Suffolk Worthies and Persons of Note in East Anglia

xt7qjq0stw34_4404 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7qjq0stw34/data/mets.xml https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7qjq0stw34/data/1997ms474.dao.xml unknown archival material 1997ms474 English University of Kentucky The physical rights to the materials in this collection are held by the University of Kentucky Special Collections Research Center.  Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. W. Hugh Peal manuscript collection Scrapbook of clippings, Suffolk Worthies and Persons of Note in East Anglia by Silverpen text 43.94 Cubic Feet 86 boxes, 4 oversize boxes, 22 items Poor-Good Peal accession no. 11453. Scrapbook of clippings, Suffolk Worthies and Persons of Note in East Anglia by Silverpen 2017 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7qjq0stw34/data/1997ms474/Item_22/Multipage24588.pdf 1793-1882, undated 1882 1793-1882, undated 
  Scope and Contents
  Peal accession no. 13170. The bulk of the album consists of newspaper clippings titled, Suffolk Worthies and Persons of Note in East Anglia by Silverpen. Also includes some manuscript letters by Thomas Green, John Thomas Nottidge, William Kirby, Nathan Drake, Lord Chedworth, James Ford, Letitia Jermyn, Capel Lofft, and Francis Copper Brooks.
  With prints of Sir Philip Bowes Vere Broke, Clara Reeve, Sir John Suckling, Lieutenant John Shipp, Sir Thomas Gresham, and Matthew Hopkins, a print by John Constable, and a print of the Tower of London.
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surronk WORTHIES & PERSONS
or NOTE INLEAST ANGLIA.
To 1

BERNARD BARTON—THE QUAKER POET.

We commence our BIOGitAPnic Skrz‘rcnns with one
whose fame as a Pon'r is not confined to Suffolk, to East
Anglia, or to England—one who was more highly admired
across the Atlantic than on his own'shores—one whose
disposition gained for him as many friends as his poetry.

Bernard Barton, the Quaker Poet, was born in London,
January 31st, 1784. His'father, who had left the Church
of England and joined the “Society of Friends,” was in
business at Carlisle, but had, just prior to the birth of the
“ Poet,” removed to London.
the “Friends” also, had several children, but only three
of them lived to maturity. The eldest daughter, Maria,

married a gentleman named Hack, and distinguishedherself

as the author of many useful books for children.

Bernard lost his mother when he was only a few days 1

old, but he says that—“ My father married again so wisely
and so happily that I knew not but his second wife was
my own mother till I learned it years-after at a boarding
school.” His step-mother was a “Friend,” a daughter
of a wealthy merchant living at Tottenham, and having a
house of business in London. Bernard's father quitted
London shortly after his second marriage, having taken a
partnership in a malting business at Hartford, where he
died in the prime of life, and whilst the Poet was yet a
child. He was a man of greater natural and more culti—
vated intellect than many; he had read much on the
Abolition of Slavery ; was one of Clarkson’s earliest
associates ; and it was at his house, at Hertford, that the
little band of Abolitionists used to meet in Committee.
After the death of Mr. Barton, the widow returned to
Tottenham, and there, with her only child and her step-
children, she continued for some time to reside. Bernard
was after a time sent to a school at Ipswich, but invaiiably
spent his holidays, to his great delight, at Tottenham,
and at the age of 111 he was apprenticed to Mr. Samuel
Jesup, a shopkeeper at Halstead, in Essex. Behind the
counter of the “Corner Shop at the top of Halstead Hill,”

he remained for eight years, when he removed to \Vood— ,

bridge, and entered into partnership with Mr. Jesup (a
nephew of his old master) as a corn and coal merchant.
In 1807 he married Lucy Jesup, the sister of his
partner, to whom he was most affectionately attached,
but she died a year after marriage in giving birth to a
daughter, who became a solace to her father until his
death. The scene of his blighted love became painful for
him to behold, his mercantile prospects were not en-
couraging, and he himself having more taste for “ Litera—
ture” than for the “Ledger,” retired from commercial
pursuits, and quitted VVoodbridge almost immediately
after the death of his wife. He went to Liverpool, and
engaged himself as aprivate tutor in the family of Mr.
VVaterhouse, a merchant, and there became acquainted
with the talented Thomas Roscoe, and from him received
much encouragement to prosecute a literary career. His

