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made my first acquaintance with the Iliad' It was like the discovery of a new world, and effected a total change in my ideas on the subject of poetry. There was, at the time, a considerable manuscript of my own productions in existence, which, of course, I regarded with some partiality; but Homer had awakened me, and, in a fit of sovereign contempt, I committed the whole to the flames. Soon after I had found the Iliad,' I borrowed a prose translation of Virgil,'—there being no poetical one to be found in our neighborhood; and in a similar manner made acquaintance with many of the classic authors. But after Homer's, the work that produced the greatest impression on my mind was Byron's Childe Harold.' The one had induced me to burn my first manuscript, and the other made me resolve against verse-making in future; for I was then far enough advanced to know my own deficiency

but without apparent means for the requisite improvements. In this resolution I persevered for several years, and occupied my mind solely in the pursuit of knowledge; but owing to adverse circumstances, my progress was necessarily slow. Having, however, in the summer of the year 1840, heard a friend read the story of La Perouse,' it struck me that there was a remarkable similarity between it and the one related in an old country song called The Lost Ship,' which I had heard in my childhood. The song in question was of very low composition; but there was one line at the termination of each verse which haunted my imagination, and I fancied might deserve a better poem. This line, and the story of La Perouse,' together with an irresistible inclination to poetry, at length induced me to break the resolution I had so long kept; and the result was the little poem called La Perouse' [since published in Frances Brown's collection of peems and lyrics.] Soon after, when Messrs. Gunn and Cameron commenced the publication of their Irish Penny Journal,' I was seized with a strange desire to contribute something to its pages. My first contribution was favorably received, and I still feel grateful for the kindness and encouragement bestowed upon me by both the editor and the publishers. The three small pieces which I contributed to that work were the first of mine that ever appeared in

three other works on the same subject, were all I could read, till a kind friend, who was then the teacher of our village school, obliged me with that voluminous work, The Universal History.' There I heard, for the first time, the histories of Greece and Rome, and those of many other ancient nations. My friend had only the ancient part of the work; but it gave me a fund of information which has been subsequently increased from many sources; and at present I have a tolerable knowledge of history. In the pursuit of knowledge, my path was always impeded by difficulties too minute and numerous to mention; but the want of sight was, of course, the principal one,-which, by depriving me of the power of reading, obliged me to depend on the services of others; and as the condition of my family was such as did not admit of much leisure, my invention was early taxed to gain time for those who could read. I sometimes did the work assigned to them, or rendered them other little services; for, like most persons similarly placed, necessity and habit have made me more active in this respect than people in ordinary circumstances would suppose. The lighter kinds of reading were thus easily managed; but my young relatives were often unwilling to waste their breath and time with the drier, but more instructive works which I latterly preferred. To tempt them to this, I used, by way of recompense, to relate to them long stories, and even novels, which perhaps they had formerly read but forgotten; and thus my memory may be said to have earned supplies for itself. About the end of my fifteenth year, having heard much of the Iliad, I obtained the loan of Pope's translation. That was a great event to me; but the effect it produced on me requires some words of explanation. From my earliest years, I had a great and strange love of poetry; and could commit verses to memory with greater rapidity than most children. But at the close of my seventh year, when a few Psalms of the Scotch version, Watts' Divine Songs,' and some old country songs, (which certainly were not divine,) formed the whole of my poetical knowledge, I made my earliest attempt in versification -upon that first and most sublime lesson of childhood, the Lord's Prayer.' As years increased, my love of poetry, and taste for it increased also, with increasing knowledge. The provincial news-print, with the exception of one of my early propapers, at times, supplied me with specimens from the works of the best living authors. Though then unconscious of the cause, I still remember the extraordinary delight which those pieces gave me,—and have been astonished to find that riper years have only confirmed the judgments of childhood. When such pieces reached me, I never rested till they were committed to memory: and afterwards repeated them for my own amusement, when alone, or during those sleepless nights to which I have been, all my life, subject. But a source of still greater amusement was found in attempts at original composition; which, for the first few years, were but feeble imitations of every thing I knew from the Psalms' to Gray's Elegy. When the poems of Burns fell in my way, they took the place of all others in my fancy-and this brings me up to the time when I

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ductions which a friend had sent to a provincial paper. The Irish Penny Journal' was abandoned on the completion of the first volume; but the publishers, with great kindness, sent me one of the copies, and this was the first book of any value that I could call my own! But the gift was still more esteemed as an encouragement-and the first of the kind."

