oken up, and tli.it the invalids .sh,,uld go .sc'athward -'"'1 seaward. On January _7, ,85.', they .sta ted for South Devon. i % ( =35 ) CJIAPTRR IX. WORK AT THE SEAhllOKE. I S5 2- I. S56. A '^ the |)i-c\stnt time, when the principle of the marine ^ - aciuarium has become a commonplace, it is ■liOiciilt to realize that fort>- years aL;o it iiad occurred (^ no one that it nuVJit he possible to preserve marine animals ami plants in a livint,' state luuier artitlcia! conditions. In iN;o, whei Phili[j (iosse was first en.'_;a,L;cd in the study ot' \.hcRo(i/,r.i, he Had noticed that by allo-vin,- acpiatic weeds, such as rallisin-ri,} and iii\iiop!:yllmii, to .i;r"\v i" the s^jass vases of fresh water in which he ke],! his captui ,, l),,tli /i///is( a poiut at which to be.in. Tonjua/was finally chosen, although the doctors considered it too re- ^xm, f.r. nervous disorder. On January .,., S5.. the nunly .rnved tnere, and i.nnKdiately proceeded to the v.Ilaue of St. Marychurch, about a .nile .n,d a half to "ortl,. an ancient but not pictures.,ue as.sembla,^. of white- w-hcd c.,tta^es and snudl shops, close to the sea-clilT; but <-t of s,,d„ of the sea. Th.s pLu. had the advantage o, a conquerable altitude above T.-rquay. which slumbered amon.t; ,ts groves .,f ..rbutus, by the side of its land-lock-d azure bay. as m a warm bath, and iud alar.ned its ..vble v.s.tor.s by the relaxing, .,uality of it.s atmosphere. St .^ nyehurch lay open to the ea.st. on a level with the tops <' th,. cl,„s. and enjoyed, on clear day.s, a :elreshin^^ view '•tlu. purple tors .fl,ar„n.,.,- away in the west. It was '■/^l^' '■• ' '"lM> ^:;os.sc's n„„d. wlKn W fust .stepped up tiK- reddish-ulutc street of St. Marychu-rh, that u, this v.lla,,e he would eventually .spene present his stay was transitory. They took Iod,Mn,^s at Hank Cottage a i.ttl.. detached villa in the main street. After th. loni: imprisonn. - ,vithin the glooa. of I-nndnn. nnhpGos.se's eyes were acutely sensitive to the ^VORK' AT THE SEASHORE. pleasure of country si-hts. The coast of South Devon is pecuharly brilliant in colour; the weather happened to be superb, and the unexpected beauty of every object on which the sun hghtcd was almost intoxicatin- }I,s journal ,s full of rapturous ejaculations of delight. On the very first afternoon he went down throu-h the em- bowered hamlet of JJabbicombe "to see what promise the beach mi<;ht afford." That beach is now familiarized and "ul-anzed ; carria-c-roads wind down to it, where break- neck paths used to descenc' ; it is all given up, with but MTiall trace of its ancient wildness, to the comfort .,f nursemaids and trippers. ]^ut in those days no bathin- maehmes had invaded its savage coves anci creeks. De- sccndmg at Babbicombe. and climbing along the beautiful arc of alternate rock and shingle to the further extremity of the beach at Oddicombe, he discovered on that fir.t .ifternoun .t feature of extraordinary charm, a natural basin ,n the face of the rock, a veritable little bah where one might conceive the Xereids indolently collecting to gcssip at high noon as the)- plashed the water with their feet :— "Climbing an- day in clupping off fragments of rock bearing fine seaweeds and delicate animal forms. These he preserved in vases and open pans, and thus began to carry out his dream of a marine vivarinni. He found the under surfaces of the pebbles on Uabbicombe beach singularly rich in tli .e fantastic and fjcm-like creatures, the midibrancli molhisca, (jf which he set .d^out forming a considnahlc collection, in correspondence with .\lder and li.uicock, the historians of those graceful sea- •slugs. With the very first ilawn of convalescence, he returned to his literary work, lie started in March a fifth Volume of the scries of handbooks for the S.l'.C.K., this time on th( Mollusca ; and b. fore tlu\ he began to put his daily observations into the shape which finally assumed the dir:.ensions ^A A Xaturalisfs Ravblcs on the Devonshire O'dSt. iL uas -.iiiguiar liiai on whuiiy untrodden ground, and »4Hk IVORK AT THE SEASHORE. ^^q Without previous experience, he immediately fell into the ways of a collector of marine objects, discovering, almost by intuition what species were and what were not suited for artificial preservation, and how the sensitive varjetiesof plants and fixed animals were to be transported without mjury. Nevertheless he was not entirely satisfied w.th St. Ma:ychurch as a centre; it suited him xoolo^i- ca ly but not medically. His headaches returr,ed, and the soft uscous air seemed to leave him constantly weaker. I.. March he tried Ikixham, on the .south side of the bay • but th.s ^^,ts warmer still, and not so favourable for collect- uvr. At the end of April he determined to try the northern coast of the county. The prevalence of a heavy surf upon the sh„re below St. Marychurcl, in consequence of an undevatin-T wind fro.n the east, had prevented him from bems as succe.-ful as he had hoped to be. Still he had earned great experience, and had added many new specie. to the Kn.glish fuma. Among the sea-anemones, in par- t.cular, which had hitherto been orcatly ne:,dected, he had already secured several novelties. Two beautiful species now widely known to zo,.lo,t;ists. rosea and nivca I'hiliu (.osse had the good fortune to dis, ,ver on the .same day Apnl .o, the one on the .south, the other on the north side of the hmestonc headland called Petit Tor. These were his latest trophies there, for in the cour.se of the folhnving week the family transferred themselves to Ilfracombe on the Bristol Channel, then already a summer resort of some local repute. The change was instantly beneficial. The ai.- oi X,,;th Devon proved much more exiiilarating, and the rock-pools even richer than those of the Odiiicombe district. Me found the angular basins in the slaty cast densely fringed W Sf'.'i \Vf 't*; ! '.: :iOi;c iuccni Luilains lurked an immense and luxuriant variety of zoophytci, of cvJry I -m m i li r 1 i •¥> THE LIFE OF nil LIP HEXRY GOSSE. } iJi description. In the Devonshire Const he has given an eloquent account of his successive discoveries, and of the ardour with which he threw himself into the work of exploration. The beautiful Devonshire cup-coral {Caryo- phyllia Smithii) had long been known as a skeleton in the drawers of museums ; he was fortunate enough to find it in profusion, throwing upwards its globose white tentacles, and covering with its fawn-coloured flesh tic granular plates of its coral structure. In September he made a discovery of extraordinary interest, and in a mann-r so characteristic that I give his own account of the incident :— " It was a spring tide, and the water had receded " lower than I had seen it since I had been at the place. " I was searching among the extremely rugged rocks "that run out from the tunnels, forming walls and "pinnacles of dangerous abruptness, with deep, almost "inaccessible cavuics between, into one of th, se, at " the very vcrc,e of the water, I managed to scramble "down ; and frund, round a corner, a sort of oblong "basin, about ten feet long, in which the water remained, "a tide-pool of three feet depth in the middle. The "whole concavity of the interior was so smooth that I "couUi fiiul no resting-place for my foot in order to "examine it; thoui;h the sides, all covered with the "pink lichen-like coralline, and bristling with laminari.c "and /.oophyte.s, looked so tempting that I walked nnmd "and round, reluctant to leave it. At last I fairly "stripi 'd. though it was blowing xcxy coUl, and jumped " in. I li.ui examined a good many things, of which the "onlv novelty u,is the pretty narrow fronds of Flustra "chartacea in some abundance, and was just about to "come out, when m>- eye rested on what I ,it once saw "to be a madrepore, l)ut of an unusual colour, a mc.st "rtfulgrn^ range."' JVORJir AT THE SEASHORE. It proved to be Balanophyma, a fossil coral tho • . vm^^ ricsn, Jiad never been suspected. This cjiisodc may be tnl-.^r. -, ■ of fi. A- . ' '^' '^" cxamp c, not merolv of the discoveries in science which Phih-u O. . ^ constant,, n.a.in,. but of his .L^ '^r^ r »: T accu.ston.ed every da3- at ,o. tide, if the hour "was at aU convenient, to ,o dou-n to the shore, and for sever hoj or. n„,,- ■„.„. „,,,c a ran.o „f ani.nal Hf,. „„ to ^d Within the tiilaMimft^ \ r* , ""■•' uiciuaea hcuould t amp honuMvith his treasures, arran.^e them in to a scientific examination of what was unique or novel ;'e :f'T;';'^":^^'v^-'^^--^-^'-'ytothe Pa.cs of A N.wnahst's Ramhlc on the Devonslnrc Qa.t which was rapidly takin. form H, ' ardent in his study of tle\ " „, '" P-'^-l-ly u , / ui uic sca-ancnu)ncs. a -nnii) which .a. ,.,.,, on. y ,0 take u.ulcr „i.s special pa.^naic. I >.,! o l,ou,l,t a. yo. „f „„ „„,„, ,,.,,,,,,.„„'^ „.,, omc J. a,, t, co„,c, what ucc aftenvards disein-uishcd as Sagartu,. IhnwA;. and the rest >ve,o cla,r.T v^ue,en„s,^,.,..,. T,,ee.a.i„at;o;;:n,:::i:,:: t"t. A few .specimens of the gross strawberry specie, :'""'■""'"• -- l'°""l -d eaten. Il.s ac.„„u ftS courageous experiment rnns as follow, - •■,or',on""'"rV""' ""^ ""' ''■' ' ••■^'^>'='' ---"' a sort of lumpy fedn,g i„ my ,|,,oa,, a, if a sentin.l there ! i t ,1 4 i ill 343 THE LIFE OF riflLIP HENRY GOSSE. " guarded the way, and said, ' It shan't come here.' This "sensation, however, I felt to be unworthy of a philo- "soplier, for there was nothing really repugnant in the " taste. As soon as I had got one that seemed well "cooked, I invited Airs. Gosse to share the feast; she " courageously attacked the morsel, but I am compelled " to confess that it could not pass the vestibule ; the "sentinel was too many for her. My little boy, howcv^er, " voted that "tinny \actiu!a\ was good,' and that he 'liked ""tinny;' and loudly demanded more, like another Oliver "Twist. As for mc, I proved the truth of the aJage, " ' II n'y a que le premier pas cjui coiite ;' for my sentinel " was cowed after the first defeat. I left little in the dish. "In truth, the flavour and taste are agreeable, somewhat '• like those of the soft parts of crab (May 21, 1852J." In July Philip Gosse maile an interesting excursion of a week's duration to Lundy Island. The desciiption he presently wrote of this curious and remote fragment of the British empire appeared in serial form in the peri- odical called The IIodic Fririid, and was long afterwards reprinted in Sea and Laud (1S65). I'or the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge he wrcjte this time, in conjunction with In-, wife, a liltle anonj-nious volume called Sca.sidi- /V .rs/ircs, consisting, in realil}', of four essays on llfrac(-nil)c, Capstone Hill, IJarricane, and the Valley of Rocks, describing in a graceful manner tlie anti(iuilies and scicnlific attractions of the neighbourhi od. Of these essa)-s the foin-th was wholly written by Knnly Go.sse. Meanwhile, with her constant help, he was pre- paring the Z?^tw/j////'t' Coast, and, in spite of all the exer- cise in the t\iv\\ air, tlie ozone from the seaweeds, and the exquisite freshnrs- of the oceanic wituls, jjotli husband and wife were overtaxing their nervous ^trLMiLftli. In. August both of them were ill with headache, and able to IIV/!A- AT THE SEASIWliE 243 November, the u-r-,tl,.r ^^ '''■"^^' '" IrirL- fo T 1 r -'"^y uetcrmiiicd to o-o iJ.itk to London for the u-fnf-ot- .„ 1 r '•'-' t." .0. Ha„,p.o„ Tc„..,cc, C,™c.c"^:,r^ '*''-""°^ ^' . ivs ulHch ua. about ten inclie.s deep bv five and a lialf Indies wide. This wis tho fi . . ' '^ rom cvaponuion, .l.i, „,, „,„ ,,,, ,^,„_ _,„^, . ^1 P » llcaltliy, for more tlia,, l„o m,„uh, ■ ulun tl„. ■ came tn ■, ^1 ■ ""- '-"'penracnt _c. .nc 1, a clo,c, m c<,„se,|„e„ec of lack of experience 'I-; pnnaplc, however, upon ,v,,ic,,.,,c.prc.se;f .-.-n,e a„,„K,ls n, eap.ivi.y c„„ld ,0 „,a,n a„,eci „ -vere,an,l.,,>a.,„crelya,,„cst,„„,,o„-,obin ,"'''■ *^''- '^"'''■■' ""■'".^>"n. ..f .\p,,tl,ecaricV 11,11 ...,.Ue n,dcpe„<,c.„.,,. been occupied „i,„,\i cfth,s.and .n,„,e,l,alel, corres„„„de,l ,>i,i, 1,,- M',r:„„, ' Tin-,, gcntlenun. ,. „„.„ .„„„,„,„, ,,,„, ,„rri„;„„e ^ii-a^ •» •■ s-eaur p„cl, of elaboration, l,„t had as ye, J, V ; -; if! ■ [ .A 244 THE LIFiZ OF PHILIP HENRY ^^SSE. [^^ jf T 'i i »l i HI applied himself to the preservation of fresh-water animals by means of the exhalation of oxygen by living water- plants. Philip Gosse at once supplied him with particulars of his own ex'pcriments with marine forms, and when he returned to London in November, he brought Mr. War- ington a small collection of living scauceds and animals which were successful!}- ensconced in one of that gentle- man's vi\aria. There was no sort of rivalry between these earnest and amiable investigators, but a little later on, when the aquarium had become a fashionable thing, Philip G-^sse was accustomed to say that if it was needful to dispute about an invention which was virtually simul- taneous, it might be said that Warington had invented the vivarium and he the marine aquarium. Little time was lost in making a practical use of the experience of the sumuicr. Early in December, with the active co-operation of the secretary, Mr. D. W. Mitchell, a large glass tank was set up in the Zoological Gardens, in Regent's I'ark, and stocked by Philip Gosse with about two hundred specimens of marine animals and plants brought up from Ilfracombc two months before, and still in a perfectly healthy condition. The Zoological Society soon found that this tank, in the new Tlsh House then just erected, was exceedingly popular, ,ind they determined to makj the newly invented aijuarium a feature of the Gardens. They projected a scries of seven tanks, and in order to fill them they made a proposition that Gosse should go down again to the seaside for the sole purpose of collecting specimens. This suited him very well. He found that it was absolutely needful for his hcallh that he siiould not work much indoor^, but be out in the fresh air for a great part of each da}-, and he agreed that so cvj ci*v- v.\-ri^.jL \H\ ! of Dorsetshire. IVORK' AT THE SEASHOHE. 3^5 By the last days of 1852 ^2 Nat, n-a list's Ran,h!c on ,l,c Droonshirc Coast was finished. lie was determined that now that the pubh-c had bc^un to demand his literary work, he would get the profit of it himself He there- fore arranged to be his own publisher, and the book- was accordingly set up for him by a firm of printers in Bath. It was eventually sold, on commissicn, by Mr. Van Voorst, whose name appeared on the titlcpage. The volume was expensive to produce, for it contained a lar-e number of coloured plates ; the subject, the marine zoology of an English county, treated in a desultory style, with a mixture of antiquities, gossip, sentiment, and poetry was one entirely novel, the success of which might well be dubious. ^\y father, however, was willing to\ry the ex- periment, and he ^^•as amply justified. In these da^•s when the business details of literature attract so much' popular curiosity, it may perhaps be of some interest to mention that the net profits of The Devonshire Coast ex- ceeded /;5o, no poor sum in those days for one small volume to bring to the pocket of its author. The book was nublished in May, 1853. i February of that year Thilip Gosse was asked to lecture. He had never attempted such a thin-, but he said he would willingly make a {c^v remarks about^ponges, the siliceous skeletons of which he was studying at that moment in correspondence with Bowcrbank. He accom- panied the lecture with some large drau ings in chalk on the blackboard, and the success of the experiment, which was novel at that time, was such, that he adopted lecturing as a branch of his professional labours, and became a x-cry popular lecturer during t! c next four or five years. On Aprils the family once more left London, and settled in lodgings at Weymouth, in Dorsetshire. Here they con- tinued to reside until December of the same year,' when, W -" if ^ii ' i- i 1^ i' n ' ; '1 M :. !< r| 1 ' ! il 246 T//E LIFE OF PHILIP IIE.VRV GOSSE. as before, bad weather and exhaustion drove them back to London. These were eight months of intense -^nd con- centrated activity out of doors, vuring wliich comparatively little purely literary work was dc ne. The mode in which these months were spent is fully described in that chatty and deli:;htful record, T/ie Aqiiarinm. It was much loss desultory and amateurish than the way in which the pre- vious year, in Devonshire, had been occupied. Philip Gosse now clearly understood what objects he wished to secure, and the way to secure them. Almost every evening he sent off to the Zoological Gardens in Regent's Park a package of living creatures, the " b.ig " of the day, and sometimes this would mean sc enty or eighty specimens. His first care was to secure seaweeds, carefully selecting those which were in full he th, and, by preference, ihc finer and cleaner varieties, firmly affixed to rocks. He became an adept in chij:iping off just as much of the rocky support as the roots required, and no mo -e. To these he would add such specimens of the 'ittoral fauna, annelids, sca-anemoncs, shells, nudibranchs, and crustaceans, as he found, by experience, had the best chance of surviving the journey, and these he packed, as a rule, not in water, but swathed in wrappings of v, ct seaweed. His principal exercise, however, at Weymouth, was dredging in the bay. He declar-d tha-; O'-id knc.v more about the arts (;f dredging than any 1 t- . '^-^turilist, and used to point, by way of proof, to a passage in the Halicuticou, which he took the liberty of paraphrasing thus : — ■U if I . "Wiien you tlie dredge would use, go not away Far out to sea. Mmd that your haul be made According to your bottom. Where the ground i:; loiii aTia icugy, De contciii iu ii^ii With hook and line. But when upon the aca WORK- AT THE SEASHORE. 247 The morning sun casts shadows deep and lonji- From lofty Whitenose,— over with your dredge ; When 'neath your keel the verdant ser.-grass waves, Tlie keer-drag try for nudibranchs and wrasse." The mail with whom he .labitually sailed was a fisher- man of the name of Jonas Fowler, who was glad to be hired day after day, and who took a pride in association wit.i the naturalist. "Me and Air. Gosse " were a pair of knowing ones, in the eyes of J(;nas, whose portrait has been paintefl thus by his companion : — "There is nobody else in Weymouth Harbour that "knows anything about dredging d have it from his "own lips, so 3-ou may rely on it); but /ir is familiar "with the feel of almost every yard of bottom from "Whitenose to Church Hope, and from Saint Aldhelm's "Head to the Bill. He follows dredging with all the "zest of a savant ; and it really does one's heart good 'to hear how he pours you out the crack-jaw, the "sesquipedalian nomenclature. 'Now, sir, if you do '"want a gastrochaiia, I can just fuit down your dredge '"upon a lot o' 'em ; ue'll bring up three or four on a stone." ' I'm in hopes we shall haw: a good cnbclta or two off this bank, if we don't get choked up with them " ' 'ere ophiocomas: He tells me in confidence that he has "been .sore pu:'.zL ' to f^nd a name for his boat, but "he has at Ictigth determined to appellate her 'The " I iirntclla', — 'just to astonish the fishermen, >-ou know, "'sir,'--with an nccompanying wink and chuckle, and a "patronizing nudge in my ribs." Every haul of the dredge was an excitement and a delight. Its results were widely ditTerent, according to the nature of the bottom. Rough ,.nes, sand, shells, CvCii Diuk<.ii uuiues, 'vouid form the base of the matter dragged up— no fragment of all this to be l-'ghtly thrown i h 'si m m m n\ 248 THE LIFE OF FinUP HEXRY COSSE. iljli liji away without examination, since it mi-lit contain star- fishc urchins, the tubes of s-rpnU^, dehcate nudibranchs an., ascidians, ai d many otlicr attractive captives for the aquarium. The .uiivalvc shells mi-ht be inl>,abited by •soldier-crabs, with their charmin- -uardian, the crimson Adamsia, or cloak-anemonc. Skipping anion- tlie stones might be tiny fishes and pretty painted shrimps and prawns of various genera ; the long arms of spider-crabs might wave mysteriously above the mass ; sometimes the most gorgeous of the denizens of the British seas, the sea-mousL, witli its refulgent silk, would glimmer, like a fragment of a filKii rainbow, througli the mud. The keer- d'-ag oa the sand would bring ground-fishes, weavers, soles, and rays, -are sea-anemones, and the liump-backcd .Esop prawns, with their lovely clouded tones of green and scarlet. The great advantage of dredging, for Philip Gossc's purpose, was, not merely that it supplied him with forms not attainable along the shore, but that it produced the maNinunn of results, in the way of number of speci- mens, with the minimum of labour. His keen cnj.n nieut of this healthy and invigorating existence was suddenly interfered with, in the month ol" July by a deplorable misunderstanding with the Zoological Society. He had succeeded in obtaining specimens in much greater numbers than were necessary for Regent's Park, and he was new sendir.g them also to the Crystal Palace and to of .cr proprietors of aquaria in the neigh- bourhood of Lon-. and he principally looked forward to parlour aquaria, supplied b)- him with m m t 250 THE LIFE OF Pill LIE IIENEY GOSSE. i< -iX animals, in the hope that these ini.^rht be extensively p.-uronized by wealthy amateurs. Hence it became an object uith liim to be widely reco-ui/ecl as the man who haJ been the first to -ivc attention Nj the subject, and who possessed unique experience in it. ()n his side from a business point of view, he was di>api.ointed that the Zoolo-ical Society had not permitted some sli-ovm- poet and novelist already d.stm.^nn-shed, and full .,f ener.^ry .^nd intelli^^rent curiosity. In his tnst letter, Kin.^sjcy ur-ed my father to try Cl(,velly as a iumtin-sround, and suggested that tiiev should meet m Dc^von.hire. To this I'hilip Go.se di.I not re- spond in his habitually cautious tone, but u. me.l up into an infectious enthusiasm. "How plcasan^. it wouh' be," he wrote, "to have such a companion as yourself in the investigation of those prolific shores!" He adds: "I Iia\e .cut up to London this summer nearly four tln.ns.nul hvin.^- animals and plants. Of course many rarities and some novelties have occurred in sucii an amount of dredging and trawling as this involved. 13c as.surcd. my dear sir, I shall est..-em it a favour and a privilege to continue the cc.respondencc y- . have com- ■"en.vd. • Charles Kingslcy became, almost immediately one of tl„. nn.M ardent, and certainly the most active of his allies. In September I'hilip Gossc began to write the volume now known as The A,fuanm„, but c .,tled, until it was actually in the press, T/ic Mimic Sva. This was a record of his dcep-sca adventures off V . .outh, and a full de- scription of the theory and pract...- ot the marine a should join Kingslcy in '|Mi t . *• i ■;i; -k im 2--,2 THE LIFE OF nil LIP HF.XRY GOSSE. II 111 lilli North Devon, the latter proceeded to Torquay, and the Gosses came up to London. They took a sm.dl h(,use in Huntingdon Street, I.sh'ngton, and this became tlieir home for some years. There is not very mucli to record ret^ardint; the year l,UL;h the first six months of 1854. On .May 30 Gosse writes to Kingslcy : "My most charming tank is now thirteen weeks old, and contains nearly a hundred species of animals, and perhaps twice that number of individuals, all in the highest health and beauty. T' -y include four fishes, viz. Labnts Douovaiti, Gobius miiiutiis, Gobius uuipumtatus, and Syugmithtts atiguinois ; besides many of the treasures yon liavc kindly sent me,— our old friend the ' say-lache ' among them,— and the seaweeds which are the 'ubjcct of my pai)er in the Autials of Natural History for the coming montli." In June the Gosses went down somewhat suddenly to Tcnb}-, in Pembrokcsliirc. The Aquarium had just been published, and was selling like wild-fire. This book. I may mention, was the most successful of all my father's litcra- adventures; although tlie coloured plates with WOJ?K AT THE SEASHORE. ^j Which it was Iav,,hly adorned v.-crc so costly that no pubhshcr u-ould have faced the risk of their production the profit on the sale of the volume amounted, in pro' cess of time, to more than ^900. From Tenby Gosse wrote as follows to Charles Kin-slcy (June 39, 1S54) :__ "A most lovely place this is : I know not whether to "at.mire most the inland scenery, the noble cliffs and "headlands a.,d caverns of the coast line, or the prr,. " fusion of marine animaN which I meet with. It is hy " far the most prolific place for the naturalist that T have "explored, and I expect to -ct some treasures here "The ^xcX.iy Actinia uivea that I described from a speci- "men found at Petit Tor is here the characteristic "species, occurrin.c; by hundreds; and there is a most "charmin.^^ variety if it he not indeed specifically dis- "tmct) which has the whole disc of a miiiiate or oran-e "hue, very brilliant, and the tentacles j,ure white." The Aquarium was made the pe- upon which, in No- vember, 1S54, Kin-slcy hung an article in the Xorih British Reviezv, ;iitcny:,rd^ (May, 1S55) cnlar^^ed and pub- hshed as the charming little volume called G/aucus ; or the Wonders of the Shore, through the pages of which 'the hhes of my father's praise arc sprinkled fnmi full hands I^owcrbank had in 18:2 assured Philip Gosse th ,t he would find Tenby "the prmce of places for a naturalist" and Pembrokeshire, though now first visited, had ncvc'r been absent from his mine. The very first cvenin- after securing lodgings, the family strolled out at low tide to tlie island of St. Catherine, and the naturah'st saw cnou^di to assure him that "its honeycombed rocks and daH< wccdy basins arc full of promise for to-morrow." A few daj-s afterwards, he wrote to Ruwcrbank that " the zoologi- cal riches of these perforated caverns amply bear out your laudatory testimony; indeed. I have not met with any 254 THE LIFE OF FIIILIP HENRY GOSSL. II Hi part of our coast which can compare with tlicni in afford- ing a treat to the marine naturaUst." In his volume called Tenby he has giv ni an account, as minute as it is graphic, of the experiences of these summer weeks, and of the results to his aquarium collections. His very delightful and alii.ost uniformly brilliant and successful \isit to Pembrokeshire came to '', close on August iS. These eight weeks were among the most enjoyable of his life. His boilily condition was unusually good, and ]\Irs. Gossc was in better liealth than she had been for two years past ; while he was actively and constanth- making additions of a more or less important character lo the existing know- ledge of seaside zoology. Mis important discoveries, lead- ing to a redistribution of genera, aiul the naming of many new species, of British sea-anemones, belong to tiiis summer of 1S54, alllmugh tlu-y were not then published. In the coui-s- of the summer, as he was exploring the caverns of St. Catherine's Island, he w.is accosted by a gentleman who introduced In'mself as the Bishop of Oxford, and who entered with great gusto into the i>leasures of the seashore. The acquaintance thus odd!}- formed ripened into a daily companionship as long as the)- were both at Tcnb}-, anil after the)- parted. Dr. Wilbcrforce and my father kept uj) a tlcsultory correspondence for a while. Anothei and more permanent fricndshi]) funned at Tenb)' v.as that w itli Mr. Frederick D)-ster, the zoologist ; from whom he bought, for ;^30, the microscope which he con- tinued, regardless of modern improvements, to use until near the end of his life. His acquaintance with Professor Jluxk'}-, then a N'oung surgeon whose investigations into the oceanic liydrozoa, on board \\^\.S. Rattlcsmxkc, had recently given him scientific prominence, and whose contributions to his own collection Gossc records in Truhy, began in this year ; but his principal scientific or literary IVO.VA- AT THE SEASHORE. 