stay in Liverpool, however, was not of long duration, as 1

we ﬁnd he returned to VVoodbridge in 1810, and accepted
an engagement as clerk in the Bank of Messrs. Alexanders
and Co. He had not been long in this situation before he
began “ to commit the sin ofrhyme,” and the .9141?”th Chronicle
became the vehicle of his effusions. By degrees the Poet,
1n drab attire, became bold enough to send a short piece
now and then to London, and in 1812 he ventured on an
anonymous volume, entitled “ Metrical Effusions,” 250
copies of which were printed by a bookseller of VVood-
bridge, and sold within the immediate circle of our
author’s acquaintances. He was thus nearly 30 years of
age when his ﬁrst volume of poems appeared. These
“Poems” brought him into correspondence with Byron,
Southey, Charles Lamb, Hogg (the Ettrick Shepherd),
Capel Loﬁ't, and others.

Elated by the success ofhis volumes, and anxious, per—
haps, to obtain a larger income than he derived from the
remuneration of a banker’s clerk, he at this period seriously
thought of quitting the bank altogether and trusting to his
pen for the means of subsistence. This scheme, which in-
dicated youthful impetuosity and ambition rather than the
riper judgment of manhood, was, fortunately, frustrated by
the advrce of his friends, not the least earnest of his dis—
suaders being Lord Byron. His next volume, “ Poems
by an Amateur,” appeared in 1818, and was published by
subscription. Encouraged by the very flattering manner
in which these Poems were received by his friends, our
author at last ventured to publish a volume of “ Poems, by
Bernard Barton,” which was very favourably noticed by
the [Monthly .Magazz'ne, and other literary journals, and
afterwards made Still more extensively known by an article
in the Edinburgh Review, written by no less a personage
than Francis Jeffrey. A third edition of these Poems was
necessary to meet the demand. His “ Napoleon, and
other Poems,” was issued in 1822; and between that date
and 1828 he published “ Poetic Vigils,” and “Devotional
Verses,” and three other volumes of Poetry. After this he
continued to compose occasionally for the annuals and other
periodicals, but no new volume appeared until 1836, when
he collectedthese fragments into a volume, and, in 18115,he
obtained leave to dedicate his ﬁnal collection of verses to
Queen Victoria. On this his last appearance before an
indulgent public, he made a graceful bow on retiring from ,
the poetic stage. Prior to this period he had corresponded A
With Sir Robert Peel on the Income Tax question, and
the way ill-Which it unduly pressed upon the poor clerk’s
remuneration—the transmission of a copy of his Poems to
the worthy Baronet led to an invitation for the Quaker
Poet to dine with the Premier, at ”Whitehall; and when he
retired from office, in 1846, Sir Robert recommended the
Poet to the Queen as a ﬁt subject for an annual pension of
1001. Bernard Barton gratefully accepted the boon, and

was, until his death, an occasional correspondent of his
benefactor. _ ,,,, ,

His mother, a member of

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Cheerf‘ulness was a characteristic of the man, yet there
was a disposition at times to magnify his ailments and in-
firmities. As old age advanced upon him, however, his
ailments increased in severity, and at the commencement
of 1849 it became evident that the heart disease from
which he suffered was reaching a climax. He continued,
however, to perform his duties at the Bank until two days
prior to his decease, having been, as he said, for nearly 1140
years, poking over the desk, and often wondering that his
mental faculties were not worn out by the daily practice of
putting down figures in three rows, casting them, and
carrying them forward ad inﬁnitum. On the morning of
the 19th ofFebruary he was unable to get into the Bank,
his rest having been much disturbed by suffering on the
previous night. He laid on the sofa during the day, wel—
comed some friends who called to see him, and even wrote
some notes, which he said were “ as short—breathed as lum—
self.” He converscd cheerfully with .a friend in the even-
ing, and on retiring to his bed-room suddenly rang the
bell. His daughter found him dying. Assistance was
summoned, but assistance was in vain ; a few minutes
elapsed, and he calmly breathed his last. _ _

