The life of Samuel Drew was written by his eldest son, and published by Longman, Rees, and Co. in 1834. It is a volume of 534 pages, and probably few would be disposed to wade through it. Of his early days by far the brighter account is that furnished by himself to Mr. R. Polwhele; but the son supplies some anecdotes that may be quoted.

"I was born on the 3rd March, 1765, in an obscure cottage in the parish of S. Austell, about a mile and a half distant from the town. My father was a common labourer, and had through mere dint of manual labour to provide for himself, a wife, and four children, of whom I was the second. One child died in infancy, and at the age of nine years[25] I had the misfortune to lose my mother." Rather more than a year before the death of Mrs. Drew, Samuel was set to work at a neighbouring stamping-mill as a buddle-boy, and for his services his father received three-halfpence a day, but this was raised later to twopence, the largest sum Samuel realized in that employment, though he continued to work at it for more than two years.

Not long after the death of his wife, Samuel's father took a woman named Bate into the house, to act as housekeeper; and in the second year of his widowhood he married her, to the disgust of his children. When she was entertaining her friends and gossips at tea after the wedding, Samuel discharged a syringeful of water over the party. This was more than she could put up with, and Samuel had to be sent away and apprenticed to a shoemaker named Baker, in the parish of S. Blazey.

He says himself: "My father, being exceedingly poor, felt much embarrassment in finding a premium to give to my master, with whom, at the age of ten years and a half, I was bound an apprentice for nine years, which length of time, together with five pounds five shillings, was considered by my master as a suitable bargain. It was at this tender age that I bid adieu to my father's habitation, and as a place of residence have never entered it since. The little knowledge of writing which I had acquired from my father was almost entirely lost during my apprenticeship; I had, however, an opportunity at intervals of perusing Goadby's Weekly Entertainer, and used to puzzle my little head about riddles and enigmas, and felt much pleasure in perusing the anecdotes which were occasionally interspersed through the pages."

Whilst at the shoemaker's a curious incident occurred: "There were several of us, boys and men, out about twelve o'clock on a bright moonlight night. I think we were poaching. The party were in a field adjoining the road leading from my master's to S. Austell, and I was stationed outside the hedge to watch and give the alarm if any intruder should appear. While thus occupied I heard what appeared to be the sound of a horse approaching from the town, and I gave a signal. My companions paused and came to the hedge where I was, to see the passenger. They looked through the bushes, and I drew myself close to the hedge, that I might not be observed. The sound increased, and the supposed horseman seemed drawing near. The clatter of the hoofs became more and more distinct. We all looked to see who and what it was, and I was seized with a strange, indefinable feeling of dread; when, instead of a horse, there appeared coming towards us, at an easy pace, but with the same sound which first caught my ear, a creature about the height of a large dog. It went close by me, and as it passed, it turned upon me and my companions huge fiery eyes that struck terror to all our hearts. The road where I stood branched off in two directions, in one of which there was a gate across. Towards the gate it moved, and, without any apparent obstruction, went on at its regular trot, which we heard several minutes after it had disappeared. Whatever it was, it put an end to our occupation, and we made the best of our way home.

"I have often endeavoured in later years, but without success, to account, on natural principles, for what I then heard and saw. As to the facts, I am sure there was no deception. It was a night of unusual brightness, occasioned by a cloudless full moon. The creature was unlike any animal I had then seen, but from my present recollections it had much the appearance of a bear, with a dark shaggy coat. Had it not been for the unearthly lustre of its eyes, and its passing through the gate as it did, there would be no reason to suppose it anything more than an animal perhaps escaped from some menagerie. That it did pass through the gate without pause or hesitation I am perfectly clear. Indeed, we all saw it, and saw that the gate was shut, from which we were not distant more than twenty or thirty yards. The bars were too close to admit the passage of an animal of half its apparent bulk; yet this creature went through without effort or variation of its pace."

