The Thaumatrope.One day Herschel, sitting with me after dinner, amusing himself by spinning a pear upon the table, suddenly asked whether I could show him the two sides of a shilling at the same moment.I took out of my pocket a shilling, and holding it up before the looking-glass, pointed outmymethod. “No,” said my friend, “that won’t do;” then spinning my shilling upon the table, he pointed outhismethod of seeing both sides at once. The next day I mentioned the anecdote to the late Dr. Fitton, who a few days after brought me a beautiful illustration of the principle. It consisted of a round disc of card suspended between the two pieces of sewing-silk. These threads being held between the finger and thumb of each hand, were then made to turn quickly, when the disc of card, of course, revolved also.Upon one side of this disc of card was painted a bird; upon the other side, an empty bird-cage. On turning the thread rapidly, the bird appeared to have got inside the cage. We soon made numerous applications, as a rat on one side and a trap upon the other, &c. It was shown to Captain Kater, Dr. Wollaston, and many of our friends, and was, after the lapse of a short time, forgotten.{190}〈THE THAUMATROPE: ITS RETRIBUTION.〉Some months after, during dinner at the Royal Society Club, Sir Joseph Banks being in the chair, I heard Mr. Barrow, then Secretary to the Admiralty, talking very loudly about a wonderful invention of Dr. Paris, the object of which I could not quite understand. It was called the thaumatrope, and was said to be sold at the Royal Institution, in Albemarle-street. Suspecting that it had some connection with our unnamed toy, I went the next morning and purchased, for seven shillings and sixpence, a thaumatrope, which I afterwards sent down to Slough to the late Lady Herschel. It was precisely the thing which her son and Dr. Fitton had contributed to invent, which amused all their friends for a time and had then been forgotten. There was howeveroneadditional thaumatrope made afterwards. It consisted of the usual disc of paper. On one side was represented a thaumatrope (the design upon it being a penny-piece) with the motto, “How to turn a penny.”On the other side was a gentleman in black, with his hands held out in the act of spinning a thaumatrope, the motto being, “A new trick from Paris.”After my contest for Finsbury was decided, Mr. Rogers the banker, and the brother of the poet, who had been one of my warmest supporters, proposed accompanying me to the hustings at the declaration of the poll. He had also invited a party of some of the most influential electors of his district to dine with him in the course of the week, in order that they might meet me, and consider about measures for supporting me at the next opportunity.〈THE POET AND PHILOSOPHER AT A CROSSING.〉On a cold drizzling rainy day in November the final state of the poll was declared. Mr. Rogers took me in his carriage to the hustings, and caught a cold, which seemed at first unimportant. On the day of the dinner, when we met at{191}Mr. Rogers’s, who resided at Islington, he was unable to leave his bed. Miss Rogers, his sister, who lived with him, and his brother the poet, received us, quite unconscious of the dangerous condition of their relative, who died the next day.Thus commenced a friendship with both of my much-valued friends which remained unruffled by the slightest wave until their lamented loss. Miss Rogers removed to a house in the Regent’s Park, in which the paintings by modern artists collected by her elder brother, and increased by her own judicious taste, were arranged. The society at that house comprised all that was most eminent in literature and in art. The adjournment after her breakfasts to the delightful verandah overlooking the Park still clings to my fading memory, and the voices of her poet brother, of Jeffrey, and of Sidney Smith still survive in the vivid impressions of their wisdom and their wit.I do not think the genuine kindness of the poet’s character was sufficiently appreciated. I occasionally walked home with him from parties during the first years of our acquaintance. In later years, when his bodily strength began to fail, I always accompanied him, though sometimes not without a little contest.I have frequently walked with him from his sister’s house, in the Regent’s Park, to his own in St. James’s Place, and he has sometimes insisted upon returning part of the way home with me.On one of those occasions we were crossing a street near Cavendish Square: a cart coming rapidly round the corner, I almost dragged him over. As soon as we were safe, the poet said, very much as a child would, “There, now, that was all your fault; you would come with me, and so I was nearly run over.” However, I found less and less resistance to my{192}accompanying him, and only regretted that I could not be constantly at his side on those occasions.Soon after the publication of the “Economy of Manufactures,” Mr. Rogers told me that he had met one evening, at a very fashionable party, a young dandy, with whom he had had some conversation. The poet had asked him whether he had read that work. To this his reply was, “Yes: it is a very nice book—just the kind of book that anybody could have written.”