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THE
■rS
'entlemans Magazine
Volume CCLXXI.
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JULY TO DECEMBER 1891 |
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|
tODESSE &• DELECTARE |
m, |
5_^^ E Pluribus Unum |
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Editid by SYLVANUS URBAN, Gentleman |
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CHATTO & |
lon&on W I N D U S, 1 891 |
PICCADILLY |
trOTTISWOailB and CCI., KEW'STKBBT SQfAU LOHDOK
166429
CONTENTS of VOL. CCLXXI.
FACE
Algerian Hill-Town, Ufc in an. By Dr. J. E. Taylor, F.L.S. . 164 Among the Algerian Hills. By Dr. J. E. Tavlob, F.L.S. . . 472 Anuradhapura : a Pre-Christian City. By C, F. GORDON
Gumming 560
Aubrey, John, of Wilts, By Rev. B. S. Johns, M.A. . . .279 Australian Aborigmes, The Customs ot By C. N. BaRham . 329 Ballad, The, of the Hulk, By H, SCHUTZ Wilson . , , 416 Beaconsfield, I-ord, Was he the Sun ? By J. A. Farrer . . 254 Beverages, Summer, for Fat People. By Dr. Yorke-Davies . 153
Burial, A Pauper's. By George Holmes 93
Captain Kitty : a Salvationist Sketch. By Lillias WasserMANN 109 Churches, Odd Items in Old. By Sarah Wilson ... 94 Commonplace- Book, A By Major-Gen. Patrick Maxwell . 575 Competitive Utopia, A By Arthur Ransom .... 44
Ciy, The, of the Saxon, By M. A CuRTOis ao2
Customs, The, of Australian Aborigines. By C. N. Barham . 339 Cntting-out, The, of the " Heraiione." By Fleetwood H. Pellew. 519
David, A Song of. By George Holmes 536
Day, A, at the Meydoum Pyramid. By Rev. H. D, Rawnsley,
M.A 260
English Sparrow, Thel—
I. A Sketch. By JoHN Watson, F.L.S 398
n. For the Prosecution, By CHARLES Whitehead . . 399 HI. For the Defence. By Rev. Theodore Wood . . .407
IV. In America. By G. W. Murdoch 412
Expletives, Some English. By Thomas H. B. Graham . , 192 Fanning, The Pleasures of. By Rev. W. G. Watkins, M.A. . 25 Flowers and the Poets. By Spencer Moore . , . .171 Folk-Tales, The, of Sardinia. By E.Sidney Hartland, B.A. . 33 Forefathers, The Naming of our. By W. Wheater . . . 623 Foulon and Berthier, The True History of. By E. Perronet
Thompson 341
French Revolution, The Great Talkers of the. Part I. By W. H.
D.4VENPORT Adams 478
Part II 606
From a Country Parsonage. By A Country Parson ... 50 Goethe's Mother. By Rev. Dr. Joseph Strauss, M.A. . . 590 Great Railway Centre, A. By JOHN SansOME .... 180 Grindstone Theory, The, of the Milky Way.; By J. Ellard Gore,
F.R.AS 3S9
Harriet Shelley's Letters, On Some Extracts from. By Annie E.
Ireland 232
"Hermione," The Cutting-out of the. By Fleetwood H. Pellew 519
" Incident, The. ' By James Hutton 65
Jean Chounn : a Tale of La Vendue. By C. E, MeEtkerke . 310 Jenkins' Ear War, The, and Vernon. By H. P, Roberts . . 137
Jerome Cardan. By W. G. Waters 384
John Aubrey of Wills, By Rev. B. G. Johns, M.A. . . -279 Journal, The, of Richard Bere. By Major Martin A. S. Hume . 44°
Kingfishers. By FRANK FINN, B.A, F.Z.S 'ifi\
Life in an Algerian Hill-Town. By Dr. J. E. TAYLOR, F.L.S. . 164 Life in the North Sea. By Alexander Gordon .... 78 I^ndon History, Two Primitive Relics of. By G. Laurence
Gomme, F.S.A. . , 499
Iv Contents.
MCl
Meydoum Pyramid, A Day at ihe. By Rev. H. D. RawnSLW, M.A. 360 Wilky Way, The Gtindsionc Theory of ihe. By J. Ellard CORE,
F.R.A.S. 359
Moorlind -Shccp-Farm, A. By Ceorce RadfORD . . . ii-t
Mrs. Hibbcrt. By M. F. W. CROSS 537
NamdcM. By J. Lawson 311
Naming. The, of iiur Fofcfnthers. By \V. Whkatkr . . 613
Notes 00 the Lias and Trbs Cliffs of the Severn. By C. ParkiksON 293 Odd Hem* in Old Cliurcbes. By Sakah Wilson. ... 94 On some Extracts fruQi Harriet Shetleys Letters. By AXKIE E.
IRKMNU 23J
Oxford Bcnuty, The Troubles of an. By Phu.ip Si>claik . . aij
pR2Cs on Play«. By J. \\. McCakTIIV, M.P. ioo, 304, 312, 430, 538, 631
fiHipcr'* R11ri.1l, A. By Ckokok )]0LMES 93
Pcail, The, of Halii. By n I
I'leasurc*, The, of I'anning. Uy Rc»-. M. C WATKi>f3, M.j\. , 1% I'oels, Flowers and the. By SPENCf.R Moobp. . . . .171
Railway Cciiire. A Great By John Sansomf. . . . . l«o
keito^rcssion. Zoological. By H. l!. Wi:lls, U.Sc. . . , 346
Richard Bcfc, The Journal of. By Major Martix A. S. Hlme . 440
Sakntionin Sketch, A : Captain Kiny. By Liluas Wassermak.n 109 Sardini.-t, The Folk-T.-Ucs of. By E. SlDNBV Hartl.«nd, B.A, . 33
Saxon, The Cry of the. By M. A. CuRTOis soa
Severn, Notesonthe LiasandTriasCliflsof the. By C. I'ARKISSON 39a
Shakespeare, William, Naturalist. By .Arthur tlAVE . . . 364
Shecp-Fami, A Moorland. By GKORdIi RaI)FOR|i ... 124
Some English Expletives. By Thomas H. B. Graham . . 191
Some London Streets. By E. K. I'F.ARCii 300
Spiritual Failure, .■\. By T. SPARROW 430
Summer Beverages for Fat People. By Dr. N. E. YORKE-DA^ES 153
Suppliant, The. By IsA. J. Postcate 631
.Hwinburnes Poeins, The Thcolog>- of. By Robert Suindler . 459 Tnble Talk. By Svi.Vanus Uriian :—
Kabet.iis Abroad -Master Tht'odule Rabelais .... WJ-^m
Efforts towards the He if eel ion ing of the Book— A New Mania ^^k
— Guide-book to Books jl j^B
Le Morte Dartimr— Heineon Englishmen— Acior.Managemcnt 319
Sir Walter Scott— Scoit as seen in his Journal- Scott 'a Last
Words— Eccentricities oF Holiday-inakms . . . 437
Progress of the Bull-Fi^iht in France— Author- Managers —
Actor V. Author 535
Promised Additions to Pepys— A Domestic Interior from
Pcpys— A " Pentateuch of Printing " 639
Talkers, The tireai, of the French Revolution. By W. H.
Dave.nport Adams 478
Part II 606
Theology, Tlie, of Mr. Swinbumtfs Poems. By RorerT ShixQLER 459
Troubles, The, of an Oxford Beauty. By Philip Sinclair . . 313 True History. The, of Fouton and Berthier. By E. PerROKEI'
Thompson 341
Two Primitive Relics of LondoD History. By C. LAURENCE
GoMMK, F.S.A 499
Vernon and the Jenkins' Ear War. By H. P. ROBERTS . . IJ7
Victor Hugo's Lyrics. By CECILIA E. Meetk».rke . . . $09
Was Lord Bcaconslicld the Sun ? ByJ. A. Fakker . . . 3S4
William Sh.ikespearc, Naturalist. By ARTHl'R GayE . . . 361J
Zoological RetrograsaioRt By H, C. Wells^ B.Sc, . , 240
THE
GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE
July 1891.
THE PEARL OF HAFIZ,
Bv n.
THE town of Old Quay lies on the farther side of a certain important river in the North of England, and was once well known to sailors all the seas over, owing to its proximity to the river's mouth, and to the fact that vessels frequently unloaded there and sought repairs in the various dry docks and yards, from whence arose a constant clatter of rivetlers and platers at their work. Now, how- ever, it is much less busy than formerly, owing to the competition of a new port on the south side of the river some few miles higher up.
Thus it had gradually attained to an antique and picturesque appearance ; sundry warehouses, for example, had fallen into decay on the river's bank, and at low tide showed black misshapen limbs, on which the green seaweeds, like an evil disease, festered in spots.
The houses rose up tier above tier, from the very brink of the river to the full height of the hill behind, red-tiled for the most part, with curious tall and crooked chimney-stacks that reminded the stranger of a foreign town ; here and there a gable end had fallen in, and the irregular outline of its ruin added to the general effect of the whole- Down by the quayside, and along the lower length of the town, ran a curiously narrow and curving road, that but barely admitted the passage of a cart.
All the length of this thoroughfare was crowded with public- houses and drinking booths ; here and there, indeed, a marine store displayed a dingy window stuffed with ancient clothes, offering VOL. ccLxxi. NO. 1927. B
p
i/" ::: A -I; JrJk GeuitemtCt Mff^aiinc: '.■ ^
facilities for reopcniog a credit next door ; nor were there wanting sundry chandlers' shops, from whose doors a pungent odour was emitted. Occasionally the signs of other trades also nti^ht be seen : enoTmoux pointed boots bung high in air, and on a windy dny were a frcfiueni source of alarm to the passers-by ; sundry- inscribed boards prochiincd that up the various alleys that opened on to the londway travellers might be housed for the night as cheaply as the good Samaritan lodj^cd \i\% prolf)^!: But the public-houses so greatly picdominateO, and were there indeed in such numbers, that a certain well-known character in the town, of proved capacity, had refused to back liimsclf to walk down the length of it, takca glass at each, and pronounce hi* own name at the other end- There were, }iowevcr, as was but natural, one or two of these places of Tciort more popular than the rest, notably " The Spotted Dog" and "The Goat in Uools," where custom and a reputed easiness in the landlord had founded a reputation. The last- named inn was the favourite resort of merciinnt sailors, and stood in the centre of the narrow street, a little back from the pavement ; in front stood a tall masl from which swung a signboard, whereon a fantastic creature in large sea-boots was understood — by the artist, at all events— to be capering vi*-aciously.
One night towards the close of November, ten years ago, it chanced that the "Goat in Boots" was unusually crowded- A large East Indiaman had just come in, and the inhabitants of the town, relishing a now rare honour, had come in forci; to see the strangers and hear the stories they would be willing enough to tell.
In the taproom a bright fire bla/ed, calUng forth a restwnsivc gleam from the dark panellingthat ran round the room. The floor was clean and sanded, the long tables resounded with the clink of pewter and the ring of glasses, and the atmosphere was thick with laughter and tobacco smoke.
Round the chimney corner, and lounging in the arm-chairs pro- vided for superior guests, were two or three of the new comers, whose words were reverently listened to by the habituei of the place, whose knowledge of naval matters, though great, was essentially theoretical. Nearer the door sat a swarthy seaman, gay with bright coloured neck- cloth, rings in his ears and on his fingers, who was earnestly endea- vouring, notwithstanding occasional hiccoughs, to convince his neighbour — a timid shoemaker from next door — of the dangers of the deep and the better security of terra firma. Quite close to the entrance was a nondescript group, consisting generally of those who hoped to scrape acquaintance with the new arrivals, and, by learning their
The Pearl of Hafis. 3
Kakaencs, to gloaa advantage for themselves ; amongst whom louts — tbalooe-CTcdiCrnutd -running rac« of men— and rcd-faccd, Amazonian fcoila; «)io might fitly have lectured on the equality of llie sexes, vecflMly visible.
Id At middtc of the room and at a tabic by himself lat a tall,
wklte^jrcd, venerable old man, who looked superior to, and y-et
quite K fab ease among his strangi: companions. He might have
bMD observed to be taking secret note of all that was going on out
of tic comer of his half-shut eyes ; yet, though his eyes i«-cic thus
affunuly only half open, his glance was dear and kc«n as a
kni'9, and the paper he held in his hands was merely a pretext for
eiciping observation and avoiding cooversstioa One figure more
Ctpecially occupied his, as well as, indeed, the general aitcntion—
that, lumely, of a stranger who was silting in the comer nearest the
lire in the dtief ])bce, with a wise-looking parrot on his shoulder and
I % cheroot between his lips.
Stories of ad^-cniure had been freely circulating amidst a din of lin^ter, appbuve, ajid the clink of pewter, but when the owner of the parrot spoke, his individuality seemed to assert itself, for the Dotse gradually ceased and the space of silence about him gradually widened.
He was certainly of interesting appearance : his hair was long and bong in curls about hi* shoulders ; his face, through exposure to the sun, was of a dark tan hue, while his eyes were of the deep blue colour that typifies the sea on a summer day, and is only to be found amoi^st the race of sailors. His hands and anns were tattooed with quaint symbols and d<;vices, and in tlie lines of his mouth was visible a humorous expression, which, taken in irgnnection with his easy attitudes, gave him the air of one who h.15 seen the world and found it to his liking.
There seemed, indeed, to cling about him a scent of romance and adventure : a Sindbad of the nineteenth century, imagination whispered, pUt<:kinjj;, when he spoke, expectation's sleeve.
Some of the b)tt3ndcr5 had remarked upon the strange colouring arid wise aspect of the parrot that sat upon his shou'iler and surveyed the company with cold penetrative eyes.
"Ay, ay," said he, in response to some query, "she's a wise bird, yon is, and knows more than many a human. The Indi.tn priest who gave her me said she WAS more nor fifty years old, and a curious history it was that he told of her. He believed there was a spirit inside of her. She was always findin' out things he'd have rather kept hid, and had a memory for them that was quite as perplexin' as it was
HI
i
4- The Gentlematis Magazine.
disgustin', so he laid. Ajr, ay," continued the sailor, stroking the pairot's head, " there's many a queer yam she could tell ye liad ahe a mind to, but she just holds ber tongue and laughs at the Colly of other people."
Here one of the bystanders, charmed by this description, endea- voured to conciliate the wise but cynical bird by also Kiroking her bead. She, however, resenting the impeninence, caught him by the forefinger and tweaked it so sharply that the blond was visible. Roars of laughter followed this reverse, whilst ihc unfortunate indi- vidual uttered hearty imiirerations, lo which the parrot listened intently, but not finding any fresh additions therein to her own vocabu- lar)', proceeded to shut her eyes in scornful manner and go to sleep.
" Ay, mates," began the sailor again, when the merriment had subsided, "she could IcU yc, had she a mind to do so, cjueer things enough, but as she won't, why, I'll tell ye a yarn myself about how this jewel came into my possession," drawing, as he spoke, a little green case forth from the inner pocket of his red-lined pilot coat, which lie placed on the table in front of him. Then, slowly opening it, he disclosed to the wondering gaze of the spectators a magnificeni pearl, which, for si/e, purity, and lustre, far surpassed any ever to be seen in the richest jewellers' windows.
" It shines like a lamp, in:ites," he continued, amidst the hum and rustle of admiration, holding it up between his fingers that its sheen might be the more apparent. " Twas an heirloom, as the great folks say, and has a history as long as my arm, I'll warrant ye, though I can only tell ye how it came to be in my possession. "Tis about a year or more agone that 1 was aboard Ihc ' Niiam ' outward bound for the East Indies. We'd put into Constantinople, however, to discharge freight and lake in coal, and finding the time hanging heavy on my hands, I wandered about a bit one day to sec the place. Well, I was tacking about up and down the main streets, trying to catch a glimpse of the ladies under their veils, which they wear, I blieve, to prevent their bein' found out. 'T ain't in women's nature> d'ye see, to wear a veil if so be as they're handsome. I was just re- tumin' to the ship then, when all of a sudden clap comes a hand on ray back, and turnin' round, whom did I see but the young Squire on whose place I'd been brought up at home.
" 'Jack ! ' says he. quite astonished, ' who'd ha' thought of seein' you here? Why, it's Fate,' says he, 'Kismet, sure enough, as they say out here. You're just the very man I want, so come along with
The Pearl of Hafiz. 5
rtve,' 5i)fs Iw, ' and Ml tell ye all about it," clappin' his ana ihrouBb ^*i\zi «nd halin' me along tike a p'liccman, takes mc to his hotel.
"^Vcll, (lashed if it wain't just one of tlicm Turltish women I'd \x& been snecrin' at I The young Squire had been travellin", d'ye
, inalun' a ' grand tour ' as h« called it, to complete his eddicauon : «ddicatk>n Dot bcln' complete, of course, witliout a lesson or two from the bit sex." Here the narrator paused a moment, gave a mighty niak at a nervous-looking little man near liim, drained his glass, and continued with 3 tmilc :
" He'd made up his mind to marry her there and then, run the blockade, and carry her olf if need were. There was need enough -and to spare indeed, for her I'a, d'ye sec, was a minister, a Pasha, they called him ; a hooked nose, fiery Turk, who hated Christians, and more eqiecially Englishmen, like pork, which those pagunds nay ii unclean, tltough they ain't over-clean themselves, if it comes to llat Well, not withtt Sliding all this, and ail I could say against it — ud I was Mrong against it, too, tellin' him us how he was overyoimg for the job, and could uke his clioicc in Engbnd when the proiwr lime came-~' Why,' says I, forgetting myself for the moment, ' as for mnnin' avay irilh a foreign gal in a veil — why, it's hke buyin' a pig in ipoke.'
" * Jack,' says he, Uughin' quite in a good humour at the notion, li it were, ' you'll be ready to eat your foolish words when once you've seen her.' Well, I didn't think so, but 1 said no mure, seein' the utclcsness of it, for 'tis the skipper pricks the chart and the sea- man must just obey.
" So I agreed to be at a certain point that night at eleven o'clock and follow out alt his instructions, liappen what might Well, I mi^t ha' been seen that night, at the verj' moment the clock was ittikin' ten, cbmbcrin' up a great tiigh wall that shut in the Nabob's paliss and grounds.
" I'd to wait, d'ye see, just below the wall, in the shadow of a fig-tree, for her to come, then lielp her over ttie wall by a rope ladder I had round my waist, and jump into the carriage which was to be there ready forus— ihc youngSquirehimself bein'ihe cabby, dressed out in linen togs and turban to distract atteniiun.