He was roughly and cruelly treated by his master, who would beat him with the last, and at one time for a while maimed him. At length he felt that he could endure the bondage no more, and with sixteen-pence ha'penny in his pocket he ran away with the intention of going to Plymouth and seeking a berth on board a man-of-war.

At this time Sam's father was in somewhat better circumstances. He was chiefly employed in what was called riding Sherborne. There was at that time scarcely a bookseller in Cornwall; and the only newspaper known among the common people was the Sherborne Mercury, published weekly by Goadby and Co., who also issued the Weekly Entertainer. The papers were not sent by post, but by private messengers, who were termed Sherborne men. Drew, senior, was one of these. Between Plymouth and Penzance were two stages on the main road, each about forty miles; and there were branch riders, in different directions, who held regular communication with each other and with the establishment at Sherborne. Their business was to deliver the newspapers, Entertainers, and any books that had been ordered, to collect the money, and to take fresh orders. Mr. Drew's stage was from S. Austell to Plymouth. He always set off on his journey early on Monday morning and returned on Wednesday.

When Samuel Drew had made up his mind to run away, he did not choose the direct road for fear of encountering his father, but took that by Liskeard.

"I went on through the night, and feeling fatigued, went into a hay-field and slept. My luggage was no encumbrance; as the whole of my property, besides the clothes I wore, was contained in a small handkerchief. Not knowing how long I should have to depend on my slender stock of cash, I found it necessary to use the most rigid economy. Having to pass over either a ferry or toll-bridge, for which I had to pay a halfpenny, feeling my present situation, and knowing nothing of my future prospects, this small call upon my funds distressed me, I wept as I went on my way. The exertion of walking and the fresh morning air gave me a keener appetite than I thought it prudent to indulge. I, however, bought a penny loaf, and with a halfpenny-worth of milk in a farmer's house ate half of my loaf for breakfast. In passing through Liskeard my attention was attracted by a shoemaker's shop, in the door of which a respectable-looking man, whom I supposed to be the master, was standing. Without any intention of seeking employment in this place, I asked him if he could give me work; and he, taking compassion, I suppose, on my sorry appearance, promised to employ me the next morning. Before I could go to work tools were necessary; and I was obliged to lay out a shilling on these. Dinner, under such circumstances, was out of the question; for supper I bought another halfpenny-worth of milk, ate the remainder of my loaf, and for a lodging again had recourse to the fields. The next morning I purchased another penny loaf and renewed my labour. My employer soon found that I was a miserable tool, yet he treated me kindly. I had now but one penny left, and this I wished to husband till my labour brought a supply; so for dinner I tied my apron-strings tighter and went on with my work. My abstinence subjected me to the jeers of my shopmates. One of them said to another, 'Where does our shopmate dine?' and the response was, 'Oh! he always dines at the sign of the Mouth.' Half of the penny loaf which I took with me in the morning I had allotted for my supper; but before night came I had pinched it nearly all away in mouthfuls through mere hunger. Very reluctantly I laid out my last penny, and with no enviable feelings sought my former lodging in the open air."

But on the following day Samuel's father, having learned where he was, came to remove him and take him back to S. Austell. Compensation was made to Baker, his indenture was cancelled, and he remained at Polpea, where Mr. Drew now had a little farm, for about four months.

Drew, the father, not only was occupied as a Sherborne rider, but he was also a contractor for carrying the mail between S. Austell and Bodmin, and he chiefly employed his eldest son, Jabez, in carrying the mails.

