JOHN BRITTON F.S.A.

This name, familiar for half a century to the architects and artists of Great Britain, at length occupies its place in the Obituary of meritorious men. His life supplies one instance more of perseverance against difficulty, crowned with success. Not that his incessant labour led to much ultimate result as to any accumulation of worldly means: for at that desideratum he failed to arrive. He failed, because he was no selfish saver or worshipper of money for its own sake. It was in his sight a thing to be used: and the use to which he applied it was that of improving, in his own department, the taste of the age in which he lived. In this respect he was eminently successful: for by long-continued liberal efforts made with that object in view, he has secured for himself a name of authority in the remembrance of his country.

Of his early life, his struggles with adversity, and his many literary works, an authentic account may be found in his "Autobiography," the employment of his declining years, almost to the very day of death. Occasionally diffuse, it is upon the whole a curious and instructive memoir, showing (in his own words) "how much may be effected by zeal and industry, with moderate talents and without academic learning." Some things which as an autobiographer he could not, without breach of modesty, say of himself, may now be said of him by others. And it is the testimony of those who knew him well, that he had an active and penetrating mind, remarkable power of arrangement, an excellent memory, a kind heart, and a moral character free from reproach. He was simple in his habits, fond of children and a favourite with them; a great lover of Natural History, and an advocate of mercy to the humblest animal. In stature he was short; in figure slender: a ready and amusing speaker: of great vivacity and cheerfulness even to the last. Devoted to the Antiquities of his country, particularly his native county, he excelled in architectural illustration addressed to the eye. In this branch of Art, through tact in appreciating skill, he was the means of bringing into notice some of our best modern engravers.

John Britton's life commenced on the 7th July 1771; under

circumstances which without the aid of a Horoscope may safely be pronounced to have been as unpromising as well could be. He was born in a cottage (represented in the wood cut), still standing at

the angle formed by the main street of Kington St. Michael with the lane that leads to the Church. He was the fourth of ten children, but eldest son, of Henry and Ann Britton, without inheritance or much prospect of it. His father's occupation included various branches of petty village business. He was baker, maltster, shopkeeper and small farmer: and a single room 14 feet wide by 6 high, with a heavy beam across the ceiling and a floor of stone, served for parlour, kitchen, hall, and nursery. Under-housed, over-stocked with children, and encumbered with many trades without success in any, the father sank into poverty. John received instruction at a dame's school, and having mastered the "Chris

1 He was baptized August 4th by John Scrope, Vicar, (Par. Reg.) The marriage of his parents Henry Britton and Ann Hillier, on 10th January 1765, is registered at Norton about 5 miles from Kington St. Michael's. Her family were at that time tenants of Maidford Farm in that parish: and in the first cottage going from Maidford to Norton Church, Mr. Britton (as he told the writer) learned his A B C.

cross Row" (like Aubrey, in the now rare horn-book), was removed for two years to a Mr. Moseley, a Baptist minister at Fosscote in Grittleton, thence to schools successively at Yatton Keynell, Draycote, and Chippenham. At thirteen he was taken away from education to carry loaves about on horseback to neighbouring villages. The mother was active and managing, and strove hard against misfortune: but bad debts, cheating millers, rivals in trade, and the heavy family, were too much for her, and she died brokenhearted. The father became idiotic; John's brothers and sisters were dispersed amongst relatives: and his own destiny was to be taken to London in October 1787, by an uncle Samuel Hillier, who after employing him for some time in his own house as a foot-boy with horses to clean, apprenticed him for six years to a Mr. Mendham of the Jerusalem Tavern, Clerkenwell. There, having paid no apprentice fee, he was not initiated into the deeper mysteries of the craft, but only into the duties of helper to a common porter, in bottling, corking, and binning wine.

To his dismal life of ten hours a day in the Clerkenwell winevaults, with the choice, when his work was over, of either remaining

in the cellar or associating with the workmen, Mr. Britton always looked back, as he well might, with utter abborrence. He learned nothing from the business, not even in what part of the world Oporto or Madeira were, lost his health, was afraid of complaining, and was only upheld through the period of legal imprisonment by the smiles of a young person in the establishment, with whom of course he fell in love. But even this cordial failing to restore him, his master at length gave up about half a year of his services, presented him with two guineas instead of twenty promised, and turned him out into the world to provide for himself. He had then two uncles in London, to whom he had been taught to look for friendly assistance. Both were living in genteel comfort, but at neither of their houses could he obtain even shelter from the weather, or a meal.

Before his first visit to London he had never seen a Dictionary, and knew nothing of geography or history: though as a boy he had been fond of books whenever he could get them. His selfeducation was continued underground and clandestinely. He would take an occasional half hour in the morning between seven and eight o'clock to look at the sky, breathe a little fresh air and visit two book stalls in the neighbourhood. His purchases were chiefly medical works, and those of Dr. Dodd, Ray, Smollett, Fielding and Sterne, &c. These he read by candle-light in the cellar at half hours abstracted from official duties, so that the tale of bottles to be corked had to be made up afterwards all the faster. One of the few acquaintances formed at this time was a Mr. Essex father of the present painter in enamel. From him books were borrowed, and at his house Britton first met his future friend and coadjutor in many literary undertakings, Mr. E. W. Brayley, then apprenticed as an enameller to Mr. Essex. In a memoir of his colleague published in the Gent. Mag. Dec. 1854, Mr. Britton says; "From this unpromising association and from fortuitous circumstances, ultimately sprang a crop of literary works which cannot fail to astonish the reader who calculates their amount in volumes, pages, variety of subjects, extent of labour in research, travel, embellishment and manual writing." As may reasonably be supposed they

commenced in the most humble departments of literature. The first partnership speculation was a song called "The Powder Tax; or a Puff at the Guinea Pigs," written by Brayley and sung by Britton publicly at a club held at the Jacob's Well, Barbican, where a motley assemblage of smokers and tipplers met once a week to hear theatrical repetitions. The new ditty was encored, printed, and more than 70,000 copies sold by a song-dealer, who pirated this first publication of the two young authors.

The period between the release from the wine-cellar and the adoption of literature as a profession, embraced about seven years of privation and vicissitude, occasionally relieved by employment that produced a bare livelihood. In very poor and obscure lodgings at eighteenpence a week he indulged in study, often reading in bed during the winter evenings to save the cost of firing. When the finances were in tolerable order he frequented "Free and easy," Odd-fellows,” and "Spouting clubs;" though never allowing his expenses to exceed sixpence a night at any of these choice associations. The next step was to Debating Societies, private theatricals and lectures, the last being rare.

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But the first and all absorbing object after leaving Mr. Mendham's service was to undertake a journey on foot to Plympton in Devonshire, to renew with matrimonial intent the attachment formed for the goddess of the wine-cellar. Mr. Britton describes this toilsome journey and its result in a very amusing manner. The fair but faithless Dulcinea, some years older and apparently much wiser than himself, declined the suit, and he set off home. again in a state of mental misery. At Bath he failed in obtaining an engagement as cellar-man at the White Hart Hotel, and returned to the metropolis shoeless, shirtless, and almost penniless. A short engagement at the London Tavern was followed by another as clerk to a widow in Smithfield; but the knavery and hypocrisy of the establishment disgusting him, he accepted a situation in the office of a Mr. Simpson, Attorney, in Gray's Inn, where he remained for three years at the wages of fifteen shillings a week. The business not being overwhelming gave him plenty of time for excursion in lighter walks, the drama, novels and poetry: and his income,

I