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revolt, threatened Boulton with personal violence, and declared insanely that every pumping engine he had set up in Cornwall should be pulled down. But when the rioters reached Truro, they found a body of men stationed in front of the Copper Mining Company's premises, supported by six pieces of cannon; at sight of which they drew back, and the intended assault was not made. This, however, was but the wild clamour of the ignorant and misguided. Amongst the better class Boulton was much esteemed; and the large mining owners justly regarded him as their friend and invited him to their houses. For certain members of the Society of Friends in Cornwall, Boulton conceived much esteem. In one of his letters to his wife, he describes a great meeting of 'Friends' at Truro, where he had heard their friend Catherine Phillips preach with great energy and good sense for an hour and a half, although so weak in body that she was obliged to lie a-bed for several days before. On Mr. Phillips's death, soon afterwards, Boulton wrote to his own wife: 'I wish I had time to give you the history and character of my departed friend, as you know but little of his excellencies. I cannot say but that I feel a gloomy pleasure in dwelling upon the life and death of a good man; it incites to piety and elevates the mind above terrestrial things. Now, let me ask you to hold a silent meeting in your heart for half an hour, and then return to your work.'

To the year 1785 the outlays had continued to absorb more than the incomings of the business of Boulton and Watt; but then the tide turned, and two years later Watt was free from all his pecuniary embarrassments, and had a good balance at his bankers. This he at once invested in cautious hands; though Boulton was still struggling with various embarrassments, and desired to fall back upon Watt for help, as Watt had from the first been falling back upon him. Watt was now the monied man, and declared himself unable to help his partner, having locked up his money in safe Scotch investments. To add to his distresses, Boulton's health began to fail him. In 1784 he wrote to his wine merchant with a cheque in payment of his account: We have had a visit from a new acquaintance-the gout.' He little thought where he had bought this bad bargain, nor how appropriate it was to be making the complaint to his wine merchant whilst remitting him payment for the disease. The visitor came again; and, four years later, was accompanied by the gravel and the stone, which proved to be no transient guests, but remained with their victim till his life's painful close. Meanwhile, Boulton was distressed, above all things, at the prospect of leaving his family unprovided for, notwithstanding all

the

the labours, anxieties, and risks he had undergone. He had most liberally departed from his original bargain with Watt, and instead of the two-thirds share which he had bought, Boulton, after finding all the capital, and being at the expense and risk of all the experiments, had, at Watt's request, agreed to the profits being equally divided between them. Now, he writes:— 'When I reflect that I have given up my extra advantage of one-third on all the engines we are now making, and are likely to make; when I think of my children, now upon the verge of that time of life when they are naturally entitled to expect a portion of their patrimony; when I feel the consciousness of being unable to restore to them the property which their mother entrusted to me; when I see all whom I am connected with growing rich, whilst I am groaning under a load of debt and annuities that would sink me into the grave if my anxieties for my children did not sustain me; I say, when I consider all these things, it behoves me to struggle through the small remaining fragment of my life (being now in my 60th year), and do my children all the justice in my power by wiping away as many of my incumbrances as possible.'

Seldom did the brave man write thus despondingly; but this was the very darkest hour, and he courageously struggled on until he saw all his pecuniary anxieties ended, and a handsome competency secured for his children.

In 1753 it was estimated that half the copper coin in circulation was counterfeit, and Boulton, as the owner of the largest and best equipped manufactory in Birmingham, might have done any amount of coining that he desired; but he refused all orders for base money, whether for home or abroad. He wrote, on one occasion: 'I lately received a letter from a Jew about making for him a large quantity of base money, but I should be sorry ever to become so base as to execute such orders. On the contrary, I have taken some measures to put a stop to the execution of them by others, and if Mr. Butcher hath any plan of that sort, he would do well to guard against me, as I certainly shall endeavour all in my power to prevent the counterfeiting of British or any other money, that being the principle on which I am acting.' Subsequently (in 1797) Boulton was employed by the Government to make a new copper coinage, which he did with the aid of the steam engine, and gave great satisfaction. He originated many essential improvements in the rolling, annealing, and cleaning of the metal, in the forging, multiplying, and tempering of the dies, and in the construction of the milling and cutting-out machines. To his indefatigable energy and perseverance,' wrote Murdock, many years later, in pursuit of this, the favourite and nearly sole object of the last twenty years of the active part of Mr. Boulton's life, is, in a great measure, to be attributed the perfection to which the art of coining has ultimately attained.' Boulton's attention to this subject was largely directed by a consideration of the injury done to the

labouring

labouring classes by greedy employers, who bought thirty-six shillings worth (in nominal value) of copper coin for twenty shillings, and cheated their workpeople by paying them their wages in this coin. He was employed to make the new mint on Tower Hill; and he also supplied royal mints for Russia, Spain, Denmark, Mexico, Calcutta, and Bombay.

