It was always surprising to me that none of the ingenious schemes,—so long under the consideration of the commissioners,—were adopted; but, when I read, in a newspaper, that Mr. Pierce had stood up in the House of Commons, and in answer to a question put to him there, had said, in reply, “that the commissioners were of opinion that nothing better than the old bank note could be devised to prevent forgery!”—then, indeed, I could scarcely believe my own eyes,—my astonishment was complete, and my opinion of the whole business of this “mountain in labour” was fixed.
During the time that the business of the commissioners seemed to me to be hanging in suspense, I wrote a letter to Sir Joseph Banks, in which I endeavoured to press upon his attention, and that of his colleagues, as a means of preventing forgery, the necessity of having the blank paper for country bank notes printed with a new device in lieu of the little duty stamp then used, and which had simply in view the collection of the government duty. Sometime after this, a long account of the inventions of Sir William Congreve, Bart., were published in the “Repository of Arts,” for March, 1822, setting forth how much country banks, and the whole country was obliged to him, as the inventor of, or the person who first suggested, a scheme so essentially important as this for preventing forgery. As soon as I read this, I answered it in the “Monthly Magazine,” of May, 1822, in which I quoted my letters to the commissioners, with the dates bearing upon this very subject, and claimed for myself the merit of having first suggested the scheme. At the same time, I only requested Sir William Congreve would, on the word of a gentleman, say whether or not the scheme was his or mine. Of this neither Sir William nor any of the commissioners took any notice, excepting, indeed, something purporting to be an answer to what I had said, by a person in the employ of Sir William, as an artist, which, though it begun very impudently, did not answer my letter at all. This I could not help treating with contempt. To enter into a paper war with such a person, I thought would be great folly. Sir William appears to be going on prosperously, by furnishing bankers with his stamped note papers, and printing them in the way above described.
Sir William Congreve, as a commissioner, had the advantage of seeing the various devices, and of knowing the opinions of the various artists upon these devices, which enabled him to cull and select such as appeared to him best calculated to prevent forgery; and, I think, as he was no artist himself, he should not have taken the credit either of inventor or executor of any of these devices, nor have turned the profit arising from them to his own private account.
CHAPTER XV.
During a severe illness with which I was visited in 1812,—the particulars of which I need not detail to you, my dear Jane, as the part you and your mother and sisters took, in nursing me night and day, must be fresh in all your memories, and which I only here mention on account of its association,—I determined, if I recovered, to go on with a publication of “Æsop’s Fables.” While I lay helpless, from weakness, and pined to a skeleton, without any hopes of recovery being entertained either by myself or any one else, I became, as it were, all mind and memory. I had presented to my recollection almost everything that had passed through life, both what I had done and what I had left undone. After much debating in my own mind where I should be buried, I fixed upon Ovingham; and, when this was settled, I became quite resigned to the will of Omnipotence, and felt happy. I could not, however, help regretting that I had not published a book similar to “Croxall’s Æsop’s Fables,” as I had always intended to do. I was extremely fond of that book; and, as it had afforded me much pleasure, I thought, with better executed designs, it would impart the same kind of delight to others that I had experienced from attentively reading it. I was also of opinion, that it had (while admiring the cuts) led hundreds of young men into the paths of wisdom and rectitude, and in that way had materially assisted the pulpit.
As soon as I was so far recovered as to be able to sit at the window at home, I began to draw designs upon the wood of the fables and vignettes; and to me this was a most delightful task. In impatiently pushing forward to get to press with the publication, I availed myself of the help of my pupils—my son, William Harvey, and William Temple—who were eager to do their utmost to forward me in the engraving business, and in my struggles to get the book ushered into the world. Notwithstanding the pleasurable business of bringing out this publication, I felt it an arduous undertaking. The execution of the fine work of the cuts, during day-light, was very trying to the eyes, and the compiling or writing the book by candle-light, in my evenings at home, together injured the optic nerve, and that put all the rest of the nerves “out of tune;” so that I was obliged, for a short time, to leave off such intense application until I somewhat recovered the proper tone of memory and of sight. Indeed I found in this book more difficulties to conquer than I had experienced with either the “Quadrupeds” or the “Birds.” The work was finished at press on the first of October, 1818. It was not so well printed as I expected and wished.
During the eventful period of the French Revolution, and the wide-spreading war which followed in consequence of it, and in which our government became deeply engaged, extending from 1793 to 1814—a time of blood and slaughter—I frequently, by way of unbending the mind after the labours of the day, spent my evenings in company with a set of staunch advocates for the liberties of mankind, who discussed the passing events mostly with the cool, sensible, and deliberate attention which the importance of the subject required. In partaking in these debatings, I now find I spent rather too much time. I fear it was useless; for it requires little discernment to see that, where a man’s interest is at stake, he is very unwilling to hear any argument that militates against it; and people who are well paid are always very loyal. To argue on any subject, unless a principle, or what mathematicians would call a datum, is first laid down to go upon, is only gabble. It begins and must end in nonsense; and I suspect that many of the long, wearisome speeches and debatings, carried on for such a number of years in the Houses of Lords and Commons, as well as many of the innumerable weekly or daily essays, and some of the pamphlets which the revolution and the war gave rise to, were devoid of a right principle—a principle of rectitude to guide them. The causes of this Revolution, and the horrible war which ended it, will form a most interesting subject for the head and the pen of some future historian of a bold and enlightened mind—truly to depicture it in all its bearings, perhaps long after the animosity of party feelings and the parties themselves have passed away.
From the best consideration I have been able to give to the question, I cannot help viewing it in this way. In the year 1789, the French Revolution broke out, first of all from the income of the government not being sufficient to defray its expenditure, or in other words, from its finances having become deranged for want of money, and which the people, having been taxed to the utmost and brought down to poverty, could no longer supply. The aristocracy and the priesthood (the privileged orders, as they were called) contributed little or nothing to support the state; and, instead of being the natural guardians or depositories of the honour and virtue of the nation, they were chiefly known as its oppressors. By exaction, cruelty, and tyranny, the people had long been borne down to the lowest pitch of degradation. They were considered, not as rational human beings, equal in mind and intellect to their oppressors, but as beings made for the purpose only of continually labouring to support them in all their real and imaginary wants. This is nearly the case in all countries where the aristocracy are kept up and blinded by pride and guided by ignorance. In this they are supported by what may be called their satellites—a kind of bastard breed, who, in aping the worst part of the character of those exalted above them, show themselves off as the opulent, aspiring, purse-proud gentry of a country.