" "Tvras a nasty wall to climb, was yon : 1 doubt if I hadn't been a sailor I'd never ha' got to the top ; however, I managed after a bit jito get a foothold, and swingin' myself up to the top, lay there to get
breath, l-'irst thing 1 see is a great scowling sentry just below mc with a nasty heathen sword like a sickle waiting for me. Theic wasn't a moment to think about anything at all— I just made a jump
i
6 The GentUman's MagasiHe.
on to him there and then — almost fell on him, m rack, anil by good luck stunned him as I came down pretty hca\7 light on top of him. I was mighty plciscd it was him that was stunned and not mc, ta there'd ha' been mighty little chance of my ever netin' the light again, had he had a say id the matter. For fear, however, he might come to before the young lady was to arrive 1 took the turban ofThis head and tied it light round his mouth like a gag. and then, tying his hands behind his back, left cuilytocs senseless on the grass and hid m>-Geir in the shade of the fig-tree. Two or three minutes passed away, and I trembled at every sound, fearing lest an alarm had been given and it was all up. Vet all of a sudden comes a rustling noise, and, lo and behold, there she was ! Well, males, she was just Uke "
Here the narrator's imagination, proving unequal to the task, Sou^t a stimulus in the glass that had been judiciously ordered l^ one of the audience beforehand and placed beside him.
" Ay, ay," continued the sailor slowly, " it's no use talkin", but' she beat a fairy in a pantouiiinc hollow — a bit pale, i)erhaps, ihewa^ but her eyes shone like stars on a clear night in the Indian Seas, glimmcrin' as 'twere, with grace and beauty, like the pearl ye've seen to-night.
" Well, it wasn't many minutes before she was over that blessed wall and safe into the carriage t'other side. Off we drove to the hotel, and there that %-er)- evening they were married by an English clergyman who happened to be out there at ihe time. Ay ! married tight enough, no doubt about that : why, i gave her away myself and witnessed their signatures, ay, and got a kiss too for the job, and what I valued less at the time, mates, this here pearl as well," again producing it as he spoke from his pocket.
" No, no," cried the honest sailor in conclusion, " he promised true enough to love and to cherish hci till death did them |)an, else, squire or no squire, he'd not ha' had my help ! "
A murmur of applause greeted this manly and essentially British sentiment that so fitly brought the tale to a conclusion.
The storj' of ihc pearl had monopolised all attention, and the men ga;!cd reverently upon the possessor of a jewel that had been so romantically non. Polite attentions were plentifully shown the honest sailor, oflers of " something hot " resounded on all sides of him, but now mine host came forward and intimated, with depreca- ting smile and finger pointed to the clock, that the time had come when he, however unwillingly, was forced to close his doors and frown upon festivity.
The Pearl of Hafiz. 7
The company slowly broke up and dispersed in little groups of twos and threes, all discussing the sailor and his pearl and repeating again the ronaantic details of its history.
The venerable looking individual who, as was noticed above, had taken such an interest in all that was going on, though he had not joined in the throng of those who offered their services, was awaiting with impatience an opportunity of accosting the possessor of this priceless jewel. " Good-nights " were exchanged outside as the company broke up and went their various ways, and the sailor, who had refused all the invitations for prolonging the night that had been showered upon hiro, was left standing alone for a moment in the middle of the street.
The venerable old man, perceiving his opportunity, came up at once and thus accosted him.
" My friend," said he, " if I may without offence thus style a stranger, should it so happen that you seek a lodging I offer my humble roof to your notice."
Here he produced a card on which was inscribed in large
letteiv—
EBENEZER STALLYBRASS, 6 Marine Tettace.
FURM5HED APARTMESTS.
which he impressively handed over to the sailor.
"Ay," he continued slowly, "at 6 Marine Terrace, I, Ebenezer Stallyfarass, let lodgings ; charges moderate, all things cleanly and orderly, and an extraordinary fine prospect of the sea, which will be very pleasing to a sailor." " Ay," he commenced again after a moment's pause, " and lest ye should fear ye might be robbed I may tell ye that I am an Elder o' the Kirk and well respecked in the town."
"Ay," he concluded, after another and most impressive pause, during which the sailor had difficulty in subduing a smile, " at 6 Marine Terrace there's prayers morning and evening and all the comforts of a home."
It may be doubted whether the honest sailor would have included prayers in the category of home comforts, but at al! events he seemed impressed by what he heard, or perhaps it was rather that he was amused by the manners and character of his would-be host, for he reflected for a short space, and a humorous twinkle lit up his eye as he replied, " Well, thank ye, mate, I've got a berth for to-night, but I'll look ye up to-morrow, and maybe I'll stay with ye a bit, though ai to prayers, now, — welt, I'm one who's for prayer myself — but "
The Ginlkman's Afagazine.
"Ay, a)*," interrupted ihc other quickly, "prayen are no com* pulsory, but, eh mon ! yc1I just ha\-e been terribly neglecked at sei — t2ie main part of yc. Ay, 'iirill be just a gran' oppoftuniiy for ye if ye lodge with me."
The mariner laughed good-humouredty, amused as a prosperoui man may be when sympathised wilh for a lots he does not feel, then turning away with a hearty good-night, walked off down the street. H« had not gone vety far, however, before he felt a tap upon hii shoulder, and, looking quickly round, perceived the >xncrable Elder, who again accosted him. " Triend," he said, " I'm no one of those that tightly speak evil of my neighbours, but I'm thinkin' it's the plain duty of one man to another to w:im ye that there's some here who would rob yc a'most for the price of a glass of whisky."
" Ay," he continued, solemnly, " and wi" a pearl like yon upon yc it would be a sin no to take precautions. Now, if yc would like to deposit it wi' me for the right I'll take the risk vi' it, and III give ye a receipt for it the while," said he, taking as he spoke a boc^ fron his pocket, and carefully wetting a pencil between his teeth, pre- pared to save his neighbours from temptation.
"It's all right with nic, thank ye kindly," replied the sailor^ amu3cd at the other's warning and anxiety to bestow the pearl in a pUcc of security. " No, no," he continued, " you reckon I can prctiy well steer a right course by this time, fair weather or foul I " With this he moved away again, leaving Ebcnezer standing still with his book open in his hand, watching his retreating figure with anxious eyes ami fearful for his safely.
As the liun»t mariner ma<Ie his way homeward he might hare been heard to laugh again and again at the thought of his would-be landlord. Though he liad seen, like a certain famous traveller of old. " the manners and cities of men," he had not lost his native simplicity or been taught to distrust his neighbour ; nay, his travels had quickened his human interests, and led him to take new interest in ever)- fresh t)i)e of character he encountered. He had now, indeed, almost made up his mind to lodge at the house of the Elder, whereas a more cautious man would probably have hesitated to face^ such a formidable combination of qu.itities as went to make up Ebc neper's personality.
The honest mariner dimly guessed indeed that Kbenerer was a complex character, but he did not endeavour to fomi any analysis, but came to the simple conclusion that " Scoltie " was a mm customer, and from that fact promised himself some amusement.
The honest mariner, however, as we said above, troubled htamclf
The Pearl of IlafiM. 9
DM ifcont these things, but next day betook himtelf to Marine Tcmcc In order to inspect Ebcnczer's apaitments. He found tbcm much to his liking and full)' bearing out, so far ax he could see, tbe ilocnpiKin given of ihem. Not merely were the rooms neat and iimple, and commanded a good prospect of the sea, but it pretty puiour maid answered the bell, as it turned out, and added another JUnciion which was " very picasin' to a snilor." 1 1 was this, perha|u, nihir than the situation, or the fact that his landlord was an oiiytnal, otwentbc rusiy tcletcopc in the garden, as lai^e as a small cannon, c/ttncb be could have the gratuitous use, that clinched his desire nd ilctennincd hiro to h^ve his chest brought up thither at once.
Tne next few days passed by pleasantly enough, the sailor thought, u he peaceably smoked his pipe in the garden on a warm afternoon, lod in the evening sat in his arm-chair beside the red-bricked fire- plwe, where a fire aSways burned cheerily, keeping the hobs— those todieu so convenient for after-dinner enjoyment— warm and ready ^ their uses.
As for the "prayers— morning and evening" ilie honest Kailor
h»d dcToully attended at iirst, and had somewhat disconcerted
Ebcqcar — who previously had always been listened to by the two
*anni3 in perfect silence — by uttering devout, but unfortunately i!l-
linitd, amens : as for exam])le, when Ebcncicr paused to take in
a ^b supply of breath. What had AnaUy put an end to the sailor'^
autadancc was not the "prayer " so much as the " exposcetion," as
Ebeneier callu<I it, which followed, wherein he sustained the pan of
"devil':( advocate" with efficacy, exposing the weak side of various
apostles and divines with an unfailing satisfaction. '
" Ay." he remarked one evening in an " expoaeetion," suggested f
by a chaiHcr he h.id ju^l read from one of the Epistles, " ay, St. Paul,
now, had a gran' cloijuenoe, doubtless, and a choice of words quite
exiraordinnr)-,but he was aye over-weak in doctrine— whiles beseeching
instead o' threatening, and aye leaving the sinner a loophole for
escape. Vc cannot coax the sinner to righteousness wi' a kiss, but
wi' threats maun drive him afore ye ns an auld wife brings hame her
kye of an evening. ' Twas a great peety, too, he should write of
htCQself asbeia"weakin bodily presence and in speech contemptible.'
Ay, 'twas a pccty, indeed, he should ha' been so meek— ay, and a
sail peeQr that others who ha' the gifts should lack the opporiu-
neeties."
Then there ensued an impressive pause which was broken unex- I>ectedly by the sailor, who, but dimly understanding what had been i
I said, and believing something to be expected from him, audibly ^
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ejaculaied "Amen !" and iheieby so sUtrllcd the elder that some of the hard sayings destined for another fell upon himself.
Aftei this the sailor no longer attended prayers, notwithstanding the expostulations of the landlord, who enlarged upon the " building up " the " cxposcetion " never failed to effect
To this he bluntly replied that " there wasn't no chance for one of the crew if the skipper were trounced like that," alludinjf to above-mentioned attacks on the divines of old.
Indeed, he more than suspected that Ebcneier's scheme righteousness worked out in the form of an equation, whereby the election of one just man, viz., Ebcncjcr, was equivalent to the rejection of nincty-and-nine unjust persons, amongst whom the sailor felt he was hlm<;elf included.
He dimly guessed, indeed, that his future host combined several diverge qualities in his constitution, and, had he been gifted with the analytical spirit, he might have likened him to a prodigy of old, an I instance of the " iriforniis" class, composed of three very different ' eleiQcnls, of which three dements, or members rather we should call them, the Scot would generally predominate, assisted by the second — the lodging-house keeper— while on Sundays of course the Elder would reign supreme. It might be surmised, moreover, that on the remaining six days of the week the elements of the Scot and the lodging-house keeper— when any mutual advantage was obtainable — would be only loo ready to lay violent hands upon the unfortunate Elder and incontinently imprison him.
He had discovered very soon that it was not so much the desire to save him from destruction, as the extraordinary affection he had for his pearl, that had made Ebenezer so eager to secure him as a lodger.
For every evening after the Bible had been put away his landlord would come downstairs, and under pretence of seeing that his guest was comfortable, would enter into conversation and sit down oppo- site him. Ucfore he departed the conversation would he sure to turn sooner or later to the wonderful pearl ; the smry of course re- sulted, and finally, in answer to certain hints, the pearl itself wotild be drawn from its case, to prove, as it were, the authenticity of the story.
The sailor, indeed, was nothing loath to tell the romantic history as often as might be, but yet found mighty satisfaction in pretending not to notice Ebeneier's hints that came llutiering forth each evening after prayers, like bats or moths about a lamp, as he used to sUly reflect within himself.
The Pearl of Hafis. i,
Minjf were ihc groans Ebcneier had to give vent to before hit tuDO vould be perceived by his oblUKC lorfger, whose insensibility mnri^ increased ss the cagenieas of the other was tuore opcnJy di^lafed. The period of suspense was prolonged, in fact, each ctnuDg till, AS the sailor used to misehiei-ously describe it, " it wasn't tluebc had tmmt both wings and uras buxiin' about and srotind Ihc pearl like a bluebottle fly," that the torture was ended by its fKOdactton.
Here, indeed, the sailor felt he had liis host at a disadvantage, oad coakl repay with interest on the material side some of the severe bdels he had himself received in the :fpiiiiii3l discipline he had been tdbjccicd to.
On one occasion, indeed, he even went so fnr as to pretend he bad lost it, and Ebcnczcr's foce worked like that of a man in a fit. Indeed bis passion for the pearl was fast consuming him, and with his passion his hate of the owner of the pearl grew correspondingly, Dot, of course, because he envied him a mere camat possession, but that his spiritual piide was wounded at thus having to ask a fovour of one who was a niere castaway.
Matters, howcTer, came to a crisis one evening. It so happened that Ebeneier had been reading at prayers that night concerning the merchant in the Bible who sold all his possessions in order to buy a pearl of ureal price. The incident thus recorded had taken imme- diate hold of his invagination, for the merchant, it seemed to him, had been in a similar position to that wherein lie himself was placed at the moment. The question that at once occupied him was the amount of the sum thus raised by the merchant that proved sufficient for the purpose.
" Could it have been as much as ^500? " cogitated Ebene^er, as he slowly descended the stairs, groaning within himself the while at ihe immensity of the amount.
He found his lodger at home, as was usual in the evening, and after a few preliminary and inconsequent remarks, skilfully, as was his wont, led up to the great subject. When again the jewel was disclosed, he could restrain himself no longer, but was fain to discover once Iot all — though several times previously be had thrown out judicious feelers on tlie subject — whether his lodger would be willing 10 part with it — at a price.
"May be," he (juestioned insidiously — "ye can give a guess as to what the value of it roi]^ht be," peering out, as he spoke, from under his bushy eyebrows at his careless lodger who sat io the arm-chair opposite.
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" Oh I I dMsny a thousand pounds, maybe," replied the other in his oETluind way.
" Eh ! a thousand pound.^ 1 " echoed the horrorsinick Ebcncrcr. "Man t }% can never mean it. Na, na, )-ou sailor folk arc just a daft set and diona ken the right value of siller. Na, na, yc'll have just made a mistake," he continued, visibly brightening at his suggei- lion ; " na doubt but yc meant five hundred, and thai maybe would be mair nor it would be worth from a strict mercantile point of view," he concluded thoughtfully, fearing lest he might be influenced by the scriptural parallel above mentioned and be offering too much.
" Well, well," replied the sailor with a laugh and a mischievous look in his eye, " suppose wc say five hundred, what then ?"
" We!!, maybe," replied libenezer, cautiously, "yell be wanting siller soon, and perchance I might be able to raise as much, though" — groaning deejily — "it's a tar'ble Urge amount and no easy got together." |
" Ay," he continued, almost bitterly, as he perceived no speci.il sign of delight al the offer in his companion's face, " you wilors are just a reckless race and have absolutely no idee of the value of siller, Why, there's plenty men could keep themselves in board and lodgin' the rest o' their lives on five hundred pounds laid out at 3 decent rate of inlcrcsl."
His companion's ideas on the subject differed probably ; at all events, he did not immediately reply, and the two men sat watching each other in silence — Ebcnczer debating within himself whether he could offer guineas instead of pounds, and the sailor raischievouidy pondering a scheme whereby be might outwit his ho»t, teacli him a moral lesson in the matter of covetousness, and yet retain the peari notwithstanding.
" Well," the sailor broke out at last, with a jolly laugh, " III tell yc what. We'll have a carouse for the pearl. I'm not p.irticular anxious to sell, but I've no objection to give ye a chance to get iL Look yc, now, we'll have a friendly carouse by way of a match for it — my pearl and your biass for the stakes, and grog the weapon."
" Ay, ay," be continued, laughing, " I challenge ye, and I choose the weapons. All fair and square : yuu slake your brass, and 1 my pearl, side by side on the table, then glass and glass about to prove which is the beiicr man — chalking ui> ihc score, I for ye and ye for me, as we turn about Then, gradually, I calculate, one of us will feel the ship rollin' and staggerin', and will seek seclusion, maybe, under the table, whiles t'other, siill keeping right end up'ards, wins the match, and pockets peail and brass.
Tht Pearl of HaJU. 13
"The one tbitt's beat can't »)r nothin' against it next mofnin', Bind, ihsugh like enough lie won't remember much what's happened. No, Ks he'll be occupied enough, I cakulalc," concltidod the sailor, •Rhihcany lau]{h, and a mischievous glance at his companion, " in itfiiferatin' his headpiece as though t'wcre a perishable article ^[■ulof through the Tropic <A Capricorn."
fbeneier sat iheie rigid and stilT, scarce believing he could have hud aright.
Eh I How Providence Tavouied the elect ! This was the thought tbit predominated in the tumultuous eddy of his brain. Here was <9pominity lileialiy thrust upon him, and he remetnbere<l wiih pride onain boutc of former days, wl>ciein he had gained a Tcpuiation, lhoii|{h he had long since found it convenient as an Kldcr of the Kirk to put away the meowry of such misdeeds.
He almost felt the pearl in his grasp ; and as for the ^500, why, there it was still comforubly housed in his trousers' pockets.
><ll — it will lie whisky?" he queried hoar&cly, after the short pause wherein he had endeavoured to collect his thoughts and main- tain to nutward ap[)carance his usual composure, " yell ha' no objection to the whisky ? "
"Ay, ay — whisky, for it makes one feel so frisky," replied the roystering mariner, not bethinking himself that as a Scotchman his host, however reverend, was probably acclimatised to that beverage. " Whisky, first course, hot ; second course, whisky j third course, whisky ; then a brew of punch, and something tasty to eat atween whiles." Then be broke off into a jolly laugh, and began to sing in a full deep voice a stare or two of a drinking song.
Tltc anchoi't Mi[>l anil Ihe riej^hl't niubipt.
Sing ho for Jack uhoic \ Now coU doth chink and the s'sue* clink,
.Sing; ho for miith galotc. The fire bnmi bright, Jack's hurl ta lielil,
Sins l>% ^* niglit >tou«c 1 Well diiflk iboBi till Sol be out,
!MDg ho for a cxraiite.
"Whitt, man, whist." exclaimed Ebcncicr anxiously, for he had now had time to reassumc the mantle of the elder which had so nearly ^l«n from his shoulders in the excitement of the last few moments. " Ye canna comprehend the delicate nature of a good rcinite," he continued, by way of explanation. " It just clings about a man like a sweet luivour, and if once suspcecion, wi' it's foul breath, comes nigh it, it's just altogether overpowcicd— like ointment o' the
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apothccar)- that stinketli by reason o' (he dead Rics in it. There'! aye plenty reprobates ^ngiti' op and down like rosrin' lions seekin' to do the godly a damage. I should n< wonder," he continued, suddenly descending to the patticular, "if there were ane «' them at this meentt wi' his lug Tast to the window." With this he stepped towards it, and lifting up the sa^h peered cautiously out into the night. After he had duly saliafted himself on this point, he closed the vindow, drew the curtains carefully to, and, facing the sailor, commenced again.
