The Life of Roger Langdon Part 1

The Life of Roger Langdon.

by Roger Langdon and Ellen Langdon and Henry Clifton Lambert.

PREFACE

The writing of this foreword to the biography of the late Mr. Roger Langdon should have devolved upon one of the notable personages who had an admiration for him and his work, but unhappily they have all, or nearly all, pa.s.sed away. Unquestionably the person best fitted for the task would have been the late Rev. H. Fox Strangways, rector of Silverton during the period when Mr. Langdon acted as station-master there. They had a very cordial liking and respect for each other, and Mr. Strangways could doubtless have imparted a personal and intimate touch to this preface which would have been very valuable.

When Miss Ellen Langdon desired me to undertake this portion of the work I felt honoured, though diffident. A feeling that it was my clear duty to pay any mark of respect I could to the memory of this worthy man decided me to accept her invitation.

My acquaintance with Mr. Langdon dates back to a few years before his death when my father was general manager of the Great Western Railway and Mr. Langdon was still at work at Silverton. My father's attention had been called to the personality and attainments of the Silverton station-master, and as I was at that time doing a little journalism in odd moments it was suggested that I should run down and write something for the _Great Western Magazine_, which I was very pleased to do.

At that little wayside station just on the London side of Exeter I therefore found myself one summer afternoon. The village of Silverton, distant two miles from the station, was not visible, and the princ.i.p.al features in the immediate vicinity were the station-master's house, with the front garden between it and the station, and in the front garden a circular iron building with a cone-shaped revolving roof, which, I found, was an observatory sheltering a telescope for celestial observation.

The tall, slightly stooping, white-bearded old station-master at once arrested attention. A dignified, patriarchal type of man, with a kindly, pleasant and simple manner, he was evidently much averse to all forms of affectation and cant. I was quickly made welcome and introduced to his wife and well-ordered home.

We were immediately on excellent terms. I remember the eager pride with which he showed me his beloved telescope and its mounting and accessories, including the sidereal clock, and how I gazed under his direction at the heavenly objects which the night disclosed. The evening we spent together was a very memorable one. Mr. Langdon recounted the hards.h.i.+ps and adventures of his career, and gave me an insight into the manifold difficulties and obstacles he had overcome in attaining the means of observing the celestial bodies in which he took so absorbing an interest. He also displayed for my amus.e.m.e.nt the ingenious church with chimes and other works of his hands.

It is distinctly to be regretted that his autobiography ceases before the period when he made his four telescopes. His own account of his trials and difficulties and of the indefatigable inventive genius he showed in grappling with them would have been most instructive. His achievements become very impressive when his environment and paucity of means are remembered.

Long hours of duty at a little country station, the support and clothing of himself, his wife, and eight children who required to be educated and placed out in the world--all accomplished on a weekly wage, which from his marriage to old age averaged only 30_s._, and was in the earlier years much less--would have been enough to exhaust the energy and resources of any ordinary man. Nevertheless Mr. Langdon found time and means to learn French, Greek, and Shorthand, to amuse his family and neighbours with lantern lectures, and to make and use effectively four telescopes, so that eventually his reputation spread to the Royal Astronomical Society, before which he read a paper on his discoveries and observations. Bear in mind that money was so scarce that he was practically reduced to make everything, even his tools, with his own hands from the crude materials, groping his way through the mists of uncertainty and disappointment to the haven of ultimate success.

He was fortunate in his marriage, or he would probably never have succeeded as he did. He always referred to his wife as an inestimable blessing, and was, by her help, as free from home cares as a man with so small an income and eight children could be. The widow of the late rector of Silverton bears testimony to the virtues and many good works of this estimable couple. Their children rise up and call them blessed.

Their character and example even in this small locality and limited sphere must have been of very marked value.

The career of Roger Langdon provides for all of us a striking ill.u.s.tration of what force of character will accomplish even in the humblest surroundings and in the face of the most serious obstacles.

Such men working persistently onwards and upwards with such slight recognition and encouragement are the real heroes of life, and their memory should be kept green for the benefit of those who come after them.

H. CLIFTON LAMBERT.

CHAPTER I

"WHY WAS I BORN?"

As earth's pageant pa.s.ses by, Let reflection turn thine eye Inward, and observe thy breast; There alone dwells solid rest.

That's a close immured tower Which can mock all hostile power; To thyself a tenant be And inhabit safe and free.

Say not that the house is small Girt up in a narrow wall The infinite Creator can Dwell there--and may not man?

There content make thine abode With thyself and with thy G.o.d.

