Matthew Flinders was a short, neatly-built, very lithe and active man. He
stood five feet six inches in height.* (* These particulars are from the
manuscript sketch by a friend, previously cited; Flinders' Papers.) His
figure was slight and well proportioned. When he was in full health, his
light, buoyant step was remarked upon by acquaintances. Neither of the
two portraits of him conveys a good impression of his alert, commanding
look. His nose was "rather aquiline," and his lips were customarily
compressed. "He had a noble brow, hair almost black, eyes dark, bright,
and with a commanding expression, amounting almost to sternness." So his
friend records.
Mrs. Flinders was not satisfied with the engraved portrait published in
the Naval Chronicle, 1814, nor with the miniature from which it was
reproduced. In a letter to Captain Stuart she wrote: "In the portrait you
will not be able to trace much of your departed friend. The miniature
from which it was taken is but an indifferent likeness, and the engraver
has not done justice to it. He has given the firmness of the countenance
but not the intelligence or animation." It is quite certain that a rapid,
piercing, commanding expression of eye and features was characteristic of
him. During his captivity, the look in his eyes forbad all approach to
familiarity. There is record of an occasion--in all probability connected
with the sword incident--when he was addressed in terms that appeared to
him to be wanting in respect; and the unlucky Frenchman who ventured thus
far was so astonished at the sternness of countenance that immediately
confronted him, that he started back some paces. He had been accustomed
to command from an early age, and had exercised authority on service of a
kind that compelled him to demand ceaseless vigilance and indefatigable
vigour from himself and those under him. In a passage written in
Mauritius* (* Flinders' Papers.) he makes allusion to the stern element
in his character; and surely what he says here is worthy of being well
pondered by all whose duty demands the exercise of power over other men:
"I shall learn patience in this island, which will perhaps counteract the
insolence acquired by having had unlimited command over my fellow men.
You know, my dearest, that I always dreaded the effect that the
possession of great authority would have upon my temper and disposition.
I hope they are neither of them naturally bad; but, when we see such a
vast difference between men dependent and men in power, any man who has
any share of impartiality must fear for himself. My brother will tell you
that I am proud, unindulgent, and hasty to take offence, but I doubt
whether John Franklin will confirm it, although there is more truth in
the charge than I wish there were. In this land, those malignant
qualities are ostentatiously displayed. I am made to feel their sting
most poignantly. My mind has been taught a lesson in philosophy, and my
judgment has gained an accession of experience that will not soon be
forgotten."
That is a fairly rigorous piece of self-analysis; but there are abundant
facts to show that he exercised authority with a kindly and friendly
disposition, and did not surpass the limits of wisdom. Men like a
commander who can command; the weak inspire no confidence. Flinders had
the art of attracting people to him. His servant, the faithful John
Elder, willingly endured imprisonment with him, and would not leave him
until his own health gave way. John Thistle, who had served under him
before 1800, returned to England shortly before the Investigator sailed,
and at once volunteered for service under him again. He ruled his crews
by sheer force of mind and unsparing example, and though the good of the
service in hand was ever his first thought, there is plenty of evidence
to prove that the happiness of the men under him was constantly in his
mind.
In hours of relaxation he was genial, a lively companion, a warm friend.
An intimate friend records: "He possessed the social virtues and
affections in an eminent degree, and in conversation he was particularly
agreeable, from the extent of his general information and the lively
acuteness of his observations. His integrity, uprightness of intention,
and liberality of sentiment were not to be surpassed."
A scrap of dialogue written for insertion in the Voyage to Terra
Australis, but cancelled with other matter, enables us to realise that he
could recall an incident with some dramatic force. Bonnefoy, an
interpreter in Ile-de-France, told him a story of an American skipper
under examination by one of General Decaen's officers, and he wrote it
down as follows:--
"I was amused with his account of a blunt American captain who, having
left a part of his people to collect seal-skins upon the island Tristan
d'Acuna, had come in for provisions, and to get his vessel repaired. This
honest man did not wish to tell where he was collecting his cargo, nor
did he understand all the ceremony he was required to go through. The
dialogue that passed between the old seaman and the French officers of
the port was nearly thus:
Off.: From whence do you come, Sir?
From whence do I come? Haugh! why, Monsieur, I come from the Atlantic
Ocean.
Off.: But, pray, Sir, from what port?
Port? You will find that out from my papers, which I suppose you want to
see?