"Ay, ay,"— with a sorrowful wag of the head — "there wad be mony not ower guid themxcll wad be only too glad to bring a discredit on aniihcr, wha wad shoot out the lip vri' scorn and whet their tongue like a sword, rcj(ucin' the while at the thought o' bringin' a scandal on the Kirk, if ancc chc)- heard tell ihcrc had been a ' carouse,' as ye ca' it, in the house of Ebcncicr Siallybrass.
" Ay," he continued, with n sigh, after a pause, *' and doubtless there wad be some found to bcticfc ihcm. But I ken a way," he continued, brightening up at the thought; "well defeat them. We'll just carry up the necessary supplies ourselves to a little bit room I ha' up i' the garrets. It's full wi' lumber and things, but we'll ha' a fire, and it'll no be bad. Ay, and yc can sing a song if ye like- none will hrar ye up there. I'm thinkin'," he continued, after a moment's hesitation, " we'd better begin early while there's noises in the streets, and suspicion will no be so likely to be snufiin' about wi' her nose as keen's a game dog's. W'haX d'ye say to nine ? "
"Ay, nine will suit me, mate," replied the sailor somewhat dis- consolately, not altogether liking the way in which his suggestion had been caught up and positii-cly taken out of his hands by his host. Indeed, he had gleefully promised himself an upholding 0/ hands, protestations, and a ludicrous exhibition of shifts on the part of the elder in the event of his accepting this dissolute challenge and the consequent necessity he would be under of reconciling thercwitli his austere piety.
Instead of this, however, here was Ebenezer calmly arranging the details of the carouse as though it were a meeting of the Synod of his Kirk to discuss lay matters. He could scarcely understand it, and indeed began to feel doubtful whether he had not been premature in making the suggestion.
It was loo late to go back now, however, and they parted for ihft night, after having agreed to take up the necessary supplies the following afternoon when the servants would be out and suspicion would not be incurred.
The Pearl of Ilafis, 15
Fbfflmr, as he went upsuirs, exulted in his licart nl the thought uf hit CDcni/s discomfiture; the Irap his eRcmy hjid preiurcd (or tBO&tt Bould be the means of hii own downfall ; Providence had fiiirocUDd htm indeed, and he sang a song of triumph in his hear; «t thetbM|!it of vietor)-. At the moment he might be comi»red, ptttups, to one of the grim heroes of his oirn church in limes past. w^ prood in their election, found Proridence a witling ally, and juKiScxtton easy, tn any adventure ihey might be engaged upon ajaini the person of the ungodly.
On (he other hand, the sailor could not look upon the carouse
iKil had just been planned in the same pleasing light as before until
he had puialicn of a stiff gbss of grog ; then, indeed, he could once
more agreeably perceive the elder lolling in his scat, half seas over,
tiniggltng in his uiieiancc with the sanctimonious polysyllables he
could no longer efTcclually pronounce, and, delightful thought,
oblivious of tlie fact that he had lost his " siller " and yet aot won the
peaiL Enraptured by ilicsc various thoutfhis, both combaunts
sought their respective coudies at an early hour,
Tile next afternoon Ebeneirer occupied himself upstairs in the lombcr room on various cxctises, arranging details for the evening's enlcftainmenl, and coming doirnstairs now and again for the supplies tbe sailor surreptitiously introduced into the house.
At last the fated hour strurk^lhc hour anxiously awaited by both host and lodger through the long interval of the day.
The host, indeed, had pre\-iotisly [ire])arcd himself for the carouse by a big meal partaken of at one of the Quayside restaurants, for, as be sagely reflected, " whisky was unco' ill on an empty siammick."
His lodger, 00 the other hand, had purposely l.ikcn little or no food, in order to do himself full justice, as he thought, in the evening. Punctually at the last stroke of the clock he made his way up tbe narrow wooden staircase that led to the chamber in the attics. Pushbg his way through the trapdoor at the top of the stainase, he emerged into a sm.ill encumbered room which was brightly lit up by a big fire, in front of which he perceived bis host already standing.
The table was spread wiilt the various weapons of the duel ; a trig stone bottle, evidently containing whisky, flanked one end of the table, while a sturdy broad-bottomed flask, that suggested rum, stood on guard opposite ; in the middle a big punch-bowl serenely rested ~ a noble atlTenisemcnt of tlic coming struggle, while round about were bastns containing «ugar and lemons that gleamed brightly in the light of the lamp, A slate was p[a|)ped Sj^ainst the ptindi- bowl, on which stood the score to be kept by the respective
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combatnnts, each Tor the other, ns aforesaid. Then there were two or three side dishes contiining ninds of an appetising description, vfhich were merely meant to whet the appetite for the liquor on which, as we know, the issue dejicnded.
A Iceltic hissed merrily on the Arc, and the sailor, as he viewed the suggestive scene before him, felt enraptured once again with his plot, and gloried in the thought of the instant due!.
"Capital," he cried. " capital, it could not have been done better, mate," and he commenced rubbing his hands briskly in keen anticipation, and hummed to himself a stave of song.
"Ha'yc brought the jwarl wi' )-c"? inquired the elder anxiously, indifTeient to compliments.
"Ay, ay, here she is," replied the sailor, producing it from his pocket.
The Elder took the case carefully into his hands, opened it, and reassured himself that it was still therein, then gently placed it in front of the punch-bowl in the middle of the table. Having done this, he turned to the chimney-piece and lifted down a canvas bag which he carefully placed alongside the pearl, after having just untied the string round its mouth, and thereby exposed iis golden contents.
" Wei! leave them there," said he, for he felt that with the stakes before his eyes victory was doubly assured.
The combatants now sat down, Ebcnczcr at the top of the table las host, with the sailor on his left hand.
" The lire burns bright, Jack's heart is light," sang the enraptured sailor, grasping the stone jar near him with both hands.
Hada third person been present, he would have greatly marvelled, doubtless, at the strange scene before him and the strangeness of the surroundings.
Here was one reveller gay and happy, flourishing his glass aloft and singing snatches of qu-iint ditties, while the other sat still and almost silent with a hard and cons[r.-iined look in his eyes.
Then the garret in which they were holding their carouse was encumbered with such a curiously diverse sort of furniture— in one corner was a big sideboard supported by carved oak dragons, in another were carpet-bags and Chinese jars — efTects of various impecunious lodgers, while on the rafters and cross-be.ims that bore up the low roof was piled a heavy net, though for what purpose it was there was certainly not manifest. The cord ends hung down not far above the heads of the carousers, but had not apparently been noticed by either of them.
The 'rap door had been shut down, and no one disturbed or was
* The Pearl of llafiz. ry
cogniEant ol this secret revelry, save only ihc paiiot, who had accom paiued his nuuter into ilie room, and was now s-ifcly enM:onccd on the top of a kitchen ctocic in the eorncr, where he sat solemnly blinking at the &TC, regardless of the revellers.
Mevtwhile, of the l«ro combatants, the sailor had ver)' toon out- stripped his host, who had been paying more attention to the viands, uid was two glasses of grog behindhand.
But, while the latter sat s[ea<Iy and upright in his chair, ihe »ailor lolled about and shoved signit of an excessive hilarity, proposing and seconding and drinking the healths of individuals whose names he frequently was unable to reniembcr, and nil the time poking fon at " Old Snuffles," as he familiarly termed his host.
Now it was time that the punch sliould be brewed, and when he had mixed and ta&ied the beverage and found it inimitable, he Riled his gloM and proclaimed the health of " the prettiest maid in Old Quay." The Elder's glass had been filled too, but curiously enough on this occasion he did not raise his glass as he previously had done in response to his companion's lead, but silling back in his chair hghtl)' grasped the fiill tumbler, watching intently, like a cat about to spring, his companion's action. A gurgling noise proclaimed the delicious draught to be ended, and the smack of the lips that fol- lowed eminently suggested an tntor*. Slowly the unsuspicious sailor raised his head— his mind wholly intent upon his desire— and just at the very moment that his eyes appeared upon the horizon of the punch-bowl, a blinding splash of spirit met them full in front. The sailor, stupefied and bewildered at the sudden attack, sal mo- tionless fur a second ; down came a thick net upon him over head and shoulders, and ho felt himself fast in the grasp of the Elder.
It was not a fair fight ; for the Elder, tike the rtti'arius of old, had his victim bst in the meshes of the net, and soon bad twined the folds round and round his arms so securely that resistance was impossible.
Then, bearing him backwards to ihe ground, the Elder, after having first thrust a handkerchief into his victim's mouih, pro- ceeded to tie liis legs together, and make fast and sure the knots about his dicst and arms.
Seated astride his prostrate lodger, and grimly engaged upon these final touches, the joy of triumph welled up within his soul, and ovciBowing, found a venl in song.
" <\ha, aha ! " chanted the Elder, in sing-song fervent tones, 'the ungodly man thought to triumph, and like a vain fool had VOL. CCLXXI. NO. 1917. c
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lifted up his horn on high, but suddenly was he diuliud donn aad caught in the net he had laid for another,"
" Ay, ay," he continued, as a sudden movement of the pioslnie body underneath htm acccnlualcd the position ; " dashed down and trodden under foot is he ; and suappcd tight wi' a wecl-lcnotted ropCL"
Tlie Elder would i>roI)al>!y have continued to illustrate the para- phrase, had not the glint of the pearl, at it lay on the table, caught his eye ; hastily ri^ng, he stepped to the tabic, took up his prize of victory with tcvtrtnt hand, then carefully buttoned it into an inner pocket I'hc canvas bag he then proceeded to tic up, having done vhich he deposited thst also in another of his capacious pockets. Then, looking about him and reflecting forafewswronds, he ad^-anced to the window, looked out, and thus soUloquised :
"Ay, it's early yet ; may be it will be half an hour yet afore they're here. I'd just bcllcr slii> round and hurry them on," So saying, he turned towards the door and unlocked it, but on a sudden turned back, and stalking up to where his victim lay, pronounced the follow- iog epil.iph over him :
*' Yc'tc no but a great fule — possessin' neither the head to carouse, nor the wut to kec|) yer ain."
These scathing words were finally driven home by a cootcmp- luous kick ; then the door shut softly, a creak jarred on the stajj, imd the unfortunate sailor was left alone in the silent room to reflect upon the truth of the portrait.
The shock of the encounter, and the perilous condition in which he was, had effectually sobered him. Crimping apparently awaited him, to judge by the words he had overheard, and the terrible lot that was to fail on hmi was the result of his own pride and the poor desire to have the laugh of his sanctimonious host. Could folly herself have devised as contemptible a plot— have perilled so much for so trivbl 8 triumph?
The unfortunate captive groaned in spirit as he saw pass by htm in fancy the various events, like links in a chain, that had led up to this final catastrophe.
Then, after having lashed himself with regrets, he became calmer, took his bearitigs, and finding himself lost in the breakers, resigned himseil to his fate.
He saw himself carried away, a common sailor on board a vile merchant brig sent out to sea to be scuttled, the owners gaining the insurance, and no tales told.
Meanwhile Mogib, the parrot, perceiving that the noise and
The Pearl of Hafiz. tg
coiuequtnt danger, as she was wdl aware, had passed away, took ^nntige of ihU opportunity to fly down from her perch and Mltlc CI liK lable to insi>cct (he viands .ind liquor, of whidi she had a ftnfiir IcDOwledge.
Seated on a piaie, she was discusung, with one eye shut, head ■U ifarown back, and critical tongue, the flavour of the rum punch Hut tad so pleased her master's palate.
It so chanced, however, that an unconscious movement of the opdvcjarrcd suddenly ngainsi the (ablv leg. Mogib, startled, lost her kluicc and fell backwards, screaming loudly " man overboard," and tamng with her to the ground at (he same time plate, fork, and knife. The noise and clatter startled the sailor tn his turn, and rolling ^KvcT on his side, he dimly perceived Mogib, fragments of china, ^Bnd lastly, with a sudden leap of hope, what seemed a knife close beside him oa the floor.
Scarce could he believe his eyes— Mogib had then brought him this chance of delivctancc ! There was not a moment to be lost, for twould be a hard task enough to set himself free under any circum- stances ; and then there was the possibility of Ebeneier's returning at any minute.
Rolling over till he felt the knife underneath him, he endeavoured to gradually work his fingers tlirough the meslies in order to get hold of the handle.
His hands being fast lied at the wrUls, and his arms and chest being tightly encircled by the cord, the only possible way to set himself free was to get the knife between his hands, thrust the handle into the grip of hisknecs, and then, by a gradual friction of the blade against the Unding of the wrists, to sever the cord.
Painfully and with difficulty his fingers pulled themselves through die meshes, dragging the knife after them ; every now and again the blade would slip from their feeble grasp, or catch fast in some of the thick meshes of the net.
After a long and desperate struggle, during which he had several lime< given up all hope, and sank back exhausted from the stru^le, he finally succeeded in getting firmly into the palms of his hands the Inisty wcapim with which he was to work out his safety. He by there still a moment, happy but breathless, for hope had blazed up again and fired determination, and now he felt indeed his freedom was assured.
Turning over on. his baek, he raised his knees, thrust the handle ot the knife between them, then slowly inserting the point between the
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coitl-U[>pingx that bound hii wrUii, endeavoured to cut through the' sltands \>f a gentle rubbing againj^ the knife bl.tdc.
It wu a terrible strain, and one that could not last long, for, crippled as he was, and in danger moreover of suffocation, he found the greatest difficulty in kcei>ing alt his forces concentrated upon the , delicate task before him — every detail of which, indeed, .is it depended upon a meat.uremcnt the retuit of touch and not of u(^t, was liable to miscalculation, and tn that case the chance of liberty would be lost.
Suddenly there came a loosening of the cord just at the moment when his knees had released their grip and the 3tnifc bad fallen between ihcm. Could it be that a strand could really liax'e parted ? With wri&i against wtist he stretched to the utmost the cords \ now he fell them slipping:, and then all at once his arms were free.
A moment before and all his strength had ebbed away, but now, with n full tide, it came rushing back.
Selling the knife, he rapidly cut through the net a postage for his arm; then, this done, sawed through the cords that bound his chest, and in a few more seconds had actually regained his liberty.
Now, the question was, what would be the best plan of action- escape seemed to be the first thing aimed at — revenge could con- veniently follow.
The door, however, proved, on being tried, to be locked, and the vrindow, on close inspection, was found to be too great a height above the ground to be available, nor was there any projection or pipe by which descent would have been rendered possible.
Well, there was no help for it, the sailor soliloquised; he must just await Ebcnezer's return. To do so, indeed, jumped better with bis inclination.
It was certain that Ebenczer would be back soon, but whether he would cumc alone was the (jucsiion to which no answer could be given, and yet it was on this that all depended.
On reflection, however, ii appeared probable that he would return alone — his dread of scandal would be one reason for so doing— and then the long rope with hook attadied, which he had disco>eied fastened to the ends, about his chest, had revealed the fact that he was to be lowered out of the window into the arms of the gang, who, as he had overheard, were shortly expected.
Thus thinking, he formed his plan : the door was locked, »i wc have seen, but as it 0|>ened into the room on the left-hand side, it would, if pushed back to its limit, naturally come against the heavy sideboard that stood behind it, and thus would form a piac« of
Tk€ Pearl of Hafiz. 3 1
ambush for an sssailant. Fiisl, howovet, before taking up his poiiioii, be made up a bundle of rags, and laid them circfully together tcllitsime i]>ot where he had himself just been, dropped his hand- kerchief on ihe edge of the bundle lo represent ihc position of the })ca),thrn strewing o^vr it the severed pieoesof the net, gathered up the lemaining coils into hislunds and turned down the bmp.
Tticn, mounting on the sideboard, he cautiously crouched on the cdgtnnrcst (h<; door, net in hand, scarcely dnring to draw breath Iw t^ sound should betray hira — all his thought suspended in ttiwge.
Ah I if he could once feel the Eider writhing in ihc meshes, how G|tll}' would he cttcein the loss of his pearl ! Some ten minutes pMied slowly, during which his ear, like a timid sentinel, challenged t&etllence and caught the footfall of a fancied foe.
Then came a crealc of heavy footsteps on the staircase just bclon him, B slight sensation was instantly perceptible in the woodwork of Ine milt, a key grated in the lock, and in another moment Ebcnczer'^ tdd cautiously appeared beyond the edge of the door.
Satisfied in the dim light that all was as he had left it, he stepped tnside. unconscious of his peril ; at that moment there came a suspicious noise from behind, but before he could look round a net fell upon his head and shoulders, and a heaty body followed instantly and bore him to the floor,
The Elder, knowing instinctively that his enemy was upon him, and no quaner would be granted, yelled like a wild beast when suddenly stricken, and fought with dclitious fury. He was under- neath, however, and the net entangled his movements, while the sailor, strong in his lust of revenge, with both hands had a iinn grasp of his opponent's throat.
It was not, indeed, until Ebene^r's face had assumed a black and unnatural hue that the sailor relaxed his hold, and even then it was only for the purpose of binding Ihc hands and feet of his victim tightly together.
This being safely accomplished, he could search the pockets of the unconscious Ebenc^er for his pearl, not without some fears, how- ever, for the money had disappeared and possibly the pear! had been secreted also.
But, no ! there it was lying securely in its little case in a high vest pocket, and when taken out, seemed to shine with even additional lustre, as though recognising its true owner.
The tension of the last few minutes loosened its grasp, and now ^^ triumph found a voice and sang along his brain. Ixioking down .^H
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32 Tke GentUmatis Magazine.
upon his prostrate Toe, liis fanfy depicted an instant picture of EbenezcT on board the dirty merchantman destined fur hiniKell*, forced to grope his trembling •tis.f up the unused shrouds in fear of his lifci rope's- end I'd like a cabin boy for every blunder, and finally — he who had been but yesterday an elder and edifier of the kirk— the buK and EColf lo-day of godless men.
He chuckled inwardly at the delicious picture thus presented to him, but whilst he gazed, a slight stirring of the prostrate body warned him thatthe Klderwas returning lo eonscioumeas. Taking up.thent the rumains of the net, he finally completed the fastenings, and now ittUched the hook and cliain to the bundle as ihcy had previously been fastened to his own person.
Ebenezer had now indeed fully recovered consciou^css, and Struggled madly with his bonds, to ihc mighty joy of his secure enemy, whose eye grew minhfuller at every fresh token of his impotent wrath.
The rcmemhranec of the words the Elder had spoken over him when lie was in the like desperate case, and which so nearly had been i his epitaph, recurred to him and suggested retaliation. NVith a ! chuckle he knelt down, and in fair imitation of the Elder's slow and i nasal tones, whispered impressively in his ear — " Vc're just a fool, Ebenezcr, with all your self-conceit — but, mind yc, a sea voyage is a splendid cure for the self-conceit, as ye'll find — ye carousin', wicked old elder that ye are 1 " concluded he, in his normal tunes, as the wrath of the natural man got the better of the moraltsi. |
He likewise enforced his epigram by a hc-arly and contemptuous kick upon the person of the Elder, which had the curious effect of immediately checking his convulsive struggles.