I HAVE no distinct recollection of my birth, although I believe I was a prominent actor in the performance. The very first thing, or rather, circ.u.mstance that I remember, was the birth of my sister, when I was two years and five months old. Old Nanny Holland, who did duty as midwife, nurse and housekeeper, used to allow me to go out and play with the water and dabble in the mud; then she would call me in and smack me well and call me bad names, and shut me under the stairs until my pinafore was dry. I can quite well remember crying and asking myself, "Why was I born?" especially as old Nanny paid greater attention to me in this respect, than to any of my older brothers. Then, as I grew older, there was my father who thoroughly believed that the stick was a cure for all complaints, and acting upon King Solomon's advice, never spared the rod.

On these occasions, I always asked myself the question, "Why was I born?"

As soon as old Nanny had gone out of the house, I asked my mother if it was likely that old Nanny would bring another baby next week; and when my kind and loving mother stroked my hair, and smiled and said "No," I was very soon out in the lane making bricks and building houses with mud. My mother did not smack me for this as old Nanny had done, but she would call me and speak to me about making myself dirty, and somehow, whenever she spoke she was always obeyed. She used to have me by her knee and teach me Dr. Watts's hymns. I have lived to hear those hymns scoffed at, but I still think they might do good to some young people.

Now at the age of fifty I take great delight in the study of science and astronomy. Who shall say that my dear good mother did not lay the foundation stone, and set my young mind thinking of the wonderful works of G.o.d, by teaching me--

I sing the almighty power of G.o.d That made the mountains rise, That spread the flowing seas abroad And built the lofty skies.

I sing the wisdom that ordained The sun to rule the day.

The moon s.h.i.+nes full at His command And all the stars obey.

This hymn, and other precepts taught by my gentle mother, sank deep into my mind, and set me thinking and pondering over the works of G.o.d, and led me to ask all sorts of questions, and I might say that I received all sorts of answers, which made me still more inquisitive, until my father would tell me to hold my tongue. I do not wish it to be understood that my father was a wrong-headed man, far from it; for I am sure that he possessed some of the finest qualities that adorn human nature. He possessed, in the very highest degree, the qualities of truth, justice, honour, and honesty of purpose; he considered it an exceedingly bad practice to owe anything to anybody, so he rose very early in the morning and took rest late that he might maintain his children, in what he termed "poor independence." Moreover, he being the parish clerk and Sunday school master--there was no week-day school--he had a very high veneration for the Church. He was also choir master and organist. Therefore he was a power in the village, and used his stick accordingly. Woe to any bellringer who thoughtlessly entered the door of the church, without removing his hat from his head. "How dare you," he would say, "enter the sanctuary of the Lord in that heathenish manner?"

and the men I know very highly respected him, and obeyed his orders without a murmur. He would never allow cider, which was the drink of the country, to be brought inside the church gate; it was consecrated ground and was not to be defiled.

He was like Job in one thing, he was the father of seven sons and three daughters.

The state of England at that time was very bad indeed, and the poor were really oppressed, especially in our remote part of the country. Well, my father had enough to do to make both ends meet, and how he and my mother slaved and toiled to keep out of debt! My brothers and myself were sent to work at a very early age, at whatever we could get, and at this period, when the oppression was so great, I was always asking myself, "Why was I born?"

In the year 1829, when I was four years of age, my father and mother had not heard of Dr. Jenner, and his plan of vaccination. If they had they would have surely fallen in with the idea, and would have acted upon it.

It was the custom in those days that whenever small-pox made its appearance in the village, the mother of a family would take one of her children to the infected house, and place her healthy child in the bed of the person who had the malady. This was done so that the infection should not come upon her family unawares, but that she might be somewhat in a position to receive it, and with a little judicious management, generally to keep the disease under subjection; that is to say, she could generally manage so that only one of her children should be down with the small-pox at one time. Whereas, if she allowed the infection to come upon her in its natural course, probably all her children would be down at once with the disease.

Now there was a boy who was said to be dying of small-pox, and whether it was ignorance, or superst.i.tion, or a combination of both, I do not know, but it was considered best, to let your children catch the small-pox from those who were suffering most violently. Accordingly I was taken to the house where the boy lay dying, and there I was partly undressed and placed in the cradle by the side of the boy, and I was to stay there until I got warm and comfortable. As far as my own thoughts went in the matter I thought it very good fun, especially as when I was ill I should be out of the way of the stick at any rate. But while I was thinking over these matters, who should stalk into the room but old Nanny Holland. Nanny was a sort of oracle in the village, besides being a kind of quack doctor, and what with her superior cunning, and evil temper, always excited more or less with gin, she held most of the poor women under her thumb, and when she approached the cradle where we were lying, I thought she looked more evil than usual. She looked at the cradle, then at the boy's mother, and said, "Why don't you let the cheil (_child_) die? He can't die shut up in an infernal crile like this." And thereupon she dragged me out, and put me down, by no means lightly, upon the floor; she then tore away the foot of the cradle, so that the boy's feet could extend further down, and he was a corpse directly.