In process of time, Boulton's eldest son Matthew, and Watt's son James, were taken into the partnership, and relieved their parents of much of the labour and anxiety. Money difficulties had entirely disappeared; and for both Watt and Boulton there remained a protracted old age, free from all pecuniary anxieties. Boulton did not cease to occupy himself with his scientific and literary pursuits, and new inventions. As late as 1797 he took out a patent for raising water by impulse, a sort of hydraulic ram, to which he added many ingenious improvements. He continued to receive distinguished visitors in his house; and his splendid hospitality was kept up to the last. Illustrative of his vigour and courage so late as the year 1800, is the anecdote of a large gang of housebreakers, who bribed the Soho watchman to admit them within the gates. The watchman told Boulton, who took steps accordingly, arming a number of men, posting them in different parts of the building, and himself watching for three nights in succession, whilst as many attempts were made. On the third night the thieves got in, and were making off with 150 guineas and a load of silver, when Boulton gave the word to seize them. Four of them were taken after a desperate struggle; a fifth, though severely wounded, contrived to make good his escape. It was in reference to this exploit that Sir Walter Scott said to Allan Cunningham: I like Boulton; he is a brave man, and who can dislike the brave?' The incident is said to have suggested the scene in Guy Mannering, in which the attack is made on Dirk Hatterick in the smugglers' cave.

The incurable and agonising disease under which Boulton laboured continued to weaken him; and after long sufferings, borne with great fortitude, and not allowed to prevent him from taking a lively interest in his old manifold occupations, he peacefully expired in 1809, at the age of eighty-one. Six hundred of his workmen followed his remains to the grave, and there was scarcely a dry eye among them. He was a man widely and deservedly beloved. In a manly and noble exterior. he carried a generous soul, loving truth, honour, and uprightWatt used to speak of him as the princely Boulton.' Mrs. Schimmelpenninck describes with admiration his genial manner, his fine radiant countenance, and his superb munificence. 'He was in person,' she says, 'tall and of a noble appear

ness.

ance;

ance; his temperament was sanguine, with that slight mixture of the phlegmatic which gives calmness and dignity; his manners were eminently open and cordial; he took the lead in conversation; and, with a social heart, had a grandiose manner, like that arising from position, wealth, and habitual command. He went about among his people like a monarch bestowing largesse.' If grandiose, he was cheerful and affectionate too, as his letters to his wife, children, and friends prove amply. Boswell wrote of him: I contemplated him as an iron chieftain, and he seemed to be a father of his tribe.' Probably the first Mutual Assurance Fund established by any large manufacturer for the benefit of his workmen, was the one Boulton set up amongst his Soho workmen. The effects of this society,' Mr. Smiles says, 'were most salutary; it cultivated habits of providence and thoughtfulness amongst the men; bound them together by ties of common interest; and it was only in the case of irreclaimable drunkards that any member of the Soho Friendly Society ever came upon the parish.'

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In a MS. memoir of his friend, Watt, who long survived him, and died honoured and lamented in 1819, wrote: "Through the whole of this business, Mr. Boulton's active and sanguine disposition served to counterbalance the despondency and diffidence which were natural to me; and every assistance which Soho or Birmingham could afford was procured. Mr. Boulton's amiable and friendly character, together with his fame as an engineer and active manufacturer, procured us many and very active friends in both Houses of Parliament. * * * Suffice it to say, that to his generous patronage, the active part he took in the management of the business, his judicious advice, and his assistance in contriving and arranging many of the applications of the steam-engine to various machines, the public are indebted for great part of the benefits they now derive from that machine.' He possessed,' says Mr. Ewart, C.E., above all other men I have ever known, the faculty of inspiring others with a portion of that ardent zeal with which he himself pursued every important object he had in view; and it was impossible to be near him without becoming warmly interested in the success of his enterprises. The urbanity of his manner, and his great kindness to young people in particular, never failed to leave the most agreeable impression on the minds of all around him; and most truly may it be said that he reigned in the hearts of those that were in his employment.'In fine,' says Mr. Smiles, Matthew Boulton was a noble, manly man, and a true leader of men. Lofty-minded, intelligent, energetic, and liberal, he was one of those who constitute the life-blood of a nation, and give force and dignity to the national character.'

