His talents and fancy overflowed on every subject. One gentleman was a deep philologist-he talked with him on the origin of the alphabet as if he had been coeval with Cadmus; another, a celebrated critic-you would have said the old man had studied political economy and belles lettres all his life; of science it is unnecessary to speak, it was his own distinguished walk. And yet Captain Clutterbuck, when he spoke with your countryman, Jedediah Cleishbotham, you would have sworn he had been coeval with Claverhouse and Burley, with the persecutors and persecuted, and could number every shot the dragoons had fired at the fugitive Covenanters. In fact, we discovered that no novel of the least celebrity escaped his perusal, and that the gifted man of science was as much addicted to the productions of your native country, in other words, as shameless and obstinate a peruser of novels, as if he had been a very milliner's apprentice of eighteen.

Mrs. Schimmelpenninck gives the following lively description of the appearance and manner of the great

inventor:

He was one of the most complete specimens of the melancholic temperament. His head was generally bent forward, or leaning on his hand in meditation; his shoulders stooping and his chest falling in, his limbs lank and unmuscular, and his complexion sallow. His intellectual development was magnificent; comparison and causality immense, with large ideality and constructiveness, individuality, and enormous concentrativeness and caution. His utterance was slow and unimpassioned, deep and low in tone, with a broad Scotch accent; his manners gentle, modest, and unassuming. In a company where he was not known, unless spoken to, he might have tranquilly passed the whole time in pursuing his -own meditations. But this could not well happen; for, in point of fact, everybody practically knew the infinite variety of his talents and stores of knowledge. When he entered a room, men of letters, men of science, nay, military men, artists, ladies, even little children, thronged around him. I remember a celebrated Swedish artist having been instructed by him that rats' whiskers make the most pliant paintingbrushes; ladies would appeal to him on the best means of devising grates, curing smoky chimneys, warming their houses, and obtaining fast colours. I can speak from experience of his teaching me how to make a dulcimer, and

improve a Jew's harp.

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I remem

ber him calling me to sit upon his knee, while he explained the different principles of the hurdy-gurdy, the harp, and the piano; or the construction of a simple whistle, or Pan's pipe, or of an organ.

In the autumn of 1819, Watt was attacked by an illness of no great severity; but he devoutly recognised in it the messenger sent to summon him away. Humbly and tranquilly he prepared for death, expressing his deep gratitude to the Almighty for the success and honour which had crowned his life; and on the nineteenth of August, at his own house at Heathfield, in Staffordshire, he peacefully expired.

M. Arago has expressed great astonishment that it was not even proposed to make Watt a peer.' No doubt he would have been made one in France; but things are managed differently in this country. Surely some man whose natural dress is

plush must have aided Mr. Muirhead in writing his reflections upon this matter. He repudiates the 'disloyal outcry' that the names of men of genius are more dignified in themselves than when they have received the addition of titles of higher rank.' Why, Mr. Muirhead, it is simply because this disloyal outcry' states a great truth, that a British Government can be justified in passing over such a man. It is simply because the name of JAMES WATT needs no factitious embellishment, that it was fit enough that one of the greatest benefactors of Britain should live and die without any public recognition of the work he had done. A peerage could have added nothing to the intrinsic greatness of such a man.

Some folk stand in need of such bolster. ing up; but the man who gave us the Steam-Engine is not one of these.

A colossal statue of Watt, by Chantrey, stands in Westminster Abbey. The town of Greenock, the University of Glasgow, and the Church of Handsworth, where he was buried, have each a marble copy of it; and in a conspicuous place in the city of Glasgow, there is a sitting statue of bronze, in the attitude of intense thought.

THE scrutiny of the effects of

the deceased Count was a work of time; and expectation, as I have said, was busy during the interval preceding the judicial announcement. Before this is published, it will not be amiss to review the case briefly ab exteriori; touching the points to which inquiry and doubt chiefly turn, in order to a fair solution of what is so far an enigma. I do not mean a notice of idle or scandalous theories, based on nothing, but a survey of the actual points of character and circumstance that hitherto have baffled interpretation-of those halfseen and mysterious traits which at once excite and puzzle curiosity. This, on the eve of positive disclosures, may be thought a needless operation. It will, however, be found far otherwise. The measure, indeed, of what may be made known, can only be given in terms of what we may desire to know. Our concern in the result, moreover, depends on the interest, free from vain surmises, being fixed on the real perplexities that rise on whatever side this singular problem is examined.

