THOMAS DAY

'THE pool of mercenary and time-serving ethics was first blown over by the fresh country breeze of Sandford and Merton, a production that I shall ever be grateful for,' so wrote Leigh Hunt of the author of Sandford and Merton, and it can be well imagined that there was much in common between the two. Leigh Hunt's love for cheap and simple enjoyment was accompanied by a belief in the ultimate success of every true and honest endeavour, and Mr. Lowell says of him, 'that he was as pure a minded man as ever lived.' Edgeworth uses identical language of Day, though I doubt if the latter ever possessed the courtesy or sweetness of temper so characteristic of Leigh Hunt. Both, like Tolstoi in modern days, were singularly plain in their habits of life, water and food of the plainest kind sufficing for their daily meals-'We have no right to luxuries while the poor want bread,' said Day-and both were animated by the highest ideals. Sandford and Merton finds but little sale at present. Burnand practically gave it the coup de grâce, and the story of 'Xeno and the Voluptuous Weather Cock' is probably better known than that of Polemio,' while the idea of Master Tommy sitting on his pillow cool side uppermost after an exciting interview with Mr. Barlow raises a smile that the original priggish conversations between pupil and tutor were never intended to excite.

Books for children, above all others, are the most popular and have the widest circulation at the time, but are shortest lived and vanish more successfully than any other style of literature; about one in ten thousand, Mr. Humphries of Messrs. Hatchards informs me, retains its grasp on the public after the first year. Sandford and Merton held its own for a while, but its didactic tone and long discourses are ill-suited to the present style. Keir says of Day's Sandford and Merton: Utility rather than display of talent was the motive of his writing.' It was meant to be a children's book with a purpose, striking the keynote of the abolition of slavery, and works of that description are not much in favour now. At the time, however, the first volume was published, in 1783, books for children were uncommon, and it is far easier to find seventeenth century ones than

those of that period of the eighteenth century; still it ran through nine editions and was translated into French and German.

To John Newbery, the 'Philanthropic publisher of St. Paul's Church Yard,' we owe the first forward movement in juvenile books. He was one of the most ingenious advertisers of the day and his ingenuity was in most cases rewarded by success. From works such as War with the Devil; or, the Young Man's Conflict with the Powers of Darkness, in ninety pages of argument, Newbury delivered the children of his time, and presented them with Goody Two Shoes and Giles Gingerbread, bound in shining gold cloth, the former written, perhaps, by Oliver Goldsmith himself. Numerous great authors have tried to adapt their literary efforts to childish intellect; many have failed, Sir Walter Scott conspicuous among them, but Newbery succeeded. It is difficult perhaps for us, now, to understand the success of Sandford and Merton, but we must remember that young children have little or no sense of humour, and they always prefer books which can be read as a tale of real life, to one full of witticisms that their elders appreciate.

Children's books [writes Miss Thackeray, quoting a Quarterly Review] should be not merely less dry, less difficult, than a book for grown-up people, but more rich in interest, more true to nature, more exquisite in art, more abundant in every quality that replies to childhood's keener and fresher perception.

Children like facts; they like short, vivid sentences that tell the story: as they listen intently so they read-every word has its value for them.

We have not many details of the life and career of Thomas Day, though there is a life of him (published in 1791) written by Thomas Keir; but the work, while it contains many pages of the author's own opinions and some extracts from Day's various poems, gives few interesting particulars of the life of a man whose eccentric conduct affords much amusement to the reader of the Memoirs of Richard Edgeworth. Thomas Day, author of Sandford and Merton, The Dying Negro, and numerous political pamphlets long ago forgotten, and none of which ever attained any popularity, was born in London on the 22nd of June 1748; his father was a collector of Customs Outwards, and his mother, Jane, the daughter of S. Bonham, Esq. Thomas Day's father died when his son was thirteen months old, leaving him an estate of 1,2001. a year at Bear Hill, near Wargrave, in Berkshire, saddled with a jointure of 300l. to the widow. In 1755 Mrs. Day married Mr. T. Phillips, also of the Customs House, who seems to have behaved with great unkindness to the boy, but, fortunately for him, his mother resented this conduct, and took considerable pains with Day's education, and especially with his physical training at the Charterhouse. Kindness to animals was certainly not a characteristic of that age, but it formed a pleasing feature of Day's boyhood, and we find in his most popular work, i.e. Sandford and Merton, numerous

stories pointing in this direction, e.g. History of the Two Dogs,' the 'Story of the Elephant,'' Androcles and the Lion.'

At a very early age Day seems to have shown himself an 'enfant terrible,' but his partial biographer, Mr. Keir, relates the story as showing the 'perseverance with which he investigated truth and knowledge.' Having just learnt to read, and being particularly pleased with the striking descriptions contained in the Book of Revelation, he demanded of his mother and friends more explanation than they could give. Among other questions he propounded was the slightly inconvenient one of, 'Who was the W of Babylon?' Mrs. Day concluding that such knowledge was hardly requisite for an infant of tender years prudently replied that when next the rector of the parish visited the house he might ask him, trusting that time might cause him to forget the subject, or that shyness might prevent his asking.

Some considerable time afterwards Mrs. Day gave a largish party, including among other guests her favourite rector. So good an opportunity was not to be lost by Master Day, 'so, standing before the shepherd, and conspicuously among the flock,' he inquired of him in audible tones as to the exact meaning of the disputed passage. Embarrassed and surprised, the unfortunate ecclesiastic fenced with his juvenile interrogator, and eventually told him that the word was 'allegorical.' This made the matter more perplexing than ever, and little Day, after some consideration, throwing a look of contempt on the parson, ran up to his mother and whispered, so loud that all the company could hear it, 'He knows nothing about it.' It is probable that the juvenile investigator was at once relegated to the nursery.