"At one time in the depth of winter I was borrowed to supply my brother's place, and I had to travel in the darkness of night through frost and snow a dreary journey, out and home, of more than twenty miles. Being overpowered with fatigue, I fell asleep on the horse's neck, and when I awoke discovered that I had lost my hat. The wind was keen and piercing, and I was bitterly cold. I stopped the horse and endeavoured to find out where I was; but it was so dark that I could scarcely distinguish the hedges on each side of the road, and I had no means of ascertaining how long I had been asleep or how far I had travelled. I then dismounted and looked around for my hat; but seeing nothing of it, I turned back, leading the horse, determined to find it if possible; for the loss of a hat was to me of serious consequence. Shivering with cold, I pursued my solitary way, scrutinizing the road at every step, until I had walked about two miles, and was on the point of giving up the search, when I came to a receiving house, where I ought to have delivered a packet of letters, but had passed it when asleep. To this place the post usually came about one o'clock in the morning, and it was customary to leave a window unfastened, except by a large stone outside, that the family might not be disturbed at so unseasonable an hour. I immediately put the letter-bag through the window, and having replaced the stone, was turning round to my horse, when I perceived my hat lying close to my feet. I suppose that the horse, knowing the place, must have stopped at the window for me to deliver my charge; but having waited until his patience was exhausted, had pursued his way to the next place. My hat must have been shaken off by his impatient movements."

The remarkable thing about this incident is that the horse was quite blind, yet it could go its accustomed road, and stop at accustomed places, without seeing. By all the family this sagacious animal was much prized, but Samuel's father felt for it a special regard; and the attachment between the master and his faithful servant was, to all appearance, mutual. Many years before, the poor beast, in a wretched condition from starvation and ill-usage, had been turned out on a common to die. The owner willingly sold it for little more than the value of the hide; and his new possessor, having by care and kindness restored it to health and strength, soon found that he had made a most advantageous bargain. For more than twenty years he and his blind companion travelled the road together. After the horse was past labour it was kept in the orchard and tended with almost parental care. Latterly it became unable to bite the grass, and the old man regularly fed it with bread sopped in milk. In the morning it would put its head over the orchard railing, towards its master's bedroom, and give its accustomed neigh, whereupon old Mr. Drew would jump out of bed, open the window, and call to the horse, "My poor old fellow, I will be with thee soon." And when the animal died, he would not allow the skin or shoes to be taken off, but had the carcase buried entire.

Samuel tells another story of instinct in brute beasts:—

"Our dairy was under a room which was used occasionally as a barn and apple-chamber, into which the fowls sometimes found their way, and, in scratching among the chaff, scattered the dust on the pans of milk below, to the great annoyance of my mother-in-law. In this a favourite cock of hers was the chief transgressor. One day in harvest she went into the dairy, followed by her little dog, and finding dust again thrown on the milk-pans, she exclaimed, 'I wish that cock were dead!' Not long after, she being with us in the harvest field, we observed the little dog dragging along the cock, just killed, which with an air of triumph he laid at my mother-in-law's feet. She was dreadfully exasperated at the literal fulfilment of her hastily uttered wish, and, snatching a stick from the hedge, attempted to give the luckless dog a beating. The dog, seeing the reception he was likely to meet with, where he expected marks of approbation, left the bird and ran off, she brandishing her stick and saying in a loud, angry tone, 'I'll pay thee for this by and by.' In the evening she was about to put her threat into execution, when she found the little dog established in a corner of the room and a large one standing before it. Endeavouring to fulfil her intention by first driving off the large dog, he gave her plainly to understand that he was not at all disposed to relinquish his post. She then sought to get at the small dog behind the other, but the threatening gesture and fiercer growl of the large one sufficiently indicated that the attempt would be not a little perilous. The result was that she was obliged to abandon her design. In killing the cock I can scarcely think the dog understood the precise import of my stepmother's wish, as his immediate execution of it would seem to imply. The cock was a more recent favourite, and had received some attentions which had been previously bestowed upon himself. This, I think, had led him to entertain a feeling of hostility to the bird, which he did not presume to indulge until my mother's tone and manner indicated that the cock was no longer under her protection. In the power of communicating with each other which these dogs evidently possessed, and which, in some instances, has been displayed by this species of animal, a faculty seems to be developed of which we know very little. On the whole, I never remember to have met with a case in which, to human appearance, there was a nearer approach to moral perception than in that of my father's two dogs."