Off.: It appears, Sir, that you have not above half your crew on board.
Be so good as to inform me where are the rest?
O, my crew? Poor fellows, yes, why, Sir, we met with an island of ice on
the road, and I left them there a-basket-making.
Off.: Making baskets on an island of ice? This is a very strange answer,
Sir; and give me leave to tell you such will not do here; but you will
accompany me to the Captain-General, and we shall then see whether you
will answer or not.
Ay, we shall see indeed. Why, look ye, Monsieur: as to what I have been
about, that is nothing to anybody. I am an honest man, and that's enough
for you; but if you want to know why I am come here, it is to buy
provisions and to lie quiet a little bit. I am not come to beg or steal,
but to buy, and I fancy good bills upon M--- of Salem will suit you very
well, eh, Monsieur? Convenient enough?
Off.: Very well, Sir, you will come with us to the General.
To the General? I have nothing to do with Generals! They don't understand
my business. Suppose I don't go?
Off.: You will do as you please, Sir; but if you do not, you will
soon..."
The sheet on which the continuation of this vigorous bit of dialogue was
written* is unfortunately missing, so that we are deprived of the joy of
reading the conclusion of the comedy. But as the passage stands it
presents a truly dramatic picture. (* Manuscript, Mitchell Library.)
We get a glimpse of the way in which genial spirits regarded him in a
jolly letter from Madras, from Lieutenant Fitzwilliam Owen, who had been
a prisoner with him in Mauritius, and was on the cartel on which he
sailed from that island. "You cannot doubt how much our society misses
you. We toasted you, Sir, like Englishmen. We sent the heartiest good
wishes of your countrymen, ay, and women too, to Heaven for your success,
in three times three loud and manly cheers, dictated by that sincerity
which forms the glorious characteristic of our rough-spun English. Nay,
Waugh got drunk for you, and the ladies did each take an extra glass to
you."* (* Flinders' Papers.)
A pleasant playful touch makes the following letter to his wife's
half-sister worth quoting. He was hungry for home letters in
Ile-de-France, and thus gently chid the girl: "There is indeed a report
among the whales in the Indian Ocean that a scrap of a letter from you
did pass by for Port Jackson, and a flying fish in the Pacific even says
he saw it; but there is no believing these travellers. If you will take
the trouble to give it under your own hand I will then believe that you
have written to me. A certain philosopher being informed that his dear
friend was dead, replied that he would not believe it without having it
certified under his own hand; a very commendable prudence this, and
worthy of imitation in all intricate cases. As I have a fund of justice
at the bottom of my conscience, which will not permit me to exact from
others more than I would perform myself, I do hereby certify that I have
this day addressed a letter to my well-beloved sister Isabella Tyler,
spinster, in which letter I do desire for her all manner of blessings,
spiritual and temporal; that she may speedily obtain a husband six feet
high, if it so pleases her, with the wishing cap of Fortunatus."
The strictness of the man's conduct, in his relations with superiors and
subordinates alike, sprang from his integrity of heart. Everybody trusted
him. A memoir published by a contemporary commented upon the fidelity of
his friendships. "He was faithful to the utmost in the performance of a
promise, whether important or trifling in its consequences."
Some of the best friends he ever made were among the French in
Ile-de-France; and he became so much attached to them that, even when he
secured his longed-for freedom, he could not part from them without a
pang of regret. They saw in him not only a wronged man, but a singularly
high-minded one. Pitot, writing to Bougainville to urge him to do his
utmost to secure Flinders' release, repudiated, in these terms, the idea
that he could be a spy:* "No, Monsieur Flinders is not capable of such
conduct; his pure and noble character would never permit him to descend
to the odious employment of a spy." (* Manuscripts, Mitchell Library;
letter dated 19 Vendemiaire, an 13. October 11, 1804.) One wonders
whether by any chance Bougainville had occasion to show that letter to
Messieurs Peron and Freycinet!
A touching and beautiful example of his gentleness occurred in connection
with a wounded French officer whom he visited at Port Louis. Lieutenant
Charles Baudin des Ardennes had sailed as a junior officer on Le
Geographe under Baudin (to whom he was not related) and Flinders had
known him at Port Jackson. In 1807 he was serving as a lieutenant on La
Semillante, in the Indian Ocean. He was badly wounded in a sharp
engagement with the British ship Terpsichore in March, 1807, and was
brought into Port Louis, where his shattered right arm was amputated.