255 correspondent continued to be Charles Kin-slcy, who in June had taken a house at Northdown, near 15ideford, and was writing Westward IIo ! On Gosse's return from Tenby lie li;id found iuhvard Forbes in London, shrunken to a phantom of liis former self but .still cheerful and brave. He was to die in November, and thus ,o terminate prema- turely one of the most brilliant careers of the time. To Edward Forbes my father was strongly attaclied by friendship as well as admiration, and his was in later years one of the names which he was wont most affectionately to recall. The autumn and winter of 1854 were almost exclusively occupied with the study of the Rotifcra under the microscope, culminating.; in a treatise of rr,-eat though strictly technical importance, On the Stnicttnr, f/nu-ticms, and ]IoiiioIogirs of the Maudiicatory Organs in the Class Kotifera, jiublished eventually in the Philosophical Transactions of the Ro)'al Society for 1856. This uork is illustratetl with a great many drawings of the mastax and tropin of various .specie.s, and " di.scusscs the changes that tlie\- untlergo, in passing from the typical to the most aberrant forms. It is in this treatise that Mr. Gossc contends that the dental organs of the rotifera are true mandibuke and maxilke, and that the mastax is a mouth ; and assigns to the class a position among the Ariiciilata," says Dr. Hudson, who gives this work a high rank in the literature concerning the rotifcra. Having sent this monograph in to the council of the Royal Society, Philip Gosse immediately returned to the revision of his old translation of l^hrcnberg's Die Jufusiousthierchen. The monograi)h wa.s accepted, and read at the Ro>al Society on February 22, iiS55, and on successive evenings. It began to .seem as though it were impo.ssible {ov Philip Gosse, however, to live in London, or bear the least social excite- I f'l m it. 2?6 THE LIFE OF nil LIP IIEXRY GOSSE. ment. Quiet as his winter was, it was not quiet enough, and he began again to suffer from sueii excruciating pains in the head, that he was forced to abandon ahnost wholly the exercise of writing. He discovered it possible, although vc.y irksome, to dictate, but having found a rai)id and sympathetic amanuensis, he rec(jnciled himself to this mode of composition. It even exaggerated his flowing and confidential style, the characteristics of which are .seen, almost to excess, in the i)ages of Tenby. The year 1855 was nut marked by any incidents of a very uni([ue character. The manner of life of the Gosses remained almost unchanged, my f.ithcr merely i)ushing further and further ahjug the various [)alhs of scientific investigation of which he hekl the threads. In I'"ebruary was published ^[bialiain and /lis C /liu/fcn. a volume on religious education, the most ambitious \\(irk which h'.mily Gossc had hitherto produced; and Philip (lossc began, at the same time, a book called J fit Poiid-Rtikcr, which was to be a popular introduction to the study of the Rotifera. It proved difficult to popularize so abstruse a subject, and. The Pond-RakYr, in spite of enthusiastic cncouragei lent from Charles Kingsley, soon cjuitted his pond and dropped his rake, to be replaced by the Manual of Marine Zooloi^y, a work of reference of real importance. On March 20, 1S55, Gosse read before the Linn.ean Society an important paper on I'eachia, a new genus of unattached, cylindiie.d .sea-anemones, buried in sand, which he had characterized from specimens secured in Torbay, and sent to him by Charles Kingsley. This paper attracted a good deal of attention, and among tho.se present on the occasion of its reading was Charles Darwin, to whom my father was that evening presented for the first time. Gossc was captivated at once, as all who met him were, 1)\- the simplicity, frankness, and cordiality of this great and charming man. IVOR A' AT THE SEASHORE Late in March the family proceeded again to Wcy.nouth for a monta and Philip Gosse immediately resumed his work of co!lcctin,.on the shore and dred^n-n, in the bay encouraged and cheered through rather bad weather by the unexpected companionship of Bowerbank. The text of the first volume of the Manual ^.^. finished in June and published m July, upon which the Gosses, without delay started or a second visit to Ilfracombe. For some time' previously circulars had been sent out inviting persons who des,red to make themselves acquainted with the livin.. objects wluch the sh<.re produced, and who wished to learn at the sa.ne tune how to col ect and how to determine the .KU.cs and the zoological relations of the specimens when found, t<, jo,n the writer on the shore of North Devon But. before these circulars were issued, in the sprint of KS55, kmgsley had already committed a discreet indis^ cret.on concerning the project. Ilehad written in Glancus : i hat most pu.us and most learned naturalist. Mr. Gosse whose works will be so of^,n quoted m these pa.'^es' proposes it is understood, to estabhsh this summed a regular shore class. . . . and I advise any reader whose fancy such a project pleases, to apply to hnn for details of e cheme The consequence was that Gosse was received fo.mc.l themselves uUo a class for the study of marine natura h.story. An hour or two was spent on the shore very day on which the tide and the weather were suit- able ; and ^vhen otherwise, the occupation was varied by obtain Th""-" '"^ 'Jentification of the animals obta ned, the specn.ens themselves affording illustrations. Hut the weather was generally fine, and not a few species of .nterest, . ,th some rarities, came under the notice of he class, scattered as they were over the rocks, and peep- .ng into the pools, almost every day for a couple of months % \\ \^H : \ J^^^H J *^^H 1 i i , * i . i^H i ^^^^1 '" tH ; \ ^^^^^^k ■: : ii ■ i' m n n 2SS T//7!: LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. Then the pri/.cs wore broiiLjht home, where each member or group of the class had a little aquarium fur the btud> of their habits ; their beauties investigated by the pocket- lens, and the minuter kinds examined under the microscope. A little also was effected in the way of dredging the sea- bottom and in surface-fishing ; but the chief attention of the class was given to shore-C( lecting, and very novel and agreeable the amusement was unanimously voted. Here for the first time I can trust my t)\vn recollection for one or two of those detached impressions which remain imprinted here and there on the smoothcd-out wax of a child's memor)-. I recall a long desultory line of persons on a beach of shells, — doubtless at l^arricane. At the head of the procession, like Apollo conducting the Muses, my father strides af.ead in an immense wide-awake, loose black coat and trousers, and fislierman's boots, with a collecting- basket in one hand, a .staff or prod in the other. Then follow gentlemen of ever\- age, all seeming spectacled and old to me, and many ladies in the balloon costume of 1 05 5, with shawls falling in a point from between their shoulders to the edge of their flounced petticoats, each wearing a mushroom hat with streamers ; I m\'self am tenderly conducted along the beach by one or more of these enthusiastic nym[)hs,and "jumped " over the [)erilous little watercourses that meander to the sea, stooping every moment to collect in the lap of my pink frock the profuse and lovely shells at m\- feet. This, is one memory, and another is of my father standing at the mouth of a sort of funnel in ti'e rocks, through which came at iiitervals a roaiing sound, a copious jet of exjjloding foam, ami ,i sutlden li(|uiil rainbow against the dark wall of rock. surrounding him in its fugitive radiance. Without question, this is a reminiscence of the Capstone Spout-llolcs, to which ni)- father would be certain to take the class, " the nVRA' AT THE SEA.^IWRE. 2=;9 ragged rock-pools that 1 precipice on this area " be Coast, " tenanted with Crustacea, and medus.e Sic in the deep shaflnw of tl le incr, as h c says in the Devonshire many fine kinds of algae, zoophyte Ofth> members of the class, one of the most enthusiastic was Sir Charles Lighton, with whc ift after sending the others home laden to th my father would start for a drcd- im, f)n frequent occasion;- eir aquariums, ,;ing excursion off Lee or hmallmouth. In August the class dispersed, and on September 6 the Gosses returned to loun, followed by hampers of living creatures, most of uhich bore the journey very successfully. Philip Gosse immediately took up the composition of h.s Handbook to the Marine Aquarunn. a practical supplement to the work which he had lately been engaged ui,on ; it was soon finished, and he resumed the notes and ob crvations which he had made in I'cmbn.kchirein 1S54, and began actively to reu'rite the volume eventually pul>lis!;ed under the name of Tenby. The HandbH'ok was published early in October, and a edition of no less than tuo thousand copies speedi exhausted, so great was the interest and curiosity now excited am.mg the educated classes by the inventi,;n of the marine aciuarium. Tlic year closed uneventfully, except that just before Christmas the pains in the head, wh.ch had left him unattacked now for many months, set in again with extreme severity, an ^^\ o m^ % •///, ^, W Ph()togrcii)hic Sciences Cor[X)rcition 73 WIST MAIN STRICT WEBSTt* N i 14510 ' 716 1 I72-4S0] ^ m. ^' \ ^ \ .^-,w^- ^^^ '4^'' '4^ ^ 26o THE LIFE OF PHI UP HENRY GOSSE. at a variety of institutes and public rooms. He recovered his usual condition of heakh before the close of the vear and 1856 seemed to dawn upon his wife and himself with a more than common promise of happiness and peace. Emily Gosse had begun to undertake a species of religious work, in which she was to achieve a singular success. In the autumn of 1855 was published the Youu^ Guardsman of the Ahna, a Gospel Tract issued in leaflet form by the Weekly Tract Society, and founded on an .ncident of the Crimean War personally known to the UTiter. Sh'. had already printed six of these leaflets, and the enormous demand for this particular one led her to concentrate her attention, during the brief remainder of her I'fe, upon this species of composition. Fort>-one of these cracts were published in all, collected after her death in a general volume. It has been stated that not less than half a million copies of these Gospel Tracts of hers were circulated, and they have been spread to the remotest corners of the globe, effecting, as one cannot question, no small benefit by their pious candour and their direct appeal to the unawak.-ncd conscience. My own memories of her during this winter of ,855-56 the ast which we were to spend together in peace, are Vivid enougl.. I specially recollect sitting on a Sunday •norn.ng upon a cushion at her knees, one of her lon-^ veined hands resting upon mine, to learn a chapter of the (gospel of St. Matthew by heart ; and. while her soft voice rea.l out the sarrcd verses, suddenly seeing something in her large eyes and wasted feal ires, which gave me a pre- monition that I should lose her. Most clearly I .ccall the terror of it. the unexpressed anguish. It is the more strange, bec-iuse I am sure that this was in tlu' winter and before .uiy one had guessed that she was stncken with mortal disease. WORJ^ AT THE SEASHORE. 261 In March Philip Gosse read before the Royal Society an important monofjraph on the Dmcious Character of the Rotifera, which attracted a great deal of attention, and led to his election as F.R.S. on the next occasion, the 4th of June of that year Dr. Lankester being his proposer. In March also was published Tenby, the third of his chatty, popular volumes, describing the zoological adven- tures of a summer on the British shores, and adorned with coloured plates. For some reason or another, in spite of the increased di.stinctio.i of the author, Uiis was not nearly so successful as either of its immediate pjcedecossors ; although a book which brought in a net profit of over £^00 can only be spoken of as relatively, not positively, unsuccessful. Tenby had the disadvantage, as I have said, of being in great part dictated, not written, by the author. The gossipy and confidential manner, too— what The Saturday Review called " Mr. Gnsse's air of taking us upon his knee like a grandpapa "—was carried in certain of its chapters to some excess, and, what was after all probably the main reason, the style itself and the matter were no longer so dcliciously fresh and novel to the public as they had been in 1.S52. None the less, Tenby is a charming book, and must b> read with A Naturalist's Ramble cm the Devonshire Coast and The A(]uariuni,JiS giving the completest expression of one most important branch of my father's literary work, namely, his picturcscjue introduction of and apology for the pleasures of collecting animals and plant.s on the seashore. My father and mother had now been married between seven and ei-ht years. Their wedded lilc, which Im.I opened under circumstances which might have seemed not wholly favourable to their happiness, had become year by year a closer, a tenderer, and a more sympathetic relation. As eacii had grown to know llie other better, the finer faculties of both had been drawn out. My father, 262 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. formerly so stiff and self-reliant, had learned to repose more and more easily on my mother's tact and wisdom ; she had, by a mar^nificcnt effort, trained herself in mature life to take an interest in subjects and in a course of technical study which had been foreign to her inclination. _.he was now a part of his intellectual as well as his emotional LTe. Not a rotifer was held captive under the microscope, not a crustacean of an unknown species shook a formidable clapper at the naturalist, but the cry of " Emil)' ! Fmily ! " brought the keen eye and sympathetic lips on to the scene in a moment. Under her care, all that was warmest and brightest in Philip Gosse's character had been developed ; he had ceased to shun his kind; he had lost his shy- ness, and had become one of the most genial, if still one of the most sententious of men. Every year this mellow- ing influence became more apparent ; every year brought more of sunlight into the circle of their hopes and interests. But now the gloom was to close again over their life, and they were to pass together, through anguish of budy and mind, into the valley of the shadow of death. Late in i\pril, my mother became conscious of a local discomfort in her left breast, the result, she supposed, of some slight bruise. But on May i, being with her 'old friends at Tottenham, Miss Mary Stacey persuaded her to consult a physician, who rathrr crudely and roughly pronounced it to he cancer. She returned very calmly to her home, and in the course of the evening she quietlv t(,le lo' rcg.., but „w,ug to difficuhy aud unskilfulne« com bmed probably half a do.cn anen.ones are destroyed for one that trncs in*o th ■ t .„ . ;, •• ^i'u>cu icr WORK AT THE SEASHORE. 26s The rofnantic caverns of the island of St. Catherine were still the main, and on the v\ hole the happiest, hunt- ing-grounds ; but sometimes the entire class was conducted to iMonkjtone and Sandersfoot, or even so far as to Scot- borough. For the first time Mrs. Gosse was unable to take part in these rambles, and her days would be spent, in the long warm September, in sitting on the sands, writ ing, or chatting to one of those impiovised friends whom her sweet and dignified cordiality created wherever she went. She had always possessed an unusual power of attracting the confidence of strangers, and those who were sad, poor, and forlorn could seldom resist the temptation of pouring the burden of their sorrows into her car. As she herself grew more and more the confidant of pain and weariness, instead of her temper becoming fretful, her sympathy took a deeper colcuring, her interest in the griefs of others grew more patient and sincere. All this time she was growing worse, and when they retur;ied to London on October 2, neither could conceal from the other their secret sense of dismay at the change in her power of enduring the fatigue of travel. More drastic methods were now recommended by the doctor, and to carry them out it was necessary that the patient should be close to him. My mother and her little seven years' old son, therefore, moved into bleak and comfortless lodgings in Cottage K(xul, Pimlico, the inly advantage of which was the fact that they were next door to the doctor's house. My father could only be with us from Saturday night to Monday morning. During the rest of the week we two supported and comforted each other as well as we could ; through dreary da)s and still more dreary nights, which have left their indelible impres- sion on the temperament as well as the memory of the .survivor, we were alone together. This prolonged illness. s66 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. and the heavy fees of the practitioner, made severe drains upon the family finances, and demanded ceaseless labour on my father's part. Yet there was some work of a different and a higher kind performed through this distressing winter. One of the most brilliant of all his monographs --his own special favourite in later years-the paper on Lar sahellarum, was read before the Linna^an Society in i^ccember. and was received with great respect. There was much close correspondence, too, and interchange of specimens, with Joshua Alder in the North, and with Robert Battersby in Torquay. Philip Gosse, moreover was engaged at this time in the delightful task of helping Charles Darwin to develop his various important theories and the three succeeding letters (now first published) may be taken as specimens of this correspondence :— " Down, Bromley, Kent, September 22 i8s6 " My dear Sir, " I want much to beg a little information from you. ^ ;' I am working hard at the general question of varia- tion, and paying for this end special attention to domestic pigeons. This leads me to search out how 'many species are truly m-^- pigeons,/... do not roost ^ or willingly perch or nest in trees. Tenminck puts C Icncoccphala (your bald-pate) under this category Can "this be the case? Is the loud coo to which you refer "in your interesting Sojourn like that of the domestic " P'geon ? I see in this same work you speak of rabbits run wild ; I am paying much attention to them and "am making a large collection of their skeletons. Do "you think you could get any of your zealous and •'excellent correspondents to send me an adult (neck "w/ broken) female specimen.^ It would be of great WORK A T THE SEAS ff ORE. 267 'value to me. It might be sent, I should think, in a 'jar with profusion of salt and split in the abdomen. ' I should also be very glad to have one of the wild 'canary birds for the same object ; I have a specimen ' in spirits from Madeira. " L/o you thnik you could aid me in this, and shall you ' be inclined to forgive so very troublesome a request ? As I have found the good nature of fellow-naturalists ' almost unbounded, I will venture further to state that • '.he body of any domestic or fancy pigeon which has 'been lor some goi.^rations in the West Indies would ' be of extreme it;terest, as I am collecting specimens ' from all quarters of the world. " Trustiu'j to your forgiveness, " I remain, my dear sir, " Yours sincerely, "Ch. Darwin." W II "Down, Bromley, Kent, September 28, 1856. "My dear Sir, I thank you warmly for your extremely kind 'letter, and for your information about the bald-pate, 'which is quite sufficient. When we meet next I shall ' beg to hear the actual coo ! " I will by this very post write to Mr. Hill, and will ' venture to use your name as an introduction, which I 'am sure will avail me much; so you need take no trouble on the subject, as using your name will be all that I should require. With my sincere thanks, "Yours truly, "Ch. Darwin. " I am very anxious to got all cases of the transport '■>f plants or animals to distant islands I have been trying the effects of salt water on the vitality of seeds j^: wM Y^-'^ ^1 ? ■■ ■i 1 ■ a6S THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. -their powers of floatation-whether earth sticks to b.rds feet or base of beak, and I am experimenting whether small seeds are ever enclosed in such eartn etc. Can you remember any facts ? But of all cases "hint"" wT"" °' ^""^P°^^ ^^"d -'^l^ I --t " ex-Oof land mollusca utterly puzzle me most. 1 should be very grateful for any light." "sumn. "^^^''" '^°"^^' '^'' P^^h'-^P^ '■" ^°"^^e of the ummer you would have an opportunity, and would be o very kmd as to try a ///./. experiment for me. I thmk I can tell best what I want by telling what have done. The wide distribution of some Tpecies o f^esh water molluscs has long been a great perplexity " to '1 ''V ''''''' '''''''''' ' '°^' -^^ 't occurred o me that when first born they might perhaps have "1 k nhn'r P'^^°P^^-^°- habit.s, and might perhaps ^ hke n.bbhng at a ducks foot. Whether this is so I do _^ not know, and indeed do not believe it is so. but I ^ ound when there were many .e,y young molluscs in „\"Z 7.^^^ ^^'^h aquatic plants, amongst which I .. iTu '. '"''^ '°°*' ''''' ^^^ '■"^'-^ barely visible shel s .//.. crawled over it. and then they ..//....y so ^^ firmly that they could not be shaken off. and that the ^ oot bemg kept out of water in a damp atmosphere, the ^_ l.tt e molluscs survived well ten. twelve, or hfteen hours, ^_ and aM> even twenty-four hours. And thus. I believe. It must be the fresh-water shells get from pond to pond, ^^and even to islands out at sea. A heron fishing, Tor jnstance. and then startled, might well c. a rain.day __ carry a young mollusc for a long distance. Now you will remember that E. Forbes argues chiefly from the IVOR A' AT THE SEASHORE. 269 "difficulty of imagining how littoral sea-molluscs could "cross tracts of open ocean, that islands, such as Madeira, " must have been joined by continuous land to Europe ; "which seems to me, for many reasons, very rash "reasoning. Now, what I want to beg of you is, that "you would try an analogous experiment with some sea- " mollusc, especially any strictly littoral species- -hatching "them in numbers in a smallish vessel and seeing " whether, either in larval or young shell state, they can "adhere to a bird's foot and survive, say, ten hours in ''damp atmosphere out of water. It may seem a trifling "experiment, but seeing what enormous conclusions "poor Forbes drew from his belief that he knew all "means of distribution of sea-animalcales, it seems to " me worth trying. My health has lately been very in- " different, and I have come here for a fortnight's water- " cure. " I owe to using your name a most kind and most "valuable correspondent, in Mr. Hill of Spanish Town. " I hope you will forgive my troubling you on the " above points, and believe me, my dear sir, " Yours very sincerely, " Cii. Darwin. " P.S. — Can you tell me, you who have so watched all " sea-nature, whether male crustaceans ever fight for the "females ? is the female sex in the sea, like on the land, " ' tcterriina belli causa ? ' I beg you not to answer this " letter, without you can and will be so kind as to tell " me about crustacean battles, if such there be." To this my father replied with ample notes, as, a little lator, he helped Darwin to collect facts with regard to the agency of bees in the fertilization of papilionaceous flowers. 270 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. My mother's conduion, however, was growing more ztzrt '' ''''I' ^"'' ""'^^ ''' -"^> '-'•^^' o^ti treatment her angu.sh had become absolutely constant She now slept only under the inducement of opiates • and at ast, after torturing her delicate frame so savage'ly fo,' bf Tv ?-,f '°'^^^ ^°"'^^^^^ ^-^^^ ^he malady wa beyond h:ssk. 1. On December 34 she was taken home for the bnef remamder of her life she was under the soothmg care of the eminent homeopathic physician, Dr John Epps, whose principle appeared mainly to consist m he allevatrng and deadening of pain. Now. for the first t.n,e. these sanguine lovers realised that the hour of their parting was at hand; and they faced the know- Mrs. Morgan, was an immense relief to both. This ladv came up from Clifton, unsolicited, and undertook the n.ght-nursmg of the patient until near the end The harrown.g details of these last weeks are given with too faithful and self-torturing minuteness by my father in his Ma.ona/. The long-drawn agony, borne to the very last with an ever-increasing saintly patience, came to a close at one o clock on the morning of Monday. February 9 1857 My mother lies in the remotest corner of Abney i ark Cemetery. -^ IH ( 271 CHAPTER X. LITERARY WORK IN DEVONSHIRE. 1857-1864. "T^HE death _>f Emily Gosse marked a crisis in the J- career of .her husband. None of the customary expressions which arc used to denote the g.ief and despair of a bereaved person are applicable in his case. He showed {ew outward signs of distress. His faith In God, his implicit confidence that what was called the deatii of the redeemed was but a passage from the ante- chamber of :,fe to its recesses, to that radiant inner room into which he also would presently be ushered, removed the bitterness of separation. He was not tortured by that desideriutn, that insatiable and hopeless longing, which saps the vitality of those who have loved, and lost, and do not hope to regain. Yet when faith, with its clearest and fullest vision, has done all it can to comfort, nature will assert itself, and grief takes other forms. My father was now completing his forty-seventh year, and had reached an age when the first eagerness of life is over, and when sympathy and encouragement are necessary, if the strenuoi-.s .effort is to be maintained. It is probable that he did not realize at once, in his determination to be at peace, in his violent subjection to the will of God, how much had been taken away from his power of sustaining an active intellectual life. He survived to recover his happiness, to '^9 Bfl :*v_ tflH^^^^I i ! ! I \ \\ I \ Mi ii' XfZ THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. be more happy, perhaps, than ever before, but he never entirely retrained '.lis energy. From this year forward he was retrenching, suppressing, withdrawing liis forces, and preparing for the long-drawn seclusion of his later years. Although my mother had shared his views on all religious questions, and although on several occasions my father has noted that she stirred the embers of his zeal and quickened his conscience — " a very bkssed revival of my own soul through some words which she spoke to me '' — she had, nevertheless, an influence over him which was, on the whole, o[iposed to the stern and fanatic tendency of his own native temperament, iler mind was a smgularly gay anil cheerful one, and no one could distinguish more clearly than she did between piety ami misanthropy. She was also liberal in her mental judgments, .nclent and curious in her reception of new ideas ; without pretending to enter into the details of physiological speculation, she was inclined to welcome novelty, rather than to reject it. The volumes which my father published during the last five years of her life show, unless I am gre.itly mistaken, how wholesome was her inlluence upon his miiul in these two directions. Nothing could be more cheerful than the Dcvonsliirc Coast, while Tcitby is positively playful. Nor in any of these bijoks, or in the monographs of a more technical nature whicli accompanied them, is there betra)'i'd any want of sxmpathy witli the progress of zoological thought, or suspic idii of its tendem >-, allhou;.;Ii the prinii|)les of Biblical theolog)- arc boldly and frequent])- m.niitained. With ICdward h'orbes ami Charles I )ar\vlf, lie was in correspondence, .uui wase.^ciianging A-ith them memoranda which more and more directly tended to strengthen evolutionary ideas. In some of the monographs on the class of zoophytes which Philip Gosse issued in 1.S55 and fiS56, passages are to be found which slio\ lie author to •«i^- LITERARY WORK IN DEVOXSIIIRE. 273 have grasped, or rather, perhaps, to have been prepared to grasp, the doctrine of biological development. But it has to be confessed that such evolutionism as he accepted was timid and unphilosophical, and that sooner or later he would certainly have been brought to a halt by the definite theory of Darwin The belief in a direct creative act from without, peopling the world with a sudden full-blown efflorescence of fauna and flora, was a part of my father's very being, and he would have abandoned the entire study of science sooner than relinquish it. He was aware of his limitations as a thinker ; he knew his mind to be one which observed closely and minutely, and failed to take in a wide horizon. He once, in later years, referring to his isolation as a zoologist, said to me that he felt hini^ self to be a disciple of Cuv.V.-, 'x)rn into an age of successors of Lamarck : and his position could scarcely be defined more exactly. Vet it .seems to me possible that if my nu)ther had lived, he might ha\c been p.evented from pulling Inmsrlf so fatally and prominently into opposition to the new ideas. Ik- might probably have bcm content to leave others to fight out the question on a philo.sophical basis, and might himself have quietly continued observing facts, and noting his ob.servations with his early elegoncc and accuracy. That his mind was morbid, and his nerves unstruii", is clearly enough to be discovered from reading the singularly- painful little Memorial of the Last Days on luirtli of l-imily O'ossr, which he published in April, 1.S5;. In tjiis volume, uMlten with distressing ability, he gives a pii hue of the illness and death oi his witr which it is exceedingly difilcult to describe, so har^h, so miinite, so vivid ,iic tlu- lines, .so little arc the customary roiivcntioiis of ,1 iiuiiion preserved 'pi- • 1-. . . 1 . . . . . ni,, iirrii n.u.k, uhitii was aciUresscd, ot roiiisr, to an extremely limited tircle, was received with -il.iI displeasure i *74 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY COSSE. : i S t i \ by its readers, few of whom were well enough versed either in literature or life to understand the tenderness and melancholy which wer.