THE

THE LOST TREASURE; OR, THE SCHOOL OF ART

AND THE SCHOOL OF DRINK.

was a curious little room in the

I of suchy Manchester, a white

washed attic, whose sole light was from a leaky window in the roof, very apt in wet weather to admit the rain also. Its furniture consisted of a rush-bottomed chair, in a state of considerable dilapidation; a great oak chest almost as high as a table, generally holding a paint box, a roll or two of paper, some pencils and chalks and charcoal; a couple of empty boxes, set on end to serve as a high stand for a model; an old easel spattered and adorned with multifarious dabs of paint, and rough sketches of various life-guardsmen, and dancing skeletons; and a very tiny threelegged footstool. On the walls were pinned and hung studies in pencil and chalk from the 'round;' a head of the crescent-crowned Diana; another of Niobe; the feet and legs of the Apollo Belvidere; and a full length figure of the Venus of Milo, interspersed with paintings in tempera, of flowers arranged in groups and in ornamental designs, and one or two attempts at oil painting, all placed with some idea of effect, so that the whitewash should nowhere obtrude upon the eye, but be kept wholesomely in the background, forming a white instead of a golden rim to these various art-treasures.

I called it a little room, and such it was in fact; so small, indeed, was its available space, that these properties of mine seemed quite to fill it; and when I was in it also, to be almost too many for its four walls to contain. At one side, it is true, the sloping roof left a recess, under which it was impossible to walk upright, or to place anything but the lowest objects of furniture; it was here the little footstool stood, and here also were reared with their faces to the wall several ambitious but unfinished sketches and paintings, awaiting time, or a more favourable mood, to develop them to perfection.

In this attic, between five and six in the morning, and for an hour or two between nine and twelve at night, I spent many happy hours when a boy before the easel, sketching, or shading, or painting, as the case might be, either from a drawing, or from a cast borrowed for the purpose, or from nature herself,

in the person of my little sister Amy; or from some flowers of the garden or field, whose bright bells, or stars, or green leaves had bewitched my eyes with their beauty, and persuaded me to copy them. My eyes were constantly getting so bewitched, for every month that I lived, they saw more and more of the beauty that was around them, until at length every little leaf and spray, every bit of way-side grass, and every object in my poor home, charmed them, if but gilded with sunshine; while every little child running along the streets, no matter how ragged and dirty, every animal, and almost every stone, had some touch of beauty, some lovely feature, worth noticing and worth copying too, if only I had time and opportunity to do it.

In those days I was but a worker at a cotton mill, all day among dust and noise, and the whirl of wheels and spindles, compelled to breathe the stifling air of a factory, and to work hard ten hours a day to earn the shillings necessary for my weekly subsistence. My father was a poor mechanic, very much out of health and pocket, and my mother, a woman borne down with poverty and sorrow. Yet I was ambitious enough to determine some day to leave the spindles for the palette and brush, to be a clever artist, an exponent of the beautiful in nature and art, and, perhaps, a great man!

Five evenings per week I attended the School of Art, and studied what was necessary for me to know that I might at length become the object of my highest aspirations-a great, glorious artist. What a joy was that School of Art to me! There I forgot all the worry, and noise, and dust, and monotony of my daily mill-life, and the moment I entered its great room, made strangely beautiful with its life-size casts from antique statues of gods and goddesses, heroes and warriors and lovely women, standing so silent and calm in their beauty, and seeming to protect the meaner human forms about them, a great peace fell upon me. This room of quiet, earnest study was as another world to me, with its master gliding in and out among his pupils, silent and observant, watching one, giving the right tint or line with his brush or pencil to another,

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