A study for young men : or, a sketch of Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

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STUDY FOR YOUNG MEN;

I

The first question respects what Sir Fowell Buxton did, — what was visible to the world, and might be " seen and read of all men." I shall attempt a very brief enumeration of the facts of his public life.

What did Sir Fowell Buxton do ? Why, in the first place, he got married. He married in 1807, just when he came of age, — he was about six weeks beyond twenty-one. In 180S, he had both wife and child, but had nothing to do. He had, as I before hinted, failed to inherit large Irish property which he once counted upon ; and now, though not in positive want, was yet anxious for employment, and, as has been said, would have been glad of a clerk's place of a hundred a-year. He thought of turning Blackwell Hall factor ; and revolved, probably, many other plans. However, he was brought into contact with his uncles, the Hanburys ; and after an interview or two, he was received as a clerk at a salary, with the promise of a partnership at the end of three years. In 1811, when his probation expired, he obtained that partnership ; — he retained it to the end of his life ; and, in consequence mainly of his suggestions and superintendence, the business of the firm so increased as to produce to the members of it large profits. Sir F. Buxton became possessed of considerable property, the greater portion of it, I imagine, so directly the result of his own exertions, that it may be said of him, — what you, young men, should remember is a great and honorable secular testimony, — that, in respect to his wealth and worldly advancement, as a man of business, if not the absolute founder, he was at least the builder up, of his own fortune. Unquestionably, the greatest thing that can be said of a man is, " that he had no father: that he sprang from nothing, and made himself; that he was born mud and died marble : " but the next best thing is, "that, having something, he made it more; — being given the fulcrum, — the standing point for his energies, — he invented his machines and wrought his engines, till he made conquests and gained territory that gaA x c lustre to the paternal name which lent him at first its own for his beginnings."

The Greenwich school-boy, then, is now the

SIR THOMAS FOWELL BT7XTON, BART. 13

man of business in Spitalfields ; with plenty on his hands daily in the city, and a family constantly increasing at home. He is interested and active, however, in religious and benevolent societies, — in the instruction of the poor, and the relief of the destitute ; — till, in 1816, when he had attained his thirtieth year, an event occurred which marked him out for public life far beyond the precincts of Spitalfields, and was the immediate occasion of his entrance upon it. This was a speech which he delivered at a meeting held for the relief of the Spitalfields weavers, and presided over by the Lord Mayor. The effect of this speech was extraordinary. I have no doubt its delivery told on the audience, not only from the fulness and character of its information and facts, but from the commanding person of the speaker, his rich voice, benignant countenance, and pathetic tones. Without these accessories, however, — simply as a speech reported in the newspapers, — the impression of it was deep and extensive. It was republished by opposite political parties. It was circulated extensively. It was a principal means of producing a splendid royal benefaction ; and it called forth from Mr. Wilberforce a letter to the speaker, hailing him as an acquisition for the support and advocacy of every good cause, and anticipating and 2 urging his appearance in parliament as the appropriate sphere of his talents and influence. In 1817, he published a work on Prison Discipline. Six editions of it were sold the first year. It gave depth and extent to that sympathy with the subject which many already felt, and greatly elevated the writer's reputation. It was referred to in parliament by the most illustrious speakers, and in the most glowing terms. It was translated into other tongues. It produced fruit in Ireland, in France, in Turkey, and India, besides its immediate results among ourselves. It is a fine thing this ! — a Spitalfields brewer, a man busily engaged in seeing to business, and making his fortune; drawn, on the one hand, by relative attractions, and meeting, on the other, his full proportion of domestic care; — at the age of thirty, producing a book which instantaneously affected the largest hearts and the loftiest minds in different nations ; — told in the councils of state and the closets of kings ; — aroused the zeal and guided the activity of the philanthropic ; — excited the admiration and called forth the eulogy of distinguished philosophers and eloquent patriots, and produced immediate practical results not only in England and on the continent, but in those distant oriental regions, the oldest inhabited by man, and that new western world, in which society is appearing in its latest developments.