As a specimen of his thoughts on true worship we give
part of a sonnet :— . _ ‘

The patriarch worshipp’d leaning on his stall;
And well, methinks, it were, it such our creed
That we, in every hour of truest need,
From the same hidden fount could only qua‘fi’;
\Vc trust in outward aids too much by half!
Could we within on “living broad" but feed,
And drink of living streams, our souls would heed
All hindering helps but as the husk and chaff. _

A speaker, who shall be nameless, declared at a public ,
meeting that he considered the dissenters to be wolves in .
sheep’s clothing. This roused the ire of the \Voodbridgc
bard, and he penned the following :— _

" Wolves in sheep‘s clothing !" Bitter words and big;
But who applies them ? First the speaker scan;

A suckling Tory ! . An Apostate Whig;

”Indeed a re 6111;, pveglgyourii 19ml!

What such an one may either think or say
\Vith sober people, matters not one pin

In their opinion; his own senseless bray
Proves him the ass \vnar'r IN A Lion’s skin.”

The contentions among the High and Low Church

Parties drew from his spirit these lines on True Religion :
Is the world much wrsrrn grown
When the surplice and the gown,
Turning east or turning west
Arc of magnitude confest,

And in days of fearful signs

Dwelt iipou by grave divines,

That Religion’s aim and end

In such things can have no part

But appeals unto the HEART?

There would rear her hallowed throne,
Rule and reign by love alone i”

 

With the single exception of Robert Newton Shawe—a ‘

‘ particular and valued friend of the Quaker bard—we

should find it difficult to name any Suffolk man who has,

during the last quarter of a century, gone to

' that undiscovered country,

From whose bonrne no traveller returns,

‘ so universally respected as Bernard Barton. He lacked

. that worldly sagaeity which is said to be characteristic of
the “Friends;” but he was social and hespitable in a
high degree, merry “within the limits of becoming
mirth,” frank and open in all his ways; tender, affection-
ate, and devout at heart, he was a favourite with old and
young, rich and poor. His disposition was really love—
able—his very nature compelled him to make friends; and
whether among Churchmen or Dissenters, Whigs or
Tories—whether in the parlour of the tradesman or the
drawing—room of the squire, the face of Bernard Barton
was ever welcome.

We shall next week give our estimate of Bernard Barton

as a Poet, and have a peep at his character as a Man.

s71 LVEiltP g; ,N .7 7

 

,

écéi'anx””wonrmms‘ & PERSONS
OF NOTE INNEAST ANGLIA.
o. 1.
BERNARD BARTON—THE QUAKEB. FOET.

“ An honest man close-buttoned to the chin,
Broad-cloth without, and a warm heart within.”

Ilaving last week given an outline sketch of the Life of
Bernard Barton, we shall on this occasion notice his
position as an Author and his character as a Man.

The works which constitute Bernard Barton’s contribu—
tions to the literature of the age have so often received
special and critical notice that we need not dwell on their
individual merits, but may pass on to such general re—
marks as we think are called for in a fair estimate of their
value. Bernard Barton cannot be placed in the front rank
of English Poets. Nowhere in his writings do we dis-
cover that descriptive power and pathos which distinguish
Crabbe no trace of that fine thought which we discern in
Milton, nor that exalted imagination which delights us in
the lyrics of \Vordsworth. lie evidently possessed but a
very moderate degree of Modify—the staple element ol'all
highly poetic intellects; and thus he lacked the power to
discern those profound analogies in nature which the true
poet discerns and delights in contemplating. There is a
propriety andjustness of thought, a purity of feeling, a
fluency of versification, which produce agreeable poetry, 1
often rising to simple beauty and sometimes to force; but
want of strength and concentration is his grave defect.
There is too often an absence of thought equal to the sub—
ject, and diction corresponding to the thought. llis
mind was more noth for refinement than boldness—«more
celebrated for cultivation than originality. Hence he
was less a poet, in the true sense of that term, than a man
ofcultivated mind, with a warm love of verse supcraddcd
to a most gentle and amiable dis osttion.