After passing a short time at a child's school he entered the Charterhouse, and spent some eight or nine years there under Dr. Cressius, removing at sixteen as a gentleman commoner to Corpus Christi College, Oxford.

Mr. Keir tells us that Day was tall, strong, erect, and of a manly deportment, deeply marked with small-pox; voice clear, expressive, and fit for public elocution. Mrs. Ritchie says: 'He was tall and stooped in the shoulders, full made but not corpulent, and in his meditations and melancholy airs a degree of awkwardness and dignity were blended.' He talked like a book and always thought in the same full dress style, which must have rendered his society rather oppressive, and even Mr. Keir confesses that in conversation he entered into the subject more deeply and fully than was agreeable to the fashionable tone of the day.

The picture of him by Wright, of Derby, shows him as a man with a heavy jaw, dark and abundant hair—in the original, the lightning is depicted as passing through it—nor does it seem that he paid that attention to his personal appearance that would be expected of a society author in these days. Mr. Edgeworth says of him, that at

the very commencement of their acquaintance, when the Days were living at Bear Hill, in Berkshire, 'His appearance was not prepossessing! He seldom combed his raven locks, though he was remarkably fond of washing in a stream.'

In 1765 he was admitted as student to the Middle Temple, being called to the Bar in 1775. Probably about 1767 Edgeworth and Thomas Day met for the first time at Hare Hatch, And thus,' as the former puts it, began an acquaintance, which was, I believe, of service to us both. Mr. Day was grave, and of a melancholy temperament; I gay and full of constitutional joy!' 'Mr. Day was not a man of strong passions. I was.' Mr. Edgeworth married four times. Mr. Day, though continually anxious to quit a bachelor life, was suspicious of the female sex and averse to risking his happiness for their charms and their society. To a contrary extreme I was fond of all the happiness which they can bestow.' (At a later period of his life, however, Mr. Day's eccentric conduct with two young ladies abroad led to some slight suspicion of this most virtuous of human being's dislike to the fair sex.)

The course of this strong friendship did not run perfectly smooth, as Mrs. Edgeworth took a decided aversion to her husband's friend, and became jealous of their mutual attachment, causing Mr. Edgeworth great uneasiness, and an exclamation in his Memoirs that, 'The lamentings of a female with whom one lives does not render home delightful.'

A third friend soon joined the pair, i.e. Mr. Keir, of Birmingham, the future author of the Life of Thomas Day.

Rousseau's Emile had already made a strong impression on Edgeworth, who commenced a trial of the system, by leaving the body and mind of his boy as much as possible to the education of nature and accident, and Day eventually followed Edgeworth's example, substituting his future wife for the child.

In the spring of 1768 Edgeworth and Day started for Ireland, and stopped in Eccleshall, in Staffordshire, where Edgeworth passed as the servant, and Day as the employer, the former ordering an excellent dinner for himself, but only some cold meat and a tart for his master, while he also harangued the crowd on the misanthropy of this wealthy eccentric and his adventures by land and sea.

The arrival of Dr. Darwin with Mr. Whitehurst seems to have put an end to the joke by the recognition of Edgeworth in the kitchen. Darwin's addition to the Triumvirate commences here, though at first Day seems to have evinced considerable impatience at a prolonged conversation between Darwin and Edgeworth on mechanics. No doubt on this occasion was discussed Edgeworth's wooden horse that should carry him safely over the highest wall in the country, a wondrous creation armed with eight legs, four on the ground at once, the remaining four raised up into the machine; or the large

umbrella for covering haystacks, or the waggon divided into two parts, each having four wheels, contrived so that the roads never sustained more than half the weight of the common load. Arrived in Dublin, Day's penchant for savage life seems to have been rudely shaken by the want and misery he saw there, while the luxury and show of the gentlefolks caused his disapprobation.

On the way to Edgeworth Town they passed through one of the counties where a contested election was going on, and Day was so upset at the scenes and noise, riot and debauchery, that he fell into a profound melancholy.

More beef than they could swallow was pressed upon them, free, gratis and for nothing, but beds at the inn, or stabling for the horses, could not be purchased at any price. On arrival at the parental mansion the friend did not make a favourable impression, his uncombed locks and slovenly dress striking Edgeworth's father and sister as unbefitting the possessor of a fair fortune, while his manner of eating struck them as decidedly unpleasant, but he looked upon their prejudices in favour of politeness with philosophic indifference, classing Miss Edgeworth with those fine ladies for whom he always exhibited such lofty indifference. Ere long, however, his opinions of the lady underwent a change, and in three months' time he became such an admirer as to obtain from her a promise that if he continued to be animated by the same feelings for a year, and could be induced to comb his hair, and modify his behaviour at table, she might be induced to give him her hand.

At this time Edgeworth was driving about the country in a unicycle chaise of his own construction, probably the fact that it was only constructed for one being the reason why Day did not accompany him. This singular carriage had but one wheel, was balanced by two weights hung below the shafts, and had a seat not more than thirty inches from the ground. The footboard turned upon hinges, so that when it met any obstacle it gave way, and the driver's legs were warned to lift themselves up. It was specially constructed for the purpose of going conveniently in narrow roads.

Arrived in London from Birmingham, the three friends, Day, Bicknel, and Edgeworth, proceeded to dabble in politics. Day successfully addressed the Westminster electors, and Edgeworth, determined not to be outdone, addressed a crowded audience at a debating society at Coachmakers' Hall upon the influence of female manners upon society, a too strong allusion to the peculiar stays worn by ladies at that time drawing upon him the marked disapprobation of the audience.

Before the winter of the year in which they parted had elapsed, Mr. Day and Miss Edgeworth discovered that they were not suited to each other, and Day commenced his famous experiment. The first thing was to find two girls, who should be brought up as equally