In 1818, he entered Parliament. He had a seat in that assembly till 1837. During these nineteen years, he pursued his own special objects, and took comparatively little part in general politics. The great cause to which he was devoted was the emancipation of the slaves in the British colonies. He was selected by Wilberforce to succeed to the leadership of that great movement. He accepted the trust with a deep sense of its responsibility and sacredness; he gave to it his strength and time, his intellect and heart, his days and nights, his enthusiasm and devotion ; he discharged it with conscientious faithfulness, with unflinching zeal, with eminent ability, and, by God's blessing, with ultimate success. For ten years, — from the year 1823, when he made his first memorable motion on the subject, to the year 1833, when it was first taken up by government and finally settled, — it was the grand object, the absorbing pursuit, its service and advocacy the predominant and ruling passion, of his life. To those of you who are not old enough (and few of those whom I address are so) to have any 'personal remembrance of the earlier stages, and of the battle and war that marked the culmination and the close of the anti-slavery struggle, much of the volume before us will have great interest ; some parts of it stirring the soul like the incidents of a tragedy, and others carrying it away as with the excitement of a romance ; and yet this one book is but one of what are written, or what might be written, on this subject.

The anti-slavery cause, however, though the principal, was not the exclusive object of Sir Fowell Buxton's energies. Prison discipline; the criminal law, especially as relating to capital punishments ; the cause of the Hottentots in South Africa; the Mauritius slave trade; the condition, treatment, rights and claims, of the aboriginal inhabitants of our various colonies ; — these, with frequent matters of special temporary interest connected with the slaves or slave owners, and every sort of kindred subject, occupied the attention and commanded the services of Sir Fowell Buxton while in parliament. In that assembly, — with all its imperfections, the first in the world for knowledge and ability; the most difficult to win, the hardest to subdue ; the keenest in its perception of ignorance and pretence ; the plainest in its demonstrations of inattention or contempt ; the most stringent in its demands for something worth hearing, if the man is to continue to be heard ; and the most just, generally, in the long run, to unequivocal proofs of fulness and power ; — in that assembly, Sir Fowell Buxton soon took a distinguished place. He always commanded attention and respect, however his views might provoke opposition. He was the leader or the colleague of some of its noblest and mightiest men ; and, along with them, and even personally, he wielded an influence which made itself felt not only in the obedience of followers, but ultimately on the councillors of the sovereign, the laws of the realm, and the dissolution and re-construction of a state of society, in the upholding of which a powerful, active and determined class had, as they imagined, all their hopes and interests involved. It is not surprising that such a man, when at length he lost his election, should immediately have been invited to represent, and should have received offers of support from, twenty-seven other places !

When Sir Fowell Buxton left parliament, and retired into private life, his thoughts still turned to and fondly lingered on his favorite objects. His last great subject of interest was a plan for the suppression of the slave-trade, and the civilization of Africa. To promote this, he devoted much time and great labor to the collection of information, and then to the production of a volume entitled '"The Slave-trade and its Remedy." Out of these thoughts and utterances, in connection with the aid and enterprise of associates, sprang the Niger expedition ; the equipment and despatch of three vessels to the coast of Africa, with (all must acknowledge) the purest and noblest intentions, however unfortunate and disastrous the result. The failure of this last great scheme of our magnanimous philanthropist— strong and magnanimous as he was — affected him much, and told, doubtless, on his once athletic and iron frame. His health had been visibly declining for some time; but with the Niger expedition his public life closed and determined.