In this process, no use will be made of the Count's hints or declarations. They may have been true, but cannot be trusted alone. Where concealment is the rule, there is no saying what is the worth, or what may have been the design of exceptional revelations.

A man in the prime of life, vigorous, intelligent, and sanguine, conversant with the world, and alive to its enjoyments, qualified to shine in it, and with wealth to command its advantages, comes to bury himself, not without ostentation, in a remote corner of Germany, with a female companion, whom he hides with more than Oriental care. Not content with mere retirement, which here might have been amply secured on easy terms, and without attracting notice, he fences himself in with the complicated and repulsive system of

we

have

non-intercourse, which been watching. To this system, a self-imposed silence, the refusal of all knowledge of what he is or has been, and the utmost impatience of observation, give additional severity; and in the few cases in which he departs from it,-as in his intercourse with the Pastor,-the exception itself is a study of unaccountable precautions. To maintain it, he spares neither pains nor cost; in defence of it he does not hesitate to beard the government which gives him shelter. Above all, he condemns himself thereby to some of the worst privations which life can bear; to exclusion from human society, to perpetual imprisonment, to all but perpetual silence; penalties from which the dullest natures shrink, but which to one so lively, impulsive, and sympathetic as his, must have been unspeakably tormenting. And, finally, this penance is endured, not as a temporary evil, but for a life-time.

For a proceeding so uncommon in all ways-unless it be attributed to madness-motives of no common urgency must be assumed. And with respect to these, either it was voluntary-in which case an object must be inferred outweighing the sacrifice; or it was compulsoryi.e., taken under some pressure corresponding to the effect. And this pressure may have been external or internal.

A verdict of insanity, of course, at once disposes of all that looks doubtful or strange in human conduct. But this, in the present case, would amount to no more than a confession of the difficulty of suggesting a better interpretation. Where none of the usual signs of mental disorder were ever seen or suspected, and its presence is merely inferred from a course of conduct to which it is not easy to assign sufficient motives; such a conclusion can only serve to cut the knot when all attempts to untie it have failed, and is, in fact, merely an awkward evasion of the

1859.]

:

failure. For it by no means follows that, because the connexion between a given series of things and their efficient causes has not been traced, no such causes therefore can have existed and this caveat, applicable to most ethical and social problems, especially applies to one in which the data are in some respects uncertain, and the series of essential facts is far from being complete.

It may suffice to repeat that on the spot at no time and by none of those who either came in contact with the recluse or busied themselves in divining his secret-was the slightest suspicion of his insanity entertained. This, where so much was eccentric and unusual, and conjectures of every kind were rife, may be taken as proof that nothing could be seen from which the common sense of men infers derangement. There is, indeed, evidence enough on the other side. A clearer view than the Count's, of all that concerned him, and more steadiness and tact in pursuing his ends, could hardly be imagined. He is fierce and hasty when angered, but never without provocation; and his general self-command and strength of will are never affected by such heats of temper. Of those suspicions and antipathies which especially betray the insane, there are no tokens. The cheerfulness and benevolence which he preserves in seclusion from all society, are signs of health both moral and physical. And it would be difficult to conceive that mind unsound which could retain its freshness and force after thirty years of silence; a trial severe enough to have prostrated the best intellects. Such a man we cannot prove deranged, by any practical test of human sanity.

With those nice and flexible definitions, which, if equally applied, would embrace all whose temper or conduct is perverse, peculiar, or reckless, we need not concern ourselves here. Their only effect anywhere is to make the study of anomalies in human character impossible.

It must be allowed that to construe the facts in question on rational grounds is no easy task. Its diffi VOL, LIX. NO. CCCLI.

331

culty arises from the number of salient tokens, each apparently decisive when viewed by itself, but giving way on all sides when brought in contact with each other. Let us take them briefly in the order. already laid down.