> concealed beneath this acrid and positive manner of writing. The reception of the Memo- rial by his wife's iriends and many of his own shut him still further up within himscif, and he became almost as silent and reserved as he had been before his marriage. He was roused, however, during the spring and summer of this year, by a good deal of lecturing, in Scotland, in the North, in the midland counties. London became inex- pressibly disagreeable to him, and he began to look about for a home in the country. In March he was approached by the committee of an educational scheme which v, as then occupying a good deal of public attc'lon, a certain Gnoll College, which was to form the nucleus of a univer- sity for Wales, and was to be founded on a romantic acclivity in the Vale of Neath, in Glamorganshire. It was hoped that this institution would be richly endowed, and the committee was endeavourmg to secure the best men in ever)' branch as its professors. This Gnoll project gratified my father's dislike to London, and when, in June, it proceeded so far as the offer to him of the chair of Natural Historw with a p^sidence, he received the proposition with delight. l?ut there was a v.orm at the root of this tree, and Gnoll never opened its academic halls. On September r, having satisfied himself that the Welsh project wouUl ionic to nothiiv.;, l'luli|) ("losse went down to his old h.unit, the village of .St. M.ir\cinn\ li, in .Soutli Devcin. This jijaci' h.id just l)i'cn seized with a hiiilding craze, and new \illas, each in its separate garden, were rising on all hands. I'hili]) Gn'.;se hired a horse, .iiid uule rouiiil the nciglil)c)urlioi)d to see what he could fuul to suit him, and at lar.t he discovered, near the top of the Torquiy Ktuul, \'. !'..il he tl'.ought w.is the exact place. LITERARY U'ORk' IX DEVOXSHIRE. It was not an attractive object to a romantic eye. It IS impossible to conceive anything mucli more dispiriting than this brand-new h'ttle house, unpapered, undricci^ •standing in ghastly whiteness in the middle of a square enclosure of raw " garden," that is to say of ploughed field, laid out with gravel walks, beds without a flower or leafi and a " lawn " of fat red loam guiltless of one blade of grass. Two great rough pollard elms, originally part of a hedge which had run across the site of the lawn, were the only objects that relieved the monotony of the inchoate place, which spread out, vague and uncomely, " like tne red outline of beginning Adam." \\y taking the house in this condition, however, it was a cheap purchase, and my father felt that it would be a pleasure to discipline all this form- lessnos into beauty and fertility. He never repented of his choic^^ nor ever expressed, through more than thirty years, the wish that he had gone elsewhere. The Devon- shire red loam is wonderfully stubborn, and for many seasons the place retained the obloquy of its .lewness. But at length the grass became velvety on the lawn, trees grew up and hid the unmossed limestone walls in which no vegetati,.n r.,, force a footing, and the little place grew bowery and secluded. It was on September j:;, i,S57,'lhat the f.nnilv settlcil in this house— named .S.iutlhurst, by the builder, in mere wantonness of nomenclature and this became tluir home. Phili|, (},,sse's rotle.s wanderings were over. • •etoix going d.,wn int,. Devonshire he had completed two pieces of jitcrar)- w.,ik, which, s., far as his scientific credit w,i. .-..ncerned, he mi-ht very well have ku undone. I'hey represent a mental conditi..- of .•xji.ui.iion and of in^t.ition. The first of these, a V(n uc of eollectctl essays "i'lUi iia.i an|Hand m the ni.e ;a/inc eallcd Zi^m/j/t;/-. was published HI the ..ummer of 185/. Ihe author gav.' it the U5 376 THE LIFE OF PHILIP IIEXRY GOSSE. if •J . 2 title of Life in its Loiccr, Intenncdiutc, and Higher Forms, and was startled on the day of publication by seeing it ticketed in the bookshops " Gosse's Life," as though some one had obliged the town with a premature biography of him. These essays were slight and the religious element was quite unduly prominent, as if vague forebodings of the coming theory of evolution had determined the writer to insist with peculiar intensity on the need of rejecting all views inconsistent with the notion of a creative design. This book entirely failed to please the public, who had now for so many years been such faithful clients to him ; with the scientific class it passed almost unnoticed. No such gentle oblivion attended the other unlucky venture of the year 1S57. IVIy attempt in writing this life has been to present a faithful picture of my father's career, and 1 dare not omit to chronicle the disappointments and annoyances which attended the publication of his Omphalos: An Attempt to untie the Geobgical Knot. Philip Gosse was so profoundly unambitious, so entirely careless of what was thought about his doings and writings, th-it he can hardly be said to have matle a mistake, in the ordinary sense of the phrase, in co.npo^ing a book which was f.ital to the adv. nice of his repul.itiuii as .1 man of science. Hut others, to wlu)m his fame is (U.uer than it was to him.s. Z may bitterly regret that he left his own field of research, that fieUl in which he wa> gathering such thick antl clustering l.iinils, to adventure in a province of scientific philost)phy wiiich la>- outside his sjilare, and for which he was fitted neither by Iraiiiin,, nor li>- n,iti\e a[)titu(le, nor by the possession c^f a mini dear troni prejudice. 'Ilioioughly sincere as he wa->, .uul devoted to trulli a^ he believed himself to be, he lacked that deeper nioile4_\-. tli.it nobler cantiour. whicii m-piieci uie getims'>i Uaium. i iie eimcnt interpretation of the Uible lay upon his judgment with a LITERARY WORK IN DEVONSHIRE. 277 weight that he could never throw off, and his scientific work was of value only in those matters of detail which remained beyond the jurisdiction of the canon. But, as I have said before, if he could have been content to rest in detail, and to have let the ephemeral theories of man spin themselves out in gossamer and disappear ; if he could have persuadeH himself to endure with indifference what he regarded with disdain, all might yet h.ive been well. In 1.S57 evolutionism was crude and vague ; a positive naturalist might well have been permitted to ignore it. But, unhappily, my father's conscience tortured him into protest, and he must needs break a lance with the windmills of the geologists. The theory around which the illustrative chapters of Omphalos were embroidered may briefly be described. The pet craze of tlic moment was the recmciliation of Genesis with geology. Most men of science at tliat date advocated, or thought it decent to seem to advocate, some sclieme or other for preventing the phenomena of geological investi- gation from clashing with the .Mosaic record. Many of them, with Adam Sedgwick, Uiought that "we must consider the old strata of the c.uth as monument,, of a date long anterior to the existence of man, and to the times contenipl.itcd in the moral recoros of his creation." \\i\- few were, in i S5-, prep.ucd to jjart company alto- gether witli the c()Sino:.M>n)- of Genesis. Tl.cy preferred to evade the actual language, to c>cai)e into such generalities as "the si.\' ages of creation," "an anleccdenl state of tiie earth prior to the recorded Mosaical epoch. ' It was to a generation not as yet revolutionized or emboKlrned by Daruin and Coienso that my lather addressetl his Omphalos ; he took for granted that his readers were sure «'f the fact of creation. lie un(leilo,.k to show fi.em i!i,Lt the contents of the fossiliferous strata did not prove any process of cosnnc formation which the m\- literal days of a78 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HEXRY GOSSE. ^m Genesis mi.eht not have covered. He proposed to reconcile Scology not merely to the Mosaic record, but to an exact and -nelastic interpretation of it. His theory is briefly this. Life is a circle, no one stage of which more than any other affords a natural comniencing-Doint. Every livinj^ object has an omphalos, or an e^^g, or a seed, which points irresistibly to the existence of a previous living object of the same kind. Creation, therefore, must mean the sudden bursting into the circle, and its phenomena, produced full grown by the arbitrary will of God, would certainly present the stigmata of a pre-existent existence. Each created tree would dis- play 'he marks of sloughed bark and fallen leaves, though it had never borne those leaves or that bark. The teeth of each brute would be worn away with exercise which it had neve- taken. J}y innumerable examples he shows that this must have been the case with all living forms If so, then why may not the fossils themselves be part of this breaking into the circle ? Why may not the strata, with their buried fauna and flora, belong to the general scheme of the prochronic development of the plan of the life-history of this globe? The ingenuity of this idea is great, and if once we believe in the litp a iJcn^ "quhfcim dixeptor. I tio not mean merely in the case LITERARY WORK IN DEVONSHIRE. 281 "of fossils which pretend to be the bones of dead animals ; but in the one single case of your newly created scars on the pandanus trunk, and your newly "created Adam's navel, you make God tell a lie. It is " not my reason, but my conscience which revolts here ; "which makes me say, ' Come what will, disbelieve what " ' I may, I cannot believe this of a God of truth, of Him "'who is Light and no darkness at all, of Him who "'formed the intellectual man after His own image, that "'he might understand and glory in His Father's works.' " I ought to feel this, I say, of the single Adam's " navel, but I can hush up my conscience at the single " instance ; at the great sum total, the worthlessncss "of all geologic instruction, I cannot. I cannot give up "the painful and slow conclusion of five and twenty "years' study of geology, and believe that God has "written on the rocks one enormous and superfluous lie " for all mankind. "To this painful dilemma you have brought me, and " will, I fear, bring hundreds. It will not make mc throw "away my liible. I trust and hope. I know in whom I "have believed, and can trust Him to bring my faith "safe through this puzzle, as He has through others; but " for the young I do fear. I would not for a thousand "pounds put your book into my children's hands. They " would use the argument of the early Reformers about "transubstantiation (which you mention, but to which "you do not give sufficient weight), 'My senses tell " ' me that this is bread, not God's body. Vou may burn " ' mc alive, but I must believe my senses.' Your "demand on implicit faith is just as great as that "required for transub.^tantiation, and, believe me, many '■'of your argument", especially in the opening chapter, "arc strangely like those of the old Jesuits, and those m i 5i 1 2^2 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. "one used to hear from John ''onry Newman fifteen "years a<,^o, when he, copying tne Jesuits, was trying to " undermine the grounds of all rational belief and human " science, in order that, having made his victims (among " whom were some of my dearest friends) believe nothing, " he might get them by a ' Nemesis of faith ' to believe "anything, and rush blindfold into superstition. Poor " wretch, he was caught in his own snare. I do not fear "you will be; for you have set no snare, but spoken " like an honest Christian man ; but this I do fear, with " the editor of this month's Gcol gist, that you have given " the ' vestiges of creation theory ' the best shove for- "vvard which it has ever had. I have a special dislike " to that book ; but, honestly, ^ fdt my heart melting "towards it as I read Omplialos, and especially on "reading one page where I think your argument "weakest, not from fallacy, but from being too hastily "slurred over. You must rewrite and enlarge these in "some future edition — I mean pp. 343, 344. What you "say there I think true, but I always have explained it "to myself in this way — that God's imagining one "species to Himself, before creation, necessitated the "imagining of another, either to take its place in "physical uses, or to fill up 'artistically,' if I may so "speak, the cycle of possible forms. This was my "prochronism ; b".t I dc^i't see how yours differs from "the transmutation of species theory, which your "argument, if filled out fairly, .vould, I think, be. "This shell would have been its ancient analocfue "of the Pleistocene, if creation had taken place at the " Pleistocene era, and that, again, would have been the " Eocene analogue, if creation hid happened an a.'on "earlier a.^ LITERARY WORK IN DEVONSHIRE. 283 if " one, and the Pleistocene one by this time into the " recent : but creation having occurred after the " Pleistocene era, fossils representing those (and the " early) links of the cycle have been inserted into their " proper beds. " Now, I wish you would look over this thought, for " it is what you really seem to me to lead to. I am not "frightened if it be t'-ue. Known unto God are all His ' works, and that is enough for mo ; but it does trouble " me, as a dislikcr of the I'cstigcs, to find you advocating " a cyclic theory of species, which, if it is to bear any " analogy to the cycle of individual growth, must surely "consist in physical transformation. "If you will set me right on this matter, you will do "me a moral good, as well as justice to yourself " Pray take all I say in good part, as the spec"h of "one earnest man to another. All I want is God's " truth, and if I can get that I will welcome it, however " much it upsets my pride and my theories. And I am " sure, from the tone of your book, you want nothing "else cither. " J promised to review your book. I pay you a high "compliment when I say that I shd! not do so, and "solely for this reason — that I am not going to mount "the reviewer's chair, and pretend to pass judgment, "where I am so utterly puzzled as to confess myself "only a learner and an incjuirer writing for light. " ]klicve me, yours more faithfully than ever, " C. KiNG.SLEV." By the time, however, that Omphalos was published, in November. 1S57, the change from London to Devonshire iuiLi wrtuigiiL lis guild wuik upun (.jusse s iiicnuii licailii aiid spirits. He lost his morbid depression; he resumed his 384 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENR Y GOSSE. % ) I i II own proper work of observation with enthusiasm ; ana he started what is admitted to be the most serious and the most durable of his contributions to scientific literature. Since his first visit to Devonshire in 1852 the British sea-anemones and corals had attracted his constantly repeated attention. These curious and beautiful creatures had hitherto been almost entirely neglected. The sea- anemones had possessed but one historian, Dr. Georj^e Johnston, who had given them a place in his History of British Zoophytes. Johnston had been a good naturalist in his day, but the number of varieties with which he was acquainted was very small, and he was not by any means careful enough in discriminating species. He lived on the north-eastern coast of England, where tiicsc creatures are rare, and the consequence was that for purposes of specific characterization his work was utterly worthless. Johnston, even in his latest edition, had been aware of the existence of only twenty-four British species. Gosse increased this number to between seventy and eighty, and no fewer than thirty-four species were added to the British .'.una by his own person-il in\-estigation. But even more important, perhaps, than this addition to the record of known forms, was the creation of p complete systematic analysis of the order Actinoidca, a feat which Philip Gosse performed unaided. His system of classification was accepted in all parts of the scientific v or:d, n.nd is still in force, with but vci}- slight modificat'on, Thc great work m u.iich he embodied these investiga- tions was entitled Actinologia Britauuica, and professed to be " A History of the British Sea-anemones and Corals." It was begun in the autumn of 1857, and concluded in the spring of i860, having been published in twelve bi-monthly parts, lie first of whirh '.n-:: js^!!.".-! -r-. i\T-.». .v. = .o-^.- During these two years, the collection and collation of ^^liyik. LITERARY WORK I.V DEVONSHIRE. a8S facts conncctc'l with this inquiry formed the main occipa- tion of my father's time. In 1852 he had enjoyed his first experience of marine-collecting on the shores of Oddicombe and Petit Tor, and he now returned to the same pools and coves with a fuller experience. He found the coast but little interfered with, although the aquarium mania and the prestige of his previous visit had to sr it degree invaded his hunting-grounds. In carrying through the great task which he had set before him, a task in whi( h no predecessor had laid down the lines along which he wa to procetJ he found it absolutely necessary to bast c\ cry single observation on personal exr.mination. In < der to do this, he was obliged to provide himself with . ^vide variety of specimens, and to appeal to local raturalists in all parts of the Britis^> Islands for help. He printed a circular inviting the co-operation of strangers, in which he described, with minute care, what he wanted and did not want, how specimens shoi'ld be packed and forwarded, and all other needful particu.ars. The consequence was that he stimulated the zeal of fellow-labourers in all parts of Britain, from the Shetlands to Jersey, and the morning post common y laid upon the breakfast-table at Sandhurst one, if not mor^ , little box of a salt and oozy character, containing living anemones or corals carefully wrapped up in wet seaweed. In those days, fortunately, the Post Office had not yei wakened up to the inconvenience to other people's correspondence which such dribbling packages might cause. But it was to his own exertions that Philip Gosse mainly looked for the necessary specimens. Several times a week, if the weather and the tide were at ail favourable, he would clamber down to the shore at Anstice Cove, at Oddrombe, at Petit Tor. or take loni'cr excursions, to slaidcncombe northv.'ards, or to Livcrmcad southwards on Tor Bay. In 2S6 'iHE LIFE OF rinr.ip henry GOSSF. hfAt ii f: these excursions I was his constant, and j^^cncrally his only, companion. He was in the habit of carrying; a lar^e wicker basket, so divided into compartments as to hold two stone jars of considerable capacity, and two smaller ^lass jars. The former were for seaweeds, crabs, lari^e fishes — the rouL^dier customers ji^encrally ; while the latter were deilicated to rare anemones, nutlibranchs, small crustaceans, and tlie other f.iiry people ui the j)ools. To me was i^enerally entrusted an additional i^lass j,ir, in a wicker case, and sometimes a i^reen t;au/e net, such as the capturers of buttertlies carry, which was to be usc-d for surface-fishini;, and for i^ently shakint; into its folds the delicate forms tliat mi.L;ht be hiding; in the seaweed curtains of Iar ,md topazes; uni(|ue little sca-.inemoiies in the fi.ssurcs , odd i r,d)s, ,is ll.it ,i^ f.uthiivs .sciittlini^ away in a;..;itation ; fringed womus, like bron/etl cords, or strings dipped in verditjris, .serpentining in and out of decrepit tufts of coralline. When our backs ached with the strain of stonc-turnlntj. wc used to proceed further into the broken nKkuork ol t!u promontory or miniature archipclaj^o, and the more serious htboiir of collecting in tidal pools, or on the retreating LITERARY WORK IX DF.VOSSHIRE. a87 seaward surface of mimic cliffs, would bc,c;in. Protected by his tall boots, iny father would step into mid-seas, and, stoopini^ under a drippinc^ wall of scrwceds, would search beneath the algie for such little glossy points of colour as revealed interesting forms to his practised eye. If these would not come away under the persuasion of the fingers, he would shout to me, as guardian of the basket, to hand over to him the hammer and the cold cliisel, and a {^\\! skilful blows wou'd Ijring away the fragment of rock, with its atoms of animated Jelly adhering to it, uninjured and almost unruftled, to be popped immediately into one or other of the jars, according to his decision. This would go on until, with splashings from IjcIow, the result of eager pursuit of objects .seen almost out of reach, ; nd drip])ings from above, caused b)- the !)riny rain from the shake!i cuitains of tlie seaueetls, he would i^e drenched almost to tin- skin ; and then, by a violent revulsion, he would seize the net, and sally forth, wading, on to the :. hallow w.u rs oi the santls, skimming the surfice for medu.s.e, small fi-^lus, and >uch other lender ilot^.im as might come within his re.ich. Two or ihree hours of all thi-> tatii^i.c were conunonl)' .i'- much ,is he coukl i)ear, ,uid so muih energy ilid he throw into the i)ii^iness tli;it ln' would often turn aw.i\' at la>t, not -^ati-fied, but exhausted almost to extmction. ICvcn as a little child I was conscious that ni)- f.ilhcr's appearance on these excursions was eccentric. He had a penchant for an enormous felt hat, whuli hid once been black, but was now grey ami lUsty with age and salt. For some reason or other, he seklom could he persuaded to wear clothes of such a light colour and material as other sportsmen affect. IMack broadcloth, reduced to an extreme seedine.s.s, and cut in ancient forms, was the favourite attire for the shore, and after % : I . 1 t .'i !! 288 THE LIFE OF flflLir HEXRY COSSE. being soaked many times, and dried in the .sun on his somewhat portly person, it ^^rew to look- as if it m-.^ht Lave been bequeathed to him by some ancient missionary \o\v^ marooned, with no other garments, upon a coral island. His ample boots, reaching; to mid-thii,di, completed his professional garb, and when he was seen, in full sunlight, skimming the rising tide upon the sands, he mi-ht have been easily mistaken for a superannuated working shrimper. Our excur.'^ions were usually made to points a little beyond the reach of the amateur, but sometimes we crossed parties of collectors, in dainty c.stumes, such as Leech «lepicted, with pails or baskets, and we would smile and nudge each other at the reflection that they little suspected that the author of J'/'n- Aquarium was so near them. On une occasion. 1 recollect, at Livermead, w came across a party of ladies, who were cackling so joyously over a rarity they had secured that our curiosity overcame our shyness, and we askctl them what tl;ey had found. They named a very scarce species, and lieUl it up to us to exa- mine. My father, at once, civilly set them right ; it was so-and-so, something much more commonplace. The kulii < drew themselves up with dignity, and sarcastically remarketl tliat the)- coukl only repea^ that it u\JS the rarit)-, and th.it "(iosse is our au'iiiority." My father was at his very best on these delightful excursions. His blocd was healthily stirred by the exer- cise, by the eager instinct of the hunt. Extremely serious all the time, with his brows a little knilteil, he was ii(\ r- theless not at .dl formiikdilc here, as he w) ntteii u.i. at home, !! !s broad face, bland'c-es, we I rgot our •jiialin. in <.iu- excitement. I still see the hawk's eyes of Kmgsley peering int.. the trawl on one side, my fitlur's wide face and long set mouth bent ujKin th- other. I well recollect the occasion (my father's diary gi\es me the .late, Augu.st II, I.S5H) when, in about twenty fathoms outside' i'»ii) Ilea.d, we hauled up the fii.t specimen ever ob.served of ti>..t exquisite creatur:. the dia.lein anemone, Biiticdcs conmata; its orange-scarlet body clasp-.g tiie whorls of a living Turriklla shell, while it held n th. air its i.urj.le parapet crowni-d with W wiDW -white spiky tentacles. lien the bi-iuoiillily parts were bound up, the A.ii- i ii ^.:.7^. I i If 200 r//E LIFE OF rniLip iiexry gossf. )ioIoi^ia Britivniicn formed a larL;c and liandsoine volume, copiously illustrated with coloured plates of ^\\ the known Briti'-.h species and most of the varieties. The text is con.'Jtructed on the lucid and elaborated system consecrated to exact manuals of this kind by the tradition of Varrcll's Britisli Birds. The flexures of the various sca-ancmones are t xtremcly accurate in form, size, and colour, and iiave but one artistic fault, namel\', the want of natural groujiint^ in the pla, 0. In order to secure perfect exactitude, my father drew and coloured each specimen separately, anc' cut out his fif^nrc and i^ummed it on to its place in the com- jxiund illustration. ; -nie of the individual fij^ures suffer from the hartl line which surrounds them, the resu't of this Composite treatment of the full-iia;^'- plates. The intro- d'iction, a minute descriptidii of the or^anizaticMi of the se.'.-anemones, and in particular of their unicjur and extra- ordinary "teliferous" system, has been rei;ardcd as the most sustained piece of orii^inal writimj of a technically scientific character which Philip Gosse has left behind him. His pi- tonn'cal statements in this ])reface are eNC'-edini^ly minute, and are !:;iven almost wholly on the authority of his own dissections ;uul ol)servations, but they have never been superseded. While this important work was slowK- drawn (o a conclusion, i'in'!i[) Gosse occupied his leisure with a volume o{ a more ejibemeral nature, Jivcuiugs at the Microscope, which appeand in 1S3.;. This was a popular introduction to the study of microscopy, 'i'lu- text of {he Ac/i/io/og-iir was fmi^hed in Jime, 1859, allhou;^h it did not appear in fui.d hook form until Ianuai\- '<( the ii'-xt year, i^ut almost as soon as tiie letterpress was oti" his liands, my fatlier turned to the compos of a book which hail lon<^ occup/icd hi.s thoughts, a Vuiume dealing e.\clusively with the ;i;sthetic aspects of zoology. "In my many m^_ ' * f V. LITERARY WORK IN DEVONSHIRE. 291 years' wandcrin-s tlirou-h the wide field of natural history " he wrote in March, i860, "I have always felt toward it -omethin- of a poet's heart, thou-h destitute 01 a poet's lius. As Wordsworth says : — "'To me the nicamst (lower that hlows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.'" In The Poetry of Natural History (a title afterwards changed to The Romanee) he sought to paint a scries of pictures, the reflection of scenes and aspects in nature; selecting those which had peculiarly the power of awakening adiniration, terror, curiosity, and pleasure in his own breast. To the composition of this volume he gave unusual care, and it remains, perhaps, the nearest approach to an English classic of any of Philip Gossc's writings. When the author repeats the experiences of others, the style is .sometimes a little otiose ; but where lie d\vells on what has personally pleased or moved him, where he narrates his own experiences and chronicles his personal emotions, die pages of this first series of The Roviauec of Xatural ///.rAvT preserve a charm ulneh may never wholly evap., rate. The editions of this book have been very numenms, and after a lapse of thirty years I believe that it is still in print, an.l enjoys a steady sale. One chapter nf this i„„,k, the Hnal .,ne, attracted -iiorc notice than all the r.'st put together, and excited, indeed, a positive furore. This u,,s the chapter entitled " Thr Great Unknown," ,n uhieli |'h,lip (-^sse startc.I the suggcsti.m that the semi-mythic marine monster, who.sc name was always cropping i,p i„ the newspapers, the famous sea-serpent, was perhaps a surviving species allic-d to the gigantic fossil Eiin/iosanna of the lia.s, .md, in short. a marine reptile of large size, of sauroid figure, with turilo- iike paddles, lie judged it to be a surt of ple.iusaunrs, HI .•*l-// 392 THE LIFE OF PHILIP IiEXRY COSSE. Hi ! some twelve or fifteen Icct in length ; and one of the illustrations of T/ic Rontaiicc of Natural History was a conjectural drawing of the l-'ving " sea-serpent," constructed on the Enaliosaurian hypothesis. In the body of the book he gave a searching analysis of the more or less vague reports made by unscientific, but apparently honest persons, who had seen " the sea-serpent " from ship-board, and he strove to show that all these stories taken in combination, tended to point conclusively to the existence of such a Survival as he suggested. The theory was worked out with great fullness, and the ingenuity of p special pleader. The naturalists followed it with amusement and interest. Darwin was by no means inclined tp reject it, as a very possible liypothesis, but Professor Owen hotly rontcstetl it in favour of a theory of his own, that the " sea-serpent " would really prove to be a very large seal It is rather odd that af .er thirty years the question should still be left wholly ..nanswered, especially as vague reports of a monster seen in mid-ocea". continue occasionally to reach the papers. I am not aware that any suggestion more tenal)!