The tumultuous thoughts that surged up into the Elder's brain as he just recovered consciousness — the loss of the pearl, his present perilous condition, the chances of escape — had doubtless been dis- quieting enough ; but it was the kick — the cruel indignity of the kick — that exasperated him almost to madness. The abysm of misfortune in whith he lay was thus revealed to him ; he could have screamed with rage had not the handkerthief been stuffed too deep into his mouth ; as it was, he palpitated with murderous malb.
At this moment, however, there came a sharp " hist " from out- aide, startling the sailor from his pleasing reverie, and clearly intimating to the Elder what his fate was to be.
The sailor at once cautiously proceeded to the window, and peering out, perceived three or four figures waiting in the street below.
The Pearl of Hafiz.
23
" Arc jt ready ? " queried ihe sailor softly, imitaiing (he Elder's voice, to he guessed rightly tliat they were wailing ihcrc for himself.
" Ay, ay, lower away. Sharp's the word ! " cume bock ihc answer in gruff undertones that seemed to bode ill for the comfon of the Elder, as the sailor thought with mischievous glee.
Carefully lifting up the prostrate form of the enemy, the sailor (srned it to tlic window, and, after a brief struggle, forced the shapo- les bnodle through the somewhat narrow space, using perhaju rather ■note foice than was absolutely necessary to effect his purpose
This accomplished, he gradually paid out the rope, at the other wd of which Ebencier was helplessly swinging, till he felt a sudden SOfipage ; then the rope swung light and loose in bis hands, and he ^tv his enemy was safely in the hands of the hirelings below.
Looking out, he perceived them plainly enough, making off at iBipeed, and carrying, as best they could, their unwieldy burden.
The Elder was safely caught in his own net this time, thought the
ttikw, chuckling at the remembrance of the Elder in his hour of
iKtoiy, and wondering whether tlie spiritual parallels in which he
had so delighted would be able to alTord him consolation in his hour
of misfortune. Well enough did the sailor kiiow that no excuses
would avail the wretched man on board ship— no attempts to prove
that he was the wrong man would go down when a ship was sailing
shorthartded. \o, no ; there he was aboard a dirty merchant brig,
la Eu sorry a plight as could well be imagined, and all, as the sailor
gleefully refleaed, through his own wicked devices.
Some two or tliree months after the events just recorded, had any inhabitant of Old Quay been passing through the pretty village of Mot eion-in-lhc Wolds, and had Inquired— being smitten with thirst after the constant manner of his native town— as to the whereabouts of the best alehouse in the place, he would certainly have been told to seek for his solace at the sign of " The TearL"
As he proceeded thither, he would first perceive on his approach a ponderous signboard swinging over the entrance, on which were depicted two warriors engaged in a desperate duel, while two armies in the background brealhlesslj- awaited the result. On the forefinger of the fiercer and rougher of the two opponents was 3 huge ring, which was set with so gigantic a pearl that the wearer must have been seriously incommoded by it in the violent struggle in which he was engaged.
Having gazed upon this stirring scene, and unconsciously won- dered what the history that was evidently attached to it could be, he
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24 Tie GentUman s Magazine,
would discover, on arrival at the bar, none other in mine host but the famous sailor — the possessor of the wondrous pearl — who had been so well-known a figure in Old Quay for a short time some months ago, and had outwitted the Elder in the famous episode of the carouse.
The honcil sailor, indeed, had departed very shortly after his victory, but not before he had related to his comrades the manner in which he had got the better of the Elder, whose strange disappear- ance, of coune, had set everybody speculating as to the cause.
The humour of the situation and the retribution that had befallen the Elder ticlded everyone's fancy, and delighted many who had doubtless often been rebuked by him for their backstidings.
The sailor, however, early escaped from attentions that were beginning to become wearisome by a sudden departure- He had determined to sell the pearl at its own true value, and having done so, to settle down in his old home on the land belonging to the young squire, whose lovely wife, as we have heard above, he had been instrumental in helping to win.
He bought with the proceeds of the wonderful pearl the village inn, and was now fast becoming, after the squire and his wife, the most popular person in the district.
The story of the jewel had, of course, become famous, and often ^rould mine host be pressed to lell the tale of how fitsl Haliz won it in fait light against the invader ; then, how he had received it as his prize for helping to carry off the " mistress," and lastly — best of all — how he had ri^ined it from the grasp of the sanctimonious but jierfidious Elder.
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36 The Gentleman's Magazine.
How man; disappointed kings, soldiers, and politicians have experienced something of the charm which thus attaches itself to cultivation of the soil I From M. Curius and Cincinnatus, the dictator at the plough, to Sir William Temple pruning his apricots at Moor Paik~~to name only classical examples — is an almost incalculable internal in all that makes life desirable and civilised, yet all three meet, owing to their sharing in that natural love of cultiva* tion which seems impressed more or less deeply upon human nature. Farmers used to be divided into those who drove to market in a gig and lliosc who went in cans. The division was fair enough until the last forty jears. An enlianced style of living among all classes, and the reign of steam, have changed matters of late. The old days, when farracrs, night after nij{ht,dmnkin the village public-house, and when one begged tliat he might be buried near the comer of the churchyard, in order that he might hear his neighbours discussing the price of wheat as ihcy rode from market along the adjoining road, have entirely pas.scd away. Farmers may now be marked off as little freeholders, ordinary tenant fanners, and scientific farmers. The first of these may be seen in Devon combes to perfection. Their manner of life is sordid, and almost as full of toil as that of their French representatives. They add penny to penny with miserable daily efforts, and still lay these wretched gains in a "stocking foot " tmdcr the eaves, like their predecessors of tlie last century. As for intellectual food, it is melancholy to think of their books : a tattered Bible and Prayer Book, a greasy ready reckoner, and Old Moored Prophetic Almanac form the literature of their houses, after all the eflbns of School Boards and popular lectures. Drinking eider, and a rare visit to market, arc tlie chief recreations of these men. The fann and a neglected garden supply all their wanls. In their case Cicero's words find their aptest fuifilmcnt— yVf/w fiorlum ipii agrtcolx su(cidiam alteram appellant. No class of the community has as yet had so little done for it. Compulsory education, and the franchise before they knew how to vote — these are the latest boons granted such little farmers by civilisation, and it is not matter of wonder if the agitator and the designing tap-room orator lead them by the nose. It is a relief to turn from the spectacle of one of these small free- holders trying to till an ungrateful hillside with an old-fashioned plough drawn by a pony and an ox, as we have seen, to the industrious, well-to-do tenant-farmer. He cultivates at least a hundred acres, frequently much more, but does not ordinarily blossom into one of George Eliot's large Lowick farmers. There ate number- less systems of booidceeping published to aid farmers, but a shrewd
The Pleasures of Farming. 27
mpckn ms}' be entenained ihat few of them .ire uscdl by thi'x doss
«f moL Rule of iliumb, coniunt lupervision, tlitift, and pcr-
Kwnnce-tliese ihey deem the bc« wcount-books. Perhaps ihcy
hiwniltn acquired a lubit of Umcnting the bad times, the low
pme^ the general depression, or these depreciatory and deprecatory
lontmuir be in-teparable from the abitiraci idea of a fnrmcr. Tliey
annrio Forget lhat the balk of iheir living comn from the farm,
ml Hut, beyond this it su]>piies not only profit, but, any ordinary
■un DIM needs think, considerable proRt. After the com is sold
{dcvlcint Dot at the price made by jircvioiis generations), it may be
An by or roots also find a market. Theslock which is reared from
fxn. >nd the tambs, arc yearly disposed of, \\'ool forms a con-
ixlsiljlc item in profili^ On many farms poultry and rabbits
(jOKniUy th« peniuisites of the wives) can easily be sold at the
oqjiibounng markets. If attention has been duly paid to the
ahortalions of an eminent living statesman, fruit, honey, mushrooms
CM Aowers, wild nosegays have added no inconsiderable sum to the
careful farmer. What other trade or profession supplies so many
profit) ? The wonder is, save (rom his own extravagance, how any
tcnaot-fnnoer can be ruined— be the separate prutlts ne^-er so small,
ibcy must in the aggregate mean competcnre.
As for scientific farming on a large scale, with lavish employment of manure, labour, and steam-power, it is very questionable whether, from a business paint of view, it ever pays— the outlay is too vast. Vx. Mechi's once famous Tipircc farm is now a si rawbctry- garden. At ibe best of times it was probably reinforced in no slight degree from the shop in Lcadcnhall Street. It served to illustrate, at all events, iliat economy, cutteme care in the seleciion of seed, and a [ireference in many kinds of farm work for steam rather than horse power, were principles well wortliy the attention of tenant-farmers. Thus that spirited agriculturist has greatly advanced the cause of agriculture, if he did not profit himself. Although his experiments and machinery would not pay as a whole, lessons in enterprise and the u%e of some scientific aids on a smaller and less celebratetl farm might well result in a profit, l.-ilwur will be the great diflkulty of the farmer's future. Any economy of human power hy the emiitoy- menl of steam deserves the attention of the practical agriculturist before that time comes.
There is, however, something banausic in esiimaling the farmer's life by his profits. In a strictly utilitarian age, and among men who are perhaps at times slightly commonplace, and Utile moved by the lighter graces of art and poetry, it may be as well to point out to the
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28 The Gentleman's Magazine.
farmer what a store of secondary pleasures (as he would deem them) his occupation discloses. The end and aim of (arming certainly is hot "to die a good un," as the ]}hrase runs in ^Smx Anglia. T1)is ignoble, but all-mastering desire is productive of meanness, contempt of all liberal or charitable impulses, and a miseilinesi which increase* with age— and all in order to leave behind a few thousands of [lounda { more than did his neighbours, John Doe or Richard Roc. A farmer of this type adx-anccs no good cause, neglects hit relatives, despises art, literature, and travel. He is rustically self-sufficient, and when the scorn of his neighbours touches his dull sense only shakes his sovcTcigns, and mumiuni, likeihc miser of old, "at raihi plaudo ipse domi." He cannot spend hi^c money, for he has only animal wants, and they are cheaply satisfied. No demon ever whispered to him, " Have a taste." I'he smaller fnrmer, who at a respectful distance resembles this sgricultural Crccsus, is siing>' and sordid. He, too, spends nothing on higher pleasures. He knows nothing of the lighter graces of life. Frequently his «rifc and children axe worse clothed than many labourers' families. Market-day once, or, in some cases, twice, a week, is his only notion of recreation, and the neigh- bours and pedestrians have a wholesome dread of his spring-cart] driven recklessly through the dark lanes at night when he returns^ "market peart," as the phrase runs, to the bosom of his family. What the whisky which he drinks at hi5 ordinary resembles may be gathered from the following (act. A friend, meeting a wine and spirit nietchanl, was asked by him to dine at the farmers' ordinary at the "Blue Bull." "But take {ircat care to imitate me after dintter," , said he, " for we sell a particular whisky fcr these farmers' houses." After dinner he called, like the rest of the company, for a couple of glasses of whisky for himself and friend, and then, winking at the latter, took an opportunity to empty his glass into the coalscuttle and fill it op with water instead. His friend followed the examplci and both escaped without a headache.
It would be absurd to credit the farmer, in most cases, with a cultivated taste for nature, or to suppose that the softer inRuences of the country can affect him with an artist's or a scholar's love. And yet, after a blind, unconscious fashion, nature's charms do appeal to his heart in spile of himself. Early morning in spring is dear to him when he surveys the well-nibbled upland pasture and longs for sunshine and warmth.
Avia tuni resonant avibus virguha canorls ; and the songs insensibly take him captive, and lead him back toj
The Pleasures of Famnng.
^yhood and the licld-paihs along which he went to school before tic knew anything of oauand fat beasts. He has a tupremc contempt, 2M a rule, for wild-floucrs, but on such an occasion be deigns to ^ihcr a bunch of primroses drenched in dew, and ofTen ihcm, viih the ludicrous bashfulncss of an agricultural Cyclops, to the "iniBSus," on his return to bicaUast. 'ITic rooks which strut over the tiillow field caving assiduously, and the larks lising or falling in ecstasies of song, make no definite impicssion on his perceptions, and yet their happiness helps to form the idea of home peace and contentment irtitch be possesses. His eye wanders over the woods to the moun- tain) beyond, where thin fleecy mists rise and gather shape into clouds, and the glance that he obtains of the distant common, dotted over wit!) white cottages, is consQiatory, although he does not put it into words. It bids him rejoice, as his holding is something very different to that of the cottagers there. He ha.t plenty of land of his own, and no scarcity of stock, and the feeling of satisfaction nhich mulls is eminently congenial to a farmer's mind.
Anotlier scene fraught with extreme pleasure to him is found in Ihe hayficld during the noontide heats of June. The river murmuni by, its even currents every now and then broken by the rising of a trout, while swallows and swifts dart up and down, and riie higher into tlic air to seiie some larger fly. Men and women are ijusy turning the fragrant swathes, a knot of boys and giils pby round a perambulator, which holds a couple of babies, near the shady hedge, &Ieanwhile, the incessant " whirr, whirr ! " of the haymaking machine arises and clouds of dry grass arc swept up into the ait as it progresses. The farmer never read how the Homeric king is represented on the shield of Achilles as suneyiog his labourers in like manner—" stand- ing on a heap, with his sceptre in his hand, silently rejoicing in his heart "; but the cifect is the same. Visions of wealth and plenty, of fatUngs and warmth and easeful peace rise before him, unmarrcd by any thoughts of rents or taxes, 'llierc is not at that lime a happier man in ilic kingdom, if the farmer had but the wit to know it.
Take another country idyll, and sec eventide falling upon the golden cornfields— golden in a double sense, a^ the farmer feels that the produce will pay the rent and wages and keep his house, and leave him a fiiir moi^in of proi'it as well. The West Is bathed in a crimson lustre spreading far up the sky, and, without in Ihe least being moved by the fair peospecl, he watches the ruddy colour deepen into a livid red, and then again into lonft clouds dappled with fiie and vermilion, as the lun links below the hills, while immedbtcly opposite the broad disc of the harvest moon leaps up into Ihe sky from some far enchanted A
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30 T/i€ Gentleman s Magasine.
Und of the morning. The fanner does not h«ar the soft chir- ring of the nightjars as he wdks hone, or notice the silver shads | of moonlight on the laurels in his garden— but alt these bcamiei have ] insensibly tnnquiltised him. He sits dovn to sui>pcr at peace with \ all around hint, and, for the time, reckless of strikes, low prices, and | swine fever, which seem to be the three Niet n^irrs of modem farm- | ing. Such pastoral pictures as these, redolent of eountr>- joys and ,' ocxupations, cannot but raise deep sensations of pleasure within the minds of every reflecting person who is at all conversant with rural employments. Nature^ and Nature's fitcc at her fairest, arc ever wel- come Even more than sportsmen, farmers behold the rare beauty of the country', and inhatc its sweet scents, and listen to its songs of contented ]K-acc, because they are in the open air night And day, early and late. This sense of freedom it is which has led so many persons to commence farming as a means of earning tbelr livelihood. Enthusiasm blinds them to the UO. that a long apprenticeship must in most cases be served ere experience can be learned. The same ardour wings multitudes of emigrants, who think it is only necessary to reach the New \\'orld for a man to become a successful fannei^ however little he may have seen of .igricullural work at home.
A keen sense of independence is another pleasure brought by farming. The feeling aw.-ikcs catly in the budding agriculturist. He knows that his calling will take him always into the open air, that he will no more have occasion to "pore over miserabte books." He will be able to command men and boys and horses at his will ; while farming, it is notorious, can always be done in the quickest manner on horseback. The Ground Game Act now furnishes a motive for a farmer always to carry a gun. What can be more delightful to a hater of books? Sportsmanship need not always be taken into account. In the present dearth of hares, how many fatmers think twice of sparing a stock for others in future ? One, of whom we re- cently heard, saw a hare in its form when he was unluckily without his gun. Stepping back gently on tip-toe, so as not to disturb the poor animal, he hastily went home, and returned, bearing his fowling- piece, well charged, to the vicinity of the harc. Catrj'ing the gun in readiness at his shoulder, he then cautiously advanced until, at short distance, he again beheld the hate, and fixed the sight on it. .\ moment more and the foully -murdered creature lay prostrate before him. The tendency of all modern farming agreements is towards independence on the part of the tenant in every way. The f«ur-
tse system of husbandry is not made binding ; straw and manure "W sold on easy conditions, and so forth, the theory being that a
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The GentUmans Magazine.
»vc not been, and cannot be, Gup«ncclcd uniit ihe end. There is jtn ineffable sense of wani and lotrow in even ihc fairest sights ol iGulture, which a great inicrpreter of Nature In our own days bu forgotten—
ia lookiiHE on th« bippy auiamn Geliha Ami ihioliinc of ibc dnjn ttul arc so morn.
The processes of fanning leave much time for the soul to com- [ mune with itwlf, to cnicnain regret and melancholy. How many - old man in his haj-licid or orchard tries, like Laeitcs of old, to ce himself for his son in far Auslrilia by hard work ! How maay actually find comfort in the direst troubles of life by the toils of the planter and pruner, rejoiciog, like Cyius the Younger, as they survey the plantations : " these coppices of such goodly ptoportiona were designed by me, most of these trees were planted by my own hand"_ Indeed, an atmoipliere of peace surrounds most farms, if the' farmer only accustomed himself to perceive it. They have frequently descended through several generations, so that the tenant-farmer }uis more interest in his house tlian the dergj-man enjoys in his rectory. Its stone tile roofs, slarred with yellow and grey lichens, were set up by his giardfalhet ; its large chimnej-s, and irregular windows through which peep roses and Pyrus jafionua, picturesque objects in them- ^ selves, arc set off by stacks and bams on which pigeons flutter, andfl the constant stir of life is maintained around them by the lowing of heifers, the various cries of the poultrj'-yard. No formal plantations surround such a farm, but large ashes or elms lend it character, while M hedges — carelessly ordertid, for the most part, in a grassy country — over which, in June, wild roses and honeysuckle run riot, tell of easy minds and old-fashioned profusion. .\s the classical eulogist ofjfl farming wrote — " villa tota locuples est ; abundat porco, hsdo, agno* " gaiUna, lade, caseo, mellc." An extraordinary fascination hangs over the spectacle of farms and farming for most thoughtful persons after middle life. A t^^'J^e deeper than mere artistic effects or love of natural beauty underlies it~lhe inarticulate yearnings of the spirit for the new earth wherein shall dwell righteousness, of the body for wel- come rest in its bosom. Cremation may be a scientific mode of disposing of the body, but it does violence to the sou!, to all the cherished instincts of humanity, which draw it strongly to Mother Earth in death as in life—" l^ust 1*^0" "rt, and unto dust shalt thou return."
M. C WA1Ki^S.
r
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THE FOLK-TALES OF SARDINIA.