It remains only further to be stated, that, during the whole of Sir Fowell Buxton's career, he was the personal friend and public advocate of many great religious institutions. The Bible Society, Church Missions, City Missions, and kindred confederacies, had at once his influence, his eloquence, his purse, and hig prayers. He had intimate friendships with spiritual Christians of different sects, though the most numerous and close were, of course, in his own church, and among his own kindred. He was venerated and beloved as an eminently devout and holy man, by those who knew him best. He was stigmatized as a fanatic and a saint, by those who could find nothing against him but what " concerned the law of his God." At length, worn out by public labor, but laden with honors, and ripe in goodness — distinguished by title, which his sovereign, the fountain of earthly rank, spontaneously conferred, and still more by the hand and grace of the King of kings — at the comparatively early age of fifty-nine, our illustrious philanthropist was called to his repose. His life, in all respects, was eminently prosperous, useful, and happy. He was blessed in relation to both worlds — in the concerns alike of his spiritual interests and public career. He who "gave him power to get wealth," — who surrounded him with friends and family, and made his home as a paradise about him,— who gave him success in most of his works for his generation and his race, — sustained him to the last by spiritual influences and religious faith, so that the closing scene was one of radiant hope and tranquil triumph ! Thus aided, honored and blessed. Sir Fowell Buxton purposed and worked, and lived and died ; and when he died, it was felt by numbers of all classes, of various churches, and of many lands,

that " A PRINCE AND A GREAT MAN HAD FALLEN IN

Israel."

II

This brief and rapid review — meagre and imperfect as it is — of what Sir Fowell actually did, brings us to the other questions which we proposed respecting him. What teas he, who did all this, as to his inward self? What were the constituent elements of his mind and character? What were the interior sources — intellectual, moral, or emotional — of that kind and degree of outward and visible action which we have surveyed ? And how came he to be this ? Whence was that inward man that underlay and animated the outward? How much of him was elementary and inherent — born with the latter — and slumbering, from the first, in his rude material 1 How much of him was added, or superinduced, by subsequent event or divine donation % By what means, circumstances, agents, plans, were the life and faculties of this inward man evoked, developed, strengthened, sustained 1 These and similar questions will present themselves to reflective observers, in respect to Sir Fowell Buxton, as, indeed, such inquiries naturally do in relation to all kindred cases ; and it is from the replies to these questions, and from your careful study of the book by which the materials of such replies are furnished, that my hope springs of you, young men, deriving great and lasting good from your contemplation of the subject of the present lecture.

What Sir Fowell Buxton was, — and how he came to be what he was, — we shall not pursue as separate inquiries. A brief connected series of observations may be so constructed as to include and combine what will furnish a reply to both questions at once. Observe, then, how the case stands. To put it in all its completeness before you, may involve an anticipation of one or two points not yet strictly in court, nor properly belonging to what Buxton did. Still, we are disposed to include them in the statement of the question, by finishing off with them the portrait of the man. Mark, then, the combination of phenomena in front of us. A somewhat rude, thoughtless, idle lad, of desultory habits, without any stirring within him of the aspiration of genius, or of high intellectual and literary tastes ; who had nothing remarkable about him as a school-boy ; who read as a youth only for amusement, and lived apparently only for his horses, his guns, and dogs ; who, at nineteen or twenty, lost property he had expected to inherit; and, at twenty-two, was a husband and a father, but without employment, and wanting money ; — this lad grows up, in after life, after passing through that pecuniary pinch of his early manhood, not only into a man of wealth and influence, but into an author, a legislator, and a saint ; into a person distinguished by intellectual vigor — whose writings displayed ample knowledge, high culture, forcible argument, eloquence and pathos; into a public speaker of commanding power, parliamentary reputation, and substantial popularity; into a public man of influence and weight not to be withstood — filling a place in the eye of the nation, and doing a work in the politics of the world; into a character, moreover, distinguished by holy and spiritual qualities, as well as by such as were intellectual, moral, social, philanthropic ; that was as much distinguished by its grace and beauty, as by its strength and massiveness, — as condescending and gentle as it was majestic ; and which, while exposed perpetually to the dust and dirt of this earthly life — the choking and contaminating influences of the world — ever seemed to be surrounded by the atmosphere, to be basking in the sunlight, refreshed by the breezes, and colored with the hues of heaven. How was it, we ask, that all this came about ? That the man was what he was at all? and that he continued to be it to the end ?

