My Life as an Author Part 15

"4 Carlton Terrace, _26th September 1844_.

"My Dear Sir,--I owe you many apologies for not having answered earlier your letter of the 2d of August. The fact is that since that time I have been travelling all over England with the Prince of Prussia. As to your work, I laid it myself before the King, who perused it with great pleasure, when I was at Berlin. I am now charged by His Majesty not only to express to you his thanks for having thought of him in sending him a book replete with so much Christian wisdom and experience, but also to present to you, in his Royal name, the _gold medal_ for science and literature, as a particular sign of regard. The medal will be delivered to you, or a person authorised by you, at the office of the Prussian Legation, any morning from 11 to 1 o'clock, Sunday of course excepted.

"Allow me to avail myself of this opportunity to renew to you my own thanks and the expression of my high regard, and believe me, yours sincerely,

"Bunsen.

"M.F. Tupper, Esq."

Accordingly, I called myself and received the medal from the Chevalier, with whom afterwards I had half-an-hour's talk, chiefly about German history, in which by good fortune I was fairly posted, perhaps with a prescience that the amba.s.sador might allude to it.

An author, if he be a good man and a clever, worthy of his high vocation, already walks self-enn.o.bled, circled by an aureola of spiritual glory such as no king can give, nor even all-devouring time, "_edax rerum_," can take away. He really gains nothing by a t.i.tle--no, not even Tennyson; as in the next world, so in this, "his works do follow him," and the "Well done, good and faithful" from this lower world which he has served is but the prelude of his welcome to that higher world wherein he hears the same "good and faithful" from the mouth of his Redeemer.

Inventions.

It may be worth a page if I record here sundry inventions of mine, surely bits of authors.h.i.+p, which I found out for myself but did not patent, though others did. As thus:--

1. A simple and cheap safety horse-shoe,--secured by steel studs inserted into the ordinary soft iron shoes.

2. Gla.s.s screw-tops to bottles.

3. Steam-vessels with the wheels inside; in fact, a double boat or catamaran, with the machinery amid-s.h.i.+ps.

4. The introduction of coca-leaf to allay hunger, and to be as useful here as in Chili.

5. A pen to carry its own ink.

6. The colouring of photographs on the back.

7. Combined vulcanite and steel sheathing.

There were also some other small matters wherein authorial energy busied itself. But although I had models made of some, and wrote about others, no good results accrued to me. 1. As for the horse-shoes, blacksmiths did _not_ want to lose custom by steel saving the iron. 2. For the gla.s.s-stoppers, I had against me all the cork trade, and the wine-merchants too, who recork old wines. 3. The steamers were never tried on a large scale, and models are p.r.o.nounced deceptive. 4. The coca loses most of its virtues when in a dried state. 5. The pen (I had it made in silver, a long hollow handle ending with a conical point) either grew clogged if the ink was too thick, or emitted blots when too thin.

6. An establishment in Leicester Square has since worked on this idea.

7. I also troubled the Ordnance Office, and had an interview with Sidney Herbert about two more futile inventions! one a composite cannon missile of quoits tied together: another of a thick vulcanite sheathing for s.h.i.+ps, over either wood or iron. I have letters on these to and from the office. Briefly, I did not gain fortune as an inventor: though I urged my horse-shoe at least as a valuable thought, and one worth a trial, to save our poor horses on asphalte pavements and in hard frosts.

It is a losing game to attempt to force an invention: so many vested interests oppose, and so many are the compet.i.tors: moreover, some one always rushes into the pool of Bethesda before you.

I thought also that there might as well be "essence of tea," as well as of coffee; but nothing came of it. Also amongst other of my addled eggs of invention, I may mention that in my chemistry days as a youth I suggested to a scientific neighbour, Dr. Kerrison, that gla.s.s might be rendered less fragile by being mixed in the casting with some chemical compound of lead,--much as now has come out in the patent toughened gla.s.s. Also we initiated mild experiments about an imitation of volcanic forces in melting pounded stone into moulds,--as recently done by Mr.

Lindsay Bucknall with slag:--but unluckily we found that the manufacture of basalt was beyond our small furnace power: I fancied that apparently carved pinnacles and gurgoyles might be cast in stone; and though beyond Dr. Kerrison and myself, perhaps it may still be done by the hot-blast melting up crushed granite.

Among these small matters of an author's natural inventiveness, I will preserve here a few of the literary cla.s.s: _e.g._, (1.) I claim to have discovered the etymology of Punch, which Mark Antony Lower in his Patronymica says is "a name the origin of which is in total obscurity."