'K the midst of the Mcditcirancan Sv^, a fciv miles to the south its smaller, but more iihistrious, neighbour Corsica, lies the Isiand of Sardinia. It was well known to Grtck and Phoeoidan oilars, and in classic times one of its peoples claimed descent rtom TVojan fugitives. A variety of mineral wealth lies buried beneath its mountains, and, e^cially of taie years, has drawn trade that way. But visitors for other purposes arc comparatively rare ; and the bknders yet retain much of their ancient simplicity.
Among a simple race, and in a mountainous isbnd, we nhould expect to find many old customs, talcs, and su|>erstitions in full vigour. Sor, from what we know of the Sardinians, should we be disap- pointed. But so Iritte has civilisation as yet penetrated their grassy valleys and mg^ uplands, that the collector of folk-lore has hardly dooe more than gain a footing there, though he has reason to be proud of his exploits all over Italy and Sicily. Indeed, a German traveller, only a few years ago, ventured on the assertion that in Sardinia one would seek in vain for any of the half pagan, or at least prolaDC, traditions in which his own country was so rich. To those who know anything of the science of folk-lore this is a wildly tnprnbable ataieracnt j and it has been abundantly disi«ovcd by the researches of several eminent men, among whom may be named Professor Ferraro, Professor Guamcrio, and Dr. Mango.
These writers have dealt chiefly with the songs and talcs current among the natives of the island. Forty stories in all have appeared ; and these have been obtained from |x-asnnts, and arc given in vanoos dialects, some of which are evidently unintelligible lo (he ofdtnary Tuscan. One of the most popul.-u- stories is that of Maria Inutilau {Mary Wainscotted). It is given in the dialect of Calangianus, and runs in this way. A man who had one daughter lost his wife. Before she died she gare him a ring, saying that it was her wish he should marry for his second wife her whom that ring wotild fit. Moved, no doubt, entirely by the desitt to carry out his dead wifc's wishes, the man went round the whole town with the ting, vou ocLxxi. xo. igi;. n
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34 Tht GtntUmoiis Magasine.
but failed to find a lady whoMr finger it would fiL At last be tried it on his daiighicr's hand, much against her wilt, and lo ! it fitted her. Then he said to her : •■ Vou must be my wife." When the girl heard that, she went and took counsel of her teacher as to whit •be should do. The teacher answered : " Do this : if you arc to be hi» wife, let him get you a moon-robe." The maiden accordiogl; demanded of her father a moon-robe. When the father had bougtrt that robe, she aikcd for a robe of stars. Again the father complied ; and she then asked for a robe of chimes. On this being obtained also, the maiden for the fourth time took her teacher's advice, ■he was told; "Now, go to a wood-cutter; let him make you robe of wood. Clad in that, go away until you meet your fate." The gjrl did so, and wandered about until she came to the gate of the king's palace, where she asked for shelter for the night. She was told there was no room ; but the poor child begged to be allowed lo »tay, Haying she could sleep anywhere, even in the fowlhoust She WM taken at her word, and contemptuously permitted lo find shelter *"th the fowls. But at night she went out, took off her wooden gown, and in her robe of chimes climbed a tree which stood before the palace. All the city ran together to ihe palace to inquire what the music meant. Bui the king was as much at a loss as the people, " I have no music," he said ; " I do not know whence '|**e chimes arc." The girl repealed this performance the following "w^ *nd again the [leoplc crowded to the palace lo know whence "^ sounds came. The king answered in vain : " I have heard Jhem again, but I do not know whence they are." The people went «omc pu^eied and angry. The next morning the king learned that '* *^'ting.maid had gone no one knew where ; and, as he could not ^Mbly be without one. he sent for the girl who was in the hen.roost. *' \v ^^'^^ *ip dressed in her wooden robe, and the queen asked her : J '^y not takeoff that wooden gown?" She answered: "I cannot; ., *^»' it for a penanca" The queen said : " What is your name?" am called Mary WainscoHed." "Henceforth," said the fea« "* " ^^^ «e W be our waiting-maid. My son is going to a read ^f'^^^'^ow ; get his things ready." The girl got everything to h ^''"' ^^^ to^got ^'^ riding-whip. Her duties, mdeed. seem
a lir*" ^^^ somewhat various ; but such is the peasant's idea of ^^am^? '*"** its inmates. When the king's son was dressed he maid .. " **>*?. and he said to Mary Wainscoited, the royal waitrng-
o fet ' K '^ *^« w'"l> ' " "'^ l"'^*^ ^°''S"^ '''" ^''^ !^"^"^"''^' ""'^ *^* bid ^ L ■^l>cn she came back the prince was already on his horse.
"" handing the whip to him he struck her with it. No sooner
Tkt Folk-tcdes of Sardinia. 35
bd he gone than Mary Wainscotlcd asked the queen's pennisiion
IS go 10 the feast loa The queen answered : " No, Mary ; I
iloll not let jrou go, because my son might sec you." Bui Mary
b(|pij, uid promised, sly thing 1 that the prince should not catch
^cf her ; and the queen, seeing the waiiing-maid had taken it
iMo bw head to go, gave her consent at bst. Then the maiden
took off her wooden gown and threw ii into a bush, making her
iffeinBoe at the feast in her robe of stars. As soon as the
pfcee SI* her he asked her to dance. Of course she could not refuse ;
•od, M she was a stranger, he was inquisitive as 10 wliencc she
Oat " I tame from WTiiptown," she said. While they were dancing
h oade her a present of a diamond, and said : " Doni go away ;
■e »ill go together." But she gave him the slip ; and when she got
hat the queen adted her ; " Did my son sec you ? " •' Oh ! no,
wtstniy not," the waiting-maid calmly declared ; and while she was
faking bade came the prince. She asked him ; " Have you had a
pfcasint time, master ? " " Yes," he replied ; " the fcasi was pleasant,
but I did not sec you, Mary Wainscoitcd, though there was a girl
there " A few days after, another feast was given ; and Mary
iorgot the prince's bridle. He had to wait while she fetched it ; but at bst he was off, and Marj- immediately went to the queen and begged leave to go too. liie queen made the same difficulty as before^ but Mary surmounted it in the same way, by vowing that the priiKC should not see her. She hid her wooden gown in the bush, and went clad in her moon rube. The prince fell in love with her m once and invited her to danccv While they were dancing he presented her with another diamond, and asked : " From what town b your ladi-ihip?" "From Bridletown," she answered; and the ptrince again prayed that he might accompany her home. She escaped hiin, however ; and when lie reached home she came to receive him, inquiring if the feast had been a pleasant one. " Very good," he
answered, "but I did not see you. But there was one " In
making ready that the prince might start for a third festival, Mary
forgot a spur. ^Vhen there he saw a lady wearing a robe of chimes.
He invited her to dance, and gave her another diamond, asking from
what town she was. " From Spuriown," she answered promptly. It
was Mary Wainscolted, who had stripped off her wooden gown and
put on the robe of chimes. The king's son was so vexed that he
could not find out who these three ladies were, thai he fell ill. The
doctors decbred that he was lovesick, and they could not cure him.
He would not eat the broth his mother brought him ; so one day Mary A
Wainscotted a:sked the queen to allow her to take it to him. " If he m
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The GtHtkmaiis Magasinc.
won't take it from me, whjr should be from you ?" asked ihc queen;] "Tiy me, and sec," returned Maty. At last the queen conwrned,! and Mai>- took him the broth, putting one of the diamonds he hdl given hct into it, and so gave it him. He took it and asked for mo» ' Mary fetched him some more broth and put another diamond into IL Evidently she could cute him. He still asked for more, and she gave it to him with the third diamond in it, \\Tien the prince sa* that all those ladies, for whose sake he had fallen ill, were but one, and that one Mary Wainscotted, he jumped out of bed with one bound, seiiud his dagger, and split the wooden robe asunder. Then there appeared no longer Mary Wainscoltcd, but the lady whom he had seen at the feasts. It need hardly be added that they were married and lived happy ever after.' ^1
This slor>', told on the barren hilhidcs of Sardinia, is identical^ with one formerly current in our own land. But our story has, I fear, long since died out, killed probably by the French tale of Cinderella. It is referred to in " The Vicar of Wakefield," and was no doubt well known when Goldsmith wrote. The fonn in wliich it is last known to have been repeated is that of a ballad called " The Wandering Young Gentlewoman, or Calskin." In this ballad tlie heroine is an outcast because she was a daughter, whereas her father was anxious to have a son. and was disappointed and enraged at her birth. She has a robe of catskins, and becomes scullion in a knight's house, sleeping in an outhouse. The knight's lady strikes her oafl each occasion of her son's going to a ball, because she asks to go tea The first and second time the lady breaks a ladic and s skimmer over poor Caiskin's shoulders, and the third time she drenches her with water. The young s<|uire overtakes the damsel _ on her way home after the third ball, and thus finds out who she is, I By arrangement with her. he feigns himself ill that she may attend him ; and they have a good lime logelher, until one day his mother . surprises them, and finds Catskin arrayed in her rich attire.
Which caused her (o siare, and thus for to sty, "UTinl young lady is (his, come tell me, 1 pray?" He said, " It 11 Catikin. for whom sitk I lie, And except 1 do have her with speed 1 ihnll die."
The proud lady and her husband, the knight, acquiesced of course.! T'he story, however, has a sequel wanting iti the Sardinian versioa ' Caiskin's father, hearing his daughter was so well married, disguise*
' Pto(. (Juatncrio's collection. No. I. FbpeSari, «•!. ii., p. SI.
1 '
Aiihioh fer h Stnii» JtlU TraJitUiu
The Folk-tales of Sardinia. yj
liiniKiriiS a beggar, and goes to her to ask atms. ^Vhcn she knows Mm be is, she ukes him in, gives him " the best provisions (he knie could aR'ord," and, thinking him in want, offers him a home. He replies, he has only come to \r^ her love ; he himsctf has (BKigh ; and for her love he will gi\-e her a portion of ten thousand pmnds.
Anoiher good old English ballad is represented in Sardinia bjr a Uic called "The Escaped Canar}." Once upon a time, a king who tad a beautiful canary, of which he nas very fond, committed it to lh« care of a servant. One line morning this Eorv-ant left the door of its cage open for a moment, .nnd away it ^tm. The king came ia shorrly after ; and when he knew what had happened, he ordered Ihe servant to be summarily dismissed. The scnant began to weep and to pray for pardon because of his long family, promising and voifing that he would never be guilty of such carelessness again, The king at last, moved by compassion, had him called back into his presence, and said : " Listen ! if you can answer nic two questions I will lei you stay in the palace ; if not, you shall be turned out neck and crop." " Say on, your Majesty," replied the man, " I am ready for ererxthing." "\VcIl, then, j-ou must tell roc first the distance from hence to the sky, and, secondly, how many stones would be wanted to build this palace of mine." The servant promised that he would ansvrcr these (luesiions, for all in his heart he knew he was not tqual to doing so. As he went weeping from the palace he met an old comrade, who, seeing him weep, asked why. The roan told him. ** And arc you faint-hcaited on that account ? " asked his comrade ; *• the answer is easy enough, and I will tell it you at once. Take a ball of twine, big, big, very big, and tell the king that that is the dis- tance from earth to the sky ; and as for the number of stones, tell him a million and a half." The servant went away content, and the Best day he presented himself to the king. "Well," said ibe king, "what Iiave you done about that matter?" " This is tlie answer, your Majesty ; thi.s is the distanci; from the earlh to the sky," and he presented the hall of twine to the king. The king said : " Oh, no, that won t do ! It's not true." "Measure it," replied the servant, tmaba«hed, "and see if I am not right." The king was silenced ; he did not know what answer to make, "And the stones that are in my palace ? " he asked. " In your Majesty's palace are two millions of stones," declared the servant. "Oh I " replied the king, "that is certainly not true." " Yes, yes," said the man, " it is quite true ; count ihem, and see whether 1 have not spoken the truth." The king, delighted with his cleverness, not only forgave him, but gave
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The GentUmatis Magazine.
him i. Luge sum of money, which h« divided with his comrade u t j >c*vd for showing him so good a way out of his trouble.'
Nobody will dispute that the English ballad of King John and ' the Abbot of Canlctbuiy \% both far rtronger in i)lot and wittier in ' the replies given to the king ; but then it has been through the skilful hands of Bishop Percy. What can be neater than the rejJic»" to the first and last of the three queri«? —
■• Fini," quotb Iha kine, " tell mc in thi> omJ, With my crown <A gold *» fnli on my hciJ, Aminig my Dobilily wllh \oj and much iniilh, Wiihin one penny what I sm worth."
" For thirty pcnco oui Sftvloui wu >oId Among the TaUc J««i, ox I have been toJd ; And Iwenly-tiine ic ihc wiKth of ihoc. Pot I think ihou tut one penny worKr than he."
" And from ih« third queiiion thou miui not (hrinlc. But lell me hcic Inily what 1 du think."
" Vet, thnt t iball, snd n»kc yuur Grace tneiry | Vour OtsM tliiiikt I'ni Ibc Ahtiot of Caiileibuiy ; But I'lD hit \vxa »ticpheiii, m here you may tec. Come 10 b<f pardon for hint and for mt."
The story is an old one. It is found in one form or another all over Europe. Perha[>s the oldest vei^ion now extant is in the Gtita RomanorwH, where the emperor puts seven questions to * knight against whom he wishes lo find a ground for punishment. It is found also among the Hebrews and in Turkish. The Turkish version, as given by Professor Child, whose account of the tale ia the best, is comic enough. "Three monks, who know everj-thing, in the course of their travels come to a sultan's dominions, and he invites them to turn Mussulmans. This they agree to do, if he will answer their questions, AU the sultan's doctors are convened, but can do nothing with the monks' questions. The hodja (the court fool) is sent for. The first question. Where is the middle of the earth ? is answered as usual" That is to say — Here ; and if you do not believe, measure for yourselves. " The second monk aslcs. How many stars are there in the sky ? The answer is, .\s many as there arc hairs on my ass. — Have you counted? ask the monks. — Have ^vm counted? rejoins the fool.— Answer me this, says the same monk, and we shall see if your number is right : How many hairs are there in my beard? — As many as in my ass's tail. — Prove iL — My dear
' Di. Franeeico Mango: A'«'<//i'»* /'<>/(i/flWian/c,p,ac, The ttorlet quoted below aie alt (lom thii colUdion.
The Folk-iales of Sardittia, 39
IDU, ir jx>u don't bclkvc me, count yomrclf) or we will pull all ^ hain out or both, couDt ibcm, and sclllc tiie matter. 'I'hi; monks ubout, and become Muisutmans." '
Tbe Sardinian pvasatm arc fond of a joke, if their jokes arc not ('»«]« of the keenest Llcre la a story, modern at Icatt in its {resent foriD, of the taming of a shrew. It is entitled " The Girl *ho did not like Smoke." —
Tliere wa& once a priest who had a niece wlio was resolved not
■d taxtf. Often she was asked, but she would not listen ; fur »he
^^d |;ot it into her bend that she would not have a man who smoked.
FiOaUj a young fellow came and asked for her hand. Her uncle
»*i»l to him: "Do you smoke?' "Yes, sir," he replied. "Then
"^y ni«e will refuse you, for she will not have anyone wlio smokes."
^<^t ibe suitor said: "Is that all? HI Ice the smoking alone."
^e uiicle called his niece. She said, Ye:; ; and ihey were married.
*-^ [tie evening of tbe day they were married the bridegroom, without
^)-iiig a sylUblc lo his wife, wen: off to bed, and was soon fast
*»lee(i. And in the same way evcr>' day when lie came home he
I>Cm spoke, but wcn[ str.iight to Ixrd without taking any notice of
wr. She thought this conduct strange, and began to fret and pine.
Her uncle said to her one day : " What is the matter, thai you are
ijwayssad? L>oe< He illtrcal you?" "No, ho doesn't illttcat me;
l)Ut when he comes home at night he never spcak^ buL goes to
iKd and 3lcc|)s. In fart, whca he is in the house, lie never utters
• void to me," Then tlie uncle spoke to the husband : "What
« the mutter, my son? Are you not satisfied with my niece?" |
" Oh, yes, uncle," answered he, " but somehow, when I don't |
SDOk^ I cannot keep my eyes open." Wlien the old man repeated
this to the bride, she said: "If that's it, he shall smoke." And
from th.it time she was never satisfied when he had the pijie out of
his mouilt.
Our old favourite, The Story of the Two Sisters who were envious
I of their Youngest Sister, which M. Cialbnd put into the mouth of the ■Mpmortal Scheherazade, is dealt with by tbe Sardinian peasant in a ^^BDCwhat unexpected fashion. There were once three poor girls, r sitten, who kept a poultry yard close to the king's palace. They \ often used to talk together in the yard ; and the two elder used ta
wish to wed some servant of the king's, but the youngest longed to
wed the king himself. Her sisters laughed, and joked her about it ;
\ and when at last the king asked her, they were jealous, and told her
that if be married her it would only be to make game of her and a
II * PtoC Child : 7%c Emst'uh and Scettith i'tfiUar Ballait, vol. i. p. 4>0. A
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40 Tie Gcttliemans Magazine.
laugh at her. But he did man; her and took her to live In the palace. Dy-nnd-by she was expecting to become a mother, and told her husband she fdi sure he would have two beautiful children. Just at that very time war broke out, and the king w.is obliged to take the field. Before Iciving, he gare his wife in charge to her sisters, who promised to send him tidings of nil that happened. After he was gone, the two sisters conspired together to write to him that his wife had given birth to a brace of puppies and was now stark mad. The king replied, ordering her to be driven from the pabce. Her sisters accordingly cast her out. Weeping, she asked why ihey were sending her away ; but tUey only answered that such was ihe king's command. " God will right me," she said ; " give me but strength and patience !" The poor creature wandered far and wide until she reached a certain mountain. There she met an old, old man who, seeing her plight, courteously invited her to rest in his dwelling. In that shelter she brought forth two lovely babes, a boy and a girl. When the king returned from the war his ustera* in-law had a long tale to icll him of his wife's evil doings. Hearing so much ill of her whom he tenderly loved, the king fell sick and took to his bed. After awhile, when he was able to gel up again, to divert his thoughts, he went far into the country, till he arrived at the mountain where his wife was. There he saw two little ones playing, and said to himself: " How fair they arc ! If they were mine how happy I should be ! " Drawing near, he saw the old man, and asked: "Good man, can you lell me whose children tliese are? " " They belong to a poor unfortunate gitl who has been thrust out of house and home by her wicked sisters." " Might 1 see her?" So the old man called her ; she came, and when they saw one another, husband and wife exclaimed : " My wife ! " " My husband ! " They ran into one another's arms, and with tears of joy the mother called her lilde ones; "Here is your father, kiss him!" The children ran, and jumping up, embraced their father. But when they looked round for the old man who had so long taken care of the helpless outcasts, he had vanished— for he was the Lord Jesus Christ.
The introduction of such a dens (X machinA is very far from offensive to the peasantry of the Continent. Stories in which Chrbt and His Apostles figure are everywhere popular, and this is one of the least objectionable. There is nothing incongruous lo simple, realistic faith in the personal intervention of the Deity to succour the distressed and to do justice to the helpless. If ever that tnterrenciotr be called for in human affairs it is surely for such a purpose ; and it
The Felk-iaies of Sardinia.