Let us see.

I. In the first place, he was distinguished by power. His determinations were supreme and regal. His purpose, once fixed, was inflexible. His perseverance inaction — his independence and self-trust — his capacity for courageous and continued labor — were as great and remarkable as the pertinacity, force, and decision of his will. For all this, — constituting the predominant elements of his character, and some of the prime sources of his success, — he was indebted to his parents, especially to his mother ; — indebted to them on grounds partaking at once of necessity and virtue, — of fixed, settled law, and of free moral intention. His father died when he was six years old. He was a man of sense and goodness, of temperate and healthy habits, of pure life and benevolent instincts ; and he gave to his son, by God's blessing, and by his own and his wife's virtue, a vigorous constitution, a well-knit and firmly compacted body, however loose or unwieldy it might look at first. Sir Foweli Buxton inherited from his parents the great and incalculable blessing of a sound, healthy physical structure ; a robust, muscular frame — and with that, (my philosophical and religious creed alike teach,) many important elements of character — as to temperament, disposition, moral instincts, tastes, tendencies; aspirations ready to be awakened; capacities and powers having within them a native impulsive force towards the good and the better, rather than the bad. The truth embodied in these remarks is a truth, the doubts and dogmas of certain good men notwithstanding. It is one to which a false delicacy — a delicacy rather diseased than healthy, rather prurient than pure — prevents allusion to be plainly made. I have no doubt about universal human depravity, in the sense of the universal, natural destitution of godliness ; but as to the constitutional condition of individuals, in respect to many original tastes and impulses of a moral nature, there are vast differences between men, and among them all kinds and degrees of depravity ; and the great point is, that this is owing to the intellectual, moral, and physical condition of fathers and mothers. The transmission to children of intellectual, moral, and physical tendencies is a great fact ; it is one to which the attention of the young should be turned, instead of its being tacitly or openly tabooed, for it is one in which they are directly interested. According as they practically act in relation to it, they may injure or benefit the coming generation, — ■ may make the fulfilment of their duties as parents facile or difficult — and the feelings with which they shall regard their offspring as dew to the heart, or as a serpent to the soul.

It is of vast advantage to be born of healthy and virtuous parents ; it is a further advantage to be the children of those whose intellect has been thoroughly disciplined and developed; a further still, to be surrounded in infancy and early childhood with such guiding and elevating home-influences as tend to inspire pure tastes and high aspirations, and to create or strengthen repugnance to whatever is low, sensual, or false; and, last of all, it is a blessing and an advantage, utterly incalculable, to" have for a mother a woman of sense, superiority, and goodness; with force of character ; with talents and cleverness; of solid information; with tact, temper, patience, and skill, fitted to train and mould the mind, to implant principles, and awaken a lofty and laudable ambition ; and all this presided over and purified by religious faith, deep piety, and earnest devotion. These are the mothers that the church and the world alike want. The destinies of the race depend more on its future mothers than on anything else : that is to say, on the sort of women that young girls and young ladies are to be made into, or into which they will make themselves; and the sort of wives that young men will have the sense to prefer, the judgment to select, and the happiness to secure. There is nothing so little thought of by the young, and no single thing that would be in its issues of such moment, as for the one sex to remember that they are born to be the makers of future men, and for the other to feel that what they want in marriage are not merely mates for themselves, but mothers for their children.

