"That thin partitions do divide
The bounds where good and ill reside;
That naught is perfect here below,
But bliss still bordering upon woe."------
THE parish of St. Giles, Camberwell, in the
metropolitan borough of Lambeth (which borough returns two
members to parliament), is situated in the county of Surrey, and
is one of the richest suburbs of London. The parish contained in
1832 a population of about 50,000, which was healthily
increasing. The parish is divided into three parts, viz.,
Camberwell proper, the liberty of Peckham and the hamlet of
Dulwich. In the last-named village is the famous college of
Allyn the play-actor, who built and endowed it for the support
and education of decayed persons of his name. In this college is
the Bodleian gallery, in which there are some splendid paintings
of the old masters. In Peckham stands Marlborough House, the
ancient seat of the hero of Blenheim, with all his deeds
emblazoned on the walls, in good preservation. The residence of
Nell Gwynn, of Charles
II
notoriety, was made to give way for the Surrey
canal. Of the beauty of the topography of Camberwell it would be
difficult to say too much in its praise. It is said "Sweet
Auburn" was written in Goldsmith House,
Peckham. Be that as it may, I know there is a pane of glass in
one of the windows of that house with his name, said to have
been written by himself. The topography of the parish is
delightfully undulating, and rich in foliage. The hills, known
by the names of Grove, Champion, Dulwich, Norwood, Forest, and
Sydenham, abound in splendid scenery.. Several views from these
eminences are obtained of the metropolis. The valley of the
Thames, the wealds of Kent and the immediate surroundings are
well worthy of a visit. But in speaking of my cozy, happy home I
must not forget the passing events of the then extraordinary
period. The political arena of 1829 assumed a state of
fermentation which drifted rapidly into an agitation which in
some instances threatened damage to the peace of the community.
The iron horse had made his bow, making manifest at once his
power to bless and to destroy. At the great and world-wide
important event of opening the railway between Manchester and
Liverpool, the nation was shocked and dreadfully saddened by the
destruction of one of our greatest and most consistent reformers
of the period. Mr. Huskisson, who, with the Duke of Wellington,
was deputed to represent the government at the opening, was
killed on the track by an engine near Liverpool. He was
president of the board of trade at the time and a great advocate
of free trade, and was mainly instrumental in lowering the
duties on the silken fabrics of France so as to bring them
within the reach of the common people of England, to the
annoyance of the Spitalfield silk weavers who carried their
petition in procession to the House of Commons against his
innovating measures. Their mistaken notions were unmoved by his
eloquence, but their subsequent experience proved the soundness
of his principles when their periodical poverty had given place
to an increased activity to their shuttles. The reforming spirit
was more susceptible of feeling at this time than to action,
each heading looming up and claiming priority of the popular
process which the acute angles of all measures are destined to
undergo prior to becoming law. Reform in parliament became the
leading topic of the day. Men were now inspired by reasonable
expectations of a speedy accomplishment of that for which they
had struggled for a period of twenty-eight years, and for which
they had figured at an early day in the most contemptible
minorities. We had now in 1830 at the nominal head of affairs a
reforming king (William the Fourth, the popular sailor king),
under whose auspices there were those in high places who in the
spirit of their dreams began to feel a change. Many who, under
George, were stanch advocates for leaving all things just as
they were, began under William to relax.
Others, again, assumed the position of
leaders in a cause against which they had fought for years. In
1830 and 1831 the spirit of the people rose to a dangerous
pitch. In all the large towns immense assemblages of the middle
and working classes convened, carrying flags bearing
inscriptions, some of which were couched in terms more in the
attitude of threats than that of petitions. Every city, town and
hamlet had its reform society, from whom emanated spirited
petitions, not always guarded in phraseology. Under the pressure
from without a bill, under the auspices of that grand old
political reformer, Lord John Russell, was introduced into the
commons. After every schedule of the bill had been severely
scrutinized, both in and out of parliament, it was accepted by
the people, and the bill, the whole bill, and nothing but the
bill, became the national demand from Land's End to John o'
Groat's. But the king, intimidated at the aspect of affairs,
made efforts to retract, dismissed his reforming minister, tried
to form a cabinet of the leaders of the opposition, which proved
impracticable, and thereby made shipwreck of his golden
popularity. So much so that on his way to and from his palace at
Windsor he found himself under the necessity of taking a by-road
to escape the filthy missiles being thrown at his carriage,
showing the instability of the popular applause. 1830 was an
eventful year. George IV departed this
life after ten years of misrule. It gave a throne to Louis
Phillippe, obscurity to Charles X, and
an addition to our little family at Peckham. In the revolution
effecting the changes in France the whole world was dazzled at
the noble defense of order made by La Fayette against a host of
fire-brands. I was so taken with the bravery of that hero that I
was desirous of naming our infant son after him, but on our way
to Camberwell church to get a name, my wife, being a true
English woman, scouted the idea of naming a child of ours after
a Frenchman. I felt cheap and vanquished, and gave the choice up
to her, and I am sure she found a much less worthy name in my
own than in that of the hero of my choice, but I had
disfranchised myself in the premises and yielded to the
inevitable.