-; than my fat ler's has yet bctn pro])()un(lcd, and more extraordinary things have been lauglu-d at when they were first foreshntlowcd and have ultimately proved to be true. Considering the stir that was made about this " se.i-serijcnt " (iis(|uisition when it was originally published, it is not a little surprising that fifteen or twenty years later a popular writer on science shouUl have had the crfroiitcr)- to steal the whole thing, plesiosaiii us hy])oth( --is, examination of evidence, and even the very words of I'liilij) Gossc's arguments, and fe, put it forth as a little theory of his own. The ]>ri ju'tr-itor survivetl m\- fathei', by a strange coincidence, onl)' a few days, and as he is ileati, 1 need nut mention his name. The komancc of Natural History was not publislicd LITERARY WORK IN DEVOXSHIRE. ^93 until Christmas, i86o, bu'<- it was finished in the prcccdint^ March. IMy father had now for three years been settled in the west, and he was growing more and more, as he cxj:)ressed it himself, a " troglodyte," a dweller in a cave. Tae composition of the Actinologia Britannica had forced him into correspondence with a large circle of stran"-ers, and had kept his human sympathies alive. But after the publication of that work, a kind ot inertia began to creep over him, and he dropped his correspondents one by one. Even Charles Kingsley, with whom he had enjoyed so long and close communion of interests, seemed to lose hold over him. His household consisted, at this time, of his aged mother, whom he had brought down into Devonshire in March, 1858 ; his little son ; and Miss Andrews, a lady who undertook the housekeeping for the trio. On February 28 old Mrs. Gosse died, at the age of eighty. She had been bodily transplantetl, with all her furniture, pictures, and knick-knacks, to an apartment fitted up as closely as possible to ri.'semble her own old room in the Poole house half a century before. She remained, ur^Ml near the last, in full possessio 1 of her intelligence, rugged, vehement, slightly bewildered, filled with respect for lier son, and recog- nisant of his kindness, yet pathetically remote from all his interests. While >he was still able, on lu's arm, to creep out a little in the sunshine, she visited his new tropical fcrn-h(Mise, lately fitted up in the Sandhurst garden. The little conservat(jry was a great success; in the moist hot air the transparent traceries of the delicate fronds formed an exquisite feathery vault, on either side and above the visitor. "I wonder," she said, after gazing round, "that \-ou care to keep a parcel of fern ;" .md she turned away. Id her the furv 'Aiiiiiuimax .nid .-."./'/.'.■.■.■.'.■.'.■.",• •.•.■."r.' t-..-. moro than siK-cinuns of tiiat wide waste of "fern," of bracken, which the open moors i^'i Dorsetshire presented in such I if; 'liT 394 THE LIFE OF FHILIP hENRY GOSSE. Vfm ■ '« mui abundance. I remember that I was conscious of these blunt traits in my grandmother, and conscious, too, of my father's grave and unaltcring attitude of respectful con- sideration to her. But we were a solitary family. For hours and hours, my grandmother would be sitting at her patchwork, silent, in her padded chair ; my father,' almost motionless, in his study below her ; and I, equally silent, though not equally still, free to wander whither I would in house and garden, so that I disturbed none of the pcnates of the cloister and the herirth. In the autumn of iS6o a very happy and wholesome change was made in the tenour of our existence. My father became acquainted with a lady from the eastern counties, who was staying at Torquay. This was Miss I'lliza l^rightwen, whom he married at Frome, in Somerset on December i8 of that same year. This lady happily sur- vives, and it would not be becoming for me to dwell here on the circumstances which attended her married life. But, \.hen her eye reaches this page in the biography of one so dear to us both, she uill forgive me if I rerord, on behalf of the dead, as op my own behalf, our deep sense of gratitude, and our tender recognition of her tact and gentleness and devotion through no less than thirty years. It is of my step-mother, of that good genius „f our house, of whom I think every ..me I turn the pages oi Adonais— " What softer voice is hushed over the (lead ? Athwart what brow is that dark mantle thrown ? .* If it he .slie, who, gentlest of tiie wise. Taught, soothed, loved, honoured, the departed one ; T-et iiic not ve\ witii inharmonious sighs The silence of th.ii heart's accepted sarnrKc." Th e \'(^;ir I STi r HiV i.iiiKi leiamcci his old intellectual habits anti interests luiimpaircd. There ^'' ' 'IttM. LITERARY WORK IN DEVONSHIRE. 295 was, even, a revival of the scientific spirit, a fresh response to the instinct of the observer. His principal literary work was a second series of TJie Romance of Natural History, carried forth, rather too hastily, in consequence of the extra- ordinary popularity of the first. It was issued in Novem- ber, and sold well, but not nearly so well as its predecessor. The book suffers from the usual fate of continuations. We feci that the firsf scries was produced because llie author had something which he must say, the second because he must say something. The most interesting and important chapter was that on " The Extinct," in which the author dwells on the death of species, on the disappearance of the mylodon, the Irish elk, the icpyornis, the dodo, and the great auk. In the section on " jMermaids," he tried to repeat the success of his sensational chapter on the " Sca- Serpent " and suggested the possibility thrt the northern seas may yet hold some form of mammal, uncatalogued by science, which, if guiltless of green hair and a looking- glass, may yet ultimately prove to be the prototype of the n.^r"" lid. lie had, however, no such definite hypothesis to produce as the old plcsiosanrus one, and the public imagination declined to be greatly stirred about mermaids. In the autumn of 1S61 Philip Gosse returned with one of his spasmodic bursts of zeal to th.c accurate study of the rotifera. His successive monographs on Stephanoceros, on the i'loscularidic, and on the Alelicertid.e api)carcd in the Popular Science Review in the course of 1862, and supplemented the discoveries he had made and reported twelve years before. In tliese papers he began a general account of the Vvh.ole ^lass of the Rotifera, arranged according to a classification of his own ; but the Popular Science Re:'ie:e came to an end, and the work was never completed. I his iniport.uit hagmcnt ul luslor}- ot tlie Rotifera is constantly referred to in the great work pub- f I % 296 ?! ( f I 1^.^ 14a i,-^. THE LIFE OF PHILIP ITEXRY GOSSE. lished by Hudson and Gossc a quarter of a century later It only includes the three ^rcat families of the Floscularidre the Mclicertid.-Tj, and the Notommatina ; but it is almost a class'c as regards those sections of the class. The next year was the first for twenty years in which Phihp Gosse was not actively employed in literary work. It was a season of sudden transition ; his tastes, hi;, intel- lectual habits, underwent a complete chan-e. He ceased almost entirely, to concentrate his attention on marine' forms. He abandoned his lon-lovcd mistress, zoology and m exchange ho began to devote himself to astroiioiny and to botany. Both of these new interests were awakened in April, 1862-the former in consequence of the publication in the /^;;n-s of some observations regarding coloured stars which greatly excited his imagination ; the latter through seeing Lord Sinrl,irs collection of tropical orchids. I le began, with his accustomed energy, •, , devote himself to these novel interests, and he built ai. orchid- house, in which he presently collected and arranged a very valuable collection of these singular and fascinating plants He imported them from the tropics on his own account and in October. ,,S6.. the first of many consignnKMit^ arrived, in the shape of a rough assortment of orchids from the foi.jsts of Brazil. Once more he was persuaded to take up the pen in 186,3. As a popular illustrated maga -ine of cp.ite a new class, ^,,v/ /^v7/.-was just then at the height of a well- deserved poiularity. Dr. .Vomian Alacleod had frequently invited Philip (;osse to contribute, but without avail • until HI the first days of i,S6.;, being in h'nuth ]}ryon h- 'ciPe,' at -Sandhurst, and did not leave until my father 'h'ul undertaken to write a serial A.r the magazine, . scries of ■ •-■ i-i-^:-. 11; eo-,cr a ,^ huiv year, describing '•'"■'th by month, in a sort of sea-shepherds calendar. LITERARY UORK IN DEVOSSIIIRE. 297 what vvoik a naturalist could undertake at each season on the shore. These papers were to be il. .stratcd bv at least three plates ''n each number, enL,'ravcd in black and white in the pai^es of (lood Words, but originally executed in Philip Gosse's most ex([uisite style, in water-colours. This serial was entitled A Year at the Shore, and the first instalment appeared in the mai^azine in January, 1^64, running; throtj^di the entire year. These papers were very liappily written, quite in the old enchanting; style of the Devonshire Coast and The Aquarium, with the freslincss of that contented and wholesome period. They were full of pri'.ctical advice to persijns engai^ed in zoological collec- tion ; and they pre /ed, so he was cmstantly assured, very stimulating to the readers of the magazine. His orchids largely occui)ied Philip Gosse's spare moments iii the course of 1S63, antl in the autumn he was corresponding a good deal with Charles Darwin, to whom he had communicated in June some observations he I'.atl maile on the strange and morbid-looking blossoms of the Staiihopca. I'rom this correspondence I select his two earliest letters, and the replies recei/ed from the eminent biologist. They will be of interest, perl ajjs, to t)thers than botanists, and are now for the first time publislicd. \\l P. H. GossK to CiiAKi.i'.; Dakwix. "Sandhurst, May ^o, 1S63. "My dear Sik, " Will you kiiully vouchsafe me a little word "of lulp .^ \\'ith)()ur charming book befoic me, I have "been tr_\-ing to fertilize the orchids of my little coller "tion, as they flower. With some I succeed, with • -s " tliiTe is di!!ic!!it \'. ! .rt ww t^:!! \'ou !>! tb.c: oics'-'nl ' fix- ' " Stanhof'ta oculiita opened four great blooms on " Thursd.i)- ; to-day the)' begin to flag, ami I delay no i ' i i ff . ,- 'i ill ..Ml Ill 258 THE LIFE OF PHILIP IILXRY GOSSE. m V t I'.* "longer to impregnate. T reach down your book, turn "to your figure ac p. '79, and recognize the parts well "enough. Tiicn, with a toothpick, i life the anther "ai.d out come the polliiiia, very well dcp-icted by you "at p. iS^, Fig. C, except that in this my species the " polhnia masM . are much larger in proportion to the " viscid disc. The disc is viscid enough, and I carry the " whole on a toothpick. Now I want to find where to " deposit it. I take for granted tiiat it is in the hollow " (marked a in my sketch), which is the stigma. But " there is no viscosity there, nor anywhere near, up or "down, not the slightest; and I cannot get the pollen " to adhere. How can this plant be fertilized ? And hov " would an\- insect do it .' And what would an insect " be about to touch the tip of this isolated projecting "columi. ' Supposing the great bee, or Scolia, or what " not, wants to get at the hollow h\-pochil ^Lhough I " don't find any honey there\ he would alight on the "epichil (whose surface is already three-quarters of an "inch from the rostellum, and which, being movable, " would bend away still further), and creep between the "horns of the m-sochil ; h. ir. GossE. "The di- ar the end of the caudicle adheres to the "stigma, but the polloi masses project, and won't touch "it, though pressed against it with force," LITERARY WORK IN DEVONSHIRE. 299 C. Darwin to P. H. Gosse. " Down, June 2, 1863. " My dear Sir, " It would give me real pleasure to resolve your "doubts, but I cannot. I c.ln give only suspicions and " my grounds for tlicm. I should think the non-viscidity " of the stigmatic hollow was due to the plant not living "under its natural conditions. Please see what I have " said on Acropcra. An excellent observer, Mr. J. Scott, "of the Botanical Gardens, Edinburgh, finds all that I "say accurate, but nothing daunted, he with the knife "enlarged the orifice, and forced in pollen-masses; or " he simply stuck them into the contracted orifice " icitliout co))niig into contact ivith the stigmatic surface, "which is hardly at all viscid; when, lo and behold, "pollen tubes were c.....,; and fine seed capsules "obtained. This was effected ,v'ith Acropera Loddigesii ; " but I have no doubt that I have blundered badly about "A. Ititcola. I mention all this because, as Mr. Scott "remarks, as the plant is in our hot-houses, it Is quite "incredible it ever could be fertilized in its naiive land. " The whole case is m utter enigma to me. I'iobably " you arc aware that there are cases (and it is one of the " oddest facts in physiology) of plants which under "culture have their sexual functions in so strange a " condition, that though their pollen and ovules are " in a sound state and can fertilize and be fertilized " by distinct but allied species, they cannot fertilize "themselves. Nrw, Mr. Scott has found this the case "with certain orchids, which again shows se.xual dis- "turbance. lie had read a paper at" the W anical " Society of Edinburgh, and I d.'.resay an abst'-act whirli " I have seen will appear in the Gardener s Cliroiinle ; but " blunders have crept in in cop\ing, and parts are barely I 1: ■ 1 ' 1 ir 1 1% : i'' i II I > jl * I II I I i '» M tiag 300 T/IE LIFE OF rillLir IIFXRY GOSSE. "intelligible. I low insects act with your Staiilupca I "will not picteiul to conjecture. In my cases I believe "the acutest man couh! not conjecture without secinj:^ the insect at 'ork. T C(nil(l name common luij;lish plants " m this pr.dicaiijnt. Ihit the musk orchis is a case in "point. Since publishing;, my son and myself have "watched the plant and seen the pollinia removed, and "where do you think tliey ///.vr/vV?/'/)' adhere in dozens "ot specimens?— always. to the j(>int of the femur with "the tHM-hanter of the first pair of lej^s, and nowhere "else. When one sees such ailaptation as this, it would "be helpless to conjecture on the Staiiliopca till we " know what insect visits it. I have fully proved that "my stron;; suspicion was correct that with many of our " Enj,'lish orchids no nectar is excreted, but that insects "penetrate the tissues for it. S I expect it must be "with many foreij^n speciivs. I for-ot to dur bee ()phr\-s near 'I'orcjuay, and "see whether ])olIinia are ever removed. It is m\- "greatest puzzle. Please read what I have aid on it, "atid on O. arachnites. 1 have since proved tli.d the "account of the latter is correct. I wish I could have "f,'iven ynu better information. " My dear sir, "Yours sincerely, "CHAKLK.S D.VRWIN. "P.S. — If the flowers of the Staiiliopca are not too "old, remove pollen masses from tluir i)edicel.s and " .stick them with a little liquid purenrum t(> the sti<,'matic "cavity. After the case of the Aciof>(ra, n(! oup .-:!!i "dare po.sitively say that they would not act." LITEKARY llVKn IX D lVOXSI/IKE. V. II. GossE to C. Darwin. ■' "andhurst, June 4, iSoj. "My dkar Sir, " I am cxcccdins^ly obli.L;;cd for \-our kind and "full reply. Will the follow ini; additional facts throw " any licjht on the matter ? "The four flowers of Staiiliopca ociilata became " thorouc^hly withered and flaccid by 1st inst., the 4th "day after openinpf ; yet I allowed them to remain till "this mornini;, when I cut off the raceme just before I "received \our letter. As one of the L;ermens (and this "one of those that I had tried to impregnate) came away "with a touch, I took it as certain that no imprec,mation " hatl taken |)lace ; and so threw the whole on the rubbish "heap without further examination. I'ut, on readin!!-.(".! !■..« mc th.e noUiniu «!f one of the "untoui/iC(f (\o\\i:rs adhering to llu- [mint of one of the M\\ 1 302 THE LIFE OF Fill LIP HENRY (JUSSE. '\ ' "ivory-like horns of the mesochil. I u-ondcred, but "could not account for it, as I felt sure I had not 'ac^i- " dentally detached and attached then, mi such a manner, "while operating on the others. Ikit, just now, in my "examination of the faded spike, I observed, not onlv •'that the pollinia ,,{ that fiowcr remained still on the tip " '^f the horn, but tliat one of the horns of the other un- " touched flouer has lifted its oun anther, and carries "the pollinia in triumph on its point. If this is acci- " dental, it is surely a remarkable coincidence. Hut it "sup^nrests to mc the foilou-in- hypothesis :— That the "movable lip of this curious flower, a-itated by the "wmd. hrin-s the tips of the horns now and then into " contact uilh the - stellum, so as to iift the anther, and •'carry auay the pollinia by touchin- the viscid disk. "That as soon as the viscum exudes from the sti-matic "cavity and spreads over its surface, similar a^Mtations "of the lip would cause the pollinia to su in- across the "sti-ma, and bnishin- the exudrd -l,,l,ule of viscum, to " adhere. If this is tenablr. here is a use for these extra- ^" ordinary horns. Tell me what yo„ think of the tlu.u-ht. "I re-ret that I was so jiasty in cuttin- away the faded "spike ; possibly, with a little more obstetric manipula- "tion, or even an a-itati..n of the flowers with my breath, " I n.i-ht have succeeded in impregnating and in scttlin J'or the horns of any blossom can ril1<- only it.s "oiie;irancc' nf \\\i^ vi-:'!'' !;•-:**. - "from the stigma which abounds with isolated clon^Mted if II S ; 304 THE LIFE OF rillLIP HEXRY COSSE. "cells, called by Brown utriculi : these I find ncver " present in viscid matter of rostellum ; and when these "parts are close, it is important to distincjuish them. "You could have then probably told whether the fluid " which exuded from your decaying; flowers was a true " .>ti.t,MTiatic secretion. I heartily hope your pretty little " discovery will prove good and true. " My dear sir, " Yours very sincerely, "C. Darwin." A month later my father notes that he has been busy "examininc; bee orchis for Darwin at Petit Tor, " and send- ing him notes and drawings on Cycvuca. Another interest- ing correspondence this autumn was with Lady Dorothy Nevill, who supplied him with ailanthus plants, and with a brood of caterijiUars ut some of the other sketches were ratiicr trivial and ditTusely told, besides possessing the di.sadvantagc t'lat tliey seemed like di.scarded chapters from oth'-r books, which mdecd tlie\- were — 7'//r Ociuvi, A Naturalist's Sojourn in Jamaica, and -'' Year LITERARY WORK LV DEVONSHIRE. 305 at the Shore, all havinL,r supplied, from rejected or supt-- fluous sections, matter for chapters in Land and Sea. The fact cannot be shirked that the author was becoming languid, inattentive to the form of what he pubHshed, and interested in matters outside the range of his professional work. By a curious coincidence, A Year at the Shore and Laud and Sea were published in book form on the same day, January 24, 1865, and this may be taken as the date when Philip Gosse ceased to be a professional .".uthor. ( 3o6 ) CHAPTER Xr. LAST YEARS. (1864-188S.) I ^HE remainder of Philip Gossc's life, spent in extreme J- retirement in his house at St. Marychurch, does not present many features which are of strikini; interest to the general reader. I shall not attempt to follow chrono- logically the events of this calm quarter of a century. To give them a histi ry would be to disturb their peaceful sequence, and to destroy their relation witli those more stirring facts which have preceded them. A reflection of the even tciiour of my father's existence will be found in the narrative which my step-mother, his sole constant companion, has been so kind as to prepare in the form of an appcndi.x to this volume. .After 1866, he came but once to London, in 1873, when he spent a day or two in town on lousiness. On this occasion he visited Lloyd's great aquaria in the Crystal Palace, hut they fa 'led to interest him to any great extent. .Since 1S64 he had strangely :eased to fee'l any curiosity in invertebrate zoology. The first breath of revival in tin's direction was awakened by a letter i^f my own to him, in which 1 de- scribed to liiin >,unie ..iiilies which 1 hat! observed at the south point of the Lizartl. He rej-lied (.August 5, 1874) : — "Years and )ears h,i\e pastil since I saw any "actinia; living in {ck winch you found so prolific in ,nvea and .uuiata > ^^ he pale-green anemone, with banded tentacles and a Sa^rartm habit, which you found on the rock that you ^^ .cached by suimming^was not this Sa^r.^ia ckry.o- J^--'-n^ This is a species which I have never seen. Refer to plate vi. oi Aetu.^logia Bntanutea, and tell me whether it uas this. . . . j ,„, ,„ ,^,^,, ,^^ j ^^_ The case of the launce you found swallowed by an Authca .s not without parallel in my own experience" tuas.,„lyanashinthepan. h.nvevcr; in the next K' ter [ was told that "even early September is no tim. for elderly persons to be a^vay from ho.ne. in a uild remote countrv. "1 he real zoo] gical awakening had not come Ihese years were not. however, in any sense quiescent. 1 Ijey were amply filled with amateur occupations-the culfvat.on of ..rchids and the >tudy of astn>nomy bcin-^ the most pn.muu.nt, U hen I'h.lip Gosse had passed sixty years of age, his health became settled, and he enioved me to,. n,,i,,r decree than perhaps ever before.' 0„ i'ebruary i,S, i.S;5, he wrote:- ||! 3oS THE LIFE OF rUlLlP HENRY GOSSE. " Old a^^e ci-cei)s sensibly upon me, and makes " its advance perceptible in many little ways ; yet, "though I have occasional reminders that I must be "cautious of overwork, I am remarkably free from "pains, and life is full of enjoyment to me. In many " things— in enthusiasm, in the zest with which I enter " into pursuits, in the interest which I feci in them, even " in the delight of mere animal existence, and the sense "of the beautiful around me— I feel almost a youth "still." This sense of health and capacity for enjoyment in- creased as time went on, and the intellectual vigour was gradually turned back into the old professional channels. In November, 1S75, after having wholly neglected the marine aquarium for fifteen years, he began to collect and keep sea- beasts in captivity once more. He commenced with nothing more ambitious than an old shallow flat-bottomed pan of brown earthenware, and for some time he was content to buy specimens from the men who made it their business to sell seaweeds and anemones to winter visitors at Torquay. But in February, 1876, he ceased to be satisfied with pleasures so tame to an old sportsman, and, armed with a new collecting-belt and his ancient water-proof boots, he sallied down to Petit Tor at the low spring tide, and began to search for himself in the fearless old fashion. This was the beginning of a revival in zoological enthusiasm, which steadily increased, and wa*-- sustained almost to the close of his life, culminating in his remaikable attermath of scientific publications, lie determined to establish at Sandhurst an aquarium of l.irge size and on modern principles, and he was finally moved to undertake this project from the disappointment he experienced -"n failing 1 ..1:.... jt^^^z-iniinii. ,,f (I,,. rl,.t i Balanoph}llia in his earthen jars. On June J3 Mr. \V. A. LAST YEARS. 309 Ll(»yd and Air. J. T. Carrin-ton, whom he had summoned to liis aid. came down to St. Marychurch to make sutj- ^^cstions and plans for the tank, the main characteristic of which was to be that it should have a con ^ant current, like those in the Crystal Palace. As it was spring tide, my father took his old friend from Oddicombe beach in a boat to the Bull Rock and to Maidencombe ; but, thou-h they were out three hours, there was a tiresome swell, and they worked in the lovely -gardens of red seaweed 'with but little success. Lloyd's visit had, however, its direct results. His eye was quick and his engineering sense prompt and astute. IV his recommendation, Philip Gosse had a slate reservoir sunk to the level of the earth, in a coal-shed in his back garden. In this he stored two hundred and ten gallons of brilliant sea-water dipped at Oddicombe beach. In the roof over the kitchen was fixed another slate cistern of a hi h-ed and twenty gallons, and an unused lumber-room \\as devoted to the reception of the show-tank, to hold fifty gallons, made of slate, with a half-inch plate-ijlass front. A glass pump and vulcanite pipes completed the establishment, whL:. ..-as fitted up under Lloyd's super- vision. When rll was put together, an hour's pumping, once a week, was sufficient to lift the hundred and twenty gallons of sea-water from the reservoir into the cistern, whence it flowed by a pipe with a fine jet into the tank, at the regulated rate of about seventeen gallons a day, while a similar quantity flowed from the bottom of the tank into the reservoir, thus securing a constant "•••'-ulation. The construction of this tank, which, after one or two slight hitches, worked in a most satisfactory manner, greatly revived i'hilip Gosse's interest in zoolo;.,.-. \\... began, once again, to haunt the shore, undeterred by the labi.rious e.xertion required, or i)y the exhausting climb up l\ «^: r 310 ! Ml t- i i t i S ' T i J ?l 1 ! 1, i T//E LIFE OF FIHLIP HENRY GOSSF.. Iff iRUP and down the cliffs which each visit to the beach entailed. Roundham Head, in the centre of Tor ]?ay, and Maiden- combe, half-way between Hope's Nose and the estuary of the Tcign, were at this time his favourite huntine-crounds • but he went even further afield, running down by boat to Prawlc Point and Berry Head, or to the rocks that front the black creeks at the mouth of the Dart. Regardless of his sixty-seven summers, he would strip, on occasion, and work like a youth in the cold pools of the s.ate, balanced carefully on a slippery foothold of oar-weed or tulsc. Here are some extracts taken t.t random from his journal '' Aiio;iist 7.— I went to Dartmouth by earliest train, "mtending to hire a sailing-boat to run down to the " Prawle. Old Jones, however, declared it to )c ini- " practicable, from wind and .veil ; I therefore made him "pull me out to Plark Rock, and thence to Combe Point. "Near this latter I obtained a group of the loveliest " Coiynactis \ ever saw; the whole body and disc of "the richest emerald, the colour very positive and (.so "to say) opaque, tentacles rich lilac-ro.se. Returnin-^- ' I ex..mmed some overhanging rocks near Compass " Cove. On one ledge of a >ard st]uare, I saw nearly "a dozen of white dais)-like anemones; but eighteen "inches below the surface, and thus beyond reach, " though easily procurable if the tide had been good, "but it was very poor. Near the same place I saw "others, and tried to get some, but failed. At length I "obtained two noble specimens of Sir^artia xphyrodcta, "with bright c range disc. JM-om a pool of fuci I had " dipped a rare prawn, which 1 would not keep, and a " nuniber of Hippolytc vanans. -■■''■•-'• J- » ..iv,..^ 1 1,^11 i,,-, 3 i^.^LcKiay lu meet me "with a boat this morning at 10.3O. ]iut on my arrival LAST YFARS. 311 "at the beach, there was no one; and so I scrambled "across to Babbicombe. There I found Thomas just "come in from fishing, who had been delegated by "^^lrris to take nic. So he pulled me along shore to " Hope's Nose, and pre /ed a very agreeable and service- " able young fellow, entering heartily into my wishes. "There were some good crevices just below the rifle " targets, and some at fJlack Head. Yet I got but little, " till Thomas suggested some little pools which he knew " to be rich on the islet called Flat Rock, about a mile " off Hope's Nose. I accordin- ly climbed the rock, and " soon found the rough leprous-barnacled surface hol- " lowed in dozens of little shallow pools, overspread "with fucus. The bottoms of these were studded with " numbers of the pretty Sagartia niira, which I have not " seen for years. They were all burrowed in the honey- " combed limesto .c, and hard to chisel out ; however, I "obtained seven. In one pool there was a colony of " Biiiiodcs gciinnacea, unusually large ; I took three of "these. Many pools were still unexplored. I had prc- "viously taken a nice mass of the emerald vr.rlety (jf " Corynactis viridis, and many good masses of fine "algaj. The uXalucr was mild, and fairly fine; verj- " calm ; the sea sm.oc^th, and brilliantly clear. I enjoyed " the trip greatly." He made no p.u..