〈HOW TO LIVE FOR EVER.〉One day, when I was in great favour with the poet, we were talking about the preservation of health. He told me he would teach me how to live for ever; for which I thanked him in a compliment after his own style, rather than in mine. I answered, “Only embalm me in your poetry, and it is done.” Mr. Rogers invited me to breakfast with him the next morning, when he would communicate the receipt. We were alone, and I enjoyed a very entertaining breakfast. The receipt consisted mainly of cold ablutions and the frequent use of the flesh brush. Mr. Rogers himself used the latter to a moderate extent regularly, three times every day—before he dressed himself, when he dressed for dinner, and before he got into bed. About six or eight strokes of the flesh-brush completed each operation. We then adjourned to a shop, where I purchased a couple of the proper brushes, which I used for several years, and still use occasionally, with, I believe, considerable advantage.〈RAPIDITY OF COMPOSITION.〉Once, at Mr. Rogers’s table, I was talking with one of his guests about the speed with which some authors composed, and the slowness of others. I then turned to our host, and, much to his surprise, inquired how many lines a-day on the average a poet usually wrote. My friend, when his astonishment had a little subsided, very good-naturedly gave us the result of his own experience. He said that he had never written{193}more than four36lines of verse in any one day of his life. This I can easily understand; for Mr. Rogers’ taste was the most fastidious, as well as the most just, I ever met with. Another circumstance also, I think, contributed to this slowness of composition.36I am not quite certain that the number was four; but I am absolutely certain that it was either four or six.An author may adopt either of two modes of composing. He may write off the whole of his work roughly, so as to get upon paper the plan and general outline, without attending at all to the language. He may afterwards study minutely every clause of each sentence, and then every word of each clause.Or the author may finish and polish each sentence as soon as it is written.This latter process was, I think, employed by Mr. Rogers, at least in his poetry.He then told us that Southey composed with much greater rapidity than himself, as well in poetry as in prose. Of the latter Southey frequently wrote a great many pages before breakfast.Once, at a large dinner party, Mr. Rogers was speaking of an inconvenience arising from the custom, then commencing, of having windows formed of one large sheet of plate-glass. He said that a short time ago he sat at dinner with his back to one of these single panes of plate-glass: it appeared to him that the window was wide open, and such was the force of imagination, that he actually caught cold.〈DIFFERENT EFFECTS OF IMAGINATION.〉It so happened that I was sitting just opposite to the poet. Hearing this remark, I immediately said, “Dear me, how odd it is, Mr. Rogers, that you and I should make such a very different use of the faculty of imagination. When I go to the house of a friend in the country, and unexpectedly{194}remain for the night, having no night-cap, I should naturally catch cold. But by tying a bit of pack-thread tightly round my head, I go to sleep imagining that I have a night-cap on; consequently I catch no cold at all.” This sally produced much amusement in all around, who supposed I had improvised it; but, odd as it may appear, it is a practice I have often resorted to. Mr. Rogers, who knew full well the respect and regard I had for him, saw at once that I was relating a simple fact, and joined cordially in the merriment it excited.In the latter part of Mr. Rogers’s life, when, being unable to walk, he was driven in his carriage round the Regent’s Park, he frequently called at my door, and, when I was able, I often accompanied him in his drive. On some one of these occasions, when I was unable to accompany him, I put into his hands a parcel of proof-sheets of a work I was then writing, thinking they might amuse him during his drive, and that I might profit by his criticism. Some years before, I had consulted him about a novel I had proposed to write solely for the purpose of making money to assist me in completing the Analytical Engine. I breakfasted alone with the poet, who entered fully into the subject. I proposed to give up a twelvemonth to writing the novel, but I determined not to commence it unless I saw pretty clearly that I could make about 5,000l.by the sacrifice of my time. The novel was to have been in three volumes, and there would probably have been reprints of another work in two volumes. Both of these works would have had graphic illustrations. The poet gave me much information on all the subjects connected with the plan, and amongst other things, observed that when he published his beautifully illustrated work on Italy, that he had paid 9,000l.out of his own pocket before he received any return for that work.
