Memoir of Old Humphrey [pseud.]; with gleanings from his portfolio, in prose and verse

Front matter

George Mogridge-

MEMOIR

OLD HUMPHREY

Contents

PAGE

I. Early Life '. 9

II. Enters on a Literary Career 23

Chapter I. Early Life

There is a natural desire in the mind to become acquainted witli those who have instructed and delighted us by their writings ; and the feeling of curiosity is the stronger when a mysterious disguise has been thrown over their persons and social position. Many have been the inquiries, " Who is Old Humphrey?'' and not a few have been the ingenious devices to penetrate the vail which he had modestly drawn around him. While living, there were reasons why he should have been unknown ; but now that he has laid down his pen and passed from scenes of useful labour, the vail may be raised, that those who admired his cheerful and godly counsels may be permitted to cherish the memory of his name with affectionate respect. There is also a duty to the sacred cause of religion when a good man dies — one who has exercised a powerful influence over the feelings and sentiments of thousands — to present some record, however brief, of the fruits of the gracious operation of the Holy Spirit in him, as manifested by his life and labours. That service of Christian friendship we now attempt to discharge.

When this covering is withdrawn, ^'Old Humphrey" appears in the person of Mr. George MoGRiDGE, a native of Ashted, one of the suburbs of the town of Birmingham, England. He was born on the 17th of February, 1787. His grandfather, the Rev. Anthony Mogridge, was vicar of Kimbolton, Worcestershire; his father was extensively engaged as a canal agent — a profitable business in former times, in which he was very successful. His parents appear to have been estimable pers-ons, of decidedly religious character, whose consistent example and afi'ectionate conduct were ever held in grateful remembrance by their son. The homescenes of his childhood were recalled in after life with pious satisfaction. In advancing age he thus gave expression to the power of a mother's piety : —

My mother taught my infant tongue —

A tear was in her eye — To lisp in prayer, with holy things,

The name of the Most High ;

To pray that G-od would make me fit

To go to heaven — and smiled : I i)ut up now the very prayer

She taught me when a child.

The approving smiles of his father and mother were given to his earliest attempts at literary composition, which was not without an influence on his future progress.

The first rudiments of his education were received at a village school. At the age of five, he left home for a boarding establishment. In a brief autobiographical sketch he left behind him, he thus refers to this period of his life : " The school was in the small village of Boarcote, about a mile from Bromsgrove. Tradition says the name was given to the place on account of a huge wild boar that hid himself in the woods there, ravaging the country around. How this may be, I know not ; the wildest boar that I ever saw in the place was my schoolmaster, a man of uncultivated mind and ungovernable temper. I am doing no injustice to his memory in representing him as one of little knowledge, strong prejudices, and unreasonable severity. So strangely, on one occasion, did his violence operate on my mind, that, smarting with the indignity of being smitten with his fist, I ran away from school, a course of conduct which I afterwards bitterly lamented. Yet, regarding my old master through the softening influence of years, I have some aff'ection for liim in my heart. My schoolmistress, whose tender, gentle, and persuasive voice even now gratefully returns on my memory, used to give us kind and Christian counsel, though she herself had received even less education than her austere husband." In another paper his reminiscences of the master are referred to. "The celestial and terrestrial globes are of necessity associated in my thoughts with a frowning face, an angry voice, and a clenched fist ; and the Latin grammar and a longlashed hunting-whip are inseparably interwoven in my remembrance. He who has no other assistance in perfecting himself in his amo, amas, than that of a hunting-whip, may possibly retain the little he learns; but he is not likely greatly to love his Latin, or greatly to reverence the memory of his master." It is hoped that this schoolmaster is now only to be regarded as a specimen of an extinct genus, and that the days of the clenched fist and the riding-whip have departed forever.