>c through the depth of this winter, but collected on the sh )rc during every fii.e day. December 29 saw him stalking " an immense-disked \^Sagartia\ bcllis vc-rsjcolor" under Oddicnmbe Point, and January i found him turning stones on the beach at Livermead. The rc- fiucnt tide of his zoological ardour was at its height, nor can it be said to have slackened through the greater part uf 1877. When he wor ed on the shore, Mrs. Gosse, as she will relate, was commonly his companion ; when he jj 312 TlfE LIFE OF nriLrP HENRY GOSSE. > i a took sailinij excursions, he often had the advantac^e of the company of Mi: Arthur Hunt, of Torquay, a youn.; naturahst of knowledge and enthusiasm, who then pos- sessed a yacht, the Gmuict, in which the friends undertook frecjucnt scientific excursions, especially over the sandy Zostcra-beds in Torbay, amor^j the little archipelago which lies off Hope's Nose, at the mouth of Brixhani Harbour, and off Berry Head. His letters of this period usually contain some pleasant reference to his beautiful tank and its inmates. For example (June ii, 1877), he wrices : — " Have I told you of a young lobster, which, about "two months ago, I caught in Petit Tor great pool with " my fingers, after more than an hour's effort ? He was "a beai'tiful fellow then, just six inches long, without " reckoning his claws ; but after a week or two he " sloughed one night, to my dismay next morning, for I " supposed the slough to be m: pet deac, so perfect was "it in every member; but presently I saw the gentleman "in duplicate, safe ensconced in a dark corner, and at "least one-third longer. He is now very saucy and " fierce ; quite cock of the walk does mc some damage " by killing and gnawing now and then one of his fellow- " captives ; but this I put up with, for he is such a beauty. "I have been out dredging several times 'ately again " with Arthur Hunt, who is very kind to me, urging mc "to go out frequently, and putting his boat and two "dredges, and himself, and a boatman, at my entire "command, and then, for.sooth, taking all as if /had " done hiiu a great favour ! The worst of it is, I can't " stand any toss—old sailor as I am— w ithout a rebellif)n " within. But the bottom of Torbay is so rich in zoolog\-, "thai It IS worth the scraping; and Hunt is himself a " naturalist." LAST YEARS. ,V3 In the course of 1878 a new hobby be^ran to interfere a little with the exclusive interest in the marine aquarium, It was, more strictly speaking, his earliest hobby resusci- tated, lie met with a French gentleman, resident in London, who made it his business to import 6ne exotic Lcpidoptcm in the pupa condition. It was nearly twenty years since, in response to a sugges^ .1 from Lady Dorothy Nevill, Philip Gossc had made a brief attempt to breed the great Indian mot'i' lie first purchased a ^cw chrysalids of continental bu; .tlies, amongst others Papilio Poda- linus, Tha'cs Po/yxeiia, and Lyaena lolas ; but he soon became chiefly interested in the great moths of America and India, the Satuniiada; and their r.llies. He writes (May 14, 1878) :— " You will perhaps recollect the great atlas moth in " the midst of the box of Chinese msects on the wall of "our breakfast-room. Well, I have a living cocoon of "this species, and of a number of others akin to it. " Two n jIc specimens have already been evolved, and "ar- preserved. Then I have eggs of several of the " species, from one set of which {Attacns Ymnma-viai of "Japan) I am now rearing beautiful caterpillars, on oak. " Some of these insects are North American, and were "objects of my desire and delight when I collected in " Canada and in Alabama ; and this casts an extra halo " around them. But their size and beauty make them "all very charming. ' Natinrnn cxpcllcs, tamen usque rcairrct: I am most thaiikful to say that God con- "tinucs to me --uch health and buoyancy of spirits that I " enter into all these recreations with as much enthusiasm " as I feh r.orty years ago. And so does my beloved wife, "who adds tenfold to my enjoyment, both of work and " play, by her hearty sharing of both, and an i.'iijoyment as " keen as my own. Thus are we two happy old fogies." n Ell ! 314 THE LIFE OF nil LIP HENRY GOSSE. And aj^ain (June 26, 1.S7X) ; — " This purchase of a cocoon or t\\ o of SatiiDiiadic has "grown into a much greater enterprise than I antici- "pated. I am at hist graiifying tlie desire of more than "five and forty years, namely, the rearing of some of " the verj- iliic of the Lcpidoptcra. Yesterday I i.,id the " beautiful male Purple ICmperor ev(jlved from a chrysalis, "rearcxl from the caterpillar. Another will probably be "out to-night, a distinct sj)ecies, closely allied. I liave " now around me the larvu\ attaining vas! size and great "beaut}-, of man)- of the \v\y priinipts of the moths; "and several i have evolvetl from cocoon. One of the "v.-rj- fuust I ever saw was produced in great perfection "a lew tla)s ago ; I inclose }'ou an accurately measured "pai)er-cuttin;- of it. It is of e.\<]uiMte delicacy; llu "\\ings of the tenderest pea-green, merging into snou- • b.ite at the body, ;ind the front edge chocolate-pmiile. "It IS the noble 7 /,/>,<•(? ,v,v' Vt' of the lliinal.i_\-an slt)pes. I iiese a._ samples which ought to make )..ur mouth "water, if \-ou ret.iin an)- of )(>ur bo)ish enihusi.i^ni." ;\nd again i April 7, iN;i;;: — " If you .ire still < ntomologist enough to bnow the "splendid M,'ip/i(Ks, most lustrous. d,i//ling i)luf, great "buttiTlhe-. of .Smith Anienca, \-ou will like to know "that I hiive recent!)- been .iccinmil.iting ,1 fnie collection "of these and other tropic. il I cfidoptita ; including the "great Oniithoptcin- of Malasia, a large number of fine " J\tp!/ioiies, jMid half a do/en species or more of tlu "noblest of these Morphos, enough already nearl)- 1.. "fill a (.ibinet of twenty-four drawers. They affoid nn "great delight, gratifying the yearnings of my earlier "years, which I never e.\])ected to gratify." L)urin • ' * 111 3-6 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. investigations to a len-lh which no one who prccecied him, no.^ even Dr. White, had attempted to reach. Amon- tlie youn-er zoologists of the day, few of whom were personally known to my father, there was not one in "Iiose discoveries and career he took a livelier interest than in iliose of I'rofessor E. Ra>- Lankester, for whom, from his earliest publications, lie had predicted a course of hi-h distinction. For the jiul-ment of this distinguished observer Philip Gosse entertained an unusual respect, and it was owinrr to his advice that the elder naturalist, in his seventy-second >-ear, started ui.on a course of laborious "uesti-ations. which were not terminated ur.til two years later. In April, kSSi, ,,n the very evcnin- of a day which bad been marked i., white to the recluse by a visit from IVufc -or Lankester. (]osse noted that, "encoura-ed by 1--. Iv 1-., I have be-un my mon.),-i,.ph on the /';v//,7/.w,x" In October of the same year he forwarded to I'roR sor Huxley, for the consideration of the council of the Royal Society, the manuscript of his voaime on 77ic (7,is/^ii/-- (hx,rf/s !,/op/rn,^ accompanied b\- nearl>- two hundred fi-ures, e.V(iuisitely drawn under the microscope, illustrating these recondite or.i^ans with such an accur.icy and dclicaU- full- ness, that I have brpu assured that a .picry was raise] '■'1 the council of the society as f. the anth,.rdiip of tlu' 'i'awi-i-s, uiiich it was hardly possible to conceive ii.id tnen '"•"'^' 'jy 'i ""an of bctui.n seventy and ci-luy. An aI'Mract of the iiu inoir was pics.ntly read ,it the Uoy.d Society !.>• Professor llux'ey, in the absence of the auth'or. There arose, however, a difficult)- re-ardini^ its beinj; I>iiblished in full in the Proccc/iii^s of the Royal Society, the subject bem- excessively remote fmm f^cneral int.Mcst. ' t«i-/.j, .t,!u w.c liiu '(.r.ith.fi.1, wiiiLii my lallier considered e.ssenti.d t.. the intelligibility of the mc..ograj)h, LAST YEARS. 317 threatening to be very expensive to reproduce. Uy father, however, met with -reat kindness on this occasion froni his youn-er awfravs. The manuscript was finally in March, 18S2, submitted by Professor Michael Foster to the council of the Linn,x-an Society for publicatior the Koyal Society offcrin- ^30 towards the expense of printin- and en-ravin- The Liim.ean Society, thereupon, waiving their usage of not publishing papers which had been read elsewhere, undertook to bring it out, and, to my father's extreme gratification, this child of his old age was finally issued in May. r.SS;,. as a handsome quarto, in the form of the -J ruNsac/ions of the Linna^an Society, and with all his plates carefully reproduced in lithography. I'liilip Gosse liad made it an invariable practice, in advancing life, to qualify every public expression of' his views on natural phenomena by an attribution of the beautiful (,r wondnful condition to the wisdom of the nivine Creator, lie had done so in his monograi.h on 7//<- C/ns/^iuo; 0>x-, though with great unwillingness. Mt Muwhile, he had for some years been engaged in a course of studies highly gratifying to his earliest instincts, and absorbing in its demands upon his attention. In an earlier chapter of this biography I have described the manner in which the observation of the Rotifcra,ox wheel- animalcules, became a passion with my father. On the whole this may, perhaps, be considered as having been the branch of zoological study which had fascinated him longest and absorbed him most. In spite, however, of the import- ance of the discoveries which he had made, in the course of hi^ life, in this ncglectec' province of zoology, he had never found an 7 Dr. C T. Hudson had been at work on the same subject, independently collecting materials towards a final work on tlii> littli^ L n,„. .• ..,,i .. ..1. .....«,*.« ... /-> . J '/ -. !\r;ijrr;i. In 'S;,Vr chance that -^avc me not only such a colleague, but also such a friend " bo late as the last autumn of his life my father contmued h.-s occasional rambles on the shore with hammer and col- Icctmg basket. September uj, i88;, will long be memo- rable to h,> (ainily a. the latest of these delightful excursions. He spent several hours of that da) upon the rocks in the centre of Goodrington Sands, surrounded byhisu,fe. his ;^on and son's wife, and h,s three grandch,ld,en-a compact tam.ly party. No one on that brilliant afternoon would ■i '1 l;M W 33S THE LIFE OF PHILIP ILEXRY GOSSE I I ' have c^ucsscd that the portly man with a grizzled beard, who stood ankle-deep in the salt pools, bending over tlie treasuries of the folded seaweeds, lustily shouting for a chisel or a jar as he needed it, and striding resolutely over the slippery rocks, was in his seventy-eighth year, and still less that his vitality was so soon to decline. To the rest of the family, who remained at Paignton, he wrote the next day from his own house : — " Many thanks for making yeste-day so happy a day " to mc, though I felt somewhat unwell last night, pos- " sibly from exhaustion. It was delightful to see around " mc your dear selves and the sweet eager children " engaged in diligent and successful search for my grati- " fication. When you all come over again, you will " think the tank a busy .scene worth looking at. Voy, "in addition to our captures of yesterday, there have " arrived four new sea-horses and .several very fine and " large irog/odytcs and Iwllis, all in capital condition. "The Hippocampi I poured into the tank in a moment ; " the Sdi^ai'iicc carefully seriatim this morning. And, " as I say, the tout ensemble is worth looking at. " Of our Goodrington lot of yesterday, the crabs are " climbing about the stone, the long pipe-fish glides like " a slender brown cord thr^nigh the water, the little "black-and-white eott!i:> scuttles about, and I just now " saw the goby creep out from under one of the stones ; " while the crimson weeds and the green ulva give "brilliant colour to the picture. The scarlet and blue " Galathea lobster I don't see this morning, but no doubt "he's all right. The children will be niterested in these " detaiLs." Im October my father and mother, under the stimulus X i .T 1 L 11 '111 I. I IV iv\^v..i*.^l V./1 U \-V.I J resumed their astronomical researches on clear nights. LAST YEARS. " We are busy," he writes on the 2-n^ <- . ., . , >.-..ng for the char^in, double L. L 7Zl P a„e.., v,.sib,e in .he evening, „„„,. „„ definite Ipp t'o cl„,,e of the year ,««;. while he was examinin,- the nsjate one very eCU ni,h.,a ne.ly purehased portion and some exposure ,n leaning out to see ,vhere the lens had ^ len, ronght on an attac,< of bronehi.is.and althou^ 'h' part,cu. ,r complaint uas overcome, he was never welfa,,,! Yet, through the months of December an.l Januarv .here seemed nothing alarnnng i„ his condition. He Z' kept mdoons, but not in bed, and he was as busy as e vl «™...., drawing, and reading. One of the las, books w M h I read w,th unabated interest was the Z,/. „f /,„,,,„, Al wen, „„ much in the old style unUl March, ,,,« whjn a ,sease o the hear,, which must for a long wh.l'e p^ have been latent, n,tl,er suddenly made itself appa ent Under he repeated attacks of this complaint, his brain hi^ pints, h,s manifold resources of bod,- and mu,d, sank lower and ower, and the five months which followed were a Penod o great weariness and almost unbroken glo n ' ftor a long and slow decay, .he sadness of wbie^ was l-l. y not enroittered by actual pain, he ceased to breathe. Ins leep, w.thout a struggle, at a few naes before "Koelock onthemo,„i„gof .\ugus, .,, ,,s,s,s. ||„ |,„., lived scvMitv-ouTlif- ,r,,.,.., r .In-. 1. : ^ ' "■■ "'""^'^■'^' ^^"^1 seventeen laj^. Jle was buried, near h,s nnnher, in the Tor<,uav ^ enieterv. attenderl t,. tl, i... , ' ' ;-'•<- win. had known and respected him durn;. his tlnrty jx-ars' residence in the neiahbourho.xi. I I f f 'f 111 Iri •\l i! H- ft*' I il'i ( 324 ) CHAPTER XII. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. ; i T X the preceding chapters I have not, I trust, so com- ••■ plctcly failed as to have left upon the reader's mind no image of what manner ot man ny father was. But the portrait is still a very imperfect one. and must be com- pleted by some touches which it is exceedingly difficult to give with justice. I have hitherto dwelt as slightly as possible upc 1 the religious features of his character, that I might not disturb the thread of a narrative which is mainly intended for the general public. But no portrait of his mird would be recognizable by those who knew Philip Gosse best, which should relegate to a second place his religious convictions and habits of thought. They were peculiar to himself, they were subject throughout iiis life to practically no modifications, and they were remarkable for their logical precision and independence. I have never ii)et with a man. of any creed, of any school of religious speculation, whowas so invulnerably cased in fully developed conviction upon every side. His faith was an intellectual system of mental armour in which he was clothed, (■tt/'-ti-/>ie, without a joint or an aperture discovL'rable anvwherc. He never avoided argument; on the con .rar)-, he eagerly accepted every challenge ; and his accuracy of mind, ■••. '-.s.-.:::^ ■■. :l:: -^ .-. l: i.:;;-c ;;: c'.. ;:. ;; ;;; wiliiili a naiiuw LUanuel, was such that it was not possible to controvert him on his GEXERAL CHARACTERISTICS. ow" gmund What his o„.„ ground „as it may be well Z >.tate m l„s o»„ words, and those for whom thnl pcnts of theoiog, have no attraction ml' be t ed'^: """ °" '° ^ '"t-J-' Pasc : , cannot, as a bioll r :::iri":::.fa^":?""7---'--'-''^--" i«.e; writ;;,: i?,^;^ /: ""'^■^^'°" °^ ^'"■">' '^^» fr- » ^ "The whole of my theology rests on, and centres i„ h Kos„rrect,on of Christ. That Jesus was raised froni e dead, .s an historical fact, the evidence for which i! n,y judgment, impregnable. I ask no more than' thi» , everythmg else follows inevitably A sufferin ' .:f:rth '""■;"," ^" ^" ---^--/chris, :' " ;■ . ca. theme of the Old Testament ; and Jesus did on nnerous occasions, during His life, predict His 'ow acith and resurrection, in order 'That the Serin,, " ■ Height be fulfilled, that thus it must be' '^ ■■That lie was raised from the dead was distinctly the dead. It was the solemn witness borne by (iod to H.sm,.ss,on. It did not prove Him to be God ■ , .proved Him to have been the Sent One n 1-ather ; ,t was the Father's .seal to Him " Now, then, every act and word of His comes with .1, ■■authority of God ; for He is God^s aecredi::::Lt and spokesman^ I „,„st „„, „,, ,„j ^^„„^^, ^^ o II- saymgs I w,ll receive; I dare refuse none; for He ..ever ceases to present the eredent.als of the Falher _ All the wo„drou.s scenes through which He passed,,!,.. ^^ . en,p,a.,on. the Transfiguration, the Agony, the Cross ; ^ H.s t,ansact,o„s with a personal devil, and with personal (Icincins; His revelatidns r,^n^,..„.„,. n.- 11 • , ,,. '" '=--=& iiij ou'ii pre- _ CX.S encc H,.s unity uith the- Father, the covenantor election, the perseverance of His saints, Hi. advent and III I u 1 1 i J * _,' J a ' J Ih; 336 THE LIFE OF PHI LIP HENRY GOSSE. W "judgment, the kinc^dom of heaven, the unquenchable " fire of hell ; — all these come to me with all the force " of dogmas, not one of which I have the cjition of " refusing, unless I refuse God ; for they have the authority "of Him whom God has sealed. "TiiK Old Testament. " The Lord Jesus constantly cites the numerous books " of the Old Testament as a unit — 'the Scriptures,' and " He constantly appeals to it as an ultimate authority ; "'the Scrii^ture cannot be broken,' etc. He cites the " words of Moses, of Isaiah, of David, but, withal, as "spoken 'by God' (Matt, x.vii. 31), by ' the Holy Ghost' "(Mark xii. 36). He refers to the ancient narratives, as " indubitable verities ; to the marriage of Adam and " Eve (Matt. xix. 4) ; to Sodom and Gomorrha (xi. 23, "24^; to the manna, to the brazen serpent; to Noah, "to Lot, to Lot's wife, to I'.Iijah, to Elisha. He taught "His disciples that 'all ;hings in Moses, the Prophets, " ' and the Psalms ' were about Him, and must be fulfilled " (Luke xxiv. 27, 44-47). Now, since the Lord Jesus " thus honours the Old Scriptures, and never gives the " least hint that then- is any exception to this honour ; " never speaks of them as coutahiini^, but always as bciiii^, " the authoritative Word of God ; I must so recc:--c them, " every word. "The New Testament. " But how can I be sure that the Gospels, the Acts, "the Epistles, the ApocaKpse, are true? are wholly " true, wholly trustworthy ; free from admixture of " human erna .- A qinj.ilion, li'iis, oi vasi impfjriaiicc ; " since it i-. i'^ the Epistles that the great scheme of GENERAL CHARACTI: RISTICS. 337 " Christian doctrine is unfolded to faith, with do-matic "completeness. One may confidently say, a' priori "that these could not be left to the indefinite admixture 'of human opinion, without frustrating the very puri)osc ^" for which the Father sent ti,c Son; it would be to undermin, that edifice for which He had hith- laid "the most solid and stable foundation. " But we are not left to conjecture here The I ord " Jesus, cn-agin- to build His Church upon die Rock "and conferring , n Peter the privilege of the keys to' " unlock the kingdom (Acts ii. and x , promised first "to hun (Matt. xvi. 19), and then to all the .Apostles "(xvn. IS), that whatsoever they should bind or loose " He would ratify from heaven. For iMis end He pro- • m.sed them the }foly Ghost, to abi. with th m • to "guide them into all [the] truth; to take of H,s and "the Pather',s, and show l> them; to bring all Jesus's " words to their remembrance ; to show them things to "come; to enable them to be witnes.ses for Him (John "xiv.-xvi.. passim). He sent V - {.u.; the world " exactly as the F.ithcr had sent / jg). "The Holy Ghost in due time • ^,.vcn, the witness 'of Jesus-Messiah's ascension to the Divin- Throne; "and they, thus endowed, and distinctly accredited' "(Acts i. 8), went f .th 'witnesses to Him, ... to the " ' uttermost part of the earth.' " Here, again, my confidence finds an impregnable " fortress. Whatever I read in ^he Fvangels, or the " Epistles, is no longer ihe utterance of a mere man " however pious ; it is not Luke or John, or Peter or " Paul, that I hear ; it is God the Holy Ghost from '■ heaven, bearing witness to the Sent of the Father, now •• tliat the Sent Son has gone up in resurrection life and " power to the Father's Throne. m Ui i ?2S TriE LIFE OF Fin LIP IIEXRV COr.SE. " Thus, in The Mysteries of God, I do not ask if this "dogma is probable or improbable , if this is worth)- or " umvorthy of God, as I fashion Ilim in my imagination : " I simply ask, Flow is it written ? What saith the " Scripture ? Assured that God has not raised Christ " from tho dead, in order to tell us lies ! " Put in a nutshell, then, his code was the Bible, and the Bible only, without any modern modification whatever ; without allowance for any ilifference between the old world and the new. withiuit any ilisttnction of value in parts, without the smallest :oncessioii to the critical spirit upon any point ; an absolute, uncompromising, iinqucstioning reliance on the Hebrew and Greek texts as inspired by the mouth of God and uncorrupted by the hand of man. The Hi!)le, however, is full (jf dark sayings, and needs, as he admitted, an interi)reter. But my fathe- did not doubt his o.vn competence to inter[)ret. lie had some reason tu hold this view. His know'edgc of the \V\hV can hard!/ hi\e bceii excelled. His verbal memorj- of the .\uthori/ed \'ersion included the wliole New Testament, all the Psa'ms, most of the I'ropliets, and all the lyrical portions of 'die ilistori(.il liook-. The ronditinn of his memory tluetuated. of ci'Mrse, and u .is being dail)- refreshed at various points ; but I have hi- own repeated assurance th,i'., practically speaking, he kiRw th.e BibU' b> heart. Nor was this in any scp.se a jiaiiot-fe.it or trick of memor)-. lie knew tlie text of Scripture in tiiis extraoroinary way, partly because his miml had an unusual power of verbal retc on ; partly because, for i. early sixty years, wlutevcr 'Hher ,ccupations might ha\c beei, in h.u'.d, no tlay passed in which he diil not read and meditate upon .some portion of tin- Bible. I have called his creed invulnerable; and \ lu r. it is con- sidcrci! th'it ho cnuhl tiot hi' .'.tcsn!!! £! on •!'.;■ s?;'^* ;-f seuiibility or sentiment, which he tossed to the winds, nor GEXE RA I. CHAR A C TE R/S TIC S. 3*9 on thr.L of scholastic or accepted intcrprctaUon, which he never preferred to liis own where the two differed, that his nieniory could promptly supply him with an appiopriate text at every turn of the argument, and that he never accei)ted the must alluring temptation to fight on theoretic ground outside the protecting shadow of the !f>sissiiiia verba of the Bible, it will perhaps be urderstood that he was an antagonist whom it was easy to disagree w'th, but uncommonly difficult tf) defeat. This being the foundation upon which I'hilip Gosse's ligious edifice was uased, it is not difficult t(j perceive how certain radical peculiarities of his characcer, to which the reade, attention has already been drawn, flourished under its shelter. His temper was unbending, and yi l singularly wanting in initiative, and this uas a s' sli in v^hich provided his nnnd with the fully dLveloped osseous skeleton it ilem.iiuled. Revelation had to be .u. cpted as a whole, .ind so as to leave no margin for scepticisr.. A*^ the .-ame time, Llie detail of J{il)lical ititerpretation opened up a fi<'!d of minute investigation u hich was ao.solutely bi.undle.ss, and which my father's near-sighted intellect, so helpless in sweeping a large philosophical hori/( 'i, so amazingly alert and vigorous in .inal\/ing a minu area, i ould explore, without exh.iu-.tioii, to an .'nfmitc degrc<.. Hence wh.it fascinated him more th.m any otlier nu nia! exercise, especially of late vears, was to take a passagj of Scrii^ture (in the Greek. 1.., he never mast.-:cl Hebrew), and to dissect it, us i| under the micro.M.ope, word by word, particle by particle, passing at length into subtleties where, undoubtedl)-, f- u could follow him. Protected by his ample shield, ilu text of Scripture, he was ([uite calm under the cliarge ol heterodoxy which somctiir:es rwaehcd iiim in his retreat. It i.s not a matter fur surprise that w'*h his remarkable tempeianUMit, his isolated X V. 'H B' 330 THE LIFE OF miLir HEXRY GOSSE. ,5!i?' lit lli m and self-contained habit of mind, he found it impossible to tlin.w in his lot with the system of .-ny cxistini; Christian Church. In middle life he had connected him- self with the i'l\-mouth Iirethrcn, principally, no doubt, because of iheir lack of systematic ori;anization, their repu- diation of all traditional authf)rity. their belief that the Bible is the infallible antl sufficient .i^uiJe. 15ut he soon lost confidence in the Plymouth Hrethren also, and for the last thirty \-ears of his life he was really unconnected with any Christian body whatever. What was very curious was that, with his intense persistence in the study of relij,nous cpies- tion.s, he should feel no curiosity to know the views of others. In tho.sc thirty years he scarcel\- heard an\- ])reacher of Ills own reputed sect ; 1 am eonruient that he never once attended the services of any unaflilialetl minister. He had leathered round him at Si. Marsehtireh a cluster of friends, ni<,stly of ,1 simple and rustic order, to whom he preaehetl and e.\|)oimded, and amon.L;st wh.om he officiated as i..:nister and head. This little bod;, he called "The Church of Christ in this i'arish," it;norin^r_ with a s iblmie seiLnity, the claims of all the other religious institutions with which St. Marychurch mi-ht be suppled. Ills attitude, with.. lit the U .ist intent ional .irro-ance ronounced in coniUTti'Mi \\\\\\ them , but if once they wc-e six.ken of as "C'hnstm is turkey," or a " < b.rist- mas pudding," they became abomin.ilile, " fo,,d offered to iilols." Hiblical students will ob.serve the source of this u.ca — a most iii^ciiiuus ail.iplaiioii io modern life of an injunction to the Corinthians I-Viends who knew this 1 1 ! : t 332 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HEXRY GOSSE. 11! singular prejudice were particular to send gifts for New Year's Da}-; and I well recollect my father's taking ofif the (lish-covcr and revealing a magnificent goose at dinner, while he paused to remark to the guests (none of whom, by the way, shared this [^articular conviction). " I need not assure you, dear friends, that this bird has not been offered to the idol." This was a case in which, wc may all admit, tlie de- licate scruples of I'hilip Gosse's conscience were strained in a somewhat trivial direction. A graver (juestion may be raiseil, though I will not be so impertinent as to attempt an answer, by m\- father's rigid attitude toward those who were nt)t at one with him on essential points "f religion. " I could ne\er divide myself from anv man upon the difference of an opinion," said Sir Thomas Jirowne, and modersi feeling has been inclinctl to ai)plaud him. lUit niy fither was not modern, and it would not merel)- be absurtl, it would be unjust, if I were to pretend that he was liberal, or w(juld have thought it godly to be liberal. Towards those who differed from iiim on essential [loints of religion, his attitude was as severe as his masculine nature knew how to make it. He was not .sympathetic; lie had no intuition of what nnghl be passing through the mind of one who held views uttcrl_\- ,it \ niance uith what secmt'd to himself to be inevitable. He could be intiulgent to ignorance, but uluii there was no longer this excuse when the revealed will of Ciod on a certain point had been lucidly stated and e.xplaimd to the erring mind, if then it were .still rejected, no matter with Kdward Forbes, whom he had seemed to love so well. The ardent patience and svm- patl-.>- . . Charles Kin.L^slcy the friend fn.m the outer wo.ul uh,,n. he preserved longest, wearied at length <.f an .ntercour.se in whici, principles were ever preferred to person.s. In later years one e.xample may suffice. Dora Grecnwell precipitated herself .,n the friendship of I'hhp Gos.se with an impetuosity which at first bore everythmg Helore it, and in a copious eorrespoudence laid opc'ii to I'ini her spiritual ardours and aspirations. He wa.