Now, I found it out thus,--when at Haverfordwest in 1858 I saw over the mantel of the hostelry, perhaps there still, a map of the Roman earthwork called locally Punch Castle; and considering how that the neighbouring hills are named Precelly (Procella, storm) as often drawing down the rain-clouds,--that Caer Leon is Castrum Legionis, and that there is a Roman bridge over the little river there still styled Ultra Pontem--I decided at once that Pontii Castellum was the true name for Punch Castle. Of course, Pontius Pilate and Judas appear in the mediaeval puppet-plays as Punch and Judy,--while Toby refers to Tobit's dog, in a happy confusion of names and dates. The Pontius of the Castle was Prater of the Second Legion. (2.) Similarly, I found out the origin of "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall," &c., to refer to the death of William the Conqueror (_L'homme qui dompte_), who was ruptured in leaping a burnt wall at Rouen; being very stout,--"he had a great fall," and burst asunder like Iscariot, while "all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't set Humpty Dumpty up again." We must remember that the wise Fools of those days dared not call magnates by their real names,--nor utter facts openly: so accordingly (3) they turned Edward Longshanks into "Daddy Longlegs,"--and (4) sang about King John's raid upon the monks, and the consequent famine to the poor, in "Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie," &c.,--the key to this interpretation being "a dainty dish to set before the king," John being a notorious glutton.

My friends at Ledbury Manor, where there is a gallery full of my uncle Arthur's Indian pictures, will remember how I expounded all this to them some years ago. In this connection of literary discovery, let me here give my exposition of the mystic number in Revelations, 666,--which, "_more meo_" I printed thus on a very scarce fly-leaf, as one of my Protestant Ballads not in any book:--

"Here is wisdom--Let him that hath understanding count the number of the Beast--for it is the number of a Man--and his number is six hundred threescore and six."--Rev. xiii. 18.

"Count up the sum of Greek numeral letters 'Kakoi Episkopoi'--bishops all ill; Strangely I note that those mystical fetters Bind in their number this mystery still-- Six hundred threescore and six is the total, Spelling the number and name of a man, Chief of bad bishops and lies sacerdotal, That of all wickedness stands in the van.

"Antichrist! what? can a feeble old creature, Pope though they style him, be rank'd in his place As the Goliath in fas.h.i.+on and feature Warring gigantic with G.o.d and His grace?

Is he so great--to be dreaded, abhorred, Single antagonist, braving G.o.d's wrath, Bearing foul Babylon's seal on his forehead, Chosen Triumvir with Sin and with Death?

"Yea; the presumption of priestly succession Make the _all one_ a whole Popedom of Time, So that each head for his hour of possession Wears the tiara of ages of crime: Rome is infallible, Rome is eternal, Rome is unchangeable, cruel, and strong, Leagued with the legions of darkness infernal, Crus.h.i.+ng all right and upholding all wrong."

Note.--The value of the Greek letters, as numerals, in the two words above, is as follows:--The three kappas = 60, the three omicrons = 210, the three iotas = 30, the two pis = 160, the one sigma = 200, the one epsilon = 5, and the one alpha = 1; in all exactly making 666. This is "a private interpretation" of the writer's own discovery, not to be found elsewhere, and quite as convincing as Lateinos and the inscription on St. Peter's.

My friend Evelyn contributed to the perfection of the discovery. It was he who suggested Kakoi to Episcopoi, to make up the number. There are also some who say that our eccentric Premier's name sums up ominously to the same three sixes.

CHAPTER XXVI.

COURTLY AND MUSICAL.

My several royal poems, some twenty in number, may deserve a short and special notice; though it is far from my intention to detail any gracious condescensions of a private nature. I may however state, as a curiosity of literature, that the 35th of my "Three Hundred Sonnets,"

published by Virtue in 1860, is headed "India's Empress," written certainly twenty years before such a t.i.tle was thought of, even by Lord Beaconsfield in his pupa phase of D'Israeli. As very few have the volume, long out of print, I will here produce that fortunate prophecy; the "way chaotic" is the Sepoy Mutiny:--

"Our Empress Queen!--Victoria's name of glory Added as England's grace to Hindostan: O climax to this age's wondrous story, Full of new hope to India, and to Man In heathendom's dark places! For the light Of our Jerusalem shall now s.h.i.+ne there Brighter than ever since the world began:-- Yet by a way chaotic, drear and gory Travelled this blessing; as a martyr might Wrestling to heaven through tortures unaware: Our Empress Queen! for thee thy people's pray'r All round the globe to G.o.d ascends united, That He may strengthen thee no guilt to spare Nor leave one act of goodness unrequited."