Samuel Drew remained with his father's family from midsummer, 1782, till the autumn of the same year, and then took a situation in a shoemaker's shop at Millbrook, on the Cornish side of the estuary of the Tamar. After having been there for a year he moved to Cawsand and then to Crafthole, where he got mixed up in smuggling ventures.

Port Wrinkle, which Crafthole adjoins, lies about the middle of the extensive bay reaching from Looe Island to the Rame Head. It is little more than a fissure among the rocks which guard the long line of coast; and being exposed to the uncontrolled violence of the prevailing winds, affords a very precarious shelter.

Notice was given through Crafthole one evening, about the month of December, 1784, that a vessel laden with contraband goods was on the coast, and would be ready to discharge her cargo. At nightfall Samuel Drew, with the rest of the male population, made towards the port. One party remained on the rocks to make signals and dispose of the goods when landed; the other, of which he was one, manned the boats. The night was intensely dark; and but little progress had been made in discharging the vessel's cargo when the wind freshened, with a heavy sea. To prevent the ship being driven on to the rocks it was found expedient to stand off from the port; but this greatly increased the risk to those in the boats. Unfavourable as these circumstances were, all seemed resolved to persevere; and several trips were made between the vessel and the shore. The wind continuing to increase, one of the men in the boat with Drew had his hat blown off, and in leaning over the gunwale in his attempt to secure it, upset the boat, and three of the men were drowned. Samuel and two others clung to the keel for a time, but finding that they were drifting out to sea, they were constrained to let go and sustain themselves by swimming. But the night was pitch dark, and immersed in the waters they knew not in which direction to swim. Samuel had given himself up as lost, when he laid hold of a tangled mass of floating seaweed, and was able to sustain himself on that. At length he approached some rocks near the shore, upon which he and two other men, the only survivors of seven, managed to crawl; but they were so benumbed with cold and so much exhausted by their exertions that the utmost they could do was to cling to the rocks and let the sea wash over them. When a little recovered, they shouted for help, but the other boatmen were concerned in transporting their lading of kegs on shore, and not till the vessel had discharged all her cargo did they make any attempt to rescue the half-drowned men. Eventually they removed them to a farmhouse, where a blazing fire was kindled on the hearth and fresh faggots piled on it, while the half-drowned men, who were placed in a recess of the chimney, unable to relieve themselves, were compelled to endure the excessive heat which their companions thought was necessary to restore animation. The result was that they were half roasted. Samuel Drew says: "My first sensation was that of extreme cold. It was a long time before I felt the fire, though its effects are still visible on my legs, which are burnt in several places. The wounds continued open more than two years, and the marks I shall carry to my grave."

The death of his elder brother Jabez produced a profound impression on Samuel, and he became a Methodist.

"For the space of about four or five years I travelled through different parts of Cornwall, working whenever I could obtain employment; and during this period, waded through scenes of domestic distress, which can be interesting only to myself. Literature was a term to which I could annex no idea. Grammar I knew not the meaning of. An opportunity, however, now offering one an advance in wages at S. Austell, I embraced it, and came hither to work with rather an eccentric character. My master was by trade a saddler, had acquired some knowledge of book-binding, and hired me to carry on the shoe-making for him. My master was one of those men who will live anywhere, but get rich nowhere. His shop was frequented by persons of a more respectable class than those with whom I had previously associated; and various topics became alternately the subjects of conversation. I listened with all that attention which my labour and good manners would permit me, and obtained among them some little knowledge. About this time disputes ran high in S. Austell between the Calvinists and Arminians, and our shop afforded a considerable scene of action. In cases of uncertain issue, I was sometimes appealed to to decide upon a doubtful point. This, perhaps, flattering my vanity, became a new stimulus to action. I listened with attention, examined dictionaries, picked up many words, and, from an attachment which I felt to books that were occasionally brought to his shop to bind, I began to have some view of the various theories with which they abounded. The more, however, I read, the more I felt my own ignorance; and the more I felt my own ignorance, the more invincible became my energy to surmount it; and every leisure moment was now employed in reading one thing or other.... After having worked with this master about three years, I well recollect, a neighbouring gentleman brought Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding to be bound. I had never seen or heard of these books before. I took an occasion to look into them, when I thought his mode of reasoning very pretty and his arguments exceedingly strong. I watched all opportunities of reading for myself, and would willingly have laboured a fortnight to have had the books. They, however, were soon carried away, and with them all my future improvement by their means. I never saw his essay again for many years, yet the early impression was not forgotten, and it is from this accidental circumstance that I received my first bias for abstruse subjects.