Flinders, full of compassion for the young man, visited him, and, as
oranges were required for the sufferer, bought up the whole stock of a
fruiterer, 53 of them. Upon his return to Wilhelm's Plains, he wrote
Baudin a letter of sympathy and encouragement, bidding him reflect that
there were other branches of useful service open to a sailor than that of
warfare. He had commenced his naval career with discovery; he now knew
what the horrors of war were. Which was the worthier branch of the two?
Flinders continued: "No, my friend, I cannot contemplate this waste of
human life to serve the cause of restless ambition without horror. Never
shall my hands be voluntarily steeped in blood, but in the defence of my
country. In such a cause every other sentiment vanishes. Also, my friend,
if ever you have thought my actions worthy of being imitated, imitate me
in this. You have, like me, had just sufficient experience to learn what
the commander of a voyage of discovery ought to be, and what he ought to
know. Adieu, my dear friend. May the goodness of God speedily restore you
to perfect health, and turn your thoughts from war to peace." Young
Baudin, it may be added, was not compelled by the loss of his arm to
leave the service. He became an Admiral in 1839, and lived till 1854.
Flinders endeavoured to exert a stimulating influence upon young
officers. Writing to his brother (December 6th, 1806) he said:* "Remember
that youth is the time in which a store of knowledge, reputation and
fortune must be laid in to make age respectable. Imitate, my dear Samuel,
all that you have found commendable in my proceedings, manners, and
principles, and avoid the rest. Study is necessary, as it gives theory. I
need not speak to you now upon this, but active exertion is still more
necessary to a good sea officer. From both united it is that perfection
is attained. Neither would I have you neglect politeness, and the best
society to which circumstances may permit your admission; though not the
basis that constitutes a good officer or valuable member of society, the
manners thereby acquired are yet of infinite service to those who possess
them." (* Mr. Charles Bertie, of the Municipal Library, Sydney, has
kindly supplied me with this letter, which was obtained from Professor
Flinders Petrie.)
There could hardly be a sounder piece of advice to a young officer from
an elder than is contained in a letter written by Flinders to John
Franklin's father. It was intended for the youth's eye, beyond a doubt.
It is dated May 10th, 1805:* (* Manuscripts, Mitchell Library.) "I hope
John will have got into some active ship to get his time completed before
I go out another voyage, and learn the discipline of the service. I have
no doubt of being able to get him a lieutenant's commission if it should
be agreeable to him to sail with me again. He may rest confident of my
friendship, although I believe he had some fears on that head when we
parted, on account of a difference between him and my brother. He has
ability enough, but he must be diligent, studious, active in his duty,
not over-ready to take offence at his superior officers, nor yet humbling
too much to them; but in all things should make allowances for difference
of disposition and ways of thinking and should judge principally from the
intention. Above all things he should be strict in his honour and
integrity, for a man who forfeits either cannot be independent or brave
at all times; and he should not be afraid to be singular, for, if he is,
the ridicule of the vicious would beat him out of his rectitude as well
as out of his attention to his duty. I do not speak this from my fear of
him, but from my anxiety to see him the shining character which I am sure
he is capable of being."
In a similar strain is a letter to John Franklin (January 14th, 1812)
regarding a lad named Wiles, the son of a Jamaica friend, who had lately
been put on the Bedford as a midshipman: "I will thank you to let me know
from time to time how he goes on. Pray don't let him be idle. Employ him
in learning to knot and splice under a quartermaster; in working under
observation, in writing his journal, and in such studies as may be useful
to him. Make it a point of honour with him to be quick in relieving the
deck, and strict in keeping his watch; and when there are any courts
martial endeavour either to take him with you or that he may attend when
it can be done. In fine, my dear John, endeavour to make a good officer
and a good man of him, and be sure I shall always entertain a grateful
sense of your attention to him."
Active-minded himself, he encouraged study among those who came in
contact with him. It gave him pleasure to teach mathematics to Madame
D'Arifat's sons at Wilhelm's Plains. He mastered French so as to speak it
with grace and write with ease. He worked at Malay because he thought it
would be useful on future voyages. From the early days, when he taught
himself navigation amidst the swamps of his native Lincolnshire, until
his last illness laid him low, he was ever an eager student. Intelligent
curiosity and a desire to know the best that the best minds could teach
were a basic part of his character. We find him counselling Ann Chappell,
at about the time when he became engaged to her:* (* Flinders' Papers.)