One day Herschel, sitting with me after dinner, amusing himself by spinning a pear upon the table, suddenly asked whether I could show him the two sides of a shilling at the same moment.
I took out of my pocket a shilling, and holding it up before the looking-glass, pointed outmymethod. “No,” said my friend, “that won’t do;” then spinning my shilling upon the table, he pointed outhismethod of seeing both sides at once. The next day I mentioned the anecdote to the late Dr. Fitton, who a few days after brought me a beautiful illustration of the principle. It consisted of a round disc of card suspended between the two pieces of sewing-silk. These threads being held between the finger and thumb of each hand, were then made to turn quickly, when the disc of card, of course, revolved also.
Upon one side of this disc of card was painted a bird; upon the other side, an empty bird-cage. On turning the thread rapidly, the bird appeared to have got inside the cage. We soon made numerous applications, as a rat on one side and a trap upon the other, &c. It was shown to Captain Kater, Dr. Wollaston, and many of our friends, and was, after the lapse of a short time, forgotten.{190}
〈THE THAUMATROPE: ITS RETRIBUTION.〉
Some months after, during dinner at the Royal Society Club, Sir Joseph Banks being in the chair, I heard Mr. Barrow, then Secretary to the Admiralty, talking very loudly about a wonderful invention of Dr. Paris, the object of which I could not quite understand. It was called the thaumatrope, and was said to be sold at the Royal Institution, in Albemarle-street. Suspecting that it had some connection with our unnamed toy, I went the next morning and purchased, for seven shillings and sixpence, a thaumatrope, which I afterwards sent down to Slough to the late Lady Herschel. It was precisely the thing which her son and Dr. Fitton had contributed to invent, which amused all their friends for a time and had then been forgotten. There was howeveroneadditional thaumatrope made afterwards. It consisted of the usual disc of paper. On one side was represented a thaumatrope (the design upon it being a penny-piece) with the motto, “How to turn a penny.”
On the other side was a gentleman in black, with his hands held out in the act of spinning a thaumatrope, the motto being, “A new trick from Paris.”
After my contest for Finsbury was decided, Mr. Rogers the banker, and the brother of the poet, who had been one of my warmest supporters, proposed accompanying me to the hustings at the declaration of the poll. He had also invited a party of some of the most influential electors of his district to dine with him in the course of the week, in order that they might meet me, and consider about measures for supporting me at the next opportunity.
〈THE POET AND PHILOSOPHER AT A CROSSING.〉
On a cold drizzling rainy day in November the final state of the poll was declared. Mr. Rogers took me in his carriage to the hustings, and caught a cold, which seemed at first unimportant. On the day of the dinner, when we met at{191}Mr. Rogers’s, who resided at Islington, he was unable to leave his bed. Miss Rogers, his sister, who lived with him, and his brother the poet, received us, quite unconscious of the dangerous condition of their relative, who died the next day.
Thus commenced a friendship with both of my much-valued friends which remained unruffled by the slightest wave until their lamented loss. Miss Rogers removed to a house in the Regent’s Park, in which the paintings by modern artists collected by her elder brother, and increased by her own judicious taste, were arranged. The society at that house comprised all that was most eminent in literature and in art. The adjournment after her breakfasts to the delightful verandah overlooking the Park still clings to my fading memory, and the voices of her poet brother, of Jeffrey, and of Sidney Smith still survive in the vivid impressions of their wisdom and their wit.
I do not think the genuine kindness of the poet’s character was sufficiently appreciated. I occasionally walked home with him from parties during the first years of our acquaintance. In later years, when his bodily strength began to fail, I always accompanied him, though sometimes not without a little contest.
I have frequently walked with him from his sister’s house, in the Regent’s Park, to his own in St. James’s Place, and he has sometimes insisted upon returning part of the way home with me.
On one of those occasions we were crossing a street near Cavendish Square: a cart coming rapidly round the corner, I almost dragged him over. As soon as we were safe, the poet said, very much as a child would, “There, now, that was all your fault; you would come with me, and so I was nearly run over.” However, I found less and less resistance to my{192}accompanying him, and only regretted that I could not be constantly at his side on those occasions.
Soon after the publication of the “Economy of Manufactures,” Mr. Rogers told me that he had met one evening, at a very fashionable party, a young dandy, with whom he had had some conversation. The poet had asked him whether he had read that work. To this his reply was, “Yes: it is a very nice book—just the kind of book that anybody could have written.”
