Boyhood
2014 July 7
SOURCE: Passages from the Life of a Philosopher by Charles Babbage, Esq., M.A.
Babbage's words are in bold.
Taken to an Exhibition of Mechanism --- Silver Ladies --- School near London
--- Unjustly punished --- Injurious Effect --- Ward's Young Mathematician's
Guide --- Got up in the Night to Study --- Frederick Marryat interrupts ---
Treaty of Peace --- Found out --- Strange Effect of Treacle and Cognac on
Boys --- Taught to write Sermons under the Rev. Charles Simeon.
During my boyhood my mother took me to several
exhibitions of machinery. I well remember one of them in
Hanover Square, by a man who called himself:
Merlin!
I
was so greatly interested in it, that the Exhibitor remarked
the circumstance, and after explaining some of the objects
to which the public had access, proposed to my mother to
take me up to his workshop, where I should see still more
wonderful automata. We accordingly ascended to the
attic.
There were two uncovered female figures of silver,
about twelve inches high.
One of these walked or rather glided along a space of
about four feet, when she turned round and went back to her
original place. She used an eye-glass occasionally, and
bowed frequently, as if recognizing her acquaintances. The
motions of her limbs were singularly graceful.
The other silver figure was an admirable danseuse, with a
bird on the fore-finger of her right hand, which wagged its
tail, flapped its wings, and opened its beak. This lady
attitudinized in a most fascinating manner. Her eyes were full
of imagination, and irresistible.
These silver figures were the chef-d'oeuvres of the artist :
they had cost him years of unwearied labour, and were not
even then finished.
["Merlin", astonishingly, was not a pseudonym.
The Belgian-born engineer and piano-maker
Jean-Joseph Merlin (1735-1803) is dimly remembered
by a few people today as the inventor of the roller skate, but
his seemingly impossible automata amazed contemporaries.
One of his creations, the Silver Swan, is still operational and may be
viewed in County Durham's
Bowes Museum.]
After I left Devonshire I was placed at a school in the
neighbourhood of London, in which there were about thirty
boys. My first experience was unfortunate, and probably gave an
unfavourable turn to my whole career during my residence of
three years.
After I had been at school a few weeks, I went with one of
my companions into the play-ground in the dusk of the evening.
We heard a noise, as of people talking in an orchard
at some distance, which belonged to our master. As the
orchard had recently been robbed, we thought that thieves
were again at work. We accordingly climbed over the
boundary wall, ran across the field, and saw in the orchard
beyond a couple of fellows evidently running away. We
pursued as fast as our legs could carry us, and just got up to
the supposed thieves at the ditch on the opposite side of the
orchard.
A roar of laughter then greeted us from two of our own
companions, who had entered the orchard for the purpose of
getting some manure for their flowers out of a rotten mulberry-tree.
These boys were aware of our mistake, and had
humoured it.
We now returned all together towards the play-ground,
when we met our master, who immediately pronounced that
we were each fined one shilling for being out of bounds.
We two boys who had gone out of bounds to protect
our master's property, and who if thieves had really
been there would probably have been half-killed by them,
attempted to remonstrate and explain the case ; but all
remonstrance was vain, and we were accordingly fined. I
never forgot that injustice.
The school-room adjoined the house, but was not directly
connected with it. It contained a library of about three
hundred volumes on various subjects, generally very well
selected ; it also contained one or two works on subjects which
do not usually attract at that period of life. I derived much
advantage from this library ; and I now mention it because
I think it of great importance that a library should exist in
every school-room.
Amongst the books was a treatise on Algebra, called
"Ward's Young Mathematician's Guide." I was always
partial to my arithmetical lessons, but this book attracted
my particular attention.
After I had been at this school for
about a twelvemonth, I proposed to one of my school-fellows,
who was of a studious habit, that we should get up every
morning at three o'clock, light a fire in the school-room, and
work until five or half-past five. We accomplished this
pretty regularly for several months. Our plan had, however,
become partially known to a few of our companions. One
of these, a tall boy, bigger than ourselves, having heard
of it, asked me to allow him to get up with us, urging that
his sole object was to study, and that it would be of great
importance to him in after-life. I had the cruelty to refuse
this very reasonable request. The subject has often recurred
to my memory, but never without regret.