It appears from Nanny's theory, that although the child was in the agony of death, and with the last pang upon him, yet the vital spark could not part from him, until his crib was lengthened sufficiently to allow his feet to stretch downward without hindrance. I have sometimes thought that perhaps old Nanny was more than half right in her theory.

Now, I cannot tell whether the virus of the boy's small-pox was too far spent, or whether I was an extraordinarily healthy subject, or whether perhaps old Nanny frightened me, but certain it is, I did not catch the small-pox. Therefore there was but one alternative, and that was, that I must be inoculated, or, as the villagers expressed, it "knockle-headed."

As soon as I discovered this I really began to quake with fear, and to wonder why I was born. Not that I feared the operation itself, as I had seen it performed on others, but I dreadfully feared the doctor who would perform upon me. I had not long to wait before my suspicions and fears were brought to a climax, for my mother took me off to Nanny Holland.

Nanny soon began to see about "knockle-heading" the children, and when she turned to me first, and I saw her coming towards me, with her surgical knife, my hair stood on end with fright. Where she obtained the virus from I do not know, but she clawed hold of my arm, and stabbed a stocking needle through the skin, and lifting the skin upwards at the same time with a razor in her hand, cut a piece, about the size of a threepenny bit, three parts off, a bit of the skin being left in the way of a hinge; then with the point of an old knife, she plastered some matter into the wound, just as you might see a painter stopping a hole in a board with putty; then she replaced the slice of skin with the following caution, "Now, youngster, if you scratch that off, I'll kill thee." My little sister was put through the same process, and Louisa Gard, a little chubby happy cherub of about four years of age, and a constant playmate of ours, was also operated upon.

In due course old Nanny's "matter" began to work. My sister was very ill with small-pox, and so also was little Louisa. As for myself, I had it very slightly, in fact no one but my mother knew that I had the malady upon me. My sister got well in time, but of course the small-pox left its marks severely upon her. Poor little Louisa never rallied; or if she got over the small-pox, she had croup, which was too much for her, and she crossed over into the Land of Beulah.

Louisa and my sister and myself had attended the Sunday school, for there was no week-day school. I asked mother if Louisa would come back, and she said "No, but if you are a good boy, you will someday go where she is gone." Then I would go out and look up at the stars, and wonder if I should see Louisa flitting about from star to star, but my mother said, "No, you will not see her there, but you will meet her again at the last day; and if you grow up to be a good man, you will hear the Great Judge say, 'Come, ye blessed of my Father, and inherit the Kingdom prepared for you, from the foundation of the world.'" This and other pa.s.sages of Scripture my mother taught me before I was really able to p.r.o.nounce the words after her. All this was my religious instruction, besides what I learnt in the Sunday school.

CHAPTER II

CHILDHOOD'S DAYS

IN 1834 the curate-in-charge and his sister left our parish, and moved into Berks.h.i.+re. Before the curate left he came to say good-bye to us. He also brought us some very useful things, which were most acceptable, for I know my mother had to struggle hard against wind and tide, as one might say, to keep us six great rollicking boys tidy, and how she did it as well as she did, with the scanty materials at her command, I really cannot conceive; but I do know that she many times went without food, so that we might have our fill.

The curate looked at my sister's seamed face, then patted the baby, and said, "Surely, Mrs. Langdon, you do not want so lovely a child to be disfigured with small-pox, do you?"

"What can I do to avoid it?" asked my mother. "We have always been taught by our clergy that all these evil things are the 'Lord's' will, so who can hinder it?"

"G.o.d's will!" answered the curate. "Have you not heard what everybody is talking about, I mean vaccination and cow-pox? Vaccination is a process by which matter from a cow is inserted into your child's arm, and in the course of a few days the child will have what is called cow-pox; it is exceedingly mild, and the child will not suffer much, and if properly carried out, it is a sure preventive of small-pox."

"Dear, me," said my mother, "I wish I had known this sooner. I would gladly have had all my children vaccinated."

"I am very glad to hear you say so," replied the curate, "but it was only accidentally that I mentioned it to you. I have spoken to several people about it, and I have found them so thoroughly prejudiced on the subject that I have found it prudent to hold my tongue. Go to Martock to Dr. Stuckey, and I know he will vaccinate the baby free of charge, and as I am leaving the village to-morrow I am very sorry that I shall not be able to know the result of the operation."