41
ti our Eautl, or our mUfortunc, if our association of the taTc wtt)i talk- ing birds and singing trees, magic neckbces and cucumbers with pearl sauce, startle us when, in place of all this elaborate and costly
Ltnochinery, we have the simple form of the Good Shepherd, If the Qiuich herself frown on the imagination which embodies in these talcs ihe objects of her laith, it is quite a modem austerity. For Kges she cherished all such fancies and erected them into articles of
' belief. She wrought them into her senices, and showed them to the pcop e in her miracle plays. The miiade i)lay of Santa Uliva, for instance, the eailiett edition of which is unknown, was reprinted at Florence in the j-ear 1568. It* plot ij in some respects similar to Ihat of the tale before us, but it is the king's mother who schemes
t against the heroine, and not her sisters. In the cirlicr part of the
1 play the hcrcnne cuts ofT her hands to avoid her father's imtjortunitics, for, as in the talc of M.-iry Wainscot led, he desires to marry her ; and Ihe Virgin Mary afterwaitls apjieats to lit her with new ones. Nor is her tnicrvcniion deemed at all incompatible with the nymphs and cupids and other mythological j)ersonages who also take part in the performance.' This play was very popular ; and it is by no means an extreme or a soliiar)- cxamjtle of what we may think the giotcsque mingUng, under the Church's sanction, of sacred and profane, of Christian divinities in pagan fairy talcs.
At the be^inninjt of this paper the Sardinian Cinderella came before OS ; we may close with another fiKure, eijually familiar if not equally beloved — that of Bluebeard. The Sardinian Bluebeard is called — The Devil ; and the story ahnut him is this. .\ poor man who had three daughters went one day into the wood to gather a bundle of sticks. While he was cutting them he heard footsteps, and turning round he saw a gentleman, who asked : " What are you doing, my good man ? " *• I am getting a little wood, you see, sir, to warm myself." " Would you like mc to help you ? " " We always want help until we die." "What family have you?" "Three daughters." "Well. I will help you if one of your daughters wiil marry mc." " How can a poor girl likcmy daughter marry?" 'I"hc gentleman thereupon cut off an entire branch at one blow, gave it to the woodcutter, and said : " Then I shall expect an answer lo-morrow." But when the gentleman had gone away, the woodcutter said to himself : " He must be the devil himself, or he could not have cut that big branch all in a moment." However, devil or no devil, he went home and told the story to his dau^ters. Tlie eldest and the second both refused to marry the ' IVAncoiu : Sairi Jt-ifprainliithm Jti Sitoli XIV, XV, t XVI, vol. iil. p. J3S-
i
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42 The Genilettmn's Magasitu.
unknown gentleman, " I will," said the youngest ; " so I shall be mistrea in my own house." The next day the suanger came to tlie wood and met the woodcutter. " Well," uid he, " wlmi have you done, good man ? Which of them will have me ? " "Thcyoungen," replied the man. " Then take this money, and to-monow I will oome and fcich her." But tlie old piovcrb t* iruc : Atarry in haste and repent at leisure. On the morrow the gentleman came and the wedding took place, and the nianicd pair afierwards set out for home, ficlbre parting, the bride's motlit-t gave her a little dog to keep her company. When they reached home the bridegroom said to her ; " You are mistress of everything." And he gave her the keys and took her all over the house. But there was one room he did not show her, and the key of which he omitted to give her ; and she said to her- self : " 1 must find out why be did not give me the key of this room. But I undcisUind that he does not come home from midday to midnight, so I shall get my chance.^ One day slic accordingly succeeded in finding the key, and she opened the door. \Vhat a sight she beheld 1 Those agonised forms were nothing else than lOuU of the lost. Overcome with fright, she gasped : " \l*ho aifr you ? " " We ate paying the penalty of our sins. I," said one, " waa ■ a miller's wife, and I roblted every poor man who came to grind his com," "I," said another, " used to blaspheme continually." "I," said a third, " murdered my husband." And so they told every one her sin. " And who are you ? " asked these lost ones in return. " I am the mistress of the house, and I live here with my husband." *' Poor child I and she knows not she has married the deviL' "The devil .' How shall 1 manage to live wuh him ? " she asked, almost beside herself. " Don't despair ; we will tell you how to get away. Write a letter as if from your mother, saying that she wishes to see you. Tel! your husband, and ask him to take you to her. When you reach the house, have a cock made ready to lake back with you ; and when you are on the way back squeeze the bird's wings, and you will see that the devil will soon disappear." So the wife forges the letter, and goes to her husband in tears, and hands it to him. " What is the matter ? " " Re.id this letter, and you will see." Devils are so easily dcccived^in folk-talcs. " Well, well," said he, " don't try ; we will go, and you shall see your mother." When they got there, the mother was surprised to see her daughter. "\Vhat do you want here? "she asked. "Hush, mother! pretend you ate unwell, and that you wanted to see me once more. 1 have something of import- ance to tell you." When Ihey were alone the girl told her mother all. The mother quickly got a cock, and packed it up to go with
Th€ Folk-talis of Sardinia.
43.
tliem. FreaenUy husband uid wife slaned home again. Whtn they had Kone a little way she slyly pinched (he cock's wings. Out he bounced with a Autter and a screech. The mme insunt her husband vanished ; and she relumed rejuicing lu her father's house.
The cock's magical power in driving away demons is we!l known. At that season of the year when the bird of dawning singelh all night long, no spiiit dares stir abroad. Night is the time when spirils have special power ; and most spirits are looked upon ns evil and hostile to men. Uut it is a commonplace of European folk-lore that what- ever time of the night a cock crows all evil spirits are at once put to flight ; their power is gone. Therefore it is that, as in this talc, arti- 6cial means ate constantly taken to induce a cock to crow, in order to rescue the hero or heroine from the devil's grnsp. What the origin of this superstition may be is a difficult question. It is pn>- bmbly not one of the oldest superstitions yet current, for the domestic fowl is not indigenous to Euiopc^a fact that has perhaps something to do with the supemaiural virtue assigned to it.
But the cock is not the only one of the tower animals introduced here. A htttc dog is mentioned as given to the bride by her mother, and then it is forgotten. We may be quite sure it was originally not Otenlioned for nothing. In some other Italian stories concerning the Forbidden Chamber, a dog is kepi by the ogre-husband to warn the wife against disobedience, and to blab her secret. In the present case the dog belongs to the wife ; and if we could go back to an earlier form of the story, it would not be surprising to find that it was the dog, and not the condemned spirits, who counselled her how she ■faotild escape from the devil's dutches.
E. SIDNEY MARTLAin>.
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44 ^^ Gentleman s Magazine,
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A COMPETITiyE UTOPIA.
EARLY last year, Dr. Hcrtika, a well-known Viennese political economist, published a book entitled "Frceland : n Social Anticipation." ' The book quickly ran through several large editions, and before the year ended societies «-ctc being formed in different parts of CettDany and Austria, preparatory to the organisa- tion of a colony in which Dr. Hcrtxka's new economic views might be practically tested. The author has been called a " high jmcst of the Manchester School," and " one of the most acute of the acute epigones of Kicardo." In what directions the author would develop the generally received principles of Political Economy may be seen from the following notice — first, of the leading principles of " Free- land," and next of the story by which those principles are shown in operation.
Some years ago Dr. HcrtJ;ka arrived at the conclusion that the great problem which first called forth, and has since been the enigma of, political economy, was and is, " Why do we not become wealthy in the ratio of our growing capacity of producing wealth?" In other words, lime was when it was impossible to produce more than enough to make a few persons wealthy, and to barely feed and clothe and house the rest ; the time has come when, thanks to the con- trol man has acquired over the forces of nature, it is easily pos- sible to produce enough to make every individual wealthy. Why has not actual production kept pace with possible production ? The teply which Dr. Hertzka gives is, " Because actual production depends upon the effective demand, which is prevented by the existing social conditions from increasing in the ratio of the increase of productive capacity." He further finds that effective demand or consumption cannot increase sufficiently to stimulate such an amount of production as shall make all persons wealthy until every man can retain for his own use the whole of what his labour produces. And in order to make this possible, the means of production, land and capital, nmst be always and equally accessible to every nun,
' Frtikaid: an i«ia!a Zuktn/tibUd. Lcipiig ; Duncker und Uumblot. 1890,
A Competitive Utopia.
45
^ntixT the commumty nor the Individnal should poncss sny pro< r*ty in land. Productive capital — to be first accumulated by "^ntttl chvge» upon prodoction— «houId be at the disposal of any ^^ricer or auodation of woikera, without interest, but repayable by "^Haiments. It should be optional Tor any worker to join or leave any ^^■odition of workers at will, the mobility of labour being thus made ^ depend solely upon t!ie changes in supply and demand. This Infea mobility of labour will pierterve an equality of profits in all baadivs of industry-, and will thus make ilie advantage of any one bnnch the common advantage of all. 'i'hu^, with nationalisation of had aitd capital on the one hand, Dr. Hcri/ka would combine the fiocest competition on the other. Only, as the prolits of the com> peting individuals or competing associations arc made — by the free nubttity of labour— advantageous to the whole community, the com- petition is not that of opponents but of friendly rivals. Com- Buintsin is, in Dr. Hcnika's opinion, a^ fatal in one direction a$ the iloiling competition at present existing is in another. He would
rid of the bondage oi both exploitation .tnd communism. Every one should be perfectly free to do what he plcnscs, except to exercise I right of private |>roperiy in land. There should be no bar even on the pa)-rocnt of intercut to private capttalinta., or on the employment of one man by another, if any one chose to pay interest for what lie could get for nothinic, or to work for another when he could more profitably work for himself. Having laid down a correct scientific basis for the community, Ur. Mcruka expect* that community automatically to develop into a condition of univcisal wealth, and the highest and noblest possible well-being.
The author's principles will be better understood as seen realised in the narrative of his imaginary colony— trccUnd. An "Inter, national Free Socie^" is organised for the settlement of a tract of country in the hOI districts of Equatorial Africa. Hie funds are supplied by the voluntary subscriptions of the members in the first instance, and the management is vested, until the colony is com- pletely organised, in an executive committee. A pioneer expedition
two hundred we!l.armed, well-equipped, experienced and cnthu- ,axtic men starts from the Eastern Coast at Mombasa, and after successfully 0%'ercoming the difficulties of the way, reaches the slopes of the Kenia mountain district in health and safety. On the wa)-, ley have not only efleaually ftif;;hlencd but even m.-ide allies of the tribes— including the terrible Masai — they have met with. The details of the pioneer exgicdition are based upon careful studies of the works of African explorers, and of Joseph Thompson in panicular. In fact.
/
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The Gtnilemaiis Magazine.
I
a!l ihe detaits are vwy tarefiilly dnwn, and ihe narraiivc. whidi Bome may think unnecesaarily circumstantial, has cvcr>-»rhere an air of verisimilitude. The author lias jmrposdy made his narrative minutely circumstantial, in order lo show that though the story is a fiction it ix in every point capable of realisation.
A« soon as the pioneer )any has fixed upon a site for the head- qtianers of the colony, and has made hasty but very subettntial pTovtiion for more immigrants, the general body of members hurries to the Kenia in large inttalments. The execulire committee remove from Europe to the colony itself, and hand over the control of affair* to the elective gowrnmcnl, which consists of twelve depart- menta. Into ihc details of the definitive constitution of Frceland it ii impOMible here to go ; Iftit it should be stated Uiat the perfect motility of labour is further secured by means of universal publicity of all business and industrial transactions. All accounts arc kept l^ the Central Bank, the books of vrhich arc open to any one^ The bank, moreover, publishes from time to Umc all such statistics as are jicccssary to show the changes of supply and demand, profit and loss, tb'O^Rhout Krceland. Accounts arc kept in terms of English money, |,0l the unit used in calculating profit, income, salaries of oHicial^fl B.C., is the average value of an hour's labour. This unit rapidly and g„ormously incteancs in value. From the beginning the most ^jjgdy thing in the colony is human labour. As, by virtue of thefl jjso'utcly free mobility of labour, the advantage obtained by anyonft " -•pciation of workers is at once spread over the whole body of _jl(crj throughout Frecland, machinery receives an immense ■ rtcnis. As a consequence, by the time the population has reached ' eoO,ooo producers, the profits have risen lo seven milliards sterling Jr? 000,000,000). Deducling two and a half milliards for the contri- M ^rjon* to the public service, &c.. the remaining four and a half ■ milliard* give an average income of ;^6oo to ever>' producer, withf -n annual average of only 1,500 houra of work. Thus the average ^t value of a labour-hour is eight shillings. Out of the money deducted by the commonwealth arc paid all the costs of education, ■ ^hlic conveyance, lighting, &c. &c., as well as the mamtenanceB nowanccs of all persons over sixty, all women whether married or 1 " f and all children. The Freelanders hold that no woman should h^ rfcncndcnt upon her husband for the necessities of life, or should _ hp ompcllcd to labour for her livelihood. The woman's place in § Z-imisthatofthebeautilier and the refiner. The maintenance iSwanccs can accumulate in a family until they nrach as much * 70 per cent, of the average income of a producer. Thus, if the
A Competitive Utopia,
annge incoinc of a producer be £.fxx> a year, the raatmenaiicc altMiaaces of a non-producing family of a man, wife, and three or oore children who are not jrct old enough to work, will be £,^20.
Dr. Hcrtxka has left scarcely a detail in the public and private
^e of a community untouched in his description of ihefoimdingnnd
«rly growth of hit colony at Eden Vale, The government, the edu-
catiaMl lystcm, the provbjor for defence, and of course all the
CnaKia), economic, industrial, and social features of the cummon-
••sallh are abundanlly enlarged upon. When Freeland has been in
^tlilttcc some four- or five-and- twenty years, it finds itself compelled
*^ go 10 war with Abyssinia, with the result that the highly-trained
^•^d exceptionally intelligent youth of Freeland easily, arid almost
*^ ifihey were engaging in their ordinary sports, dispose of an Abjs-
^'^lian anny many times outnumbering the force brought against them.
** the course of a few days the war is Over, and the world has dis-
^^>Tcred that Freeland is invincible.
Al this dale Frccbnd has constructed and picsentcd to the ^otld, free of toll, ocean -steamer canals from the Atlantic to ihc Indian Ocean across the centre of Africa, and from E<]uatori3t Africa *o the Mcdilcrrancan. Some surplus Freeland capital, which several x£ its wealthy citizens have loaned to other countries by way of specu- lative whim, has tmmemely lowered the rate of interest all over the world. Other siicas are conlinually flowing out of Freeland into the old countries as benevolent contributions in relief of the distress of die popubtions where exjiloitation still prevails. All the roads into Fredand arc open to any of the inhabitants of other countries who m«y long for a refuge from care and want.
The I'rcelnnd passenger-steamers ply in all oceans, carrying emi- grants from ail the world to Freeland free of charge. The e>'es of all the distressed everywhere are upon Freeland; the hopes of all wise philanthropists arc centred in the propagation of Fteebnd prin- ciples, and the fears of all t)'rants and reactionaries find their ground and juslificaltoo in Freeland. Despotic governments would like to crash Fieelaod, but they are afraid to attack it Ie.it their own OpptMSed peoples should rise against them, and the more enlightened nations should Uke up the cause of Freeland, And at last, when FreelaiMl shows with what case it can crush a formidable enemy, the crisis conies among the peoples : the advanced nations begin at once to take measures to adopt Freeland institutions, nrd the despotic powers find their countries in a state of volcanic revolution. Freeland offers consuluiivc commissioners and grants of money to the rising peoples everywhere, and calls a universal congress of the nations to meet at
J
I
8 The Genileman's Maga^ne.
Eden Vale lo diKUSS ihe political future of the world. One-fount* oftI« book is occupied with the reiwrt of the mewing of ihiscongtca- ^1k questioDS discussed arc :
How is it thai it was left to I-reebnd lo set the example otf a commonwealth based upon the imnci|)lcs of justice aniK freedom?
Is the success of Frecland due to exceptional circumsunces, or are the Ficeland institutions based ujion conditions evcir- where existing and inherent in human nature ?
Are want and misery inevila!>Ie ; and if misery be tcmponirijj removed, will not over- population ensue and brinir it bac —- lin?
Is it possible— and if so, by what means— to establish ilie _ Ikutions of economic justice universally without interfering with inherited rights and vested interests? |
Arc economic justice and fiecdotn the final issue of human evolution, and what will be the condition of mankind under the domination of these principles? Throughout, and pariiculatly in the treatment of the above questions, Dr. Henxka's work differs from most of the earlier Utopia* in basing the conclusions arrived at upon scientific principles. The book is boih a Utopia and a treatise on political economy. It isa treatise thrown into pictorial foini, and on this account it will pro- ■
bably— particularly in England— meet withobjeciionfromtwodiffercnt quarters. Those who want a story will complain of the econoinic disquisitions, and those who want economics will scarcely have patience with the story. But though these two classes of readere may object, it is most likely they will both read the book.
Not only have readers in abundance been already found in Ger- many and Austria, but, as has been said, a practical result of the reading has already become manifest. Local societies are formed in many of the larger cities and towns of both empires, and these local societies are organised into one confederation with its liead- .luarters in Vienna. Funds are pouring in, fresh members are rapidly accumulating, and it is in contemplation to put Dr. HcrUka's theories to a practical test in British Equatorial Africa, if pos- dble next year. Much is hoped from the appearance of the book in English form.' as it is expected that the English- speaking populations will contribute a large contingent of both members and funds lo the International Free Society. As soon as an English branch of the Society is in existence, it b proposed to ' An Engll'h edition will immetlisle'y lie published by MeKis. CtiatloA Windu*.
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A Competitive Utopia.
49
tpproach die British Government for the purpose of procuring such sstuiDces of neutrality as shall enable the Society to make its operiments without fear of British interference.
The object of this short paper has been merely to draw attention to a striking attempt made by an economist of reputation to solve ibe eomomicjproblem. Criticism of that attempt is best left until tbe work is in the hands of the English reading public German niters have not refrained from criticising it; many have applauded it, and eren such leading economists as have not found themselves able tocDdoise it as a whole, have treated tbe book as one of the meet wioD! and noteworthy attempts ever made to solve the burning ?")%» of the times.
ARTHUR RANSOM,
VOL. tXLXXt, SO. 1937,
Fr07tt a Country Parsonage.
%t
ippointed, and told my father that the list, so far as the iwent, might have been compiled by anyone, and that he jed himself of half the honour. He answered that in what trriiten he had endeavoured to add his mite to science, and he had his reward. And so we were silenced. Loving hislory as he did, my father encouraged each of us to take e branch of it He impressed upon us, too, the necessity of nd accurate observation, and said that, if we were to excel our fellows, we ought each to have a specialty, and pursue it ^t ardour.