About this time Miss Brown, in her remote retreat, heard of the Athenæum, and probably desirous of obtaining access to a wider circle of readers, she addressed a number of her small pieces to the editor. Months passed, and she had given up all for lost, when at length the arrival of many numbers of the journal, and a letter from the editor, aston

ished her, and gratified a wish which had, haunted her very dreams. One may easily imagine the interest and the delight which a complimentary letter from the editor of a London journal will excite in the mind of a literary aspirant in a remote village in the country. From that time Frances Brown's name has been often seen in the public journals and magazines in "Hood's," in the

"Keepsake," and in several literary periodicals. She has also published a collection of her poems, which we cannot help thinking are full of interest and beauty. And doubtless the reader who chances to see her came in print again will read her productions with all the greater interest, after having read the above account of her sufferings, her difficulties, and her triumphs.

From the New

Monthly Magazine.

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CHARLES THEOPHILUS, first and last Lord Metcalfe, was born in Calcutta on the 30th of January, 1785. His father, Major Metcalfe, realized a fortune, as agent for military stores," returned to England when Charles was still young, and having bought a house in Portland Place, became soon after M.P. and an East India director.

As a

There were other sons besides Charles, and after a brief schooling at Bromley, in Middlesex, the two eldest, Charles being then eleven years of age, were entered at Eton. schoolboy, it appears that he was quiet and retiring-was neither a cricketer nor a boater, but a great reader, and with a strong literary turn, sending anecdotes to the Naval Chronicle, and enlivening the Military Journal with his Etonian lucubrations.

that power which is destined to sway all some time or other in their lives.

at a ball in his father's house. After that event

It was arranged, therefore, that Theophilus should sail for China in the spring, and that Charles should embark for Calcutta in the summer. In the meanwhile the boys were to enjoy themselves as best they could. Charles, though of a retiring disposition, did not dislike society; and there were a few families, in the neighborhood of his father's house, to whom he was a frequent visitor. In one of these there was a young lady, a little older than himself, with whom he fell in love at first sight. He was first introduced to her, on the day after he left Eton, he frequently saw her, either at his own house or her mother's. The charms of the young lady, not merely those of external beauty and grace, made a deep and abiding impression on his mind; and he Major Metcalfe being an East India direct- was long afterwards of opinion, that this boyish at or, the career of his sons was chalked out tachment, pure and disinterested as it was, had a for them before they were almost old enough beneficial influence on his character. He correto know what to anticipate. A China writer-sponded with her for some time afterwards, and her "sensible letters" heightened his admiration. ship, Mr. Kaye remarks, was, in those days, They are almost the only part of his correspondthe best bit of preferment in the world. was a certain fortune in a very few years. And accordingly, Theophilus, the eldest, was despatched to China, while Charles had bis writership assigned to him iu Calcutta.

It

Charles was not at this time so young but that, before he left this country, he owned

The Life and Correspondence of Charles, Lord Metcalfe, late Governor-General of India, Governor of Jamaica, and Governor-General of Canada.

From Unpublished Letters and Journals preserved by himself, his family, and his friends. By JOHN WILLIAM KAYE. London: Richard Bentley. 1854.

ence which has not survived him.
tion tells its own story.

The excep

The circumstance was, however notwithstanding the kindly view the "fervent biographer" has taken of it-much, to be regretted in a youth placed as Charles Metcalfe was, and it led to subsequent discontent and yearning for home, when, with the best prospects in the world, there was nothing but progress to be looked to.

The ideas associated with a writership in India are a close adhesion to the desk, a

zealous study of languages, and a gradual initiation into those mysteries of East Indian politics by which a host of the most heterogeneous materials are held together in some sort of harmony. Whatever it may be with others, it was not so with Charles Metcalfe, who belonged to a great privileged class; the son of an East India director, he had many friends in the settlement, and he had a passport to the best society in Calcutta.