Clever women are of more importance to the world than clever men. I refer, of course, not to illustrious individuals on whom society depends for advance in the arts, in legislation, or in science — who extend the boundaries of knowledge, who receive and pass the torch of genius, perpetuate eloquence, or preserve truth ; I refer to the culture and strength that may distinguish the general mind — the characteristics of the mass of men and women who constitute society, and from whom not only posterity, as a whole, will receive an impress, but among whom the individual hero, too, must be born and bred. On the two suppositions that all men were clever and all women weak — or that all the women were superior and all the men fools — there would be by far the best prospect for the world on the latter alternative, both with respect to the general condition of the race, and the appearance of those who should be personally eminent for ability and genius. The mother has most to do with all that awakens the young spirit in its early freshness, and that makes that child that is to be "father to the man;" and she gives, perhaps, more of the impress of her whole being, physical and mental, to the original constitution and capacities of her offspring. Weak men, with superior wives, have had sons distinguished by very high intellectual ability ; but the greatest men, with fools for their portion, have seldom been anything but the fathers of fools. The great Lord Bacon was the representative of one that would have been memorable and illustrious but for the gigantic and overshadowing genius of his son. His father, Sir Nicholas, was twice married ; his first wife was a weak woman, and bore nothing but a mean and poor intellectual offspring ; his second wife was distinguished and superior, — a woman of capacity, of strong sense, mental culture, and great energy; she was the mother of Bacon. Without denying that there are many exceptions to what we affirm, we still do affirm, that the facts and phenomena are of such a nature, in relation to this question, as clearly to indicate the general law, that men, for the most part, constitutionally, — not only as to their bodies, but as to their intellectual powers, their moral instincts, and their capacity to take a higher or lower polish from external influences, — are, very much, not only what their remote progenitors in Paradise provided for, but what their immediate fathers and mothers make them.

Still, whatever may be the constitutional capacity of a boy, the turn that he may take, the forms into which the general power may evolve, depend greatly on first impressions and early management; and here it is that the mother is so important to the future man. Weak, trifling, careless, and selfish mothers will neglect often the finest material; ignorant of the value of what they hold in their hands, incapable of fashioning it, negligent and perverse, they allow it to remain raw, rude, and unworked, — or they give it a wrong and hurtful direction, — or they suffer it to shape itself, moved from within by blind impulses which it was their part to have purified and controlled ; or caught by objects and influences from without, which act upon " the flesh" like the atmosphere on the dead. Now, I do not mean to say that Sir Fowell Buxton's mother was the wisest and most accomplished woman in the world ; — that she had no weakness, or committed no error in the management of her children. It is rather, perhaps, to be admitted that she went to an extreme in her methods of securing that one thing which she strongly and preeminently desiderated for her son; but then she succeeded, — we must remember that. He turned out the sort of man that she wished to make him. Her desire was, that he should have a strong, vigorous, decided character: have mental independence, moral courage, an unconquerable will. Her idea of a man was, robustness, power, self-trust, general capacity for any achievement he might deem it right to undertake, — united, however, with candor and benevolence, loving thoughts, sympathy with suffering, and impatience with, and hostility to, injustice and wrong.

She despised whatever was weak, effeminate, and luxurious. She erred somewhat in allowing Fowell, as the eldest son, while yet but a boy, to assume the position of the master of the house, and in requiring his brothers and sisters to obey him. But she peremptorily demanded his obedience herself. Her rules were, in one direction, "little indulgence but much liberty;" and in another, "implicit obedience, unconditional submission." Fowell was encouraged to converse with her as an equal, and to form and express his opinions without reserve. The consequence was, that he early acquired the habit of resolutely thinking and acting for himself; and to this habitual* independence and decision he was accustomed to say that he stood indebted for all the success he had met with in life. But, along with this element of power, it was Mrs. Buxton's object to inspire her children with sentiments that would induce self-denial and self-sacrifice, and render them thoughtful for the happiness of others. His father, when filling the office of sheriff, devoted his attention to the condition of the prisoners and the discipline of the jail. His mother talked with him, there can be little doubt, of this circumstance, — it is known that she did of the horrors of the slave-trade and the sufferings of the slave. It is as natural, therefore, in fact, as it is beautiful in itself and encouraging to others, to find him saying to her, in the meridian of his manhood and in the midst of his multitudinous and merciful pursuits, " I constantly feel, especially in action and exertion for others, the effects of principles early implanted by you in my mind." He had a high idea of his mother's character ; her large-mindedness, intellect, courage, disinterestedness, generosity, and general excellence. His . love for her was strong, his veneration great ; and mothers who have really earned love and veneration are very seldom defrauded of either. She lived to see him all that she could wish, and far more, perhaps, than she had once hoped. Time did more than justify the trust and fulfil the prediction, which, 3* when his self-will as a boy was remarked to her. she expressed by saying, "Never mind; he is self-willed now — you will see it turn out well in the end."