0 not think the farmers set much store by our studies in history, and I believe some of them held us in rather slight ipt for pursuing them. What praaical good could come of fas it going to bring us our bread ? And because our ours could not find answers within themselves to these self- id questions our pet projects were both mercilessly reviewed mraarily condemned. We were illustrative of types of mental CSS out of which no good thing could be expected to come.
1 years I knew exactly what they thought of us, for I found very ideas incorporated in the Ingoldshy Legends. And
I read them I saw our own pictures start up vividly
me:
Still poking his nose into Ihii Ihing or tb>ti
A[ 3 gnat, oi a bal, or a rat, nr a cat.
Or great ugly things, all legs and wings,
With nasty long tails aimed with iia,-.ty long Mings.
e this other description of the popular verdict against us, even more succinct :
He H-ould poTO liy the liour o'er a weed or a finwer.
Oi the slugs whicb came crawling out after a shower;
Black-lieetles and bumble-bees, bluebottle die*,
Ai\A moths were of no small account in his eyes ;
An industiious flea he"d by no me.ins despise ;
While an old daddy longlegs, whose long legs and thighs
Paised the common in shape, or irr colour, ot siie,
He was wont to consider an absolute prize.
- scant justice which our early studies obtained did us
yiy father was always ready to lend us his ready
d knowledge, and my dear mother expressed herself
'° geetned to have such a fondtiess for nature. Nothing
Id cora^ of it, she thought; and I well remember her '" M not understand how anyone with a deep love of ihe . Creator
'" Id no' understand how anyone with a deep love of ihe °l^,-.itor in his heart could ever become quite deprived.
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5a Tlu Ccntleman's Magazine.
The memljera of our family, however, were not the only nam thai the ralley had produced. So rich wm it !„ natural obL» that I am fully convinced mom of the yeomen were naturalists X^ selves withoul knowing it. Although they never set anythin d on paper, they were Icccn observers, and 1 have heard them drscX in the most inieresiing way the vanous imits of the live creature* ihcy met. Hut i*o or three had been jjom in the dale I intervals who had afterwards distinguished themselves in sci """^ One of these was John Wilson. Wilson was born and lived i'a'tk dale, and wc were very proud to think that he wrote the first work on Knglish Botany. This worthy man came upon the Me^ when botany, in its best sense, had made but IJiUe procress H* was one of those naturalists who did much to place the science * the broad scientific basis upon which it now rests. His t>redw had mostly comprehended the subject as ii taught them of the h t« 1 and simples of the wood, i
Rue, cinque-foil, giil, *Mvain, nnd agiimony, Blue-vcieh and liilium, hawk-ucetl. taMafnu,
Milkwceils atiil muiky brekiM, quolnl pipe* and sundew.
Ukc his predecessors, too, he clung fondly to the old English names, and loved to wrap about the flowers the attributes his fathen had done. Their knowledge of " herbalism " had been profound but he would have none of it- Wilson was a tmly remarkable man : and although there is all that Intenseness and simplicity anent his dealings with nature that there had been in connection with the old workers who preceded him, yet his work is of an eminently scientific character. They were not always infallible observer^ and frequently tripped in their facts; Wilson rarely did so. He found botany as a science a veritable maze, all without a plan • but al his death he left it somewhat systematised. I have said that Wilson was born in our valley, and may add that he came of pious yeomen folk, who were poor enough, except in the possession of many stern virtues. The primitive dale must have proved a very paradise to him, as it was so secluded, and certainly had never been invaded by science prior to his coming. This pleasant environment did not last long. In the fulness of his boyish en- thusiasm he roamed over the hills like a partridge. The verj- isolation referred to, and which was a merit in one way, rendered the people a prey to the grossest superstition. Our botanist made long, lonely journeys, often at night, among the hills and woods and by the sea. The fell folk said that the nightly calling which
From a Country Parsonage. 53
\ook him 10 fiir afield might be honest ; but they shook their hodt, uml some even i-cniurcd to sai>- that he w.-is a '-wise wa*— « dealer in myxteTies, and given to dork sayings. It vas poUbly ihb evil repuic which gathered around him, and ihc want d books, that caused him to leave the dale and go to a small aulwt town about ten miles olT. And, maybe, this cnrotccd OKmuuioe was well. He had studied long and hard in his native nikf, ud there had had abundant and r.tre material. .'\t home iKbdonlyan old "Herbal," which he well knew was as full of Bxnndes as superstition. Now he had good guides, and tend himielf within reach of the best books on the subject, and oat iuo coniKction wiih those who had hkc interests to him- kIC Some of these were really remarkable workers— workers who tmd ool far above the common run of men. They put before y^uxt ibc then standard works of his own pet subject, and of the Mittmi of these, with his already acquired knowledge and native ■"xltnunding, he quickly made hitnsclf master. But none of tlic *raib to which be had access were so good as the one he was "JntiDfd to write. They were styled " scientific "; but the first law •fieieacc is order, and, as yet, there was only chaos. Our botanist *»lhe great mind bom to perceive and exhibit such order from lix then aiceriaiiicd elements of botany so far as collected. I need tolf farther say that AVilson bbourcd hard for many years, working M his book the while he pursued his trade. AVhen it was published u came out in English, and not in i>atin. The author had M out with a well-defined plan, and executed it in an admirable Manner. It was a strong and original work, a vcr>' monument of accurate observation and the genius of hard work. Tim botanist's early wanderings among the fells were stamped upon every page, and \ViUon was wont to say that he never could have succeeded without that early life which he loved so well And so our greatest L " worthy " pioduced hi* Sjno/isis of Britiih Plauls. I X bttve already said something of our studies in natural history',
^HDd also of the desire which my father had that we should each ^^(ike up some specialty instead of working indiscriminately. He knew from enperience how many a keen intellect had rusted, shut out as it was among the iitobiton of the hills. If ever that fate should be ours, as it ha<! been his, he fell that by encouraging us in aomc scientific study he had done what he could to guard against the breeding (Aennui, and that the science, whichever we might take up, would teach us the habits of close and accurate observation. My father knew Little of birds, but in his diary he kept records of the
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"54 Tke GmtUmans Magazine ^|
anival and deporture of tlw rarer summer visitors ; and, spesk^l for mr^lf, it was these enuiea and the obser>-iitions which llin I uggGslcd that first inteiesled me in ornithology. From that time I I have always taken an intense iniercst in birds. I |ffopo« to set do«'n here a very short account of those that visited our valley, and | I mint sketch one or two of its main physical charactctiticj. Tliese are essential to the better understanding of the subject. ' It is hemmed in on three sides, and on the soutlj sweeps away and loses itself in the iindutaiions of a wooded plain. An arai i of the sea touches upon the confines of the plain, and thus it will be seen that the dale includes tracts of a very diversified nature. It is probably this that makes the woods and streams and meadows of the valley so rich in bird life, and the fact of the quietude of the spot being rarely broken.
Owing to the close proximity of the hills, the Rajitores have always been the most i»rominent birds of the valley. 'I'hcy are not so common now as formerly, though the sparrow-hawk may still be seen in the woodlands, and the kesucl holds its own among the rocks of the scaurs. The beautiful circling kites have left Glcd Hill and the merlin falcon has lluwn, never more to return. Occasionally an osprcy visits the still mountain tarns on migration, and ravens crott * from moor to moor, uttering their dismal "Croak, croak cruak I* ' The old disnianlled Hall has its pair of screech-owls, and the tawny owl makes night mournful by her hootmg in the stiller woods. The more rare long-eared and short-eared owls are occasionally found on the lower-lying mosses which skirt the waters of the brackish creek- The great grey shrike, or butcher-bird, visits the copses which are hkelyto provide food for its larder, and I have found the red-backed S])ecics among the hedges which encircle the moat of an old lichencd tower. The spotted and pied llycatchers come to us as our first summer visitants, the former being much more common than the latter. They establish themselves everywhere along the trout streams, obtaining food from the insects of the overhanging boughs. The pretty while- breasted dipper, or water crow, haimts our rocky stream and early builds its nest along the Greenwasii tributaries. Com. panion of the ouzel is the brightly -plum aged kingfisher, with its niclaltic tints. Vou hear its whistle far down stream ; it cornea through the old ivied bridge, darU past, and is gone— gone to the dripping moss by ihc waterfall, where the female halcyon is hatching her eggs. The song-thrush is everywhere, and often in spring se%'cml may be heard at once, filling the whole glade with their warblingj. Of the other thrushes, the " orange-billed merle " floods the copic
Frmt a Country Parsonage. 55
vilh iK neltow soi^ on sinnmer cventngE. The bUdcbtid stays :6«il our hedgerows the whole of ihc year, so docs the misseU Unith; wKJIc the Ikldfore *nd the redwing conic to our hoUy- boria ia winter from the pine wastes of Norway. The ring-otuel iiill Wds its own among tlw fell " becks," and there trills out its ■ciidand not unmuucal song, The hedge accentor, the icdbieaM, uid Ihe redstart arc common, the lost coming to us in April to rear it pning. Il is quite the most beautiful of the warblers, and its bnlUini plumage sboirs weU against tlie sombre hues of the lime- ttoot.
Il il now that so many other of the Sylviada come — the sofi- ttUal warblers of the wood-bird kind. Among these arc the Ane^hatt whinchai, and wheatear. 'i'he first — a shy bird of the Conifflon— builds its nest among the gorse ; the second in like BEiuciuis, or among broom or juniper bushes ; while the whcatcat ^"H iu pale-blue cg([s in some old crannied wall. Then come tfic willow, wood, and garden warblers— the whtic-throai, the ■nljcbird, and the blackcaps. The sedge and willow warblers fctre their nests among ihc aquatic plants of the tarns and moreSi nd their game preserves in the stalks and leaves of the waving BUBO. Sweetest of wood-birds are the warblers, and sweetest Hogsicr of the choir the blackcap warbler. 'ITiis bird is some* lines called the "mock nightingale," and we have known pec- »ft5 listening, as they believed, to rhilomela when ihc blackcap was the only bird under the night. The nightingale has ocvct extended its northern haunt to our valley, although it is ditticult Id ascerUin why this should be so. The whole of the warblers and white-throats may be found in our more sheltered woods, «bere ihcy breed after the first weeks of May. The old Honey- bee Woods have always been the chief haunt of these delicate ' songsters. ,
Owing to the number of larch and fir plantations which border the slopes of our valley, the lamily of liis has always been repre- j
sented. The first of these is the golden. crested icgulus, the smallest of firitbh birds, though by no means the rarest The crested wren, the great, blue, cole, marsh, and long-tailed tits are all of them common. This miniature fomily of acrobats disperse themselves over their breedii^ haunts in summer, nesjing for the most part in holes in {
trees, but in winter scour tiie woods in companies in search of food. I
Often they may be seen, hanging head downwards, abstracting the seeds from the hardened cones. Flocks of Bohemian waxwings ^m aie sometimes shot during the severity of winter, and occasionalljb^^^^
k.
From a Country Parsonagg. 57
^»Ury tnde. From " pond 10 pond he roams, from moor to moor."
**>* bcauii/ul golden plover slayti wtih u.t on its way to the more
^onhen hiUi ; and ihe common green plover, peewit, or lapwing,
"*w«U emywhere over ilie Callows. The curlew still gives out Us
*«iid ihitlle on Ihe fells, and Iwvers around the firm lights on
"^WiiJ lighK. The rare ruff and the green sandpiper occasionally
''"Bc lo the mosses by the Gieenwash ; and here in winter
^^1 be hevd the wild clangour and cries of innumerable sea
Oir nllcy is as rich in its plant life as in its birds, and I will
'"'' M down some account of its Roral tre.-isurcx. Then, again,
'Imjj'br interesting to the botanist to know what tlowcrs really grow
'A > tiWej whkh produced certainty the greatest liotanist of his time.
Of rouBC I refer to ^Vilson ; though before I proceed I may say
''xt these flowers arc those of a summer, and the prominent ones
lh«i« seen in the dale. Among the most quaint and curious
"f our Slimmer wild flowers, both in device and life history, arc
'^orchidi. And this order is nowhere belter represented than
^ Many of them are latc-flowcring plants, but early summer
Iw fire species of its own. First blooms the spotted or purple
(vdiis, and soon follow the bird's-ncsi, fly, palmate, marsh, and
Ptit butterfly orchids. The fly orchis is a somewhat remarkable
(An^ and it reijuires no stretch of imagination to sec in the
IttKi the resembbnce to the insect from which it derives its
■tme. Its flower is dark purple, and may be found growing in
apses and on hedgebanks. " 1'hc nether parte of the fly is black,
vilh a list of ash colour crossing the backc, with a showc of ieggcs
banging at it ; the naiurall fly sccmcth so to be in love with it that
yoa shall scldome come in the heate of the daic but you shall fmd
one sitting dose thereon." The butterfly orchis is not a well-named
species, and has but slight resemblance to the winged creature
whose name it bears. Its flowers are creamy while, and at night emit
a sweet perfume. This being so, it is interesting to know that this
piaiticular flower is fciiilised only by night-flying moths. Among the
more general flowers of the season is crosswort, growing in pretty
golden clusters on every bit of neglected ground. Side by side with
this is the liny pink valerian, everywhere nestling under the moisler
meadow banks. Oik of our haodsomest weeds is the globe flower—
a rare and cultivated plant in many districts, but here growing wild.
Whcicver jt flourishes its delicate yellow g!obc-Hke flowers enliven
the surrounding greenery, tn times gone by globe flowers were
gathered with great festivity by youths of both sexes in the beginning
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58
The Gentleman's Magasinc.
of June, and it was usual Xo tee them return from the woods of evening laden with these flowers, with which they made wreaths aA garlands to adorn ihcir houses, 'llie old floral usages of the counto —the flower iucwings and well dressings, ihc decking of hou^ and churches with wreaths— are now nearly over, and even tM garlands of May-day become fewer each year. Cow-wheat is i pretty, delicate plant, with long tubular pale-yellow flowers. CoJ «re fond of it, and Linr.xus asserts that the best and yellow butter is made where it abounds, TlicTe is a popular error respcciL the large family of buitcrcups, to the elTect that when these arc m> plentiful butter will be yellowest. Hut cows, on account of t: acridity of ihc flowers, rarely eal them, and tufts may be se^ still slandinj; when the grass about them and over all the pasture 'A closely cropped. This northern valley is one of the sjiots where tM handsome columbine grows wild, but even here its distribution tJ local The large blue, white, or pink petals have each incurvej spurs, and the flower acquires its name from the fanciful rc^mblancd to a nest of doves. I
As summer advances she deepens her colour and renders sweetes her breath. And so it happens that ihe wild flowers now bloomituE have brightly coloured corollas, and lend a richness of beauty to thtt surrounding foliage almost peculiar to the season. Prominent amona these are the foxglove, trailing woodbine, guelder-rose, iris, gotdei^ rod, giant beli-flower, and many others. But there are mar\-cllou5]» beautiful plumes — flowers we usually pass unnoticed on accouob of their diminutiven ess— which, examined with the aid of » lenu show a wondrous witchery of structure: Tliey are the grasses. Thitf one, with its soft and hairy head like a brush, is the meadow foxuU. That, with the slender waving purplish flowers, the common field grass — the chief element of the meadows. Then there are the haulms of brome, with large, broad, flat heads, fiercely bearded and standing square to the breeze. And here, again, the sweet vernal grass, which imparts such a delicious odour to newly-mown hay. In addiitoa there are fescue, matweed, wild oats, cord grass, darnel, and wagging bennets, as well as creeping couch grass, the farmer-loved timothy, quake or dodder, and tares. These are a few of the many British grasses, intermixed with which is red and white clover. Because they find tiny drops of honey in the long corolline lubes, chitdrea love to call it honeysuckle. To show how almost inextricabljr interwoven is the existence of one branch of nature with another, let us lake the case of red clover as illustrated by Darwin. The humble-bee is the only insect the proboscis of which is sufficiently.
From a Country Parsonage. 59
KHij; to reach the nccur in ihc clover dower, and hence only this insect can fertilise it. The number of bees in any one district is dejiendent upon ihc number of field-mice, which destroy the combs; the number of field-mice is again dependent upon the number of cats, which, in turn, prey upon them ; and hence it may be said thu to the domestication of Ihe cat are our large clover crops due.
The Riant bell-flo»er is one of the children of swarthy summer. It grows in moist srd shady woods, with its purplish blue or more mrcly while petals, and the children call it the Canterbury bell. .\s eagerly do we look for the first wild rose as for the swallow or cuckoa In June cvery^hcdgerow is adorned with them, and wood- bine twines about llieir branches. The pink and while roses arc among our sweetest summer flowers, and not only beautify the country' now, but their bright scarlet fruit in winter relieves the monotony of the hedges and affords food for the birds. In the low-lying and wet woods the guelder-rose, or wayfaring tree, has put on its bloom. Of al! floral siveeis that emitted by the guelder- rose b ifte most refreshing. Its flowers hang ii] graceful white cymes, and arc peculiarly wax-like ; the drooping clusters of berries arc smooth, clean, and bright as rubies. The gold and purple ins of the bop and tarns is an imposng flower, well set off by its dark- green, swoid-like leaves. The honeysuckle, or woodbine, is loved alike by all. Its blossoms are as sweet as beautiful, and just now it is threading its sinuous way through every hedgerow. This was the caprifole and twisted eglantine of the older poets. Generally distributed through tlie woods in each summer ate the wild hyacinths or "Uuo bells." These cover the floor of every copse, making in places floods of purple- Rarely there may be found while varieties of this beautiful tloncr, several of which have been gathered tn our woods. The flower of the ancients which bore this name had upon its petals dark sjiols restrinbling the (Ireek word " Ai "— alas! Our hyacinth, however, having no such distinctive mark, is named A'cw Seriptus—naX written. Blooming in hedges and waste places is the ground ivy, with its puqjie flowers and dark rounded leaves, i'rimi- nve botanists considered this pl.mt of great efficacy in many dire diseases, and even now in some rural dt^tricis its leaves are dried and n»ed as test It emits a pleasant fragrance, and has an aromatic taste. The ripening of the yellow rattle indicates out hay-iimc, when the hard seeds rattle in the capsules. This blue marsh vctchling is rare in its beauty, and blooms in like places to the silvery grass of Parnassus. Lady's-manile is the plant whose fringed and rounded
i
leaver ali
TTitf Gentieman's Magasiiu.
leaver always contain a spaikling diop of dew. Peadly nigbtdiade ■a X rare but fatally poisonous plant, whose duk purple Ictres in autumn so much adorn the hedgerows. One of our few climbers it the graceful black bo'ony. w'th '" pictureKHie entwining boughs. Ics Karlet berries arc as Inviling n.n its bright green foliage is cod la summer. The scabious shines through the foliage of the dusty toad- side, and in the gtcen lanes tower the stately foxgloves. Fen dignified beauty, for lovelinesi of form and hue, few English flowen can compete with the foxglove. Houndstonguc and dusky cranes- bill are latc flowers here, though elsewhere they arc not uncommon. Beautiful to our eyes is the little scarlet pimpernel, poor man's weatbn- glass, or shepheid's barometer. All these names are appropriate, for not only do the lloweis close at the approach of rain, but waVe and sleep both morning and afternoon ai seven and two respectively, with the gccaleu regulatity. The pimpernel is one of the only two scarlet British wild flowers, and is extremely beautiful. It is a low creeping plant, which trails its delicate stem about the stalks of the scarlet poppy of the cornfields. Enchanter's nightshade, l)ctony, figwort, and the little cycbright all bloom in the valley. This last possesses wonderful virtues of cye-preaerving a<xording to the old herbaUsls, and in rural districts is much used as an eye-wash. The bogbcan, butlciwort, and golden rod are all handsome summer flowers, the last a mass of golden blooms mounted on a dense spike. In limes past it had repute for the curing of wounds, and old Gerarde says: "It is extolled above all herbs for the stopping of blood,, and hath in times past been had in greater estimation and regard than in these dales; for within my remembrance I have known the drie herbe which came from beyond the seas sold for half-a-crown an ounce." BuHerworl is a rare and singular bog plant, its leaves having the appearance of being covered with while cr)sials of hoarfrost ; it was formerly used for dyeing the hair yellow.