In contrast with the severity of the principal, was the gentleness of a tutor in the school, toward whom the susceptible boy felt the strongest attachment, and of whom he thus writes : "His frame was so delicately strung, that any violent emotion made him tremble from head to foot. He was learned, pious, and kind; but neither his piety, his kindness, nor his learning, could defend him, when excited, from a high state of nervousness. Hardly would a fit of the palsy have affected liirn more visibly than any altercation with another. I remember him with much affection, for the many acts of kindness he performed towards me.^'

The affection of young George Mogridge for one of his school-fellows was almost romantic. This youth was the son of a merchant, high-spirited, of good abilities, and very daring. They read together books of adventure, became heroes in many boyish enterprises, and exerted a mutual influence on each other's conduct. This early associate afterwards resided for some time in Surinam, and then in Newfoundland. The vessel in which he set sail from the latter place for England, not being sea-worthy, was never heard of after she left the port. Mr. Mogridge, when in the decline of life, remarked that though he was able distinctly to call to memory the names, persons, and dispositions of more than threescore of his school-fellows, he was not aware that one of them had reached his own age : then, with his characteristic piety, he added : " Had I no other monitor to remind me of the long-suffering of my heavenly Father, surely this would put the words into my mouth, 'Who am I, Lord God, and what is my house, that thou hast brought me hitherto ?' ''

At the age of fourteen he was placed as an apprentice to the business of a japanner. He well

remembered his father encouraging him before he 2 went to the employment, by telling him that it was a kind of work in which he might engage with white ruffles on his wrists, without rumpling them, or soiling his fingers — a state of things, it is hardly necessary to say, he did not realize.

The thoughts and aspirations of the youth soon soared above the ordinary engagements of trade. His father being a subscriber to the Birmingham General Library, the son had the opportunity of gratifying his eager desire after knowledge ; and a natural taste for poetry became confirmed by the perusal of some of the best English poets. Chaucer and the illustrious Spenser were especial favourites; and his brother was wont playfully to charge him with wearing out his copy of the '' Faerie Queene," from its being carried in his pocket. His early fondness for old ballads and tales of chivalry is described in some lines which he penned in after life:—

And did the magic of romantic lays

Seduce the leisure of my earlier days ?

Did fancy spread her varied charms around,

And leave me wandering o'er enchanted ground ?

Oh yes ! and oft these transitory toys

Have flung a sunbeam on my passing joys.

And has the midnight taper wasted been

In pondering legend hoar and fairy scene ?

Have idle fictions o'er my fancy stole,

And superstition's tale beguiled my soul ?

They have ; and, spell'd by their mysterious power,

Has roll'd away full many a rosy hour.

Farewell, ye tales of terror, that control In mystic bonds the passions of the soul; Ye fabled haunts, where fays and genii dwell, And all ye legendary themes, farewell : Your fleeting joys I freely now resign; For ever let the Book of Truth be mine.

During the term of his apprenticeship, young Mogridge employed his brief intervals of leisure in writing both prose and verse. His first appearance in print was in a local newspaper; the piece consisted of an address on the occasion of raising a statue to the memory of Lord Nelson.

Another juvenile effusion was an inscription for a charity-box of the Infirmary, placed in the public room of the Talbot Hotel, Shrewsbury : —

If thine the power to succour the distress'd,

And this appeal should meet thy wandering eye,

In pity, stranger, let it melt thy breast, To do some gentle deed of charity.

If thou hast known the terrors of distress ;

If thou hast felt the pangs of want and pain; Oh, let not worldly thrift the sigh suppress.

Nor want implore, nor misery beg, in vain.

E'en though no crowd admiring shall descry, Nor flattering tongue reveal the deed obscure,

It shall not pass unheeded by that Eye

Which beams around the treasury of the poor.