〈HOW TO LIVE FOR EVER.〉
One day, when I was in great favour with the poet, we were talking about the preservation of health. He told me he would teach me how to live for ever; for which I thanked him in a compliment after his own style, rather than in mine. I answered, “Only embalm me in your poetry, and it is done.” Mr. Rogers invited me to breakfast with him the next morning, when he would communicate the receipt. We were alone, and I enjoyed a very entertaining breakfast. The receipt consisted mainly of cold ablutions and the frequent use of the flesh brush. Mr. Rogers himself used the latter to a moderate extent regularly, three times every day—before he dressed himself, when he dressed for dinner, and before he got into bed. About six or eight strokes of the flesh-brush completed each operation. We then adjourned to a shop, where I purchased a couple of the proper brushes, which I used for several years, and still use occasionally, with, I believe, considerable advantage.
〈RAPIDITY OF COMPOSITION.〉
Once, at Mr. Rogers’s table, I was talking with one of his guests about the speed with which some authors composed, and the slowness of others. I then turned to our host, and, much to his surprise, inquired how many lines a-day on the average a poet usually wrote. My friend, when his astonishment had a little subsided, very good-naturedly gave us the result of his own experience. He said that he had never written{193}more than four36lines of verse in any one day of his life. This I can easily understand; for Mr. Rogers’ taste was the most fastidious, as well as the most just, I ever met with. Another circumstance also, I think, contributed to this slowness of composition.
36I am not quite certain that the number was four; but I am absolutely certain that it was either four or six.
36I am not quite certain that the number was four; but I am absolutely certain that it was either four or six.
An author may adopt either of two modes of composing. He may write off the whole of his work roughly, so as to get upon paper the plan and general outline, without attending at all to the language. He may afterwards study minutely every clause of each sentence, and then every word of each clause.
Or the author may finish and polish each sentence as soon as it is written.
This latter process was, I think, employed by Mr. Rogers, at least in his poetry.
He then told us that Southey composed with much greater rapidity than himself, as well in poetry as in prose. Of the latter Southey frequently wrote a great many pages before breakfast.
Once, at a large dinner party, Mr. Rogers was speaking of an inconvenience arising from the custom, then commencing, of having windows formed of one large sheet of plate-glass. He said that a short time ago he sat at dinner with his back to one of these single panes of plate-glass: it appeared to him that the window was wide open, and such was the force of imagination, that he actually caught cold.
〈DIFFERENT EFFECTS OF IMAGINATION.〉
It so happened that I was sitting just opposite to the poet. Hearing this remark, I immediately said, “Dear me, how odd it is, Mr. Rogers, that you and I should make such a very different use of the faculty of imagination. When I go to the house of a friend in the country, and unexpectedly{194}remain for the night, having no night-cap, I should naturally catch cold. But by tying a bit of pack-thread tightly round my head, I go to sleep imagining that I have a night-cap on; consequently I catch no cold at all.” This sally produced much amusement in all around, who supposed I had improvised it; but, odd as it may appear, it is a practice I have often resorted to. Mr. Rogers, who knew full well the respect and regard I had for him, saw at once that I was relating a simple fact, and joined cordially in the merriment it excited.
In the latter part of Mr. Rogers’s life, when, being unable to walk, he was driven in his carriage round the Regent’s Park, he frequently called at my door, and, when I was able, I often accompanied him in his drive. On some one of these occasions, when I was unable to accompany him, I put into his hands a parcel of proof-sheets of a work I was then writing, thinking they might amuse him during his drive, and that I might profit by his criticism. Some years before, I had consulted him about a novel I had proposed to write solely for the purpose of making money to assist me in completing the Analytical Engine. I breakfasted alone with the poet, who entered fully into the subject. I proposed to give up a twelvemonth to writing the novel, but I determined not to commence it unless I saw pretty clearly that I could make about 5,000l.by the sacrifice of my time. The novel was to have been in three volumes, and there would probably have been reprints of another work in two volumes. Both of these works would have had graphic illustrations. The poet gave me much information on all the subjects connected with the plan, and amongst other things, observed that when he published his beautifully illustrated work on Italy, that he had paid 9,000l.out of his own pocket before he received any return for that work.