^ gratified, he w..s touched, I,„t 1,. lespond ua. imi.ossiblc t'> him ; he hi, I the ..anie purel> di.i.ictic louJi, the sune logic, the same inelasticity for every one, and Iriendskip soon e.vpircd in such a vacuum. A phrase in a letter to myself gives its own key to the social isolati.jn of his life. "I am impatient and intolerant," he writes, "<,f .dl resist- ance to uhat I see to be the will of (,.hI. and d that resistance is sustained, I have no choice but to turn away from him who resists." \\ \\ 334 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HEXRY GOSSE. \\\ V ?.: His extraordinary severity towards those who occupy the extremes of Christian doi^ina, towards the Church of Rome and towards the Unitarians, was a result of this idiosyncrasy pushed to its extreme. In l were swept away. The rising tide is " reconciled " in the same fashion to a child's battlemenLS of sand along the shore. Awe, an element almost eliminated from the modern mind, was strongly developed in Philip Gosse's character. He speaks of himself, in one of hi:: letters, as having been under "the subjugation of spiritual awe to a decidedly morbid degree " during the whole of l-is life. He meant by this, I feci no doubt, that he was conscious of an ever- present bias towards the relinquishing of any idea pre- sumably unpalatable to his inward counsello . It was under the pressure of this sense of awe that, when his intei.jct was still fresh, he deliberately refus-d to give a proper examination to the theory of evolution which his own experiments and observations had helped to supply with arguments. It was certainly not through vagueness of mind or lack of a logical habit that he took up this strange position, as of an intellect jal ostrich with his head in a bush, since his intelligence, if narrow, was as clei;r as crystal, and his mind eminently logical. It was because a "spiriiual awe" ovc'-hadowed his conscience, and he could not venture to take the first step "n a downward course of scepticism. !Ic was not one whan Genera Iiiscciorum, and added that it was then that he " acquired the habit of comparing structure with structure, of marking minute differences of form, and became in some measure accustomed to that precision of language, without which descriptive natural history could not exist." If I may point to one publication 'of my father's in particular, the acumen and accuracy of which in technical characterization have been helpful to hundreds of students, I will select the two volumes of the Manual of Marine Zoology, which so many an investigator has paused to take out of his pocket and consult when Muzzled by some many-legged or strangely valved object underneath the seaweed curtain of a tidal pool. As a zoological artist, I'hilip Gossc claims high con- sideration. His books were almost always illustrated, and often very copiously and brilliantly illustrated, by his own make drawings and paintings of objects which came under GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS his notice. In Newfoundland he had seriously be-un to make a collection of designs. In July. 1855, he stated (in the preface to the Manual of Marine Zoology) that he had up to that date accumulated in his portfolios more than three thousand fijjures of animals or parts of animals of which about tu-o thousand five hundred were of the hi- vertebrate classes, and about half of these latter done under the microscope. Durin- the remainder of his life he added perhaps two thousand more drawin-s to his collections. The remarkable feature about these careful works of art was that, in the majority of cases, they were drawn from the livinj^ animal. His zeal as a draughtsman was extraordinary. I have often known him return, exhausted, from collecting on the shore, with some delicate and unique creature secured in a phial. The nature of the little rarity would be such as to threaten it with death within an hour or two even under the gentlest form of captivity. Anxiously e'yeinc. It, my father would march off with it to his study and not waitmg to change his uncomfortable clothes, soaked perhaps m sea-water, but adroitly mounting the captive on a g^ plate under the microscope, would immediately prepare an elaborate coloured drawing, careless of the clauns of dinner or the need of rest. His touch with the pencil was rapid, fine, and exquisitelv accurate. His eye- sight was exceedingly powerful, and though he used spec- tacles for manyyeais, and occasionally had to resign for a while the use of the microscope, his eyes never wore out and showed extraordinary recui,crative power. He was drawing microscopic rotifers, with very little less than his old exactitude and brilliancy, after he had entered his seventy-eighth year. In A Naturalists Rambles on the Devonshire Coast (1S53) he lust began to adorn his books with those b.au. ^m^ 340 T//E LIFE OF Pin UP irENRV GOSSE. ;■,: 'i tiful and cxcccdinn^ly accurate coloured plates of marine objects which became so popular a part .)f his succ^'ssive works. These were drawn on th stone by himself, and printed in colours by the well-know i firm of Ilullmandel and Walton with very considerable success. The plates of sca-anemoncs in this volume, thoucjh surpassed several years later by those in the .Icfinoiogia, were at that time a revelation. So little did people know of the variety and loveliness of the denizens of the seashore, that, although these plates fell far short of the splendid hues of the originals, and moreover depicted forms that should not have been unfamiliar, several of the reviewers refused altogether to believe in thcin, clas;;i;.g them with trave'lers' tales about hills of sugar and rivers of rum. Philip Gosse himself was disgusted with the i... leness of the colours, to which the imperfect lithography gave a general dusty grayness, and he determined to t'y and dazzle the indo- lent reviewers. Consequently, in 1S54, in piblishing T/ie Aijuariiim, he gave immense pains ti/ the plates, and suc- ceeded in producing specimens of unprecedented beauty. Certain full-page illustrations in this volume, the scarlet Ancient Wrasse floating in front of his dark seaweed cavern ; the Parasitic .Anemone, with the tr-iiispareiit jjink curtain of dclcssi'riit fronds behind it, the black an I (M'ange brittle- star at its base ; and, above all perhaps, the pl.ue of ..lar- fishes, made a positive sensation, and mark ■ ..n '^poch in the annals of English book illustration. In spite of the ingenuity and abundance of the " processes " which have since been invented, the art of prinl..ig in (.ol. rs can scarceh- be said to have advanced beyotul some ot tiiese plates to Tlii Aijuariiiui. Philip Gosse was never again (juite so fortunate. I'.ven the much-admired illustrations IL CLtlV- III L!HJ ^lllinOII.'^^m, \\\ lOWU, LIUJIIJ^H V_.VLCUH.ii >\il.ll f^l and profusion of tints, were not so harmonious, so delicate, m. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. 3^, or so distinguished as those of 1S54. To compare the author's jri-inals with tiic most successful of the chromo- h'thographs is to realize how much was lost by the mechanical art of production. I'hihp Gosse as a draughtsman was trained in the school of the miniature painters. When a child he had been accust, ned to sec his father inscribe the outline of a poitrait on the tiny area of the ivory, and then fill it in with stipplin-s of pure body-colour. He possessed to the Icxst the limitations of the miniaturist. lie had no dihtance, no breadth of tone, no perspective ; but a miraculous ex- actitude in rendering shades of colour and minute peculiari- ties of form and m.irking. In late years he was accustomed to make a kind of patchwork quilt of each full-page illus- tration, collecting as many individual forms as he wished to present, each separately coloured nnd cut out, a.id then gummed into its place on the general plate, upon which a background of rocks, sand, and seaweeds was then washed m. This secured extreme accuracy, no doubt, but did not improve the artistic effect, and therefore, to non-scientific observers, his earlier groups of coloured illustrations give more pleasure than the later. The copious plates in A Year on the Shore, though they were much admired at the time, were a source of acute disappointment to the artist. There exists a copy of this be jk into which the original water-colom- drawings have been inserted, and the difference in freshness, brilliancy, and justice of the tone between these and the publisncd reproductions is striking enough. The submarine landscapes in many of these last examples were put in by Mrs. Gosse, who had been in early life a pupil of Cotman. Between iN;; .tik] >*v'r;^ mv r!«iu>r if^r*-. -.-.-! .--.,- _-«.-. »-.i occasions in various parts of ICngland and Scotland, with marked success. He was perhaps the earliest of those Jr li », t ! HI 342 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HENRY GOSSE. wlio, ,'n puhllc lecturii;;^, combined a popular method with exact 'Xicntific information. He was accustomed to use freehand drawins:^ 01 tiie black-board, in a mode which was novel when he tr>t bcL^an, but whii '1 soon became common enough. Me j^ave up lecturin^c: mainly because of the extreme shyness which he never ceased to feel in addressing a strange audience. Had he not expressed this sense of suffering, no one would have guessed it from his serene and dignilled manner of speaking on these occasions His fondness for romantic poetry, and his habit of reciting it at home with a loud, impiessivc utter- ance, naturally produced an (-ffect upon his manner in public speaking and lecturing. It was a subject of constant regret to us in later years that he would .lot cultivate, for the general advantage, his natural gift of .-locution. He needed, however, what he certainly would not have accepted, some trainin;; in the conduct of his voice, which hv threw out with too monoto- nous a roll, a rapture too undeviatingly prophetic. lUit his enunciation was so clear and just, his voice so resonant, and his cadences so pure antl distinguished, that he might easily have become, had he chosen to interest himself in human affairs, un-'sually successful as an orator. Hut it would doubtless always have been chfTicult for him to have stirretl the enthusiasm, though he would easily have been secure of tile admiration rn 1 attention, of an audience. Of late years, as long as his i.calth permitted, he preached every Sunday in his chapel, always with the same earnest im- pressivencss, the same scrupulous elegance of language ; but apt a little too much, perhaps, for so simple an audience, to be occupied with what may be called the metaphysics of religion. His public speaking, however, was highly characteristic of himself, which is more than can justly bo said of his GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. 343 letters. TIicsc were usually very disappointing. This did not arise from lack, but from excess of care ; the consequence being that liis letters, even to the members of Iiis own famil)-, were often so stiff and sesquipedalian as to produce a repellent effect, which was the very last thing that he intended. Letters, to be delightful, must be chatty, artless, irregular ; anything of obvious design in their composition is fatal to their charm. ." y father had a theory of C(jrrcspon(lence. He arranged the materials of which he wished to compose his letter according to a precise system, and he clothed them in language which reminded one of The Rambler. Ilencc it was rarely indeed that any one received from him one of those chatty, con- fidential epistles which reveal the soul, and touch the very springs of human nature. Letters should seem to have been written in dressing-gown and slippers ; m)- father's brought up a viMon of black kid gloves and a close-fitting frock-coat. The absence of anything like picturesque detail in them is very extraordinary wlien it is contrasted witli the easy and romantic style of his best books. In his jniblic works he takes his readers into his familiarit}- ; in his private letters he .seemed to hold them at arm's len^ith. Tile fullest expression of riiilii) (iossc's mind, indeed, is to be found in his books, and sjme general estimate of the chaiactcr of these may at this point be attempted. Viewed as a whole, his abundant literary work is of very irregular character. Much nf it bears the stamp of having been produced, against the grain, by the pressure of pro- fessional requirements. A great many of his numerous volumes may be dismissed as entirely ephemeral, as con- scientious and capable pieces of occasional work, effective enough at the time of their publication, but no longer of any real importance. Another considerable section of his poi)uIar work consists of hand-books, which are not to ill i\ 344 THE LIFE OF PHILIP HEXRY GOSSE. I I I m i he treated as literature. Yet another section consists of books in which tlie rcii;4ious teacher is pre-eminent, in which the design is not to please, but to convict, admoiiisli, or persuade. When these three divisic.ns of his vast library of publications arc dismissed as valuable each after Its kind, but distinctly unliterary, there remains a residuum of about eight or nine volumes, which are books in the literary sense, which are not liable to extinction from the nature of their subject, and which constitute his claim to an enduring memory ;; a writer. Of these The Canadian Natura'istoi 1X40 is the earliest, A Year at tkc Shore of 1865 the latc.;t. Charles Kingslcy's criticism of these volumes, expressed thirty-five years ago, may still be quoted. Surve)-ing the literature of natural history, Kingsley wrote, in Glaucits :— "First and foremost, certainly, come Mr. Gesso's "book.s. There is a playful and genial spirit in then, "a brilliant power of word-painting, combined with deep "and earnest religious feeling, which makes them as "morally valuable as they arc intellectually interesting. "Since White's //is/ofy of Sdbonie {^^^■ or no writers on "natural history, save Mr. Gos.se and p,,,,,- M,-. ICdward " Forbes, have had the power of bringing out the hum, in " side of science, and giving to seemingly dry disquisi- "tions and animals of the lo.vest type, by little touches " of pathos and humour, that living and personal interest, "to bestow which is generally the special function of " the poet. Not that Watcrton and Jesse arc not excellent "in this respect, and authors who should be in every " boy's library : but they arc rather anecdotists than "systematic or scientific inquirers; while Mr. Gossc, in " his Natni'i/ist on the Shores of Devon, his Tour in "faiuoicii, and his CanaUian N.Uura/isf, has done for "those three places what White did for Selborne, with GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. 345 "all the improved appliances of a science which has "widened and deepened tenfold since White's time." The style of Philip Gjsse was scarcely affected by any other external intlucnces than th- which had come across his path in his early youth in Newfoundland. The manner of writin- of the mo.st strikin,^T authors of his own generation, such as Carlyle and Macaulay. did not leave any trace upon him, since he was mature before he met with their works. The only masters under whom he studied prcjse were romance-u riters of a class now wholly ne-lccted and .dmost fori^olten. Fenimorc Cooper, who.se ^ novels were appearing in quick succession betwc n 1820 and 1840, introduced into these stories of In-'-'an life elaborate studies of landscape and seascape which had a real merit of their own. The Canadian Naturalist shows evident si-ns of an enthusiastic study of these descriptive parts of Cooper. John I!.inim, the Irish noveli.st, whose O'Hara iHf/A-j captivated him so long, left a mark on the minute and graphic style of Philip Gosse, and there can be little doubt that the latter owed something of the gorgeous- ncss and redundanc}- of his more purple passage to the inordinate admiration he had felt for the apocalyptic romances of the Rev. George Croly, whose once-famous Sa/at/iiel he almost knew by heart. After t' year r«'38 he ceased to read new prose books for enjoyment of their manner, and his style underwent but little .urther modi- ficati(jn. The most characteristic of my fathc .ooks, as types of which A Naturaiist's Syonni ... Januua and the Devonshire Coast may be taken, consisted of an amalgam of picturesque description, exact zoological statement, topographical gossip, and easy rrflecfon, combined after a fashion wholly his own. and unlike anything attempted before his day. White's Sdborne, aonc, may be supposed 3 II !i !; 346 THE LIFE OF PHILIP JfE.VKY GOSSE. i If if S- V- to have in some measure anticipated the form of these books, in wiiich tlie reader is hurried so pleasantly from subject to subject, that he has no time to notice that he is acquiriuLj: ^ great (luantityof positive and even technical in- formation. A sin-le chapter of the Dcvojishirc Coast opens -.vith a picture of the recciiinL,-- tide on the north shore at the api)roach of evenir - ; proceeds to a particular account of two remarkable species, the one a polv'p, llir other the rare sipunculid Harvey's Syrinx, each so described that a mere tyro ouj;ht to be able to identify a specimen for himself; describes the Capstone Hill and its attractions, like a sort of <,dorificd hand-book ; tells a thrilling; story of the loss of a child by tirowin'nL,'; ^ivcs a close analysis of the physio- loj^Mcal characteristics of a fnie sea-anemone, ^^/«//Mtr rest by its unruffled " smoothness on the recess uf the wave ; i)resently a " black sp ;k aj)pears on it, now two or three more ; we " fix our eyes on it, and presently the specks thicken, "they have become a patch, a patch of -ravel; the "waves hiileit as they conic up, but in an instant or two "ue predict that it will be covered no more. INIean- " while the dark patch grows on every side ; it is now "connected with the beach above, first by a little "isthmus at one end, enclosing a pool of clear per- " fcctly smooth water, a miniature lagoon in which the "young crescent moon is sharply reflected with in- "vcitcd horns; the isthmus widens as wc watch it; " wc can sec it grow, and now the water is runnin- ,,ut "of the lakelet in a rapid; the ridges of black rock " shoot across it, they unite ;— the pool is gone, and the "water's edge that was just now washing the foot of the "causeway on which we arc sitting, is now stretched " from yonder points, with a great breadth of shingle "beach between it an 1 us. And now the ruddy sea is "bristling with points and lodges of rock, that are "almost filling the foreground of what was just now a "smooth expanse; and what were little scattered islets " now look like the mountain-peaks and ridges of a con- "tincnt. The glow of the sky is fading to a ruddy "chcstmit hue; the moon and \'enus arc glittering 'bright; tlm little bats arc out, and are flitting, on •giddy wing, to and fro along the edge of the causc- "way, ever and anon wheeling around close to our feet. "The dorrs, too. with humdrum flight, come one after " another, and passing before our faces, are visible for t = I I »p?' ll 348 77/£' ///-£• OF nil LIP HENRY COSSE. "a moment aj^ainst the sky.a^ they shoot out to seaward. "The moths are plax-ing n;und the tons of the buddiii"- "trees; the screamiiio; suil'ts be,i,n'n to disappear; the "stars arc coming out all over the sky, and the moon, " that a short time before looked like a thread of silver, "now resembles a bright and golden bow, and night "shuts up for the present the book of nature." In the ..hituary notice of my father published, in 18S9, in the rrocccdiiigs of the Royal Socidy. it is remarked by the author, Mr. li. 15. IJrady, that he was "not only a many-sided and experienced naturalist, but one who did more th.an all his scientific contemporaries to popularize the study of natural objects." Until his day very little nulccd was generally known on the subject of marine zoology. The existing works on these lower f.rms, ex- ceedingly limited and imperfect as they were, gave little or no impression of the living contliti^ n.:' ^V 23 WEST MAIN STRICT WEBSTf R N r I4J(0 I 716 1 r77-4i03 '^ x3 ^ 354 APPENDIX I. \ I After two or three weeks we planned to go on a Sunday evening to this pubhc room, where a section of the Christians called •' Plymouth Brethren " were meeting, according to the simplicity of the New Testament Scripture principles, without ritual, choral adjunct, or outward adornment. Here we found Philip Henry Gosse addressing the mcetiiig from a high desk in the corner of the room next the window. There were a'jout thirty or forty people present. It was a gospel address from a part of tlie story of Boaz and Ruth, which history he was going through on successive Sunday evenings. It is a smgulariy beautiful ty[)e of Christ and His Church. I fumd, afterwards, it was a favourite method with Mr. Gosse to illustrate the New through the charac- te'S of the Old Testament. He would say, 'There is but one key, whereby we are able to unlock the hidden treasures contained in the Bible, and this one key — which is Christ — aided by that spiritual discernment of sacred things, which the Holy Spirit alone ran give, A\ill onr ble us to unfold antl open many hidden truths, lying iax benciUh the surface of apparently simple nairative, but which v.ill be found to be highly typicpl of our Saviour, the Redeemer of Mis Cliunh, of Mis person, and of His work." After the meeting was over, ni)' friend and I walked with Mr. Gosse and his little son as far as Sandhurst gate. Before we parted, he told M-. Curtis thai there were Scripture-reading meet- ings held at his hi ise, and th.it lie would be pleased to see him and any friends w.\o liked to accomp.my him. We returned to the cottage, well p .ased with the iiiini^iter ar.d his courteous and kind manner to us s strangerr. At this tune, he was ikeply engaged in literary \ >rk, bringing out his Romance of Nattnal JlistoryAX^<\ c()m])letin his Actinolo^ia Britaiiiiiai. Hew.is in the full vigour and swing n, his useful life, anient and enthusiastic in every movement. Two . three tinier a week he and hii son, who >vas always with liiin — " li liille natur.ih^t," as lir had been c.dled in one ol hi- lather's book — w(vald go, when the tide w.is fittest, with a basket, filled wiih n any bottles and jars of various size, chisel, liaminer, and olli r !• i>li iiu'iits, to the sliores f.ir .md near. They might oftei be seen running ard jumping down the declivities of the rockr, till hey reached the pebbly shores at Uildiciiinbe or I'.abbicombe. His study, which I was pei itted to look into on a la'er visit, APPENDIX I. 355 was the largest sitting-room on the lower flnnr ^r u- ,. was his workshn,. Qh.i "'^ °^ ^'^ house, and workshop. Shelves surrounded the wll. fiM^^ u books rea'J'^--y opposite to the chair in which he sat Ihtr ; ''"" ''' ^^''"• ^vith his back to the fir. . , ^'' "^"""^ "^^ ^'"ter, paper, and ^p leJ'nts 'o \^^ t\ T'^' ^''^'^ '^^'^ was a long narrow table, ^u^n^'in'ret'^nr^^'"^"^^; be.; i^^ttich^;: :;r^i:::r r :r^ ^^';7^^^' ^^^-'^ ne.ai, but str.ct attention to tak o^t h ■ d "'" '"^"^"' "" clearness of the water w.s ^u , , ^''"^' '"""'''^- '^'^^^ Into these tanks hbrhtt ' """"^^ °' ^^*'''-' ^ues. ^- ■ urougnt the sea-anemones smnll f,.u j d.vers cur,ous things, whose habits he closely u^t'c d an^ ." forms he examined and drew faithfully ' "^ ''''°'" and then classifv th..m r , nimutcst characteristics, fre.iticnt visits to the Cottage. '"treasingiy Mr Gosse's most inlim;ue fr.cnd at this time was Dr T I'" f I ',-, ' ' "'^^'- '""^^■'"''•'tion over the WonI of ^ j;-:::;;,:-;:-;ti;:r,:;:'— ■■■- »- -> .u -,, n„„ ,,,r „„,„ ,„,'.':;' ":;,"- "■ ™ "« 1 . - - .1 n.l., „,utl n . :ii>u How It I 35^ APPENDIX I. • was connected by prophecy or quotation with the New Testament, either in the Gospels or in the F^pistles. He was microscopic in his readings, and in his interpretations of the Word of God, for he most implicitly believed every word of the original languages to be Divine, and dictated and written, through the writ -s, by the Holy Ghost. These languages, through 'heir antiquity, are necessc.rily obscure ; thus he was content to leave many passages and even cliapters unexplained, satisfied that they never contradicted each other. Where two sides of a doctrine or subject are decidedly stated, he would reverently stand, and say, "There they are! I cannot put them tor^ether, but God can. I leave it to Him and am silent. Only through the Holy Spirit can it be received into the heart." This mode of thought was characteristic of Philip Henry Gosse. He had a wide grasj) of the Holy Scriptures. He spoke of them as if the key had been given to us, and he sought to unlock their stores. He was familiar with the letter from a child, and, having been brouLi;ht up in the old Puritan school, he was thoroughly sound in all the cardinal pomts of Evangelical doctrine. On July 9, iS6o, I see noted in his diary, " There was a large meeting at the new room in Fore Street, St. Marychurch." This chapel, which he had built, being i: iw finished the Church and congrcg.ition removed to it ; and henceforward the meetings were continued there. The routine was the " breaking of bread," prayer, singing hymns, and a discourse by Mr. Gosse as the pastor of the Ghurch. In the evenings, a gosjiel sermon by him. During this summer he occasionally brouglit up to the Cottage liis microscope or some natural history objects, and gave a familiar le( ture on them. Some young friends were staying with us, and we all benefited by his interesting and cheerful remarks, 'i'hese occasional visits were looked forvard to by us all with great pleasure. 'I'he party sometimes acf nnijianird him to the lieach at Oddiconilie or Babbicombe, when he always took great pains to show his mode of collei ting, and s')metimes brought o'lt new and curious and lovely creatures, when we gathered around and exclaimed, in oar ignorance of sucii matters, "How beautiful! how wondcrtul ! " and at the end agreed that we had sjient a delightful mornmg. My sister, in July, left '1 mjuay, and I remained at Upton Cottage the rest of the summer, as wc had let our house at APPENDIX 1. 357 I years. I resolved Saffron Walden for remaining Sunday: „ .• • ^ } ' - h" ".111 iii^' menus lo t;ie littlp meet-ng >n Fore Street, S. Mao^church. Many years before . he Church led by Mr. George Muller, of the Orphanage, Bristol ra:-onT?r.""%'"" °' ""^"^^^-" -^ - --^- Exet Th " f ! '""' °' '" ^''^^^"^^^ Campbell at Exeter. The.r views had taken considerable hold on my own mind, and maae a strong and lasting impression. Thus I v-,s rrep-red even arter the lapse of many years, to attend like meet- so able so mtelhgent, and so spiritually minded, as was Mr. Gosse On September 3, i860, I left Torquay, as 1 supposed finally and returned to the house of an uncle and aunt at Frome as to a temporary home. I took leave of my friends at the Cottage and of Mr. Gosse and his son at Sandhurst, after a most pleasam stay o eight months. However, as God had planned' , n September 6 I had a letter from Mr. Gosse, proposing and urgin. in strong terms, that I should become his wife. This certainrv was no httle surprise to me. However, after a week or two of consideration and .onsulting my friends, I acce^,ted tiie offer of his hand. On the .rst he came to Frome to visit me. We were married at Frome on December 18, 1S60, and came direct to Sandhurst 1 see our marriage noted in his diary, date December 18 • " i was married at Zion Ch.pel, Frome, by the Rev. D. Anthony o my beloved Ehza Brightwen ; and after refection, we left by' tram and got to San.lhurst about nine." It had .een fine in the .uorn.ng. but by the time we arrived .t Sandluirst a dee,, snow had fallen; and the nex^ morning, geraniums and other plants carefully stored, were ...1 droopmg their heads and almost k.lled' So encL tins menu.rabie time. I had a he., y welcome from nu- -Icar httle stepson, of whom I had already seen a good deal, and wl>o was warmly attached to me. My beloved husband and ho made me quite a. home, telling me many <.f their old traditions and amusing family stones, with much fun. and we had „uite i .ncrry breakfast. I soon found out that Mr. (iosse h • 1 a .ood .lea. of humour and fun when quite in the intimacy of ms home no.w.thstand.ng that to lus circle of tnends and neighbours he 3S8 APPENDIX I. was grave and somewhat stern, as became one who had taken the position of pastor. It was his custom to call the servants in for reading the Scrip- tures, and for prayer, every morning after breakfast. We all had our Bibles, to follow him m the reading ; he made many remarks illustrating the subject in hand, which rendered it a very interest- 'ng and instructive Bible lesson. The same routine was carried on every evening, before supper, at about nine o'clock. His manner with the servants was kindly, but always, firm ; and I soon learned that he bore rule in his family. He always had a "good night" for the servants and "Cod bless you," and a greeting in the morning. He kept early hours, breakfa.iting at 7.30 even all through the winter months, which hour we kept up to the end. He was a most industrious man, generally in his study between five and six o'clock. I found no difficulty in falling in with his habits of early hours, or with his punctuality throughout the day, having been brought up in somewhat homely and orderly habits ; so that after we got settled together, I soon fell into his ways. When the weather was fine, we used to walk together, and wlien the tides were suitable, we made expeditions to the rocks to collect the sea-animals. In the moinmgs I used to sit with him in his study, copyi-^g or rendering .some necessary help, .