Voluntary self-interment may be conceived in a religious ascetic, or in a misanthrope: hardly in any other type of human character. As to the former, it is needless to say a word; we have seen enough of Eishausen and of its inmate to dismiss at once the idea of devotion or bodily penance. Nor will the other character occupy us much longer. If there be any one thing certain in the present case, it is, that the recluse was neither a hater of his kind, nor one, even, whom life-weariness or a wounded spirit had driven into solitude. On the contrary, he is distinguished by active and sumptuous charities; his lively interest in all classes of his neighbours breaks out on every side; nay, his enmity is disarmed in a moment by the report of any misfortune to those who have offended him the most. Indeed, had positive evidence been wanting, it might have been certainly declared à priori that one so choleric, inquisitive, and splendid, was never known to be a misanthrope.

On the affairs of the great world he is no less intent than on the welfare of his neighbours. He watches every scene in the European drama with the keenest attention; takes part with the actors, and eagerly canvasses the issue of the piece; greedily seeks intelligence from all quarters, and digests it in a continual ferment of thought. This is not the picture of a man disgusted with the world he has quitted; rather say, of one who sympathizes with it in every fibre, and seems ready at any moment to fly into its embrace.

With such propensities, it may be added, to imagine a wounded spirit would be an absurdity. That he showed no sign of injury or of resentment, nothing in the least degree plaintive, splenetic, ormorose, is otherwise apparent. Every glimpse that is seen of him proclaims the reverse; vigour of body, alertness and ardour of mind. No

Y

mere strength of will, without a high flow of animal spirits, would have kept life and health so long without a flaw in that solitary confinement. No broken-hearted recluse could have preserved the vivacity that amazed the physician who heard him speak for the first time after an age of silence.

It may be said that I have omitted one possible motive for a voluntary retreat; jealous passion, namely, sacrificing all to the exclusive possession of a beloved object; and that the possibility of such a motive is suggested by the manner in which the lady was guarded. It would be wasting time to discuss this supposition deliberately. I will only say, first; that, apart from other objections, this would leave all the precautions which regarded the Count himself, as dark as ever: and secondly; that if, even, a passion so engrossing, and a jealousy so extreme, where no risk of any kind was seen, could be assumed as an adequate motive for a time, it is quite impossible to conceive it lasting. The idea of a twentyyears' paroxysm of such violence is beyond the wildest fables of a lover's Arcadia.

There is yet another hypothesis, not wholly foreign to this part of the subject, which at first sight seems to present a firmer hold. What if his care was the vigilance of a keeper of one hired by a rich bribe to devote himself to the charge of a prisoner, whom some great personage had reasons for concealing from the world, at whatever cost ?

Some of the circumstances certainly suit this notion better than

any

of those we have yet considered. It agrees with many indications, which all lead to the belief that the lady, on whatever ground, was really the central point of the Count's system. It would account for that system not yielding to time, which must have destroyed the effect of every other conceivable motive. It would accord with the deference remarked in the Count's demeanour towards the lady; and it would in some degree explain not only his care to keep off observers, but also the mystery in which he involved his own proceedings. In such a

case secresy would be desired not on account of the captive alone; the gaoler himself might well dread the shame of exposure, while content in private with a disgraceful office-or, it may be, sustained in it by notions of duty. The latter would be a plausible reason for his obstinacy when pressed for information by the government.

So far all seems probable. But will the theory bear closer handling? In the first place, is it likely that any man such as we have seen could have been hired, by any reward, to undertake a charge involving the loss of his position in life, of liberty, of all converse with mankind; to expend his varied endowments and bright intellect on the base office of a turnkey? And had the bribe been adequate to the sacrifice (if such an equation were possible), would not the gaoler have hastened at once to enjoy it, with his release, on the death of the prisoner, instead of remaining to die alone in the cell she had left? Or if this were part of the compact, what must the pay. ment have been? if given beforehand, how could the conditions be enforced? if continued, where are the signs of its enjoyment?

These, however, are but minor objections. Waiving them alto gether, the grand difficulty presents itself on the other side. Here, too, it is not necessary to contend that the proof of the lady's being in any sense a prisoner is utterly wanting; that no sign of coercion appeared, while all that was seen bespoke confidence and regard; that means of escape were never wanting; and that not the slightest attempt at flight, not a whisper of complaint, was ever heard of. Let it be assumed that the lady was under constraint; and if, with the facts before us, the idea of personal coercion must be rejectedthat moral compulsion was in some way brought to bear on her, so that she became in act a party to her own imprisonment. Suppose her a captive, under the conditions we have seen-what is the necessary inference? The existence of one whose suppression is important to parties of unlimited power and means, in so high a degree, that for that purpose they are willing to buy