Encouraged by his early attempts to secure the public notice, he soon became a contributor to several of the periodicals of the day. He was a regular, though gratuitous, correspondent to Ackerman's '^Poetical Magazine)" and its editor was profuse in his acknowledgments for his disinterested aid. He also contributed to several of Mr. Houlston's publications. As he was known to this worthy bookseller, and cherished much respect for him, he found considerable gratification in being permitted to give such literary assistance as he was able. Other pieces were sent anonymously to various periodicals and public journals. For three years the busy youth kept up, for the perusal of his friends, a manuscript magazine, " The Local Miscellany,'' every line in each monthly number, both of prose and verse, being supplied by his pen, with etched illustrations. Nor was his vanity a little aroused when he knew that the revered and philanthropic Wilberforce had carried in his pocket one of these numbers for nearly a fortnight. When a little further advanced into manhood, he assumed and supported, for a considerable time, in a public journal, the character of an old man, entering so familiarly into the local occurrences of the neighbourhood for nearly half a century, that no one suspected that the head of the writer was uncovered with gray hairs. Thus, unconsciously, was he pluming his wings for other flights, and qualifying himself for more arduous undertakings.

An acquaintance with Pratt, author of "The

Gleaner" and numerous other works, and occasional interviews with Hutton^ the antiquarian, Dr. Mavor, and Dr. Adam Clarke, increased his inclination for reading, and stimulated him in his efforts at composition ; and every interval of time was diligently secured for the exercise of his pen.

In after life, Mr. Mogridge referred with peculiar satisfaction to some of the persons of distinction whom he saw in his early days. Among others were Lord Nelson and Mr. Wilberforce. A sight of the one arm and melancholy face of the former awakened sentiments of deep compassion for him who had attained to the highest pinnacle of human glory. His reminiscence of Mr. Wilberforce may be given in his own words. " In this chequered state of being, our brightest remembrances are often associated with shadows. Though so many years have rolled away since I set off with a friend to obtain for the first time in my life a glance at the philanthropist Wilberforce, I have neither forgotten my enthusiastic emotions, nor the untoward circumstance which so sadly interfered with my pleasure. Understanding that Wilberforce was expected to attend divine service at a village church, at some ten or twelve miles distance, I could not resist my impatience to see him ; and in good time my friend and I were on our way to the village. When near the place, we called on a farmer, who described to us his pew at

the church, where he said he hoped we should oc-

2* cup J sittings. We were early ; my friend went to anotlier part of the cliurch^.but I proceeded to tlie farmer's pew.

^' While sitting in anxious expectation of the entrance of the philanthropist^ the pew was entered by a gentleman of somewhat haughty demeanor, who resided near, on a large estate. After regarding me for a little time, he inquired if I were a clergyman, and on my answering in the negative, he told me that he could not answer for there being room enough in the seat to accommodate me and his friends. I told him that though I certainly was a stranger, the owner of the pew had requested me to occupy a sitting there, and the clerk had conducted me to it. He replied that on ordinary occasions there would be room, but that he then required the pew for his friends. Thus circumstanced, I, to my extreme mortification, left the pew and entered the adjoining one.

^^ What poor, proud creatures we are ! It was pride on the part of the gentleman that occasioned his churlishness ; for not knowing who I might be, he could not brook my sitting with so great a man as himself. And it was pride on my part that made me so keenly susceptible of what ought not to have affected me. Had we both attended the sanctuary with humble hearts, hungering and thirsting after spiritual good, we should have behaved in a very different manner.

'' After all, there were but four persons in the pew I had quitted, though there was room enough for more than double the number ; and my hat, which I had left on the seat, occupied the sitting abandoned by me. I thought, when after the service I requested the gentleman to favour me with my hat, that he looked not a little ashamed. I saw Wilberforce, certainly, but a cloud was on my spirit, and my enjoyment was lessened. There is a passage in God's holy word which says, ^Be not forgetful to entertain strangers:' Heb. xiii. 1. But this passage had not been regarded. Pride sadly militates against our peace.