 

 

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especial strength as having laid in chosing for subjects

Mr. James Mackintosh characterised Miss Edg ewoitli‘s

those prudential virtues which had been universally neg-
lected as unfit. for works of imagination. So also, to a
great extent, with Bernard Barton. Ilc selected common
household subjects previously deemed anti—poetical. Tine,
he was sometimes ambitions in his themes—as, for in-
stance, his “ Napoleon ;" but, generally, his verses
treated of social and domestic incidents and religious
topics in the peaceful spirit of religion, though someiimcs
wandering beyond them to a thought suggested by a
picture, a rum, or a tomb. Some of his “ Poems" are
distinguished by a tenderness and quiet naturalncss of
thought that touch hidden chords of sympathy. They
were the produce of a truly religious mind, and bore the
stamp of Christian genius, for hisforic lay in reaching the
heart, not in conquering the mind; in drawing by the
voice of sympathetic song, not in controlling the judg-
ment or satisfying the reason. The fact of his “ Poems"
reﬂecting the germs of ideas that were in the minds of
his readers, if they could have given them system anti
utterance, and also his being a Quaker, are, doubtless,
the great cause of his popularity.

As a body, the Society of Friends were never known
for the manifestation of poetic talent. Indeed, some of
them, to say the least of it, looked with a very discouraging
eye on such pursuits. Bernard Barton determined to try
the compatibility of Poetry and Quakcrism—how far the
members of his “Society” had a just and legitimate right

“ 'l‘o sport in syllables and play with song"

———as he felt convinced that poetry might be composed
with strict consistency—~by no means in opposition to the
spirit of their creed, and yet not be exclusively religious.
Success attended his efforts. The unusual phenomenon of
a Quaker Poet not only attracted an extraordinary degree
of attention, but proved to the world that there was no
necessary connexion between the simplicity of the Friends"
creed and that gothic barbarily of thought and phleg-
inatic torpor which in the idea of many is inseparably
associated with it. Whilst in the zenith of his popu-
larity, and at the suggestion, we believe, of Joseph John
Gurney, a few of the members of his Society, including
some of the wealthiest of his own family, raised l,2()l)l.
among them for his benefit. The money was vested in the
name of John T. Sliewcll, Esq” of Rnshmcrc, whose
love for the “ vision and the faculty divine” enabled him
to thoroughly appreciate poetic efforts, and the interest
was regularly paid to Bernard Barton. But although this ‘
handsome tribute was paid to him by some members of his
own sect, it seems that the more strictly “ puritau" por-
tion amongst the Friends did not View with pleasure or
read with gratification the effusions of their pool.

if we leave Bernard Barton as a poet, and glance at his
character as a man, there is much for every lover of lin-
manity to admire. He was thoroughly consistent as a
Quaker, but of far too genial a nature to sticklc for the
peculiarity of the Friends, and could forget [Inc and than
when conversing with the world‘s people. lie was liberal
as regards the religious principles of his fellow men, and
never thought of circumscribing salvation to a sect. Ills
elder sister and his (laugh/er formally lcfl “ the meeting,"
and were baptised in the “ steeple—house” with his regrets,
but with no other feeling. He himself did not seruplc to
attend the Church service, and once assisted in raising
money to build a new church at Woodbridgc.

Many of our readers well remember him, in single-
breasted waistcoat and collarless coat, scaled at his cus—
tomary desk at the bank, smiling a kindly greeting as be
recognised some one of his vanainlancc, or coming down .
from his “ perch” for a friendly shake of the hand with a
personal friend, uttering some kind inquiry regarding the
visitor’s family, or perhaps offering a pinch of snuff from
his old companion—a snuff—box made from the “ wreck of
the Royal George.” Others will call him to mind as he
sat at table, his snuff—box in hand, reciting some favom‘itc‘
passage from the poets, his face all animation, and his fine
brown eyes, sparkling with intellect, glancing about him
as he recited. This was the bcst aspect in which the poet
could be viewed. His memory was strong and his power
of illustration so good that his converse was a perpetual
feast, and literary men were as much charmed by his
abundant knowledge and felicity of pouring it forth, as
they were by his geniality in the social circle.