Another such curiosity of literature may this be considered: namely, that the same versifier who in his youth fifty years ago saw the coronation from a gallery seat in Westminster Abbey, overlooking the central s.p.a.ce, and wrote a well-known ode on the occasion, to be found in his Miscellaneous Poems, is still in full force and loyalty, and ready to supply one for his Queen's jubilee,--whereof words for music will be found anon. Human life has not many such completed cycles to celebrate, albeit I have lately had a golden wedding; alas! in a short month after, closed by the good wife's sudden death: "So soon trod sorrow on the heels of joy!" But I will not speak of that affliction here and now: my present errand is more cheerful.

With reference, then, to the many verses of mine which I have reason to hope are honoured by preservation in royal alb.u.ms, I wish only to say that if some few have appeared among my other poetries in print, they shall not be repeated here: though I may record that whatever I have sent from time to time have been graciously acknowledged, and that I have heretofore met with palatial welcomes.

Perhaps I may say a word or two about my having for the best part of half a century occasionally made my duteous bow at Court; which I thought it right to do whenever some poetic offering of mine had been received; in particular at the Princess Royal's marriage, when Prince Albert specially invited me to Buckingham Palace, presenting me kindly to the heir of Prussia, and bidding, "Wales come and shake hands with Mr. Tupper" (my genial Prince will recollect it); and above all adding the honour of personal conversation with Her Majesty.

Of these thus briefly: also I might record (but I forbear) similar condescensions at Frogmore; as also with reference to my little Masques of the Seasons, and the Nations--wherein Corbould was pictorially so efficient, and Miss Hildyard so helpful in the costumes--both at Osborne and at Windsor. In gracious recognition of these Her Majesty gave me Winterhalter's engravings of all the royal children, now at Albury, as well as some gifts to my daughters. The Masques will be found among my published poems.

At Court I frequently met Lord Houghton, known to me in ancient days as Monckton Milnes; and I remember that we especially came together from sympathy as to critical castigation, _Blackwood_ or some other Scotch reviewer having fallen foul of both of us, then young poets (and therefore to be hounded down by Professor Wilson), in an article pasted in an early volume of Archives, spitefully disparaging "Farquhar Tupper and Monckton Milnes."

Until these days every one wore the antiquated Queen Anne Court suit, now superseded by modern garments, perhaps more convenient but certainly not so picturesque. Bagwig and flowered waistcoat, and hanging cast-steel rapier, and silken calves and buckled shoes,--and above all the abundant real point lace (upon which Lord Houghton more than once has commented with me as to the comparative superiority of his or mine,--both being of ancestral dinginess, and only to be washed in coffee)--these are ill exchanged for boots and trousers and straight black sword, and everything of grace and beauty diligently tailored away. When I last attended at St. James's in honour of Prince Albert Victor's first reception, I was, among twelve hundred, one of only three units who paid our respects in the stately fas.h.i.+ons of Good Queen Anne: and I was glad to be complimented on my social courage as almost alone in those antiquated garments, and on my profusion of snow-white hair so suitably suggestive of the powdered polls of our ancestors. I remember my father in powder.

On this last occasion it was, as I have said, especially to pay my respects to the young Prince at his first _levee:_ both he and his father with great kindness cordially shaking hands with the author of the following stanzas. The young Prince stood between his father and his kinsman, the Duke of Cambridge.

"Albert Victor! words of blessing Bright with omens of the best, Truly one such names possessing Shall be throned among the blest; Albert,--sainted now and glorious, Long time in his heavenly rest; Victor,--everyway victorious Like our Empress east and west!

"Prince! to-day the Court bears witness How, thy Royal Sire beside, With due graciousness and fitness, Dignity devoid of pride, Thou (thy gallant kinsman near thee) Dost with homage far and wide, And the praise of all to cheer thee, Humbly meet that glittering tide!

"Prince, accept an old man's greeting, Now some threescore and fifteen, Who can testify how fleeting Life and all its joys have been: I have known thy Grandsire's favour, And thy Parents' grace have seen; And I note the same sweet savour In the Grandson of my Queen!"

As this is the Jubilee year, and I may not live to its completion,--for who can depend upon an hour?--I will here produce what has just occurred to my patriotism as a suitable ode on the great occasion. If short, it is all the better for music, and I humbly recommend its adoption as _libretto_ to some chief musical composer.

_Victoria's Jubilee: for Music._