Another of my young companions, Frederick Marryat,
afterwards
Captain Marryat,
made the same request, but not with the same motive. I
told him we got up in order to work ; that he would only
play, and that we should then be found out. After some time,
having exhausted all his arguments, Marryat told me he was
determined to get up, and would do it whether I liked it or
not.
Marryat slept in the same room as myself: it contained
five beds. Our room opened upon a landing, and its door
was exactly opposite that of the master. A flight of stairs
led up to a passage just over the room in which the master
and mistress slept. Passing along this passage, another flight
of stairs led down, on the other side of the master's bed-room,
to another landing, from which another flight of stairs led
down to the external door of the house, leading by a long
passage to the school-room.
Through this devious course I had cautiously threaded my
way, calling up my companion in his room at the top of the
last flight of stairs, almost every night for several months.
One night on trying to open the door of my own bed-room,
I found Marryat's bed projecting a little before the door, so
that I could not open it. I perceived that this was done
purposely, in order that I might awaken him. I therefore
cautiously, and by degrees, pushed his bed back without
awaking him, and went as usual to my work. This occurred
two or three nights successively.
One night, however, I found a piece of pack-thread tied to
the door lock, which I traced to Marryat's bed, and concluded
it was tied to his arm or hand. I merely untied the cord
from the lock, and passed on.
A few nights after I found it impossible to untie the cord,
so I cut it with my pocket-knife. The cord then became
thicker and thicker for several nights, but still my pen-knife
did its work.
One night I found a small chain fixed to the lock, and
passing thence into Marryat's bed. This defeated my efforts
for that night, and I retired to my own bed. The next night
I was provided with a pair of plyers, and unbent one of the
links, leaving the two portions attached to Marryat's arm
and to the lock of the door. This occurred several times,
varying by stouter chains, and by having a padlock which I
could not pick in the dark.
At last one morning I found a chain too strong for the
tools I possessed ; so I retired to my own bed, defeated. The
next night, however, I provided myself with a ball of
pack-thread. As soon as I heard by his breathing that Marryat
was asleep, I crept over to the door, drew one end of my
ball of pack-thread through a link of the too-powerful chain,
and bringing it back with me to bed, gave it a sudden jerk
by pulling both ends of the pack-thread passing through the
link of the chain.
Marryat jumped up, put out his hand to the door, found
his chain all right, and then lay down. As soon as he was
asleep again, I repeated the operation. Having awakened
him for the third time, I let go one end of the string, and
drew it back by the other, so that he was unable at daylight
to detect the cause.
At last, however, I found it expedient to enter into a treaty
of peace, the basis of which was that I should allow Marryat to
join the night party ; but that nobody else should be admitted.
This continued for a short time ; but, one by one, three or
four other boys, friends of Marryat, joined our party, and, as
I had anticipated, no work was done. We all got to play ;
we let off fire-works in the play-ground, and were of course
discovered.
Our master read us a very grave lecture at breakfast upon
the impropriety of this irregular system of turning night into
day, and pointed out its injurious effects upon the health.
This, he said, was so remarkable that he could distinguish by
their pallid countenances those who had taken part in it.
Now he certainly did point out every boy who had been up
on the night we were detected. But it appeard to me very odd
that the same means of judging had not enabled him long
before to discover the two boys who had for several months
habitually practised this system of turning night into day !
Another of our pranks never received its solution in our
master's mind ; indeed I myself scarcely knew its early
history. Somehow or other, a Russian young gentleman, who
was a parlour-boarder, had I believe, expatiated to Marryat
on the virtues of Cognac.
One evening my friend came to me with a quart bottle of
what he called excellent stuff. A council was held amongst
a few of us boys to decide how we should dispose of this
treasure. I did not myself much admire the liquid, but
suggested that it might be very good when mixed up with a lot
of treacle. This thought was unanimously adopted, and a
subscription made to purchase the treacle. Having no vessel
sufficiently large to hold the intended mixture, I proposed
to take one of our garden-pots, stopping up the hole in its
bottom with a cork.
A good big earthen vessel, thus extemporised, was then
filled with this wonderful mixture. A spoon or two, an
oyster-shell, and various other contrivances delivered it to its
numerous consumers, and all the boys got a greater or less
share, according to their taste for this extraordinary liqueur.
The feast was over, the garden-pot was restored to its
owner, and the treacled lips of the boys had been wiped with
their hankerchiefs or on their coat-sleeves, when the bell
announced that it was prayer-time. We all knelt in silence at
our respective desks. As soon as the prayers were over, one
of the oddest scenes occurred.