At this particular juncture all Europe seemed
convulsed. Thrones toppled, dynasties arose and reigning
families were ruthlessly shelved. Even these little republics,
called parishes in England, where self-government really exists,
were not exempt from the prevailing turmoil, and our quiet rural
parish of Camberwell had to come in for its share. The clerical
or bookkeeping part of the parish was nominally transacted by
Mr. Gilbert, a prominent lawyer in the city, whose income
enabled him to keep up a high-toned establishment in Camberwell.
For his services as vestry-clerk he received four hundred pounds
per annum, while Mr. Pool, the assistant vestry-clerk, on whose
shoulders fell the real burden of the work, enjoyed a salary of
seventy pounds a year whereon to support himself, wife and seven
children. The childless Gilbert, moving in the highest circles
of society, beginning to think that an additional two hundred to
his four hundred would be acceptable, mooted the idea to his
bosom friend, the vicar, and leading men of the influential
class of parishioners in which he moved. The hill-tops teemed
with the desire, but how shall we be able to counteract that
abominable spirit of reform which seems to transform our trading
and working classes from willing coadjutors to vile
obstructionists? The vote in our favor can only be obtained by
early attendance and filling the hall with our friends. But the
move was anticipated by the despised reformers, and the audience
proved too much imbued with the spirit of reform for their
scheme. Under the auspices of John George Storey, vicar, the
churchwardens and overseers of the poor of St. Giles,
Camberwell, the meeting was convened. I was induced by neighbors
to attend that meeting, at which John George Storey-took the
chair. The object of the special meeting was somewhat hastily
explained, and a motion to augment the salary of the vestry
clerk two hundred pounds per annum was as hastily moved and
seconded. Looking around in vain to those who had urged me to
accompany them in the spirit of opposition to the measure, and
somewhat nettled at the supine appearance of my neighbors, at
the moment the vicar was about to submit the motion to the vote
I made myself heard in the crowded hall, apologizing for so
young a parishioner trespassing upon the notice of so great an
assembly. I said that if my opinion of the sum of four hundred
pounds a year was too inflated I had to attribute it to the fact
of being a native of a part of the world where money is rendered
valuable by its scarcity. "I therefore move as an amendment that
Mr. Gilbert receive a vote of thanks for the able manner in
which he has served the parish in the capacity of vestry clerk,
and that he be invited to retain that position at his present
salary of four hundred pounds per annum." This amendment was
seconded by a stentorian voice at the opposite side of the hall,
who, seeing the unwillingness on the part of the vicar to put
the amendment, and at the time urging me to withdraw it, elbowed
his way through the crowded audience, introduced himself as Mr.
Brett, whom I afterward found to be an eminent attorney of the
old Kent Road, saying," I seconded your amendment, and I fear
you are about to lose it. According to appearances we shall be
able to carry the vote. All now depends on your pressing it to
an issue." Being entirely ignorant of parliamentary rules I took
courage from his support, and to the chagrin of the chair
pressed the amendment, which was carried by a very large
majority. The effect of this vote throughout the parish was
unprecedented, and infuriated for a time the proud priest and
his party. The cool, temperate daring of a class they were wont
to despise challenged their respect and paved the way to a
wonderful change in parochial management. On the following
Easter Tuesday, the day on which all the parish officers are
elected for the year ensuing, in due order of business the
election of overseer of the poor for the Liberty of Peckham came
before the vestry, and Mr. Brett arose and said "that inasmuch
as the parish of Camberwell stands indebted to a comparative
stranger in that part of the parish for the judicious part he
took in a recent controversy, I therefore move that David
Johnston be overseer of the poor of St. Giles, Camberwell,
during the ensuing year, ending in Easter, 1831," which, to the
astonishment of all present, was seconded by Mr. Gilbert and
unanimously carried. Thus was I honored by my
fellow-parishioners in the receipt of the highest gift within
the compass of their power, and all from a mere accident, not
from any credit of my own. Oh, for the buoyant happiness of
those too few days! To be lifted from a miserable life of
servile drudgery into a snug, sweet, home at the age of
twenty-six years, in robust health; to be in communion with the
woman you dearly love, and with whom you have been acquainted
for eight years; to be blessed with a promising son; to have
your credit well established; to possess the confidence of your
fellow-creatures, and all your prospects brightening, must be
felt to be appreciated. But such felicity seldom falls to the
lot of man. Indeed, I have been led to look upon happy
coincidences as the harbinger of evil, an idea which might have
found its origin in the dreadful ordeal which I was destined to
undergo so close upon the heels of the attainment of all that I
could wish. My wife's confinement had not been attended by
anything like severity; still, her continued weakness gave rise
to uneasiness, and shortly to alarm. At the close of the nurse's
term Sophia's mother became her constant attendant, and under
the auspices of the physician, Dr. Bissett, and her own loving
heart, soothed the pillow of the darling patient until her last
breath, which fatal event transpired on the seventeenth day of
September, 1832. The grave in which her remains are deposited is
in old Camberwell churchyard, pointed out by a headstone on
which is inscribed the following language, quoted from Sterne,
and garbled to suit the sex:
She was—words are wanting to say what!
Think what a wife, mother, friend, should be,
And she was that! |