It must not, however, be supposed that. Bernard Barton
was what is called a “jovial fellow.” He loved society,
and could enjoy a glass of wine and the company of men
of intellect and refinement at a dinner party as much as
any man, but he was a temperate man : thc givers of good
dinners sought his acquaintance, instcad of he theirs. ;
After the toils of business be delighted in the relaxation i
of social converse, but his poems attest his acquaintance
with and vcneration for the Scriptures and his acceptance
of their truth. llis letters exhibit. his pure spirit of faith,
and those most intimate with him testify that he was fully
able to appreciate and to yield instruction from the deep‘
hidden sources of pious meditation.

In many respects his tastes greatly differed from those
usually recognised as belonging to the disciples of George
Fox. A well marked feature of his character, and the
very antipodcs of Quakcrism, was his great love of humour.
He not only admired it in his reading, but he had also a
large fund of his own which he was continually drawing
upon. Even in Scott’s novels he relished the humourous
parts more than the pathetic. lie was also a lover of the
arts, and the interior of his residence bore undeniable evr"
denec of his taste. Compared with the generality Of
Friends’ houses, his walls might be said to be covered
with pictures. “My own little study,” a room aboutscven.
feet square, was adorned with a painting on each Side of
the window, and had a quartette of pictures over the fire-

 

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place, and a crucifix—left to him as a parting memorial

;\by a very dear friend—on the mantel—piece. .
We have heard of a fashionable lady who reigned for ,

‘ schooner, in 1840, the “Bernard Barton."

years as a “belle” in the drawing rooms, reserving all the
letters sent to her by sundry admirers in her dancing years,
as a source of consolation after time had deposed her.
They were all treasured up in a particular drawer, and
when gossip, cards, and novel reading failed to amuse this
withered dame, she would exclaiin to her maid, “ Emma,
the ennui is coming on, make haste and bring out my
billels-dour.” We know not whether Mr. Barton was fond
of poring over his letters, but he was fond of correspond-
ence, and at his decease he had piles of letters from literary
celebrities, living or dead. Among his correspondents
were—Southey, Byron, Charles Lamb, Mrs. 11011111115, Mrs.
Opie, L.F.. L., Dr. Tit)Wl'll)g, Josiah Condei', \Villiam and
Mary Hewitt, and a Mrs. Sutton, with whom he corres—
ponded for thirty years, though he had never’ seen her. He
was on very intimate terms with It. N. Shawe, Esq; Rev.
C. B. Taylor, Major Moore, W. B. Donne, ofBury St.
Edmuiid’s, now of the London Library; Dr. Drake, o

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I-Iadleigh ; Mr. John \Vodderspoon, Mr. Arthur Biddell,
Rev. G. Crabbe, and Edward Fitzgerald, Esq. Mr. Bar- i
ton wrote long letters, and generally signed them as Row- i
iiey marks his double black pencils, 13.13. ‘
In the Nan/ion! world the Quaker was not much known. -
Some of the \Voodbridge owners, resolved on paying a
small tribute to the memory of their Poet, named a new
\Vhen voy—

‘ aging up the Mersey or the Humber, the captain had re-

‘ ing, an actor of the name of “ Barton” was announced,

peated enquiries as to what place or person his ship was
named after; and the Poet was highly amused to find
among the shipping list, at some far off port the arrival of
the Barney Birrlon. In the Theatrical world, on the con-
trary, his name was familiar. In 1822, there was a party
of English actors performing plays in Paris. One even-

and the audience immediately called out to enquire if it
was the Qua/cur Poet!

There are many other features on which we should liked
to have dwelt had space permitted. \Ve cannot reconcile
ourselves to his dedicating his “ Napoleon” to George the
Fourth, because there could not be an