\ftcr a time, he began to take me round to the cottages of the sick and poor of his congregation. We had thus an insight into the I'fe of the Devonshire people, which was very interesting to us both. He vv.as a great favourite among is ])eople, and a visit from Mr, Gosse was always con- sidered an honour, and a profit too, as he would discuss some instructive (generally Bible) subject, and thus place himself on easy terms with tlicm. This practice he kept up for a few years, until, tile numbers of his flock having become more numerous, he found visiting too fitiguing. He had few friends of liis own rank, but there were soine with whom we exchanged visits, r.nd who came to the Scripture-reading meetings at Sandhurst one morning in each week. He never opened out to general visitors. He always spoke of hunself as a j7m' man. Some might think him stern and unsocial ; he was a recluse, and a thoiough student in all his ways, and a true "home bird." Often wlien, in after years, I rcn.i;nstratcd SSSSa APPENDIX I. 359 with him on his isobtion, and urged him to go out more among his friends, he would say, " My darling, ' my mind to me a kingdom IS,' " which might seem a trifle selfish, if selfishness could be con- sidered at all a constituent in the heart of my beloved husband. He was of a remarkably even disposition. I never saw him give way to those frailties or minor faults that are so often exhibited m the lives of less exalted, or of uncontrolled characters. His hfe was given to otudies of a grave and more or less religious nature, or else to closely thought-out scientific studies, especially those of natural objects. His mind being habitually occupied with this higher order of thought.^, he seemed to find it impos- s.ble to unbend to the lighter toj.ics of everyday conversation. He was wont to excuse himself by saying, " I have no small talk " In 1864, when he was writing A Year at the Shore in the spring, we three had great pleasure in walking or driving, as the case might be, 10 the various bays and rocky shores 'of the Devonshire coast. My dear husband and son would rush down with strong india-rubber boots or sea-shoes, and work hard with hammer and chisel, carefully taking off the anemones and other sea-an.mals from the rocks, or fishing in the pools for wrasse, bler.nies, pipe-fish, or other sea creatures, while I would sit on a camp stool, either watching them, sometimes with a field-giass or reading, or drawing some of the lovely sea-views in" my sketch-book. Then, when we got home, there was the ea-er looking over the haul, and putting the creatures in large basms to be watched and drawn, till they could finally be placed in the tanks. Thus, subjects were prepared for each month in the year, and this gave us much occupation before A Year at the Shore was completed. Ihat year, 1864, I had a considerable accession of property, which was valuable as giving my husband more rest and enabling him to have more leisure; so that he did not need any longer to work, either in writing or in lecturing. In iSOf, he began to take a great interest in some of the rarer kind of plants, especially orchids, whi< h he had always gr-atly admired id had collected to hang in his house, when he was in Jamaica twenty years earlier This remembrance brought afresh the interest before him. He had built a small plant-house against the westerly side of our owe Iling-lu.use. The boiler ^or heating tlie [.ipcs was put on tlie 360 APPENDIX I. foundation of the cellar under the drawing-room ; this had the additional value of warming our house, which before was a very cold one. This he aftenvards enlarged, and eventually our garden contained no fewer than five hothouses or conseivato/-s. After the first small importation of orchids, which was not, by the way, very successful, though of great interest to us, and helpful m teaching the gardener the management and cul'ure of these difiicult and rare plants, he continued to make additions, partly through sales at plant auctions, and partly through orchid gardeners ; buying small plants and growing tiiem on, till they are now become good specimens, and interesting objects of mstruction and pleasure. His gardener was specially facile in reception of his instructions, and in a few years learned tlie treatment, and was so successful, both in growing the orchids, as well as other rare j^lants, that his master left them very much to his knowledge of the treatment and 1 are. In 1867 Captain Bulger, an Indian officer, who afterwards went to the Cape, repeatedly sent a small cargo of valuable plants; one plant among them especially, which we have kept until the present time, greatly interested my husband, but it was not until 1S89 that it flowered for the first time. The bulb above ground is a very large onion-shaped one; the long narrow and stiff leaves from it are of a peculiarly wavy and fan-shaped growth. The flowers, which are bright pink and small, come upon a wide flat stem, about twelve inches high, in a bunch spreadmg out to fourteen inches in diameter, md over one hundred in number, and are of the Hexandria ordsr. It is extremely rare in England, and has been named by the Horticultural Society Bnamvigia Josephine. Captain Bulger, uliom my husband had never seen, was greatly attached to him through his books, and entered into correspontience, which lasted until the captain's death in Canada. In 1860 my dear husband went to London— the first time since our marriage that he had 'eft me for more tiian a day. He took his son to enter the British Museum, and to settle him in London. In 1 868 my husband and i paid an interesting visit to Poole, in Dorsetshire— the place wiiere he had been brought up by his parents from two years old. We walked around to see all the lamiliar places— the home of his parents, in Skinner Street, APPENDIX I. 361 Which was a narrow cul-ue-sac, with the Independent Chapel attended °T' ^ v f '^" '"'^ ^^^^^^' ^^^"^ ^1^^ ^-^ 'X attended He and h.s brother had been in the choir William to T'/ r . ' '-.^--^hed all the rooms, and endeavoured to see ,f any traces existed of sentences and aphorisms which ho and h,s brothers used to wnte under the chimne; 1 b or other places. At length, he found, in a corner of the ceiHng some ^ZL : r ^"'f^'' ''^ ^'^"-^ °'^'' ^"' -■" -obiiteLteH; o "h fitt, ? r ; "^'^ °^' '^™"'^" ^^■^^-^"" - ^he corner o. the 1 tt e back-yard, and other reminiscences, brought back n any of „, youthful thoughts, occupations, and amu'sement he Urbour and quay, from whence, as a boy, leaving the parental' -ocf, he went out to Newfoundland parental ^-e walked to see the old oak tree in a field outside the town n wh.ch he u.ed to sit on Saturday afternoons and half-hohdTy:; >u. m. great fnend and favounte school-fellow, John BrouV e d.ng ,nd d.scussing their histories and thetr luile empir nd nart .oolog,cal studies, thus sowing the seeds of that nd^fent c;:;;-:,^"^-^'^^'^ t^'^'^^^^' '"° ^^^ «^^^^' -tended,^:;" accomphshed mmo. He made a sketch of the fine Poole Harbour and Brownsea Island, sand rocks. Old Harry CI ff, f^om v'ulr cm hT' "'f' "■^■"^' ^™^^ ^° ^^ -^ '^-d f-nd together m water colours, and finished when we got back to Sandhurst; u .s framed and hangs in the dining-room' to thld.v w. h many other landscapes, winch his sk.lful har.d drew from the A little later, when the interest of the orchids wore off", and his gardener had attained sufficient skill to cultuate them indepen- which he had considerable facilities. Througii h.s scientific knowledge, he had large acquair.tance wi^h men Iho, in this line were able to help to secure valuable and choice snec.mens' Ihese e obtained chiefiy from the tropics, by writing t'o Zn' and collectors named to him, who would send consider ble numbers of butterflies, ,he,r wings folded when life was u't extinct ; being put in three-cornered envelopes, they would travel well, bemc packed togeliier in cigar and similar boxes. He I 362 APPENDIX 1. would make his selection of half a dozen or so, and send the remnincer to London, or to dealers in other places, who would make their principal remuneration out of them. He would frequently v/rite to missionaries and others, desiring them to collect for him at their leisure, liberally refunding them for time and labour. A very interesting and intimate intercourse of this kind was thus opened up with a family of young brothers in the Argentine Republic ; four young men, the Messrs. Perrens, relations of some dear friends cf ours in Torquay, with whom we have for many years kept up a bright and happy friendship. The relaxing these butterflies and fixing them in the cabinets was an occupation of deep interest to us. The strict order and arrangement, with the name of c-.-ery insect and its habitat, written in his beautiful handwriting, makes these cabinets most valuable. Many an hour has been spent in looking them over with our friends ; his eagerness in opening the drawers of the cabinets, with his valuable remarks, information, and the inci- dents attaching to individual specimens, made these visits most insti uctive as well as interesting. He was always willing to impart amusement and information when he saw that it was valued. My husband could very rarely be induced to leave home, but in 1869, at the end of September, we decided to make a short outing, and we started in a can:age for Ha-tor, on Dartmoor. We stayed at the Rock Inn, and took several excursions ; and Mr. Gosse made drawings of various scenes. The Haytor Rock he sketched most enthusiastically after his usual manner. The weather changed to wet and very misty, but he was very desirous of getting several sacks full of sphai^num moss for his orchids. The scjueezing of the water out of tliis moss gave him cold, and produced violent pain in his hands. He became so unwell that we were obliged to return home at the end of a fortnight. After a few days his physician. Dr. Finch, pronounced him suffering from rheumatic gout in his hands ; it also attacked his knees. Severn 1 treatments were applied, and he kept his room some weeks, but gradually got worse. In November he tvent to Torquay to try the Turkish baths. He tooK them twice a week, and continued them tc the end of the year. He gave up the Bible-r ading meetings, and also all the chapel services for a while; but he APPENDIX I. 36J found at length that his limbs became easier, and by the end of the year he re'^umed his work. In 1874 he had attacics of what seemed to be a form of aphas,a and though they were not alarming, he was prevailed selected ^ \'"''" """"""• ^ ^"^ '^ ^-'^y-^^ire was selected, though it was rather late in the year, we started for Matock Bath We left home November^. rS;;, si pt ' Glouceste-, and went on the next morning to Matlock, where we got lodgmgs on a very high point overlooking the winding river o her s.de. Though these trees were leafless, the branches were often so covered by the hght and white frost, that on several of the November morn-.ngs they looked like fairyland. We made some very mterestmg excursions in the neighbourhood, which all wl V'''^''' '"''• ^"^ °^ '"^ ^'^^-^ -^de us a visit here on her way home to Manchester, which greatly heightened our pleasure We returned home in the early part of December, m 1875 the diary shows that my husband had become interested m a variety of evangelical missions. Many letters were written and donations given to colonial objects and others. We were made acquainted with Miss Walker Arnott's work in Jaffa. In the diary not.ce is made of Katrina Abou Sitte, a Mahomedan orphan and Syrian child, ten years old, selected by Miss W Arnott as our protescc for ten pounds per annum, to be given bJ us for her board and schooling at Jaffa. This was continued for several years, till she left; she has since been married to a Christian Jew We have frequently had very sweet and grateful ette.s from her calling us her "English parents," often with smaL presents made of products of the country and from Jeru- sa em where they were living. Mr. Gossc also took up with con- siderable eagerness Mr. Pascoe's mission-work in Toluca, Mexico and carried on a pleasant correspondence with that gentleman' helping him to continue his printing work in that place He became a liberal contributor to the China Island Mission. Mr Guinness s work and institute had also a large share of his help and interest. ' At this time we engaged a Bible woman of our own to visit IP St. Marychurch. My husband took up once more, for a while the consecutive and orderly visiting of the poor and sick of his 364 APPENDIX I. flock, to all of whom he was kind and liberal. He was the sole pastor and conductor of all the meetings, both at the Table of the Lord, in worship, and in the preaching. His discourses were mainly expository. He was accustomed to take a whole chapter or chc-pters of a Gospel or an Epistle, focussing all the salient points, and the- turning to other portions of Scripture which would shed ligh., or to (luotations that would explain the subject in hand. In the Old Testament he would take a cha- racter, bringing out the important features, or it might be those prophetical of '.he future, thus making a Biblical figure stand out, with all the motives that actuated him, either for good or evil, as the case might be. These discourses were most attractive and enjoyable. He always kept verj' close to Scripture, knowing a good deal of the Greek and something of the Hebrew language. All this labour, besides his scientific work, collecting at the shores, his tanks, his cabinets, his plant-houses, are minutely tabulated in folios and diaries; histories of many specimens written in full ; contributions to scientific societies, which occu- pied his n.ornings in examinations in the microscope and other work. All this tells what an industrious m.an he was. In a letter to a friend, who sent him a manuscript to look over and criticize, he says, " I am sorry to have kept your manuscript so long, but I could read it only at caught intervals, for my time is most pressingly occupied. I am generally in my study soon after five a.m. ; and, what with the work of the Lord and some scientific inve ligations, which, I hope, will bring glory to Him, I know not what leisure means." And this letter was written in June, 1881, when he was in his seventy-second year. My son has described the manner in which, in 1876, his fither returned to the study of marint animals. This led him once more to take frequent excursions to the sea-shore, in which I was his constant companion. The living objects which he discovered were brought home and placed in the large show-tank, which about this time he fitted up in a small room at the back of our dwelling-house. When he went out dredging, or collecting on the rocks which he had to approach in a boat, I was not so com- monly his companion. The filling of the tank and the watching of the animals as they made themselves at home in its corners and crevices was an unceasing source of pleasure to us both. In APPENDIX r. 3«S T878 I recollect rhat an octopus was offered to us by the son of a Babh.combe fisherman, who had taken it in a trammel-net. We hesitated but at last decided to buy it for the large sum of rifteen- pence. In the afternoon the boy brought it up, and my husband turnec, .t mto the lobster's comer of the large tank. It was indeed a hideous beast, the body about the size of a large lemon It was very vigorous ar,d active, yet not wild. After an hour or two. while I was present, it pushed up into the further angle of the glass partition, and managed to squeeze its body through into the area of the tank, and presently found . place for itself near the bottom of the raiddle of the glass tank, clinging with coiled arms to the glass. A month later, the best tide of the whole year, my husband and I drove to Goodrington Sands, where, at the central ledt^es, he made a good collecung. A young lad" who was catchiug prawns gave us some, and our driver-boy found a hole in which my husb-^nd took a wonderful number of fine la^rge prawns, squat lobsters, with others, and p la-ge plant of Tr^dcEa edulis. All the above were lodged in the tank ir ^ood condition. 4 crab we gave to the octopus, who instantly seized and devoured it, together with the head of a large fish and a dead giant prawn. In November the octopus became languid for a few days, hiding in the remotest corners-we thought shrinking from the severe cold that had set in. It died on the «th, after having lived with us nearly ten weeks. All these recreations were a great rest to Philip Gosse's active brain as the exercises and air were healthful to his body, and to me they wer- a source of very great enjoyment. My husband was a true naturalist, and the fact that for many years he got his livelihood by writing books on natural history, wanderin- among the rocks and pools, mingling all his thoughts and sympa° thies with f^.e God who formed these wonderful varieties of creation, gave a zest to his life which sedentary reading or authorship in his study could never have realized. As Kingsley has said, " Happy truly \z ihe naturalist ! He has no time for melancholy dreams. The earth becomes transparent • everywhere he sees significance, harmonies, laws, chains of cruse and effect endlessly interlinked, which draw him out of the narrow sphere of self into a pure and wholesome region of joy and wonder. My dear husband was essentially a religious man 366 APPENDIX I. The attitude of his mind was heavenly ; and only in the face of God, as a Father in Christ, could he enjoy the marvels of nature. The psalm was often on his lips, "Thy works are great, souglu out of all them that have pleasure therein.'' About this time (May, 1877), I was paying a visit to a relative in Somersetshire, and in an evening walk found a spot in a lane where were a number of glow-worms, some of which 1 sent home. He put them on some grass in the garden, and in his next letter he asks me to send him some more. He says, ' Can you not per- suade your cousin or some gentleman to go with you a night walk, and get some more glow-worms, for I think I ran keep them lumi- nous for some while? You ask what ihey are? Glow-worms are beetles ; hut the female sex has neither wings nor wing-sheaths, and it is the female alone that is luminous. They belong to a family of the great class Beetles (Coleoptcra), which are remark- ably soft-bodied all their life. The cantharides or blister-liics belong to the same family. There is scarcely any visible differ- ence in form between the grub and the perfected female ; the male, however, has large, but flexible, parchment-like wing-cases. In most of the foreign species (there are many in Jamaica, for example) both sexes are luminous." Having lived in Jamaica so long begat in him the love for animal and insect life, as also vegetable life in the tropics. Before he went to Jamaica he met with some dea*- friends, in intercourse with whom, as previously related in the former j)art of this life, his religious views underwent an entire change. He speaks of them in a late letter to Mr. George I'earcc, row engaged with his wife in missionary labour in the north of .Miica : " It is always pleasant to receive a letter from you, and with you to go back along the memories of more than forty years, to those hajipy days, -o loaded with blessing for my whole life since, wlien we met, a loving and iLiJipv b.ind, around the table of di.ir W. lierger and In wife M. lier;v. 1 in \\'ells Street night after ni,i;ht, while the Holy Ghost jioured into our receptive hearts 'the testimony of Jesus,' and betran at last to make 'the word of tho Christ ♦!) dwell m us ri(iii\ \\\ all wi.dom.' A lew weeks aid our beloved and bereaved brotiier, \V. Berger, kindly came ilown on purpose lo sl.iy a few days with us, tu renew thai hajipy intercourse wiucii is ever vivid wiiii my^L:; , « APPENDIX I. 367 In another letter to the same friend, he recurs to that hap'^y ^enod of his younger life : " How sweet the assurance of your undying love, and how sweet the recollection of that happy early time, when God gave me the precious gift of personal acquaint- ance with you and other dear brethren. What vl pundum saliens was that in my life! I had been reared by godly parents {Independents). About a year before I knew you, my friend Matthew Habershon had lent me his two volumes on prophecy, which first opened my eyes to the pre-millennial Advent of our Lord. The first volume I began after closing my school c a summer evening (June, 1842) ; ind before I went to bed, I had read It r-ght Lhrough. I possessed a very full knowledge of the letter of Scripture from childhood, so that the proofs of the doctrine commended themselves to me as I read without cavil. It was a glorious truth to me. 1 hailed the coming Jesus with all my heart. So absorbed was I, that wlien at length I finished the book, I could not, fo. some considerable time, realize where I was ; iL sec.ned another world ! I'Vom that time I began to pray that I might be privileged to wait till my Lord should come, and go up to Him without having been unclothed. Forty long ye^rs have passed. I -^m now a man o{ grey hairs ; but I never cease to ask this privilege of my loving God (Luke xxi. 36), and evc-y day I ask it still. Of < ourse, I have no assurance that so it will be. I have no such revelation as Simeon had (see Luke 11. 26) • but I wait, I hope, I pray." 'J'his hope of being cnught up before death continued to the last, and its non-fulfilment was an acute disappomtmcni to him. It undoubtedly was . onnected with the deep (kje( tion ot his latest hours on enrth. In another letter he wrote to tins same friend in North Atrici, 18S1, he says, '• With;, a tew years l.a. k. when the sole ministry iii Maryclmrch and the pastorate there had beeome somewhat too nuKh lor niy.ulvan. mg years (I am now in my seventy-sec.nd year), a loving Christian gentleman, Mr. Will,, ,m King I'errcns, who had had exivrienee in the same work, came to reside in our neighbourhood, and he has now. with my wishes, become a snare, wuh me in the oversight, and ue labour together in fullest harmony. ■I'here .are mnv about one hundred and tuenty m fellowship aiul the breaking of bread,' inostl iiic miubt of muJi worldliness and Tuj y poor .ind woikinu people m 'tiy, and \\ e wait lur our 36S APPENDIX I. Lord's promised return in those views Oi Divine prophery which you knew I held diverse from those held usually by ' Brethren' so called fifty years ago." A.r. Perreus, though looking for the return of the Lord Jesus, did not accept the "year-day" system or the hi^storical fulfilment throughout the age, or dispensa'iun, of the i rophecies, either of the Boo'< of Daniel or the Revelation; but this divergence of opinion did not hinder their mutual regard and united labour for the Lord. My husband followed the old-fashioned Protestant scheme held by Scott the commentator, Bishop Newton, Elliott, Bosanquet, and, lastly, H. Grattan Guinness, who has so ably writtei-, The Approaihing End of the Age, viewed in the light of history, prophecy, and science. This mode looks on "the times of the Gentiles" as starting from Nebuchadnezzar, into whose hands (ioH j^avc the kingdoms of the earth, after Pie had tak !n the kingdom from Israel, " who shall be led away captive into all nations, and Jerusalem shall be trodden down of the Gentiles until the times of the Gentiles shall be fulfilKd." These subjects of prophecy from tiie Scriptures were, in detail, under the constant study of my dear husband in some form or otiier. He had a large number of books in his library, both ancient and moiierti, dealing with these proi)he( ies. rie was a daily reader of the Times newspaper ; he used to say the great object of his reading this paper was to see "the decadence of the nati(-ns, both Eastern and Western, in their downward jjrogress." He always kept his I'olyglot Bible on the chimney piece at his r.,4ht hand, and that was continually brought down on any new event— war or collision among the nations— to see if it could be possible to glean any fresh light from the Prophets on the occasion of this fresh outbreak ; especially the I'.astern (Question would give eager aspirations t()uar Sunday morning discourses taken by APPENDIX I. 3''9 a friend at the time, afterwards published in a small volume as The Mysteries oj God. This was to him a dec-ply interesting work for God, and written with much prayer that it might be blessed to His children. He had so often been requested by members of his congregation, and others, to write and publish his discourses, that at length he consented As he went on with these expositions, they were of the deepest interest to us both unfolding so much of Scripture that had not, in its fullest depth' l)een previously discovered to us, especially in the three chapters' on "Tne Psalms." He says at the commencement : "An eff-rt IS here made, in the fear of God, to search for heavenly wisdom ,s for hid treasure beneath the surface of Mie Word ; to examine the .ively oracles as with a microsrope, persuaded they will 1 found well worthy of the closest researcli. So.ne of the essays may seem to .ome abstruse, and may be thought to be mere idle si)e-ulition. But, if carefully weighed, I hope they will be tound to rest on the revealed mind of (lod in everv particular. I have advanced nothing. I have anticij^atcd nothing on mere speculation. For ev.-.y statement that r have made I have aimed to rest on the inspned Word. I have desired strictly t> limit myself to the ebu idation of what is written in tlie Book. The constant reference to the very words of the fioly Gliost will, I trust, plead my apolo-y fir what may seem a dogmatic tone. As His trnm|K't gives no uncertain sound, so, as the whole tenour of .Scripture shows, believers aic expe. ted to /v/,.,-.' wiih confidence the things which are free'y given them of God. We iiave tlie mind of Christ." My dear iiusb:ind was especially scriptural on the atoning sacrifice of Christ, who siitfered, " the just for the unjust ;" also on the supernatural humanity and sinlesMiesN of the .Son of Man. 11, • cxprc-^My sl.it.'s, "I bold tiiai, under the i.ghteous government ol C.d, aitfeniig of any kind or degree is iinjiossible, save as the just wages uf sm. But since the holy Child [esus sullVred as soon as lie (nine into the world, as He w.is made under the Law, hhI ^jn, e in ilim wa^ no sin. of what was t!i,s sulfering the \va ■ but of that iniquity of us all. laid on Him, exacted, and for vv h Ho jjccame answeriMe.^ (U.\ hii. fi, 7). "The I'salms r.jv.j.! bearing tiirougiiout 11 til It til,. 1 1., I, JU5i is iile liie uiHiuily and reproach of m.an, 2 W MTENDIX I. and vr.rious pains of body, though all of these in varying measures, and probably with longer or shorter intermission. The father's personal complacency in Him, and His loving confidence in the Father, were in no sense inconsistent with vicarious enduring. All suffering He ever bore, He bore as our vicarious Substitute, as second Adam, with culmination of pressure at die garden and the Cross ; but he never lost sight of the love uf the Father. All, all helped to pay the ' ten tliousand talents ' of our debt to God. In Him is no sin ' " In 1884 my dear husband had the first symptoms of diabetes. He was sometimes much depressed, but the doctor's good care and a prescribed diet strengthened him, and he recovered. Notwith- stamhiig depression, I see l)y the diary of that year that his great energy of mind enabled him to get through much general reading. In the autumn and winter months he subscribed to Mudie's Library, as had been his habit for some years. He was a rajii i reader, and got through a large number of books of various inlerc>t, chielly in the evenings — travels of naturalists; histories of :dl parts of the world ; missionary exploits largely. He watched with great interest tlie dcveloi)ment and opening of that wonderful (juarter 01 the world, tlie "Dark Continent." By these means his general depression wore off, and he grew more cheerful. He was more indoors than usua', being afraid of the inclemency of the weather, until the summer of 1885 came, wlien he resumed his usual outdoor exercise. It was always a great delight to him to wptch tlie signs of spring and early summer. He was up early in tiie morning, with his study window open for the fiehl' air, listening for tlie first voice of the cuckoo, or for the songs of the riany birds which used to congregate in the trees around. 'I'liere was one which \\r railed "the ( lukoo tree" in a near meadow, wIikIi we (ould see from the upper windows c*" our house. lleal\>Mys tried to 1)0 the first who heard or saw this bird, whii h for many years came there. In the diary I see frequency, •' I walked round by (or tliiougli) the cuckoo nieailow and s.il under the tree, the bird voicing over my head" Of late years there were so many iiihabili'd Iioiiscs that this bird almost cjased to ajipeir : i|iiite a disappointment to linn. 1 lind by the end of llus yeai The ^h^s(^^ries cj (Joti was APPEiVDIX I. 37 « published It was received very favourably by the religious press, and there were many interesting letters from those who appreciated the book. The following years, from 1885 to 1887, saw him returning to the old occ^upation and study of the Rotifera, or " wheel-animal- cules. He became acquainted wich Dr. Hudson, of Clifton and with hun brought out the two volumes of The Rotifcra, or U heel.AnmalcuH. His ardour and persistency in the" micro- scopical study of these minute animals at his advanced age were remarkable. He was whole days with the microscope before him m his study, interrupted only by correspondence with various students over England, Euro„e, and America In our frequent drives, when this stuciy could be intermitted, we would, with bottles in baskets, search the dirty ditches and sundry ponds and pud. An accident happened to this elescope. .and it .as rendered useless ; but through ri,e Bazaar he obtame- to the .lose of this valuable life. The winter n.ghts became cold, and his anh.ur to stand adjustin.