Accordingly, the entries in the young writer's journal for some weeks after his arrival seem to be the only writing he cared to be troubled with, and these are mere records of the places at which he dined and at which he danced. We find him, for a "diffident youth," "short, and somewhat homely in appearance," launching forth into the gayeties of Calcutta with great nerve and spirit getting first a cocked hat, (20 rupees,) then a palanquin, (160 rupees,) and next a khitmudgar, an hircarrah, a masaulchee, and a tailor!

True, he did bethink himself amid all these gayeties of studying the language, and he secured the services of a moonshee; but after two days' trial he dismissed him, finding him of no use; and it was not till he was admitted on the rolls of the College of Fort William that he set himself seriously to work to acquire Oriental knowledge.

Charles was then in his seventeenth year; and Lord Wellesley, who had always befriended him, was not unwilling to sanction his premature escape from college, by an appointment as assistant to the Resident at the Court of Dowlut Rao Scindiah.

And so (says his biographer) ended Charles Metcalfe's first year in India. The experienced Anglo-Indian reader will see in it, peradventure, the reflection of his own trial-year. When throughout the hot months and the rainy season of this year 1801, the young exile felt an irresist ible desire to return to his old home, with all its

charming associations of love and liberty, his longings were only those of a large proportion of the young exiles who, in loneliness of heart and captivity of person, struggle feebly through this first dreary season of probation. By the old, forgetful of their own experiences, this despondency, attributable as it is in part to physical and in part to moral causes, may be regarded as boyish weakness. But it is weakness better than any strength. Charles Metcalfe had a very warm human heart; and I do not think the reader will admire him the less for being forced to love him more.

Charles Metcalfe's destination was those remote provinces which lie between the Jumma and the Nerbudda, and which had at

that time been but little explored. The Mahrattas were then dominant in that fine country. The hereditary enmity of Scindiah and Holkar was rending and distracting it. It was what the natives call a time of trouble. British interests were represented at the court of the former by Colonel Collins—an officer of the Company's army-who, in more than one political situation, had done good service to the state, but whose private amiability, we are told, was not equal to his diplomatic address.

66

On his way to Oujein, Charles Metcalfe travelled from Cawnpore to Lucknow in the suite of Lord Wellesley, and the pageantry he witnessed first made him begin to think that the bright Oriental tinting of the Arabian Nights" had nothing fabulous about it. The official connection of Charles Metcalfe with Scindiah's court was, however, brief and unsatisfactory. "My situation was very disagreeable," he wrote in his journal, before he had been more than a few weeks attached to the Residency; and he very soon formed the resolution of seeking more congenial employment elsewhere.

So great was the influence of the East India director, or so strong an impression had his son made upon Lord Wellesley, that the throwing up of his situation at the court of Scindiah, instead of hurting his prospects, opened the way to his employment at the presidency itself, as an assistant in the office of the chief secretary to government-a situation to which the ambitious commonly turn their eyes as the stepping-stone to ultimate greatness.

From this time Charles Metcalfe looked steadily forward. There were no more vain retrospects-no more idle regrets. He had formed the resolution of not leaving the country until the governor-generalship of India was in his hands. And that such would be the end of his career, we are told by his biographer, was not a mere passing thought impulsive hope-but an abiding and sustaining conviction.

-an

All through the year 1803, and the earlier part of 1804, Charles Metcalfe continued to graduate in Indian politics, under the directorship of Lord Wellesley. It was a season of unusual excitement. Our relations with the Mahratta states were just beginning to involve us in the greatest war in which we had ever been engaged in India. Lake and Wellesley were in the field, waiting the opportunity to strike. When the campaign began in earnest against Holkar, young Metcalfe was despatched to the camp of the

1854.]

LORD METCALFE.

commander-in-chief as a political assistant. He started in good spirits, and under happy auspices; but he did not proceed far without meeting with an adventure.