"Learn music, learn the French language, enlarge the subjects of thy
pencil, study geography and astronomy and even metaphysics, sooner than
leave thy mind unoccupied. Soar, my Annette, aspire to the heights of
science. Write a great deal, work with thy needle a great deal, and read
every book that comes in thy way, save trifling novels."
Flinders read widely, and always carried a good library with him on his
voyages. His acquaintance with the literature of navigation was very
extensive. Some of his books were lost in the Porpoise wreck; the
remainder he took with him in the Cumberland, and, when he was
imprisoned, his anxiety to secure his printed volumes manifested the true
book-lover's hunger to have near him those companions of his intellectual
life. He derived great pleasure from the French literature which he
studied in Mauritius. A letter to his wife dated March, 1803, when he was
upon the north coast of Australia in the Investigator, reveals him
relieving his mind, amid anxieties about the condition of the ship, by
reading Milton's Paradise Lost. "The elevation and, also, the fall of our
first parents," he comments, "told with such majesty by him whose eyes
lacked all of what he threw so masterly o'er the great subject, dark
before and intricate--these with delight I perused, not knowing which to
admire most, the poet's daring, the subject, or the success with which
his bold attempt was crowned." He somewhat quaintly compares his wife
with Eve: "But in thee I have more faith than Adam had when he, complying
with Eve's request of separation in their labours, said 'Go, thou best,
last gift of God, go in thy native innocence.' But how much dearer art
thou here than our first mother! Our separation was not sought by thee,
but thou borest it as a vine whose twining arms when turned from round
the limb lie prostrate, broken, life scarcely left enough to keep the
withered leaf from falling off." We should especially have welcomed notes
from such a pen on a few passages in Milton which must have stirred his
deepest interest, as for example the majestic comparison of Satan's
flight:
"As when far off at sea a fleet descried
Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds
Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles
Of Ternate or Tidore, whence merchants bring
Their spicy drugs; they on the trading flood,
Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape,
Ply stemming nightly towards the pole: so seemed
Far off the flying Fiend."
To these characteristics may be added a passage illustrating the view of
our navigator concerning the marriage state. It must be confessed that
when he wrote it (June 30th, 1807) his experience was not extensive. He
left England when he had been a husband only a few weeks; but the passage
is interesting as conveying to his wife what his conception of the ideal
relation was: "There is a medium between petticoat government and tyranny
on the part of the husband, that with thee I think to be very attainable;
and which I consider to be the summit of happiness in the marriage state.
Thou wilt be to me not only a beloved wife, but my most dear and most
intimate friend, as I hope to be to thee. If we find failings, we will
look upon them with kindness and compassion, and in each other's merits
we will take pride, and delight to dwell upon them; thus we will realise,
as far as may be, the happiness of heaven upon the earth. I love not
greatness nor desire great riches, being confident they do not contribute
to happiness, but I desire to have enough for ourselves and something to
assist our friends in need. I think, my love, this is also thy way of
thinking."
In the few concluding months of her husband's life, Mrs. Flinders had him
beside her under circumstances that were certainly far from easy. Their
somewhat straitened means, consequent upon the Admiralty's niggard
construction of regulations, the prolonged severity of his employment,
and the last agonised weeks of illness, must have gone far to detract
from perfect felicity in domestic conditions. The six changes of
residence in four and a half years point to the same conclusion.
Nevertheless we find Mrs. Flinders writing to a friend in these terms,
wherein her own happiness is clearly mirrored: "I am well persuaded that
very few men know how to value the regard and tender attentions of a wife
who loves them. Men in general cannot appreciate properly the delicate
affection of a woman, and therefore they do not know how to return it. To
make the married life as happy as this world will allow it to be, there
are a thousand little amenities to be rendered on both sides, and as many
little shades of comfort to be attended to. Many things must be
overlooked, for we are all such imperfect beings; and to bear and forbear
is essential to domestic peace. You will say that I find it easy to talk
on this subject, and that precept is harder than practice. I allow it, my
dear friend, in the practical part I have only to return kind affection
and attention for uniform tenderness and regard. I have nothing
unpleasant to call forth my forbearance. Day after day, month after month
passes, and I neither experience an angry look nor a dissatisfied word.
Our domestic life is an unvaried line of peace and comfort; and O, may
Heaven continue it such, so long as it shall permit us to dwell together
on this earth."