"My master growing inattentive to his shoe-making trade, many of my friends advised me to commence business for myself, and offered me money for that purpose. I accepted the offer, started accordingly, and by mere dint of application, in about one year discharged my debts and stood alone. My leisure hours I now employed in reading, or scribbling anything which happened to pass my mind."

Thus he went on till 1798, when he laid the foundation of an Essay on the Immortality of the Soul. Whilst engaged upon this he had T. Paine's Age of Reason put into his hands. He read it, but saw the fallacy of many of his arguments, and he wrote his remarks on the book, and published them in pamphlet form at S. Austell in 1799.

Through this tract he obtained acquaintance with the Rev. John Whitaker, to whom he showed his MS. on The Immortality of the Soul, and was encouraged to revise, continue, and complete the essay, and it was published in November, 1802.

"During these literary pursuits I regularly and constantly attended on my business, and do not recollect that ever one customer has been disappointed by me through these means. While attending to my trade, I sometimes catch the fibres of an argument, which I endeavour to note the prominent features of, and keep a pen and ink by me for the purpose. In this state, what I can collect through the day remains on any paper which I have at hand till the business of the day is dispatched and my shop shut up, when, in the midst of my family, I endeavour to analyze, in the evening, such thoughts as had crossed my mind during the day."

At one time the bent of Drew's mind was towards astronomy, but when he considered how impossible it was for him, without means, to purchase a powerful telescope, to make any progress in the study of the stars, he abandoned the thought and devoted himself to metaphysics—perhaps one of the most unprofitable of all studies. His works were, however, read by some when they issued from the press, and are now no longer even looked into.

A friend one day remarked to him, "Mr. Drew, more than once I have heard you quote the line—

How do you make that out?"

"I will tell you by my own experience," replied Drew. "When I began business I was a great politician. For the first year I had too much to think about to indulge my propensity for politics; but, getting a little ahead in the world, I began to dip into these matters again, and entered into newspaper argument as if my livelihood depended on it; my shop was filled with loungers, who came to canvass public measures. This encroached on my time, and I found it necessary sometimes to work till midnight to make up for the hours I lost. One night, after my shutters were closed, and I was busily employed, some little urchin who was passing put his mouth to the keyhole of the door, and with a shrill pipe called out, 'Shoemaker! Shoemaker! Work by night and run about by day!' Had a pistol been fired off at my ear I could not have been more confounded. From that time I turned over a new leaf. I ceased to venture on the restless sea of politics, or trouble myself about matters which did not concern me. The bliss of ignorance on political topics I often experienced in after life—the folly of being wise my early history shows."

His sister kept house for him. One market-day a country-woman entered his shop, and having completed her purchases, remarked that she thought he would be more comfortable if he had a wife. Drew assented, but said, "I don't know any one who would have me." "Oh! that's easily settled," said the woman, and left. Next market-day she returned, bringing her buxom, apple-cheeked daughter with her. "There, Mr. Drew," said she; "I brought this maid, who will make 'ee a good wife."

Samuel demurred; he neither knew the family nor the qualities and character of the wench.

"Lor' bless 'ee!" said the woman, when he made these objections, "take her. The trial of the pudding is in the eating."

He declined the proposal, however; but this incident turned his mind to matrimony, and on April 17th, 1791, when in his twenty-seventh year, he married Honor Halls, and by her had five sons and three daughters. His wife's immediate fortune was £10, a sum of great importance at that time to him. Three years after it was increased by a legacy of £50.