Before he reached Cawnpore, at some point of the road which I cannot precisely indicate, he was set upon by robbers. He was asleep in his palanquin when he fell amongst these thieves, and, according to custom, was abandoned by his bearers. One of his assailants had a club in his hand, which young Metcalfe seized; another then struck at him with a tulwar, or sword, cut off the ends of two of his fingers, and wounded him on the head and on the breast. Single-handed, it was impossible to save his property, but his life he might save; so, finding resistance useless, he staggered away from his assailants, and following a path through the jungle, he soon found himself on the bank of a broad river or stream. There, faint from loss of blood, he sank down, and, as he lay on the ground, thoughts of home came thick upon him. It flashed upon his mind that his parents were not improbably at that very time at Abingdon races, talking with some friends about their absent son, and little thinking of the danger and the suffering to which he was at that moment exposed. These thoughts made a deep impression on his mind; but he presently roused himself to action, and tottered back as best he could to the spot where his palanquin was lying; but found that the robbers had not yet made off with their spoil. After a little while, however, they went, having despoiled the traveller of all the baggage which he carried with him-never any great amount on a dawk-journey-and effected their escape. Metcalfe was then carried on to Cawnpore, where, under the care of his aunt, Mrs. Richardson, he soon recovered from his wounds, and proceeded onwards to the camp of the commander-in-chief.

Lake was then on the banks of the Jumna, Holkar was hanging on his rear, and in the full indulgence of the predatory habits of his tribe. When Charles Metcalfe arrived at head-quarters, he was received with all courtesy and kindness, but, unfortunately, he was also regarded with some mistrust. He was a civilian in the midst of a community of soldiers. He was called a clerk, and sneered at as a non-combatant. But Charles Metcalfe, though he wore neither the King's nor the Company's uniform, had as much of the true spirit of the soldier in him as any officer in camp, and an opportunity of showing this was not long in presenting itself.

The fortress of Deeg, distant some forty-five miles from Agra, was garrisoned by the allied troops of our enemies, Holkar and the Rajah of Bhurtpore. In the month of December, General Lake, who had determined upon the reduction of the place, encamped within sight of it, and awaited the arrival of his battering-train from Agra.

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On the 13th, having been joined by his guns, he took up his position before the fortress, and commenced an attack upon the outworks. On the 17th the breaching battery was ready for action;

but such was the strength of the walls, that it was not until the 23d that the breach was reported practicable, and dispositions made for the assault on the following day.

The storming party was told off, and Metcalfe volunteered to accompany it. He was one of the first who entered the breach. There are soldiers now living who remember that memorable Christmas-eve, and delight to speak of the gallantry of the young civilian. The "clerk" fairly won his spurs, and shared with the most distinguished of his comrades the honors no less than the dangers of one of the most brilliant achievements of the war. In the commander-in-chief's despatch, the name of Metcalfe was honorably mentioned. "Before I conclude this despatch," wrote Lord Lake, I cannot help mentioning the spirited conduct of Mr. Metcalfe, a civil servant, who volunteered his services with the storming party, and, as I am informed, was one of the first in the breach." Afterwards, the fine old soldier called him his "little

stormer.

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Upon this exploit, which nothing but the peculiar position in which the youth was placed can excuse, his mother wrote sensibly enough: "One would think you imagined that your prospect in life was desperate instead of its being one of the finest." The fact is, it is one of those acts which reason condemns, but which the heart cannot help admiring. Charles Metcalfe had also several objects in view: there was not only the desire to show his military companions that he was ready and willing to share their dangers, but there was also nothing to be left undone to increase an influence already in the ascendant, in order to arrive ultimately at the goal of his ambition.

From Deeg the grand army marched upon Bhurtpore, and when a light brigade was detached under General Smith, to drive back a threatened relief under Ameer Khan, young Metcalfe conducted all the diplomatic business of the campaign. This was the most responsible situation he had yet filled, as he was thrown entirely on his own resources, As his biographer remarks, he was now fast becoming a personage of some political importance-taking, indeed, a place in history, and that, too, before he was of age.

