Eighteenth Century Waifs. Ashton John
over whom he had jurisdiction gave him very considerable trouble, more especially after the introduction into the settlement, by some American vessels, of New England rum, the baneful effects of which were very soon apparent: the partiality of the convicts for it being incredible, for they preferred receiving it as the price of their labour to any other article, either of provisions or clothing.
Barrington’s tact and good management in the numerous disturbances that arose, as more convicts were poured into the station, were very conspicuous, and his conduct was altogether such as compensated, in a great measure, for his former misdeeds. His domestic matters improved by degrees, so that his situation was equal, if not preferable, to that of most of the settlers there, and, to crown all, in September, 1799, the Governor – Hunter – presented him with an absolute pardon, complimenting him on his faithful discharge of the duties which had been entrusted to him, and the integrity and uniform uprightness of his conduct, and, furthermore, said that his general behaviour, during his whole residence, perfectly obliterated every trace of his former indiscretions.
Barrington was further appointed a principal superintendent of the district of Paramatta, with a permanent salary of £50 per annum (his situation having been, hitherto, only provisional) and, eventually, the confidence he inspired was such that he was raised to the office of Chief of the constabulary force of the Colony, on the principle, it may be presumed, of ‘setting a thief to catch a thief.’ In this post he gave great satisfaction, and died, much respected by all who knew him, at Botany Bay.
He wrote ‘The History of New South Wales,’ &c. London, 1802; a most valuable and interesting book. ‘An Account of a Voyage to New South Wales,’ London, 1803. ‘The History of New Holland,’ London, 1808; and a book was published with his name as author, ‘The London Spy,’ which went through several editions.
MILTON’S BONES
In the first series of Notes and Queries, vol. v. p. 369 (April 17, 1852), is a note from which the following is an extract: ‘In vol. v, p. 275, mention is made of Cromwell’s skull; so it may not be out of place to tell you that I have handled one of Milton’s ribs. Cowper speaks indignantly of the desecration of our divine poet’s grave, on which shameful occurrence some of the bones were clandestinely distributed. One fell to the lot of an old and esteemed friend, and between forty-five and fifty years ago, at his house, not many miles from London, I have often examined the said rib-bone.’
The lines of Cowper’s to which he refers were written in August, 1790, and are entitled
‘Me too, perchance, in future days,
The sculptured stone shall show,
With Paphian myrtle or with bays
Parnassian on my brow.
But I, or ere that season come,
Escaped from every care,
Shall reach my refuge in the tomb,
And sleep securely there.’16
So sang, in Roman tone and style,
The youthful bard, ere long
Ordain’d to grace his native isle
With her sublimest song.
Who then but must conceive disdain,
Hearing the deed unblest,
Of wretches who have dared profane
His dread sepulchral rest?
Ill fare the hands that heaved the stones
Where Milton’s ashes lay,
That trembled not to grasp his bones
And steal his dust away!
O ill-requited bard! neglect
Thy living worth repaid,
And blind idolatrous respect
As much affronts thee dead.
Leigh Hunt possessed a lock of Milton’s hair which had been given to him by a physician – and over which he went into such rhapsodies that he composed no less than three sonnets addressed to the donor – which may be found in his ‘Foliage,’ ed. 1818, pp. 131, 132, 133. The following is the best: —
It lies before me there, and my own breath
Stirs its thin outer threads, as though beside
The living head I stood in honoured pride,
Talking of lovely things that conquered death.
Perhaps he pressed it once, or underneath
Ran his fine fingers, when he leant, blank-eyed,
And saw, in fancy, Adam and his bride
With their heaped locks, or his own Delphic wreath.
There seems a love in hair, though it be dead.
It is the gentlest, yet the strongest thread
Of our frail plant – a blossom from the tree
Surviving the proud trunk; – as if it said,
Patience and Gentleness is Power. In me
Behold affectionate eternity.
How were these personal relics obtained? By rifling his tomb. Shakespeare solemnly cursed anyone who should dare to meddle with his dead body, and his remains are believed to be intact.
‘Good friend, for Jesus’ sake, forbear
To dig the dust inclosed here:
Blest be the man who spares these stones,
And cursed be he who moves my bones.’
But Milton laid no such interdict upon his poor dead body – and it was not very long after his burial, which took place in 1674, that the stone which covered it, and indicated his resting-place, was removed, as Aubrey tells us in his ‘Lives’ (vol. iii, p. 450). ‘His stone is now removed. About two years since (1681) the two steppes to the communion-table were raysed, Ighesse, Jo. Speed,17 and he lie together.’ And so it came to pass that, in the church of St. Giles’, Cripplegate, where he was buried, there was no memorial of the place where he was laid, nor, indeed, anything to mark the fact of his burial in that church until, in 1793, Samuel Whitbread set up a fine marble bust of the poet, by Bacon, with an inscription giving the dates of his birth and death, and recording the fact that his father was also interred there.
It is probable that Mr. Whitbread was moved thereto by the alleged desecration of Milton’s tomb in 1790, of which there is a good account written by Philip Neve, of Furnival’s Inn, which is entitled, ‘A Narrative of the Disinterment of Milton’s coffin, in the Parish-Church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, on Wednesday, August 4th, 1790; and the Treatment of the Corpse during that and the following day.’
As this narrative is not long, I propose to give it in its entirety, because to condense it would be to spoil it, and, by giving it in extenso, the reader will be better able to judge whether it was really Milton’s body which was exhumed.
Having read in the Public Advertiser, on Saturday, the 7th of August, 1790, that Milton’s coffin had been dug up in the parish church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, and was there to be seen, I went immediately to the church, and found the latter part of the information to be untrue; but, from conversations on that day, on Monday, the 9th, and on Tuesday, the 10th of August, with Mr. Thomas Strong, Solicitor and F.A.S., Red Cross Street, Vestry-Clerk; Mr. John Cole, Barbican, Silversmith, Churchwarden; Mr. John Laming, Barbican, Pawnbroker; and Mr. Fountain, Beech Lane, Publican, Overseers; Mr. Taylor, of Stanton, Derbyshire, Surgeon; a friend of Mr. Laming, and a visitor in his house;
Forsitan et nostros ducat de marmore vultus Nectens aut Paphia myrti aut Parnasside lauri Fronde comas – At ego secura pace quiescam.
John Speed, the historian, died 1629, and was buried in the church of St. Giles’, Cripplegate.