Having made a certain amount of success with his Essay on the Immortality of the Soul, Drew next undertook one on The Identity and Resurrection of the Human Body, and this was published in 1809.

Into a controversy he was engaged in with Mr. Polwhele in 1800 on Methodism we need not enter, but it made no breach of friendly feeling between Mr. Polwhele and him, and it was at the request of the former that Drew wrote the little account of his life that appeared in Polwhele's Literary Characters, 1803.

Having experienced his own great difficulties in acquiring the principles of the English grammar, in 1804 he gave a course of lectures on that subject. These lectures, which occupied about two hours, were delivered on four evenings of the week, two being allotted to each sex separately. A year completed the course of instruction, and for this each pupil paid thirty shillings. He was able to illustrate his lectures very happily with anecdote and from his own experience, so as to render the barren study of grammar interesting and entertaining. Though never able to write first-class English, and often clumsy in diction, yet he was studiously correct in grammar, if often awkward in construction of a sentence.

In the year 1805 he gave up his cobbling business and devoted himself entirely to his pen. Seeing his value as a polemic writer in favour of the fundamental doctrines of Christianity, several of the clergy of Cornwall were anxious that he should join the Church; but his early association with Dissent, and his ignorance of Catholic doctrine, induced him to remain where he was in the Methodist Connection.

He next wrote an Essay on the Being and Attributes of the Deity, and a reply to Thomas Prout, On the Divinity of Christ and the Eternal Sonship. All this was very well in its way at the time, but is now so much waste paper, used only for covering jampots.

In 1814 Samuel Drew undertook his most voluminous work, the History of Cornwall, one which he was wholly unqualified to undertake, as he had no familiarity with the MS. material on which that history should be based; and it was a mere compilation from already printed matter.

In 1819 Samuel Drew removed to Liverpool, where he acted as local preacher in the Methodist meeting-houses. To this period belongs the epigram written on him by Dr. Clarke:—

He became editor of the Imperial Magazine, and after a short while in Liverpool, migrated to London.

In 1828 he lost his wife. "When my wife died," he was wont to say, "my earthly sun set for ever."

In 1833 he returned to Cornwall, and died at Helston on March 29th, at the age of sixty-eight.

Slender in form, with a head remarkably small for the length of his limbs, his stature exceeded the common height. He had a searching and intelligent eye, was somewhat uncouth in his movements, but was full of energy of mind and body. He sometimes wrote verses, which only a very partial biographer would call poetry. But what he prided himself on being was not a poet, but a metaphysician.

The story goes that S. Augustine was walking one day by the seashore, musing on the attributes of God and on the demonstration of the Divine nature, when he saw a child digging a hole in the sand, and then with a fan-shell ladling the sea-water into the hole it had made.

S. Augustine paused and asked, "My child, what are you about?"

"I am going to empty the sea into this hole," replied the child.

Then S. Augustine entered into himself and thought: "Can a man with the limited capacity of his brain embrace the infinity of the Divine nature and perfections? Is it not like emptying the sea into a tiny hole to try to effect this?"

Drew's life labours were just doing this. There was a certain amount of intellectual ingenuity in his arguments, but that was all. Not a leaf that he wrote is of any permanent value, but that it was of value at the time when he wrote I should be the last to deny.

There is abundant material for a life of Samuel Drew. Not only may it be found in the life by his son mentioned at the head of this article, and in his own biographical memoir given by R. Polwhele, but his son J. H. Drew also published a second memoir, under the title Samuel Drew, M. A., the Self-Taught Cornishman; A Life Lesson, published in 1861; also in Lives of the Illustrious, by J. P. Edwards, 1852; and Mr. Smiles has devoted some pages to him in Self-Help, 1866. The portrait of Samuel Drew is given as frontispiece to the first volume of The Imperial Magazine, 1819, and also to the Life by his son.