" The last time I saw him who at the church had wounded my pride, he was stepping out of his carriage-and-four; and some time after, when giving directions to his work-people, who were felling timber, a large tree fell on him and crushed him, and occasioned his death. Though he was taken, I am still left. ^Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is, that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as an hand-breadth ; and mine age is as nothing before thee : verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity :' Ps. xxxix. 4, 5."

On completing his articles of apprenticeship, Mr. Mogridge married Miss Elizabeth Bloomer, whom he had known from early youth. This union, which had the promise of much happiness, was not permitted to be of long continuance; for, after well sustaining the part of an affectionate wife and an exemplary mother, she was called from the world at an early age. Her course was that of a Christian, and her end was peace. The bereaved husband remained a widower for a few years, and then again married. His second wife was Miss Mary Eidsdale. As the companion of the larger portion of his life, this lady rendered the most efficient service to her husband in his literary engagements. Scarcely a volume that he issued but was transcribed and prepared by her hand for the press. It has been her mournful satisfaction to minister to the comfort of her endeared husband in his seasons of sorrow, and to solace him in his passage through the closing hours of life.

When about twenty-four years of age, Mr. Mogridge entered into partnership with his elder brother as a japanner; and so long as the latter remained in the firm it was prosperous ; but after a time he retired in possession of a good property. The younger brother continued the business, but he confessed he had no aptitude for it. Too many objects occupied his attention. He devoted too much time, for a young tradesman, to the public, as an overseer, guardian, and commissioner. His generous feelings prompted him to give far too liberally — it may be said indeed improvidently — to every case which had the semblance of distress; and he devoted to books and literature the hours which might, probably, have been better employed in the more active duties of life. The result was an abandonment of his position as a tradesman, with the entire loss of all his property. In reviewing this part of his history, he once observed : " I look back on this period of my life with keen regret. To be deprived of luxuries and limited in comforts is comparatively a light affliction ; but to bear humiliation and selfreproach, and still more to be undervalued and censured by those who were before prodigal in praise, is a heavy burden to bear. I drank to the very dregs the bitter cup of calamity, for I found but little kindness, and much severity. The kindness I did experience is graven on my heart.'' It is not to be inferred from this language of self-condemnation that his moral character or commercial honour were compromised by an unfortunate issue to business. He was unsuccessful, but his uprightness and integrity were unimpeachable. His naturally keen susceptibilities and high sense of probity would incline him to scrutinize his conduct with much severity, when others might see little to censure or condemn.

With a nature so sensitive, Mr. Mogridge felt keenly the withdrawal of the friendship of many who had professed much regard for him in days of his prosperity; nor was he less affected by the unimpaired confidence and tried faithfulness which were manifested by a few in tliis time of trouble. When, in after life, lie had recovered, by his labour and talent, an influential position in society, he referred to the conduct of his friends in the following poetical allegory : —

THE STORM.

A ship was stemming the ocean-tide, And oh, how gallantly did she ride ! A storm came on — it was sad to see How she roll'd a wreck on the fathomless sea.

Her mariners left her, one by one,

In that season of peril, almost alone ;

But a few there were who endured the blast,

And succour'd her in her distress to the last.

She righted again, and she braved the tide, And oh, how gallantly did she ride ! It was strange to see, when she stemm'd the main, How her mariners all came back again !

While ocean winds her canvass swell,

That ship of the terrible storm shall tell ;

And her log-book the names of the crew shall bear

Who abandoned her not in her hour of despair.

The path of Mr. Mogridge's life was now for a time overshadowed. He was called to consider whether he should retrace his steps and set out afresh in the business of a manufacturer, or enter on other engagements which might give the promise of support, and which were more in harmony with his natural talent and tastes.

ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER. 2B

CHAPTEK II.

ENTERS ON A LITERARY CAREER.