This, then, is the one great, predominating, regal power which characterized Sir F. Buxton's inner life, and made him what he was. He was a man of strong energy, stern purpose, with an indomitable will, and at the same time capable, from his physical vigor, of longcontinued and intense application. His appearance was herculean ; his soul large and powerful, like his body. Having made up his mind that a thing was possible and ought to be attempted, he put forth his hand, and never withdrew it, and never flagged. Convinced that he was right, he stood his ground with unflinching and manly courage, and was willing to suffer in his private friendships or public popularity. The basis of all this consisted partly in the original conformation of his body and mind, and partly in the impressions made upon him by his mother — the habits she encouraged, the principles she implanted, the soul she sought to breathe into him, or to awaken, by the whole of her influence ; and in this she was aided by a singular assistant, whom Buxton used to call his "first tutor." This was the gamekeeper — Abraham Plaistow. But Abraham Plaistow was no common character, no ordinary "preserver of game/' whether the title belongs to serf or sovereign. He was one of those remarkable men who are sometimes to be met with in humble life, who are constitutionally constructed of the very best materials ; — composed of the same marble or clay of which the finest specimens of humanity are made; — of whom consist the "Tillage Hampdens," the "bloodless Cromwells," the "mute, inglorious Miltons," of the poet,— pieces and blocks of the raw material of heroic men. Under the auspices and tuition of this gamekeeper, young Buxton acquired his taste for hunting and shooting, and was indebted to him for much of his skill in these accomplishments. But he owed to him better and higher things. Abraham was a thorough and noble man. He was a philosopher and a general ; — a wise, good, and sagacious friend, who had counsels to give and principles to implant ; — a resolute master, too, of his young pupils, who, when they were in the wrong, carried his point and would be obeyed. He could neither read nor write. But his memory was stored with rustic knowledge ; his heart was the seat of integrity and honor ; he was intellectual in his way ; a great original : undaunted, fearless, and with moral courage equal to his animal insensibility to danger. To his constant companionship with such " a guide, philosopher, and friend," in all his out-door occupations and pursuits, young Buxton was greatly indebted for the growth and nurture of that manly robustness of character, and that high-souled superiority to meanness and wrong, of which it was the object of the watchful in-door maternal influence to sow the seeds.

The seeds were sown. They took deep root. There were soon strength and independence enough, — rude energy, self-will, with fondness for violent physical exertions ; but no indications of intellectual ambition, literary taste, or high personal aspirations and aims. At fifteen, Sir Fowell Buxton was most perilously circumstanced. He had left school : had no tutor ; no pursuits but what he was pleased to select for himself; he had not made great progress in learning; he was a bad scholar, but a good shot; his delight was to be in the fields, with a horse under him, or with a gun in his hand and a bird in his eye ; or in a boat ; or with his dogs ; or reading for amusement, but shirking whatever was of a higher flight. His manners, too, were uncouth ; he was awkward, ungraceful ; had not acquired external polish, nor could enter with ease into elegant society. His friends sometimes would try ridicule to correct his roughness, instead of which it discouraged and annoyed. It was altogether a dangerous experiment. His permitted idleness, his devo-