When peace was concluded with the Rajah of Bhurtpore on the 21st of April, 1805, Metcalfe wished to return to Calcutta, the more especially as his patron, Lord Wellesley, had just been superseded by Lord Cornwallis; but he was dissuaded by Sir John, then Colonel, Malcolm, who induced him to

remain at the scene of action. At this time, Lord Lake's army was cantoned among the ruined mausolea and decaying palaces of Muttra, Agra, and Secundra. The still unsettled state of the north-west provinces gave the "politicals" constant work and uneasi ness, and young Metcalfe was soon called upon to render the same services to General Dowdeswell's division in the Doab which he had rendered in the spring of the year to General Smith. Sir Theophilus Metcalfe used to call this kind of employment "nursing king's officers;" but these "nurses" have since come to be called "politicals," and Charles Metcalfe was almost the first of the

race.

Charles Metcalfe was now only in his twenty second year, but he had passed nearly six of these in the public service, and was already a ripe diplomatist. By all who knew him-by his principal friends and official associates-he was held in such estimation that not one of them hesitated to predict his speedy attainment of the highest honors of his profession. He had not, therefore, long to wait before he received an appointment as first assistant to the Resident at Delhi. Time was when he would have regarded this appointment with some contempt; but, as his biographer justly remarks, the political service was not then what it once had been in the palmy days of the "glorious little man" who had set Charles Metcalfe on the high-road which leads to fame and fortune. Mr. Seton had lately succeeded Colonel Ochterlony as Resident at Delhi, and he held young Metcalfe in the greatest possible

esteem.

Our young diplomatist was thus for a time fairly and comfortably settled at Delhi-the imperial city of the Great Mogul. The necessity, however, of building a house on a city of ruins, caused an increase of expenditure which led to some temporary embarrassments, but which prudence and resolution soon enabled him to recover from. Disliking, as he did, the combination of revenue and judicial employments with political, still he was obliged to work actively at all three, till, on the accession of Lord Minto to office, he was sent on a special misson to Lahore. This was at a time when all Europe was bound in a league against Great Britain, and the shadow of a gigantic enemy advancing from those vast tracts of country which lie beyond the Sutlej and the Indus to the conquest of India, already haunted the imaginations of British statesmen. To meet the emergency of the case, Sir John Malcolm was despatched

to the court of Persia, Mountstuart Elphinstone to Cabul, and Charles Metcalfe to the court of Runjeet Singh. He thus, at twentythree, became the pioneer of that great scheme of diplomacy by which Persia, Afganistan, and the Punjab were to be erected into friendly barriers against Russo - Gallic invasion.

The Maharajah received Metcalfe with outward demonstrations of good-will, but his want of good faith soon led to difficulties and misunderstandings. Runjeet was zealous and suspicious of the British government, and it required all the tact and perseverance of the young diplomatist to do any thing with him. Great difficulty was experienced at the very outset to get the Rajah even to receive the propositions of the British government. When this was gotover, it led to nothing but a series of consultations, each less conclusive than the other. The difficulties which the young diplomatist had to contend with were indeed many and great. He soon perceived that in Runjeet Singh he had to deal with a man inordinately ambitious himself, and out of measure suspicious of the designs of others. This distrust of the British mission was not long in assuming the form of open discourtesy. The native bankers were afraid to cash the envoy's bills, and supplies were refused to the mission. All intercourse between the camp and the Sikhs was especially interdicted. But Metcalfe had certain great ends to accomplish, and he would not be arrested or turned aside by any obstructions but those of the greatest national import and significance.

But that which most embarrassed him at this time, was the unscrupulous course of territorial aggrandizement which Runjeet was determined on pursuing in the face of the British mission. On the 25th of September, he, without any previous notice, broke up his camp at Kussoor, and prepared to cross the Sutlej, his object being to capture the fortress and surrounding territory of Fureed-Kotea tract of country in the domain of the Rajah of Puttealah, one of the chief of the group of the Cis-Sutlej states, and at that time in the hands of rebels.

But while Metcalfe was thus being dragged about in the suite of the predatory Sikh, Lord Minto decided that this aggressiveness on his part should be stemmed, and that the lesser chiefs between the Sutlej and Jumna should be supported. A division was or dered for service on the banks of the Sutlej, under Colonel Ochterlony, and after the usual amount of delay, dissimulation, and tergiver

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