Many boys rose up from their knees -- but some fell down
again. Some turned round several times, and then fell.
Some turned round so often that they resembled spinning
dervishes. Others were only more stupid than usual ; some
complained of being sick ; many were very sleepy ; others
were sound asleep, and had to be carried to bed ; some
talked fast and heroically, two attempted psalmody, but none
listened.
All investigation at the time was useless : we were sent off
to bed as quickly as possible. It was only known that Count
Cognac had married the sweet Miss Treacle, whom all the
boys knew and loved, and who lodged at the grocer's, in the
neighbouring village. But I believe neither the pedigree of
the bridegroom nor his domicile were ever discovered. It is
probable that he was of French origin, and dwelt in a cellar.
After I left this school, I was for a few years under the
care of an excellent clergyman in the neighbourhood of
Cambridge. There were only six boys ; but I fear I did not
derive from it all the advantage that I might have done. I
came into frequent contact with
the Rev. Charles Simeon,
and with many of his enthusiastic disciples. Every Sunday
I had to write from memory an abstract of the sermon he
preached in our village.
Even at that period of my life
I had a taste for generalization. Accordingly, having
generalized some of Mr. Simeon's sermons up to a kind of skeleton
form, I tried, by way of experiment, to fill up such a form in
a sermon of my own composing from the text of
Alexander
the coppersmith hath done us much harm, [II
Tim. iv. 14]. As well as I
remember, there were in my sermon some queer deductions
from this text ; but then they fulfilled all the usual conditions
of our sermons : so thought also two of my companions to
whom I communicated in confidence this new manufacture.
By some unexplained circumstance my sermon relating to
copper, being isomorphous with Simeon's own productions,
got by substitution into the hands of our master as the
recollections of one of the other boys. Thereupon arose an
awful explosion which I decline to paint.
I did, however, learn something at this school, for I observed
a striking illustration of the Economy of Manufactures.
Mr. Simeon had the cure of a very wicked parish in
Cambridge, whilst my instructor held that of a tolerably decent
country village. If each minister had stuck to the instruction of
his own parish, it would have necessitated the manufacture of
four sermons per week, whilst, by this beneficial
interchange of duties, only two were required.
Each congregation enjoyed also another advantage from
this arrangement --- the advantage of variety, which, when
moderately indulged in, excites the appetite.
[Most readers today will catch only part of the satire in Babbage's
remarks about Simeon, who was a Fellow of King's College
for decades and one of the greatest Calvinist preachers
of the Nineteenth Century, but for just that reason a man so theologically
out-of-place in High-Church
Cambridge that his own congregation tried for years to
remove him. The methodical construction of
Simeon's 2500 or so recorded sermons -- the feature which enabled
Babbage to imitate them -- was intentional and no secret. One of Simeon's
most influential books was the multi-volume
Helps to Composition, or Six Hundred Skeletons of Sermons.
-- note the word "skeleton", also used by Babbage --
and his Friday-evening teas, ancestral to all modern campus
Christian fellowships, were, in part, seminars on the theory and
practise of rhetoric in the pulpit. The idea that preaching is a teachable skill
was controversial, and there were accusations that Simeon's
technique was an invitation to plagiarism -- or "Economy of
Manufactures", as Babbage puts it.
Unlike many of his clerical contemporaries,
Simeon hewed closely to the Biblical text in his teaching -- hence
Babbage's comic choice of the obscure verse about Alexander the
copper-smith as a subject for exposition. One wonders how Babbage's
sermon compared with
Simeon's commentary on II Tim. iv. 10, a
related verse only slightly more promising,
in Horæ
Homileticæ, or Discourses, in the Form of Skeletons, Upon the
Whole Scriptures.]
BOYHOOD.
"I watched a silver swan, which had a living
grace about his movement and a living intelligence in his eyes -- watched him
swimming about as comfortably and unconcernedly as it he had been born in a
morass instead of a jeweller.s shop -- watched him seize a silver fish from under
the water and hold up his head and go through the customary and elaborate
motions of swallowing it ..." -- Mark Twain,
The Innocents Abroad, ch. xiii (1869)
Photo by "Badagnani" (Wikimedia).
"A very wicked parish in Cambridge": (Holy Trinity,
Market Street. Photo by
Sebastian J. Ballard for Geograph.)