It lias been said that fewer authors are made by choice than by necessity ; nor does the example of Mr. Mogridge militate against the general correctness of the observation. He was not altogether insensible to the fact that no enojasrements are more fraught with anxiety and disappointment, or are more liable to failure, than those of a professional writer for the press. Yet with this conviction on his mind, he resolved to engage in literature as a source of profit. It was a bold step for one who had hitherto only employed his pen, as a recreation, in such light compositions as might fill a column in a magazine. He seems, however, to have had some confidence in his own powers, though not a single friend at the time encouraged him in his purpose. Looking from our present point of view, we can see much to justify the resolve ; but at that time the qualities of his heart, and his peculiar mental power, had been but partially developed. The devout mind will not fail, in his case, to recognise in his decision the leadings of divine Providence; for whatever was the result on his comfort and pecuniary advantage, it undoubtedly promoted tlie entertainment and improvement of thousands of readers.

In launching on the wide ocean of literature, our author was dependent on any favourable current he might meet, rather than on any fixed course. Without long waiting to weigh the probabilities of success, and under the influence of strong feelings, and relying more on tact than talent, he pushed forth on those deeps whereon so many have made shipwreck.

There were some points in his favour. In early life Mr. Mogridge had imbibed an ardent and deep-rooted love for natural scenery. The grand and beautiful in creation can scarcely foil to arrest the eye of even incurious spectators; but there are minds of lively temperament which are powerfully aifected by the display of infinite goodness and power in the natural world. When Legh Richmond visited Loch Lomond, he gazed intently on the landscape, and hushed his restless companions with the sentence, ^' The eye is not satisfied with seeing." On the same spot. Dr. Chalmers exclaimed, in rapture, ^^ I wonder if there will be a Loch Lomond in heaven!" Dr. Caesar Malan at the sight knelt down and prayed; and the missionary Macdonald wrote of it in his diary, '' Oh I how sweet and tranquil was the bosom of the lake ! I thought of the peace of God that passeth all understanding." With similar feelings of devotion and wonder, Mr. Mogridge beheld such a goodly prospect. Overcome at the sight, he involuntarily fell on his knees with a fervour of feeling that was painful to him, and prayed that God in his goodness would either subdue his emotions, or give him the greater ability to sustain the enjoyment of them. In one of those impromptu pieces of rhyme of which so many are left behind him unpublished, he refers to the pleasures he found in natural objects: —

A pleasant thing it is to stray

Beneath a sunny sky, Where flowery fields their charms display,

And brooks run bubbling by; To sit with leafy bowers o'erhung,

And read in grateful mood, While heart, and mind, and eye, and tongue,

Confess that God is good.

The observation of character is a source of much interest to many; with Mr. Mogridge it was a cultivated habit. In those around him he found something to admire, or to disapprove, to imitate, or to avoid. He could scarcely fail to take an intelligent view of men and things as they passed before his eyes. " Every man," he once observed, ^' has a picture-gallery of his own, in which are hung the likenesses of those he has known. These likenesses are dependent on the point of view whence they were taken, and on the character of the mind in whose memory they are retained. A portrait depends almost as much on the painter as on the face of him wliose likeness it represents ; and if it be thus with sketches taken by the pencil, it is still more so with sketches of the pen.'' This habit enabled him to present those delineations of character in the Old Humphrey Papers which are evidently taken from life.

His frequent perambulations and love of adventure brought him into contact with difierent interesting characters, whose peculiarities he was not slow to discern, though he was ever careful not to allow an ill-natured criticism to escape his pen. He was also fond of intercourse with those whose stores of wisdom could enrich his mind, and whose reminiscences could supply topics for profitable conversation. ^' From the time of my early boyhood,'' he observed, " I have had the habit of keeping my eyes and ears open to the busy world about me; and for many years it has been my custom to keep a commonplace book of passing thoughts and occurrences. Oh, what a strange medley of matter does it contain ! Sometimes my remarks have been made hastily, as sudden impulses have called them forth ; at other times, they have been written down with greater reflection and care."