^ the ii'strument at open windows i.n.ught on an attack of l,ron<-h>tis which at the beginning of ,8S,S settled into a .senous illness' M.s,:h,ef at the heart was discovered by the do. tor, and aIthou,h we still fok short walks and drives together into the .ounuv tor some little time, hi. hc.dih so„n prove.! to be bn.ken >"",,rv S u,,s the last time he was able to expound the S.np.nres..t,l,e.|„.pel. H- gra.lually gave up all stu.lv, ami, •••-•-■ = , .::: : u.;; ;:;;;;. i, .sCcillcu lil.ll ins brain W.IS Cntinlv till ible to receive mental impressions. He u.i, ..bli.e.l to sp, „.| ne.irlv 37* APPENDIX I. the 'vhole night sitting in his chair by the fireside, his breathing being so difficult that he could not lie down in his bed. He became unable to walk upstairs, and therefore t.vo of our good carriage-drivers always came in about eight o'clock, and carried him up to !iis room. Friends frecjuently dropped in to see him in the morning; it seemed to give him some satisfaction to receive them, thougli he wr.s not able to converse much. His son's wife came down to us from London, and we had the f^omfort of her help and comjjany every day. In his calmer and more lucid moments he described himself as still expecting the personal coming of the Lord. Lven within the last fortnight, seeing me distressed, he said, "Oh, darling, don't trouble. It is not too late ; even now the Blessed Lord may come and take us botii up together." I believe he was buoyed up almost to the last with this strong Lope. I was often surprised to find how entirely he had lost interest in all his beloveu studies. For the last two month; he entered his study but twice — once to glance at his accustomed Greek New Testament, whicii he left open at the Gospel of John wii. : and again, for tb.e last time, to look cursorily round. The last evening it hapiiened that he was carried upstairs by our kind and diligent Hible re.uler for the villagers. This was a week before he died. He never came downstairs again, but remained, with but little intelligent expression, until August 2_^, icSSS, at one o'clock in the morning, wiien Ue passed in his sleep to be with his expectecl Lord. He was very restless nearly the wliole of that night, but towards niichuglit he be une (juiet. To the nurse who was with him lie saiil, " It is all u\cr. The Lord is near! ! am going to my reward 1 " 1 arly in this evening, a kind neighboii!-. Mr. I'lillock, hul come to his bedside and asked to ])ray. At the end of his |)r,iycr the prct ious si( k one seemed to respond distinitly, in prayer ft r all the dear members of his Church, that " I may present ea( I; of thcin perlect in Christ Jesus." I Will ills, :t a slight notice of my husband's character whic h was writicii by oiu: who knew him well m tiie latirr p;irt of his life, published in the Christian. "'To every man his work.' A (luestion arises- Is it possible to separate m.in's work into luo parts, and to s.nvfhis is secular and scicntilH-. :u!(! this i^; r-A'.-.z:-.-.:--'^ ^\ e think not. riulio Henry (iosse proved that a man mi^lit live APPENDIX I. 373 all his life in the service of God, and, in doing so, serve his own generation ip the best possible way. His chief glory, indeed, is that he so combined science .vith religion, that we cannot detect where the one ends and the other begins, so beautifully are they woven together in his works. It is as a truster in, and a revealer of (;od, that he stands forth prominently ; not only God as revealeu in His Word, but God as declared in His works. 1o him this God was one God, and he was perfectly persuaded that the written and the unwritten books could not co,. -adict each other. First anchoring himself to Clod and His Word, he was able safely and profitably to explore the wonderful works of the Creator, without drifting away into unknown wastes, and losing his way aitogethci. " He had le.nrncd to distrust his own intellect, and to rely on the intellect of ( iod. As a describer of what men rail 'natural objects,' which are really manifestations of God, Mr. Gosse had few equals. His vivid piciures, fitly framed in grareful and sparkling language, captivate the mind at once, while his reverent spirit can.iot but make his readers feel that he is desi ribing what he loves as the handiwork of his Father in heaven. " Kcpially happy was his method of expounding the Word of God. His sentences were terse, vigorous, and pointed; his illustrations apt and unstrained; while his knowledge of the Scrii)tures, both of the Old and New Covenants, was aston- ishing. "To say th.it he never erred in his interpre' 'tions of the ^Vo'•d would be to say that he was noc human. His impulsive, eager spirit, combined with the warmth of his imagination, sometimfs led him, perhaps, into an unten.dde position, and earned liim beyond what is writt^^'ii. '• It is not i)0ssible td over-estimate the value of the testimony which he has left behind him. (lifted with an extraordinary intellect, admired as an authr;, looked up to as an autiiority on all subje(-;s coiniertrd with natural science, iiavirg admir:-l)le (onvcrsational jiowers, Mr. Gosse might, if he had so chosen, have occupied a very high and distinguished position in worldb- society. lUit he did not so ciioose, ' KstceminL' the r-.-nrouh !!* Christ greater ruius than the trea Miies o hiir" hill I F-ypt.' h le ]ireterrcil to sell in a little country village, and (luielly and ui. AAx: 374 APPENDIX I. All that he was, and all that he sively to serve the Lord Christ, had, he laid at the feet of Jesus. "Another testimony, most valuable in these days, is the livin^' proof -hich he has afforded that it is possible to be a man o"f science and yet to be a devout believer in the inspired Word of God. "He believed '«//that the prophets have spoken,' and could not tolerate any departure therefrom, either in himself or others. This made his utterances sometimes seem stern and dogmatic. Having formed an opinion on any matter, he clung" to it tenaciously, almost to the point of being unyielding, and even combative. The inflexibility of his submission to Cod and His Word has, in some quarters, earned for liim tl,e epithets of 'Puritan,' 'ascetic,' 'recluse,' and so on. But how refreshing and invigorating is such a decided form of godliness, compared with that flaccid, flavourless Christianity and monkish agnosticism that IS so fashionable in these days. Tlie Lord keep us from being neither ' cold nor hot.' As to the influence of his life and teaching on earlier, present, or future generations, 'the day' alone will •declare it. If ' salt,' ' light,' and ' living water ' have any preserva- tive, beneficial, .nd fructifying influence on the sons of men, then, surely, when the day comes, many will rise up and call him' blessed." Eliza Gosse. July, 1P90. APPENDIX II. An account of the religious e>.[)erienccs of my father in the year 1842 and onwards I have thought it proper to give here, in his own words and without comment. The follow- ing passage, written in February, 1888, it maybe interesting to note, was only just concluded when his fatal illness attacked him, and is the latest of his compositions : — A great crisis in ray spiritual life was approaching ; for the Holy (ihost was about to unfold to me the hope of the personal Advent of the Lord Jesus, of which hitherto I had not the slightest concep- tion. Two of the most valued of my pupils were Edward and Theodore Habershon ; the elder of whom, Edward, a thoughtful and very amiable youth of fifteen, had already secured a lir^e place in my affections. He had occasionally spoken to me of his father, Matthew Habershon, as an author, and had suggested that 1 might feel interested in his works on sacred prophecy. But I had never heard of tiiem or him ; and Edward's words met with litde response. One day, however, Mr. Habersliun sent for my acceptance his Dissertation on the J'rop/iftic Scriptures, second edition. It was in June, 1842. when days were at the longest. I began to read it after uiy pupils were dismissed in the afternoon, sat IV the garden eagerly devouring the pages, and actually finish- ing the work (of four hundred octavo pages) before da/kness set in. When I closed the book, 1 knew not where I was ; I had become so wholly absorbed in the great subje( ts, that some minutes elapsed before I could recall my surroundings, before the n<".t' world of my consciousness did " fade into the light of ( ommon day." Of the Restoration cf the Jews, I had received some dim inkfng 376 APPENDIX II. already, perhaps ^ ,m Croly's Salathiel ; but of the destruction of the Papacy, the end of Gtntilism, the kingdom of God, the resurrection and rapture of the Church at the personal descent of the Lord, and the imminency of this,-all came on me that even- ing hke a flash of hghtning. My heart drank it in with joy • I found no shrinking from the nearness of Jesus. It was indeed a revelation to a spirit prepared to accept it. I immediately began a practice, which I have pursued uninterruptedly for forty-si.\ years, of constantly praying that I may be one of the favoured saints who shall never taste of death, but be alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, to be "clothed upon with my house which is from hea' jn." Subsequently, Mr. Habershon gave me his Historical Exposi^ turn of the Apocalypse, two volumes. This also is a work of great value, though, as increasing study made me more critical 1 found numerous matters of detail to which exception might be taken; and though his confidently anticipated dates were not realized, as, indeed, those of none others are yet, the grand out- line of interpretation of Divine prophecy given is bevond dispute. But to me, who had known nothing higher than the narrow and l)ald lines of Wesleyanism, it was; as I have said, a glorious un- veiling. Its immediate effect was to deliver me from Arminianism on behalf of which I h;^,d hotly disputed with mv father, only a few months before. The enlargement of mind and heart thus efifected was, doubtless operative in the preparation for another important spiritu;d change,— the perception, -.nd then the reception, of what are known as " Brethren's principles." And this though there was no dehnite or sensible connection between the two movements in my nnnd. There was living in Hackney a young gentleman, a class leader in the Methodist society, with whom I v.as on visiting terms. His wife was preparing a little brochure for publication' and they requested me to give her, professionally, some Uterary ;issistance in the work. Thus I was thrown much into their society; and as tliey were both earnest believers and both of engaging manners and of amiable disposition, the acquaintance became unrestrained and very agreeable. One ^" l-y'..iKi Kuu« my i;iutiier Vviii ; ycu would be nuKh interested in each other!" And soon after he manage.! APPENDIX II. 377 that his brother should be present on one of my evenin-.. I was charmed with W.Iliam Thomas Berger : his meekness and gentle- ness, his exceedmg love and grace-the manifest image of Chnst in h,m-drew to him my whole heart; and then began a mutual esteem and friendship, which no cloud lir.s ever shadowed from that day to this. It «;as about the beginning of the year 1843 ; and presently U ilhan. Berger told i.ie that he was on the eve of marriage, and was then just about starting on a wedding tour, but that on his return he would be pleased to welcome me to their house. Accordin-dy he and his bride (who had been Miss Van Sommer) renewed t^he invitation m the following May, and I became immediatelj- a welcome visitant. She was a very sweet, simple Christian lady, very lowly and very loving; they were indeed true yoke-fellows of one heart and soul, constantly overflowing in kindncs towards me. Both of the m had been for some time pron.'-^ent in the little band m Hackney who, discerning the evil of sectarian division in the Church of God. had associated together in the Name of Jesus only, refusing any distinctive title but that one common to a believers, of " Brethren,"' and including under this appellation all who, in every place, love tlie' Lord Jesus Christ, whatever their measure of light or scripturalness of practice. That the Church of (.od, and every believer in particular, was called to separation from the world, they perceived ; and hence, the connection of the Churcn with the State was totally repudiated. The energy of the Holy Spint in the assembly of the Church was acknowledged, and maintained to exist now in the sane amj litude as^ m the Apostolic age : and it was inferred that the liberty of ministry in the Church at the present age is exactly that seen in i Cor. x.v In this I judge they were in error ; for this supposes that the miraculous gifts (xap.o/xara) are still extant, of which there is no evidence. All this, however, became known to me onlv by degrees, l.ntil I knew the dear Bergers, I was not aware that a movement ,,( this character was in existence ; nor had I so much as heard, durin^ my three years' residence in Hackney, that in a little retired buildin?. railed Kllis's Rnnm n hn-i„ ^r r-i. ,;,..:.._-. i-_> .■ •" .■• ■"" ^'■»x--:--:io i:u;;;;;;;- ;r.C.SC Views met every Lord's ilay. (^uite eailymynew friends invited me to take part ' , a meetin- 378 APPENDIX II. held weekly at their house, for studying the Holy Word.* Of such a "Scripture readm-," now so common, I had never heanl. I found, sittin.,' round a large table in their dining-room, each with a Bible before him, about ten persons— William and Mary Berger, George Pearse, Capel Berger, Edward Spencer, Edward Hanson, James Van Sommcr, and perhaps one or two more ; and I took I my place in the little company. Thev were engaged on Rom. i., I ar,d the seventeenth verse occupied the whole evening. Such a close and minute digging for hid treasures was a novelty to me ; as was also the deference and subjection to the Word of God, and the comparing of Scrijjture with Scripture. The company present were pretty uniform in mental power and education ; almost all could refer to the Greek original ; and there was unrestrained freedom of discussion, and perfect loving confidence. Many points were exammed ; for the conver^^e was necessarily somewhat desultory. Only one prominent topic has fixed itself in my memory, viz. the heavenly citizenship. This so amazed me that I exclaimed, " Because I am a Christian, surely I am not less an Englishman 1 " Hanson, at whom I looked as I spolce, only shook his head, and I was silent ; till, just before the meeting closed, I e.mphatically said, '-I have learned a great truth to-night 1 " I had already formally severed my connection with tlia Wesleyan society, and now tOo.v my place on Lord's day iriorn- ings with the little company (some forty or fifty lowly believers) who met to break bread at Ellis's Room :— a change for which I have ever since had reason to thank God. * My father's memory fails him when he says '-quite early.'' It was in pril, 1S47, that he began to take part in these meeting-.— E. G. I : DEX. Abaco, Bahamas, ii8 Abraham and his Children, Mrs. Emily Gosse's, 256 Academycf Natural Science, Philadelphia, "3 Actinia. Sec Sea-A,.pmoncs Actinulogia Britarinica, ib. Alabama, life and scenery in, 124-148 Alder, Jos.iua, 243. 2 )6 Ameri'-ar ideas of British, 140, 141 Andrew Miss, 293 Aquarium. See .Marine Aquarium , Gosse's The, 246, 251, 252, 261, 288, 297, 340 Ariidge, Dr., 318 Asplanchna, 226 Assyria ; her Manners and Customs, Arts and Arms, Gosse's, 231 B Babbiconibe in 18^2, 237 liiird. Dr. William, 172 Balanophyllia, 241 Biinim's OHara tales, 55, 345 Bate, C. Spence, 252 Hattersby, Robert, 266 I'attU of Bastings, i\o. 1, Chatterton's, 17 Bear, curious case of shooting a, 134 Beavers, 65, ',5, 108 Bell, Mrs. Susan, ".Aunt Bell," 12. , Thomas, F.R.S., their son, 12, 156-- 1^5, 170, 250 Bergcr, Mr. William Thomas, 212, 376- I Bermuda, 205 Best, Hann.ih, afterwards Mrs. Thomas Gosse, 3, 4 ; marriage, 5 ; gives birth to Phii ii> Henry, ib. ; contributes to f.imily maintenance, 6 , loneliness in Foole, 9 ; care and solicitude, 13 ; strength of character, i5 ; visits her parents, 18, 19; in Wimborne, 153; keeps house in Hackney for Philip, 167; removes to Kentish Town, 172 : return to Hackney, 179 ; association with daughter-in-law, 221 ; quits son's residence, 234 ; rejoins her son at St. Marychurch, 293 ; her death, /*. , Philip, grandfather of P. H. Gosse, 4 Belhune, Rev. G. W., 114 Bible, knowledge of the, 328, 329 Birch, Dr. Samuel, 211 Birds, Gosse's, 219, 221 of Jamaica, Gosse's, 211; Illustra- tions to, 2i£, 219 Blandford school, Gosse enters, 21 Bluefields, Jamaica, 185, 186, 1H8, 201 Bohanan, Mr., of Jamaica, 126, 129, 131 Botta, at N'iniroud, 231 Bowerbank, James Scott, 223, 230. J43, 245. 253, 257 Bowes, Emily, afterwards Mrs. Piiilip Gosse, 215 ; ancestr) . /*. ; education, 216 ; meets Philip Gosse, 217 ; personal appearance, ib. ; portrait painted by (J. !•'. Jo.-eph, .A. R.A., //. ; marriage witli Philip Hknky, 218 ; ieni|)erament, '21 ; married life, ib., 261, 2ti2 ; assists in translating Khrcnherg's Oip Infu- sionsthierschen, 224 ; death of her aunt, 225 ; death of her mother, 227 ^ literary assistance to li,,band, 242; feeble 3So INDEX. ii licilth, 251 ; benefited by Tenby, 254; publishes Abraham and his Children 256 ; issue and great success of her Gospel Tracts, 260 ; distressing illness, 2*52-264 ; sympathy \.ith others, 265 ; final illness and death, 270; traits of character, 272 ; Mem,7-i29; ento- mological activity, 129-132 ; skill as a zoological artist, X30 ; subjected to social peculiarities, 140, 141 ; morbidity of mind, 144, 145; farewell to Dall.is and the Saflfolds, 146; quits America and arrives at Liverpool. 148 ; sale of entomological collection, ib. \ Atlantic voyage, 130, 151 ; refuses a museum curatorship, 151-153 ; attachment to Miss Hutton, 155; seeks fortune „, I-ondon, 155, 150; ur..\pecled good fortune in sale of Canadian Xaluralist MS. to Van Voorst, 157 ; gives instruc- tion in flower-painting, .58, 162; pur- suits in 1839, i-,g ; sketches of Sher- borne, 163; sisters death, 163, 164; ,11 fortune, 164 ; starts an academy in Hackney, ib. ; process of self-education, 1O7-169; opening up of a literary . career, 169, 170, '77. »78; (fains valu- able friends, 171 173; ren.oves to KertishTown, 173: noc'.rnal pursuits leads to arrest, 173 ; suggested visit to Jamaica for Uriiish Museum, 1785 \oyage, 179 ,82 ; occupation in Jamaica, 183-303 ; fathers death, 189 : bitten by a scorpion, aoa ; homew.ird voyaje, 202-205 : appe.-irancp 'n :S4r,, 206, -07 ; accidental portrait, 207 ; j example of his severity of reproof, sos' 209; slow growth of means, 210'; thoughts of visit to Azores, ib. ; literary activity 211, 212, 218, 219, 227, 2u, 232 ; courtship and marriage to Aj"i,s K. Bowes, 217, 218 ; residence in Ue Keauvoir Square, 219; seclusion of home life, 221 ; buys a micro>;cope, 222 ; its efrect, ib. ; starts study of Kotifera. 22:, 223 ; birth of his son, 2J3 ; daily division of studies, 224 ; member of Linna-an and Microscopical Societies, 225 ; improved fortune, ib. ; inaugurates new method of natur.il history observation, 228, 229 ; archajo- l.igical studies, 231; social life, 232, 233 ; marine researches on shores of Devonshir-', 238-243 ; return to London, 243 ; experiments towards, and estab- lishment of, marine aquariums, 24^, 244 ; agrees to collect for Zoological Socielys aquarium, 244 ; becomes a popular lecturer, 245 ; visits Weymouth, ib. ; dredging and collecting expedi- tions, 244-249; returns to' London (Islington), 252; visit to Tenby, new friends, 253, 254 ; conducts classes on sea-shore at Ilfracombe, 257-259; and at Tenby, 264 ; activity in 1855, '2:;9 ; elected KR.S.. 261 ; wedded In,., ;>,,,' 262 ; correspondence with Darwin, 266 ' 269 ; death of first wife, 270 ; its cfTect, 270-274: position as a zoologist, 273 • premature hopes of an abortive Wcrsh" professorship, 274 ; fin.illy quits Umlon for .South Devon, 275 ; study of sea- anemones, 384-290; working garb. 287, j88 ; literary work, 284, 289-293 ; household at St. Marychtirch, 293 J second marriage. 294; abandons »o- ology, 296; Lidiivates orchids, ib. ; correspondence with Darwin, 397-304 \ ceases professional authorship. 305 ! marine zoological enthusiasm revived, 307 ,109 ; excursions described. 310- 31a ; study of astronomy, 307, 333, 333; resuscitation of Lefidofttra studies, 313 317; publication of AW/. ftra, llie joy of his old age. 319. 330 ; final family ramble on seashore, 321 '; bronchial atUck. coupled wi;li tieait IXDEX. 383 I disease, proves fat;\l, 323 ; burial at Torqiiay, ih. ; social isolation, 333 ; coiitradictionsof temperament, 334,33;; scope of scientific labours, 336, 337 ; claim as a zoological artist, 338-341 ; cliar.icteristics as a lecturer and public speaker, 342 ; as a letter writer, 343 ; criticism of his books, 343-348 ; unable to depict human fii^ure, 349, 350 ; soli- tary visit to a theatre, 350 ; love of poetry, 351, 352 Gosse, Thomas, miniature painter, i ; father of riltl.rp Hknky, 2 ; birth and training, ih. ; courtship and marriage, 3-5 ; wanderings, 5, 6 ; located at Poole, 7 ; voluminous writer of un- jiublished works, 14, 189, 190 ; love of riMduig, 15 ; joins his son in Kentish Town, 172 ; removal to Hackney, 179 . liis de.ith, 189 , William, of Ringwood, 2 ; his daughter Susan, 12 , William, brother of I'll imp Hi.nkv, 5, 24, 43, 84, 163 ; sails for Xcwfound- 1 111(1, 20 : welcomes his brother on arrival, 33 (iould, John, 211 (iray, fieorge Richard, 172 , John i:(hv,.rd, //'. (Jn-en, Mr. and Mrs,, of Worcester. 3 , Mrs. Klizabeth. Ar Gosse, Eli/.abetli (irecnwell, Dora, 333 Uriffen's The Collegians, 56 II Hackney, residence at. 138, 1(14, idz,, 167, 172. 2i^ 2;« HaB'enden, Mr., of Jamaica, i-j H.iniburg insect cabinet, 8a, no Mimptun, t'aptain, 79, 8a Hancock, Governor 'ohn, ai6 Hankey, John A., a 10 Harbour Grace, residence of St. John fiiraily, 34. 55, 68, 81 Harrison, Samuel, 75, 76 , Sladc am' Co., of .'oole. 89, 47 Hayti seen from the sc i, aoj Hill, Richard, Jamaica naturalist, 194 198, 203, a I a, 367, 269 Home FrienJ, THr, 34a Hooker, Sir William, 178, 303 Howard, Mrs. Robert, 218 Hewlett, Rev. F. , 322 iludson. Dr. C. T., 255, 296, 318, 371 Hunt, Mr. .Arthur, of I'orquay, 312 Huron Lake region, 91, 97 Hu.floy, Professor, 254, 316 Hyena, South African, 23 ^Ifracombe, 239, 257 InfusionstK rihen, Ehrenberg Die. 224 255 Infi'soriii. Pritchard's ///./.iri/ ,//"//;r 222 Insect cabinet, 82, no, 112, 148 Islington, residence in, 252 Israr/, T/ir Hest.mi/ion of, unpublished porm, 7') Jamiica, 180 203; starts for, 178; orni- thology, 180; appro.ich to, 181, 182; scener) , 186, T^g, ^oo ; natural history oliservations by R. Hill, 194 u/, , /./> ,/, 2ti, 212 ; :iliiitr.ilioni to, 219 , .\iituraUst's Sojourn in, 193, ig'j, 225.227-229,344,345 Society, the, 198, 200 Jaques, G. E. and Mrs., of Carbone.ar, 43. 83, 85, 87, 88. 151 ; remove to ('.in. 1.1,1, 8.): thrir f.irni, (,5, 105. no, 1 1 1 Jardino. Sir William, 211 yev.'!. History of thf, 219, 220 Johnston, Dr. George, 243, 284 Josf/'/i Am/rnt's, a') Joseph, G. F , \M .V, porliait of Mrs. Gosse, a 17 Kcndrick, M.ijor, 1 55 Ktntish Town, residence in, 172, 173 Kcw Gardens, 178, 233 , (iuide to, 259 Kingfisher 'f nest, discovery of n, 19 Kingslcy, Key. Charles, 151, 351, 352, ass. 356. 293. 333 ; germ of Clauctis, 953 ; letter on (Josses Ompt.aUs, 280- 383 ; dredging for specimens, 389 ; criti- cisms of liosse's workn. 344, 3415 Knight, Rev. Richard, Wesleyan minister, 70 I 384 INDEX. I: I-iibrador Hect, 33, 44 I.drvrta viridis at Poole, 13 I imarck, 273 l.'inJ j„d Sva, Gosse's. 304 I-.iMkester, I'rof. \i. Rav, 20., 3x6. 318 319 l.'ira, Byron's, 25, 331 Lar sabclUrum. paper on, 266 Layard at Nimroud, 231 I-camington, 225 l-cidy. Dr. Joseph, zoologist, 113 l-cpiJoptcni, Com^ onicnsj, ico. .S-,v .r!so iiuttertlies , Gosse on The Chn/,iniit/ti'h[i;y, Gosse's l\pular Bytli^.h, 220, 221 , Wilson's American, i6o Osborne, Mr,, of Jamaica, 108 Otter slides, 66, 67 Owen, Sir Richard. 230, 292 I'agct, Dr. Sir James, 262 Parkstonc, 73, 74 I'arnell, Ur. . 195 Pcachia. See Sca-aneinones Pealc, T. R.. ?oologist .irtisl. 113 Pennant, 159 Penny, R..\. , ICdward, ^ Pliiladelplii.i, 104. 113, 114 I'hippard, sailmaker, 30 — . J.I'.. 'VVilliani. of St M.iry's, 62, I'imlico, Mrs. Gos.se in, 265 Plessing, Mr. an(' "ifs. . 186 Plymouth Brethren, thcolojjy of. 213. 214, Poole in 1812, 8 , (iosse f,unily in, 6, 7, 20, 26 ; Philip Henry leaves. 29 ; re- visited. 71, 73 75, 103 Poful:,r Siicmt Rtvinv, 295 F'rickly \)eax. 132 }'rnch.\Td i //hlcrv of /n/ii.ona. 222 ^i8 Public Ledger of Newfoundland. 81 Puerto Rico, coast scenery, 203 , San Juan, 203, 204 Punch and the Marine .\n III, Structure, etc., ,/ and Land. 242 Sea-anemones [Actinia). 241 ; rosea anrl nivea. 239, 253 ; bunodes coronata, 289 ; Sasrartia. 241 ; bunodes. ih. . gastro- nomic test of crassicornis, 241, 242: per I ilia. 256 and Corals. G-.se's History of the flrifisH (Actinohi^ia Britannica), ^84, 290. ?,07, 337. 340 Sea-serpent, theory of the, 291, 292, 295 Sea-ude Pleasures. Gosse's, 242 Seal ti>hery, de|)arture from and return to, Newfoundland, 48 Seal pelts delivered, method of clieckuig 57. 58 Sedgwick, .Adam, 277 Soils, Charles, of I'oole, 17, 39 Selina, Alabama, 146 Serpentine, Asplanchna in, 22'i ■ilierborne, 157, 163 Shore. A Year at the. 296, 30s. \\\ Smclair, Lord, 296 Slade, KIson and Co., 47, 93, deelme of the tum, 105 Slavery m, Southern St,ites( 1 838) 142 14, Sly, Mrs., 10 -> ^ ■ -iJ I Smith, Anker, .\ R..\.. 2 ! Society for I'romoting Christian Know- j ledge. Gosse writes for, 169, 170, 173 211, 219, 23t, 242 Soiithey's Thalaba. y^\ Sparrow, America, 1 1 :; Sprague, Mr., 79 .S()uirrels in Al.ihama. i j^ SI. John, Willi.ini Ch,i,'l,-s, 34, 54-57, 76; Ins f.uh.T, Oliver, 34 , portrayed, 34 36 ; warm friendship for Gosse, 36, 37 ; death, 37 ; letter recounting early walk.s, 39. 40; burlesque poem on Gosse, 41, I 42 ; marriage, 68 St. John, Hannah and Charlotte, 55 St. Mary's, Newfoundland, Gosse a clerk in, 61 ; described, 62, 63 St. Marychurch, Devon, vi^it to, 236, 239 ; buys a house and settles at, 275 ; life in, 306, 307, Appentli\ I. St. I'homas, W^-st Indies, visit to, 204 Stacey, Miss Mary, 262 Stanley, Bisho|), 2=;o Star crane fly of Newfoundland, loi Stephanoceros. 222, 295 Stoddnrds of Massachusetts, 216 Sucking fish. See Remoras Surrey Zoological Gardens, collect.'^ for Aquarium of, 250 Swallow, Jamaica green, 223 Swanage, at, 20 Systcma Xatur.r of I,inn,x-us, 82, 338 I'arrant .Munkton, 22 I'-'gg'-'i l-ondon Kncyclopiedia, 82 Tenby, its attractions, 253, 254; revisited, 264 , c;osse's, 254, 256, 259, 272 ; protits of, 261 Thomas, Luke, 30, 32 Thori lu, Henry, i6i Titton liijok, early recollections of, 6 Tom Cringles /,og, Michael Scott's, 18; Toole, Ned, and the (Jhost, 63, 64 Tor Bay, Kingsley and Gosse on, 289 Tor(|uay, 351 ; Gosse's burial place, 324 Tr.imp, anecdote of a, 15 Troutbeck, Hannah, 215 , Rev. John, 21; 'I'rumpct Major. Har ly's The. 22 Twohig, Mr., Og \'an Voorst, John, purcha.sos .M.S. ,,, Canadian \'aturalist, 157 ; friendship 10 Gosse. 15P, 170, 211, 245 Vivarium, its inventor, 243, 244 I I INDEX. 387 W W. Ish's Brazil, 151 Ward, William, A.R.A., 2 Warington, Robert, 243 Watcrton, Charles, WandcrimH, 160 Wesleyan Society, joins the,' 83. 8.| ; thoughts of the ministry, 153, 154; local jireacher, 169 ; severs connection with, ib. West Indies, visit to, 180 205 ; revisit contemplated, 227 Westwood, John Obadiah, Prof., 172 Weymouth, marine researches at. 246, 247, 251, 257 Whale, Beluga or white, 73 ; toothless of Havre (Delphinorhynchus micropterus), i8i White, Adam, 172, 233 , Dr. Buchanan, 315, 31^^ , Gilbert, of Selborne. 106, i6o, 344. 345 Oak, passage to Mobile in the, 1 Whymper, J W.. 172, 173, ,77, 2,2 Whitneys of Massachusetts. 216 Wight, visit to Isle of, 334 Wilbcrforce, Bishop of O.xford, 2:54 Wilkes, Lieut. Charles. 113 Wilson, Alexander, ornithologist, II-, 160, 229 Philip Henry and mother at 180, ir4. Wimborn '53 Winthrop, (iovernor, 215 Winton, Henry, outrage on, 81 Wombwel, s menagerie, ?2, 23 Wood. Mr., of St. John's, 47 Woodpeckers {Picus principali.s and Picus auratus). 131 Worcester, Thomas Gosse at, 1.35; hi., marriage, nnd birthpl.ace of Piiii.ip Henry, s Varrell, William, 20, 290 1 ,'«//; .1 Magazine, contributes to, 28 7. Zoology, view.-, on study of, 22P, 229 for SchooL, Te.\t-book of, 221, 222, 224, 227 . Introduction to, 48, 169, 170 , Manual of Marine, 2:6, 2,7, 259 263, 338 Zoological artist, (Jesse as a, 338, 339 Gardens Aquarium, 244 ; Gosse coHects for, 246 ; dispute re-condition>, 248, 240 THE F.NT). I I .RINTKl. hV «,ll,AM c,.o«Ks AND SONS. LIM.TKD, LONDON AND BBCCLKS.