A habit of frequently reviewing the past materially aided in turning to practical account this faculty of observation. A tenacious memory, too, held as in a treasury the varied incidents of life as they had come under his eye, and supplied him with abundant illustration to enforce a moral or adorn a tale. His imagination was active and speculative on scenes as they arose to his view. In one of his rhyming moods, he thus notices the workings of thl« latter faculty : —

Yet deem I not the high-wrought bliss

Of fancy's thrilling reign, — Her thousand ardent hopes and fears, —

Romantic, light, or vain.

Without these sparkling gems of thought.

The human heart would be, At times, a desert far more drear

Than thine, dread Araby.

Many have mistaken the fervour of i^oetic feeling for poetic talent. It is not, then, a matter of surprise, that, after revelling in the natural and earnest thoughts of Wordsworth, or the glowing strains of Montgomery, or the rich imagery and quaint sublimities of the early poets, that they should have been sufficiently carried away to believe that they could produce stanzas which would become, to some extent, also popular. The subject of our memoir had long felt the inspiration of poetry; it was, therefore, to be supposed that he would first direct his attention to this line of authorship. Accordingly, he submitted a few pieces, as specimens of an extended series, to the editor of the "Literary G-azette," who freely expressed his approbation, but required that he should have in his possession the whole of the papers before he published any, on the ground that authors were too mucli in the habit of beginning with power and ending with weakness.

Among his earliest works was a book of epitaphs, published under the title of ''The Churchyard Lyrist," It is hoped it answered the purpose of the publisher better than it did that of the author. The price agreed on for the copyright was fifty pounds, but as it was to be received in copies, and as Mr. Mogridge gave three-fourths of the books away, his pocket was thereby but very little replenished. Like all other people, authors have to pay for their experience ; and he who sets any value on his time, and is solicitous to add to his pecuniary resources, had better occupy himself in a more promising subject than verses for tombstones. The design of this volume was to give a greater variety of original epitaphs than had hitherto appeared. It was the writer's opinion that "the churchyard is a volume whose admonitions are sought when the heart is best prepared to receive them/' and hence the importance that inscriptions for the grave, when they do not consist of texts from Scripture, should be in harmony with its doctrines and precepts.

It is rather remarkable that an animated and lively mind should seek recreation among old yewtrees, green hillocks, and sculptured urns. Yet these had their attractions to Mr. Mogridge, and to his frequent musings among such mournful objects are we indebted for his first useful book. "I litie not," lie has been known to say, "to see a troddendown grave, believing, as I do, that burial-grounds have, or ought to have, an influence on the tone and morals of society. A churchyard is a volume where the wisest of us may learn a lesson of profitable instruction ; and a mind duly impressed by reflection on the dead will rarely indulge in bitterness towards the living. Pleasant is it to look on the memorials of affection that decorate the graves of the people of Wales. I want no aff"ectation of sorrow, no unnecessary exhibition of grief, to mark the last resting-place of humanity; but I do love to see the grass-green sod look as though the mortals mouldering below were not forgotten."

A few specimens from this work may not be without interest : —

ON A YOUNG FEMALE.

She is gone to the land where the care-worn and weary

Enjoy the sweet rapture of sacred repose ; She has quitted forever this wilderness dreary,

And bid a long farewell to time and its woes.

While on earth she was loved, and we deeply deplore

her:

But ah ! shall a murmur escape from our breast ■?

Do you ask how she lived? She set heaven before

her.

Do you ask how she died? In the faith of the

bless'd.

3«

ON A PIOUS SAILOR.

Doom'd o'er the watery waste to roam, Full oft he braved the tempest's strife,

Till his Redeemer call'd him home, And he was shipwreck'd into life.

ON" A HUMBLE-MINDED CHRISTIAN.

A lowly follower of the Lord above :

While here on earth, his soul on heaven was bent ;

His words were kindness, and his deeds were love, His spirit humble, and his life well spent : These, then, and not this stone, shall be his monument.