One of the dalesmen, a yeoman of repute and some Btandin& "W a minute philosopher, and enjoyed the friendship of Mr, Wordsworth. Like Gilbert While, he was in ihe habit of setting ^°^xy what he saw going on about him, and all his observatior« ^^ of the most interesting description. He was essentially an out* Ooot observer and as he took his facts at first hand from nature ")«'e was always a fascinating freshness about them. One of his *"°''e ambitious essays at writing was a sketch entitled Tlu ruhm X^" •■ « Ckaracur a production at once ciuaint and accurate ff.^^,^<^cribinR the varied charms of the valley, its sweet stream "•^^ "»e wav i Ai,i.K he used to ensnare its crimson-spotted, golden
^L ant
9nt a Country Parsons^.
lided trout, nnd adding that he must not be tempted to dwell on
tbw rcmiiusccnces, be goes on lo say ; "Our present object is an
wtinp lo describe a somewbai singular character whom we met
tiihlaidy OR a morning walk along the road thai skirls tlie aforesaid
iBam, ^Vc had stayed oitr steps .1.1 usual to contemplate, with ex'cr
an dclighl, the features of the valley, when wc observed moving
don the stream, from just opposite to whcic vc stood, a certain
indiiidual who, though not strictly an angler, may be denominated a
fiibcrof the first magnitude. We had not seen hitn till he moved,
tiin he had seen us, and shifted his position about a hun<tred yards
(lowi [he brook, by the side of vrhich he again planted himself. We
Itve bowo him long, but not intimately, for he is of shy hahilx and
Wythiiy of all familiar intercourse. Wc could not but admire his
'"idiKne, tall figure, as he stood on the bank of tlie stream, looking
'"'o r[ 'k if he had been conning a book.' He was arrayed in his
'^outnl garb — a durable sort of dress, the colour of dingy white,
ffivfier approaching to a pale blue. The cut or fashion of this
tWume he never changes, nor does he oflcn renew ii~not oftener,
■tbebet'e, than once a year, when he gets n new suit.
"Vourangler is somewhat of an enthusiast, and pursues his gentle fiift with an absorbing interest ; but then it is only as a pastime and It suitable seasons, when tlie weather is favourable, when the spring Bins have raided the brooks, and dyed their waters with the precious ftlecolour, and the wind breathes from the mild south ; and yet, after all, alas \ how often does be return with an empty pannier ! How diflcrcnt with our hero. His sport depends not on the fickle seasons; at least he pursues it in all wcaihcrs— in the bright aun< shine or when the face of heaven is overhung with clouds, in the hot days of summer or when the wind blows from the biting North and the ponds and streams are bound over with plates of ice, he is still at hb work fishing, evermore fishing. Indeed, it must be con- licsscd his very living depends upon it. How often have we pitied him in winter, in a severe winter. It is hard to live upon nothing but fish, nnd, moreover, to have to catch them before you can dine. It is hard, indeed, to be confined to one dish, and fo have no other resource, for if that fail, where are you? It is like that Irishman with his potato— when that rots there is famine. JJuI it has been hinted tlat our friend is not entirely confined to fish, and that he can occasionally eke out his scanty repast with frogs. We shall not [ deny li. It is probable enough. It is consoling to have such a \ resource. In this he but resembles the Frenchman. ^1
I " We liave said that the angler is an enthusiast, much carried away S
sherOr^srv^^ ani — irt 3e sou Jjprg. ^xs iafeMgillo^i IxxTT -~ v-^ inc I ^» 5s=Eie 3 TT^tcii: 3 ;ac3« and pB-
We bebrre yr-r^ a 30:1. ^2Cl ic Jika. snl -laME »a5i sedgf sfcoe
i^Ens -irs^ TTlcf frnz. "us "iinnK- Taac a icc -^isC csom to \m, sad = »^= '^ ";=« ■=-= THTSiKd =s sriEurr icuc;.
- Wt '=EW 'rvr- smK^niE 7n=ie^ »TK=2»fr ar ciiM i=a as ga*e-
rfbiti3ibe»:c =>: r»^. =«*=^ *^*^ ^^ crane sec. aAexsening
ks <=:i=e: *b= ie ^i^Tes " "=rte i=t- imi ^.-t .oiIt «1uk ihcjr
are rf teair i^r. ire -±«? i^ srcn r=eil ccc of ibe pucntal
y^-^. i^j :=c:.-r«;£iid — see* =er r»^ irinij d cse wocM at hi^
--jy ■— a^'- ";t ■^^-— t 5c bis - -<ei ■»:ci ba ZL^^isjiuxs, so rfl
fc ':* -Bii ha jcks^ rll t^ i=^ -c =*■ -^ == t^ E*st wiih the
Jt=&«i. v^z, '— 1 <ii£Tee- »^ .:c:« -wx-^-jcjo.^ ^Lfce hrwwdf, is
^p&H zai TicCiTi bis 3:1:17 bm= zurc = bawe goc beroad ihe
nr«eB '-c cis^ss. ■■hjci. h =3= r« iZJrwal. jttrws be; a tow de^ee
rf d-n^isaarjc 5= id. m bs sti 33C !:=i feit. cr scoops to anj
tiai 'A rjj^ Itbccr. « ar -*-t ri^sc a=i hia 33 a gendensm. Or
fee otiMT '=a=**, b:.'»«rer. li he ci=ricc ie cilied ie owEaaof a sm^
»v^ '-f 'jnd cc ■■»;=;. ar^ jec rrsE=aes ta scwit whoever it stnt
him. '^ "iit j;ro7«TT ct le^Ce cr simp^ yeooan or scjcire. wMioa
«j«>iMr.tr>ilr-5 to asx leaw of aav eliil »e fear, tberefeve. as br a
ttj» ?oes. wt cLiist co=i.der hi~ » paocter. Moreonx, like to
ntaftj of tka; taw'^e^ f rafessEon, be U vrecch^cly poor, and, layin
nothing tj. fc-r a wet day. he m-jst be often, as we hinted befon
•ordr fc«« with hU wasa. There is sometHr^ in his looks tlu
makes iWs too pcobaole— the same lank, meagre figore be aim]
wM. >-« the ««son be ever so genial, 6sheTcr»plenafiil, it mak.
i»diJfcr«i«m his personal appearance, he is as thin and sparei
««T.wuhKai«ly an ounce of flesh on his bones. He is emphati
Si;ri w .^^'' "^ '^^-seems tLt gone in consur^tio
1^>^^ «««« Of death in the old picW It was this th
^S m rr*~* *« ^"^ ^ t^^ftJ French naturalist •KHbe hm a. the wy type of niisery and bmiWL We sospe
From a Country Parsonage. 63,
*^^^Tef, that Moos. DuTon was » liitlc out heic, and that our hero
^** *n<Mt pleasure in life ihan he was aware of. His patience and
^^'^evfting cfTorta must procure him many n savoury meal, and
^rio\j^.v, ihey do not fatten hit ribs, ihey at least keep him in good
^'^tlting, or rather sporting, order. We truM he will long remain so,
and cottinuc to cntiren ooir valley with his presence. Poacher
^Hoti^i he be we rcsjiecl him for his love of freedom and indc-
PCmltBix, of nature and of fishing. We are cenain, however fortune
Bttf from upon him, to whatever straits he may be reduced for \
liiinj, ihat rather than seek shelter in a union workhouse he would
ditof Elaine.
•We have said nothing of his method of Rshing. How variout tit the aits by which cunning man contrives to circumvent the finny tnlt With all deference to honest leaalc it must l>e allowed that <k vhole art of angling is based upon deceit and imposture. TVeforc out ^jiorwman rejects it, we suppose, on that account. And ihcn 3s to tite use of nets, it has doubtless been copied from
|it)c tiUainous spider, who weaves n web from his own bowels, and ^np it before the door of his lair, in which he lurks, ready to JniDce upon the unwary victim entangled in its meshes. He will Wc Booc of this. Nor docs be adopt the mote simple and straight- ^nrd scheme of the schoolboy and otter, by dragging his speckled Htf from under the banks and biacs of the populous brooks. No ; ^hM It toethod of his own. Armed with a single spcar-shai>ed iMapoo of about six inches in length, woe to the unhappy trout or eritbat comes within its range- li is tramifixed with the speed of ^ghlaing-
*• There is no history of an individual from which a moral lesson may not be drawn. Why not then from the character of our hero? In a poem of Wordsworth's a fit of despondency is said to have been removed by the patient and cheerful bearing of an old man whom the poet met with on the lonely moors gathering leeches. AVc have sometimes amused ourselves in running a parallel betwixt the character wc hare attempted to describe and the brave old Scotch- man of the poet. There is no slight resemblance. Both silent and solitary in their habits ; both models of patience and perseverance and of contentment with the calling allotted to them by Heawn ; botli wanderers, both haunters of ponds and moors, ' From pond to pond he roamed, from moor to moor.' Vcs, and on much the same errand, too ; for we believe our hero could gather leeches upon occasion ; indeed, we durst back him for a trifle (were we in the habit of laying wagers) against the old man, both for quickness and
I
The Gentleman's Magazint.
tact in that cmploymcnL \Ve have, however, no wish thai the poet" had substituted our hero for his in that noble poem. Tor we would no! alter .1 line or word of it. We only beg that our fisher may be placed side by side as a icachcr of ' resolution and indej>endcncc ' with that immoual leech gatherer. Our paper has reaehed » greater length than we had intended, and yet we have only touched on the character of an individual- Perhaps we may he pardoned a few words more on the tribe to which he belongs. Like that of the gipsies and other nomadic races its origin is involved in much obscurity. The probability is that it came from the East, but of its first introduction into Europe we believe history is silent, and the moet learned src at a loss on so mysterious a subject. We think, howc\-cr, it is pretty ccruin that this wandering tribe had spread widely, were perhaps more numerous than at present, before ihc barbarians from the North had overrun the Roman Empire,
" Nay, if we might hazard a conjecture, ihcy arc bo ancient that Ihcy date even from beyond the Pyramids. Not, however, to indulge in disquisition, but to confine ourselves strictly to the historic period, wc find abundant evidence that they were firmly established in our island during the middle ages, and held in much higher respect than they arc at present Not only were they often present with the baron in his field sports — especially that of hawking —but not seldom in the ancient pastime played a very active part. A still stronger proof of the regard in which they were then held was that when the lonely baron entertained his numerous fotlowen on grand ft-ast days, the dinner would have been thought very incomplete had they not been present, and then not at the lower end of the long table among the poor retainers, but at the upper part with the most honoured guests. Like the Jews, the people wc speak of live in little knots and communities, but not, like tlienit confined to some dirty quarter of a city, where they can practise their money-making arts. On the contrary, our purer race avoid all towns— nay, like the Arab of the desert, they view them with unmingled fear and horror. Never is there one seen there, unless it be some poor captive, pining away his life for want of fresh air and freedom."
It need hardly be added that this quaint sketch refers to the heron.
A COU.NTRV 7ARSOK.
b
«s
''THE incident:*
ON August fj, 1641, Charl«s the First took his scat in the ScoltUh Pailiainent, upon which occasion he was welcomed in cITusive speeches bjr the Earl of Arg)'ll, as the mouthpiece of the nobks, and by Lord Burleigh as Pncses, or President, of the Barons (lairds) and burgesses. His Majesty showed an undignified eager< ness to touch with his sceptre— the Scottish equivalent for the Norman formula I.e Hoy U ititU—ihe ihirty-ninc Acts he had previously refused to recognise, and was with some di(!icuUy dis- suaded from acting with such inconsiderate hastiness. Differences arose from tlw very beginning. No usher having been appointed, the function was summarily usuqied by a member, whom the King instantly committed to custody for his presumption. The royal interference was resented, an<!, on Argyll's motion, it was agreed that if any dispute on matter of debate sprang up, the question should be referred to a committee of six rcpresent-Hivcs, two from each Estate. Accordingly, at the afternoon sitting, Argyll informed Charles that "it was hardlie Liken that Langioun, a member of their House, should be committed without advycc of Parliament," in whose n.ime he invited his Ma|esty to declare for himself and his successors that iwthing of the kind should again occur. Lord Burleigh, a devoted adherent of Argyll, "tho' otherwise no great plotter," was obliged, by reason of hti increasing inlirmities, to resign the ollice of Prases, and was succeeded by iMtd Balmcrino, who had already forgotten that he was indebted for his life; to the misplaced leniency of his BOTcTcign. A lotigh contest raged for a brief space with regard to the appointment of State, Council, and Session officers, which the King claimed as his prerogative, but finally yielded the point in deference to ibe alleged use and wont of the Scottish Parliament. Chaiics, indeed, was always worsted. " His Majesty's buMnesses," wrote Endymion Porter to Secretary Nicholas, " run in their wonted channel— subtle designs of gaining the popular opinion, and weak executions for the upholding of monarchy." Nevertheless, Charles asnired Queen Henrietia t!iat Argyll had proffered his faithful VOL. ccutxi. xol 191;. V
i
^
k
66 The GenlUntans Magazine.
service, and that Leslie had driven about Edinburgh with him, uaid the applause of the people. Bui his eyes gtadually oiK-oed to a tniei perception of hb isolation wlien the troorM, upon whose aid he had counted, were sent to their homes, and when the Barons claimed permission to vole by Iwlloi— " whereby no man's raice tmeht be known "—and agreed that no one should be eligible for ofBce who had taken the King's part in the late war. Then, indeed, he became subject to almost constant depression. "^\'halwill be the event of these things," Sir Patrick Wemyss remarked in a letter to the Earl of Ormond, "God knows ; for there was never a king so much instJted over. It would pity any man's heart to see how he looks ; for he is never at quiet among them, and glad he is when he sees any man that he thinks loves him. Yet he is seeming merry at meals." Worse, however, was in store for the unhap|>y monarch than he could have foreseen or imagined, and the blow was all tlie mote painful because it was struck by a friend in whom he had always reposed [xirfeci confidence, and who had taken excellent precautions to insure his own immunity from charges of disloyally and double- dealing. This characteristic love of self-] ireserva lion was exemplified in this wise.
One day, says Principal Baillie, Lord Ker, in a drunken mood, declared Hamilton to he a " jugUr wiih the King, and a traitor both to him and his countrie " ; and sent the Man^uis a carlel by the hands of the Earl of Crawford, who had :ilso bten drinking, not wisely, but toowelL The missive was delivL-red in the King's presence, but the Marquis, observing the condition of Ker's messenger, civilly asked him to come for an answer on the morrow. The affair, however, toon became public property, and was taken up by i'arliament, which was greatly scandalised ihai a man of Hamiiion's quality sliould be "abused at his Majestie's elbow by drunken fooles." TTie Marquis thereupon, on his knees, entreated Charles to pardon Lord Ker's indiscretion for the sake of his estimable father, the Duke of Rox- boTOUgh, and further besought him to overlook lx>rd Crawford's misconduct, as he was in some measure bound to deliver his com- rade's message. At the same lime he begged both the King and the Parliament to do him justice, and clear his character of all imputation of disloyalty. Lord Ker was forthwith comiiellcd to crave his pardoo in presence of the King and Parliament, which was done very reluc- tantly, for he had approached ihc House with a following of six hundred armed friends and retainers. Charles, still attached to hit self-seeking scnant and very equivocal representative, then expressed his belief " that the Marquis had carried himself as a faithful subject
'■ Tfu Incident" 67
ind E«Tvani in alt his employments during these troubles, and as one vVai deiigned the good and happiness of his country." His Majesty (nttitr auented to a formal Act of Parliament, dated September 30, 1(41, the tenour of which is thus worded bj- Bishop Bumct :
^(W^s (bcK hive been c«ttxlii KsndotauK n-ordi qmkcn of the Manini* of 11a^»t usdlBg lo ibe pccjuclicc cf Kb hoaoiir and (idclitf lo hU MiJMly ood W (nniry, wUdi fttc ocknowlcilcrd bjr Henry Lord Ker, ipcftket th«rcor, in r— »«f hli Majesty and the Eslatcs of PartiMnent, to have bMn nuh and pMdiw. (or the apeakiiii; whereof lie ii heartily tony ; and lince hii Majctly ■aJik Eiutn of FUfliamest kunr It to be aa, Tbcrcfore hli Majnty aod the buahitHU doctuc the u>d Manjiiit of lloindtiin to \x free tlinW, and '''1-; Uo tn he a loyal Mbjcct to his Majniy and bitlirul jialriol tohlt country; ti# oil Estates remit the fuither niiuiie of the taid Lord K«i lo ilie >■ >■■ Jlijaly.
fix explanation of the lealous interest in Hamilton's exculpation "Jwiftucd by the Scottish Parliament, which had not been panicu- liilr nil disposed to him as High Commissioner, is to be found in "vinstnatc rebtions with Argyll, established by the Marquis, with "^ King's privity and approval. At the same time it is quite **'4nl that Charles felt much hurt by Hamilton's marked deference " ■VpU ^""1 'he Covenanters, b)- which alone he escaped being "pnsued " as an incendiary. Montrose had more than onccwarned iBe King against Hamilton's duplicity, being of course ignorant of de lingular understanding that existed between the latter and his nral master. In consequence of his dose imprisonment in tlie Cattle and the jealous vigilance of his enemies, it was impossible ftt Montrose to hold any communications with Charles except through the agency of the faithless William Murray, whose ircach- cry he had not yet learned 10 suspect, though shortly afterwards convinced that tt was through him the Covenanters had become acqttainted with his letters to (he King from Newcastle. Clarendon, mdeed, represents Mtmlrose to have had direct intercourse with his Majesty, and to ha>-e olTercd to mnkc away with both Hamilton and Argyil— a proportion quite in harmony with the manners of the times, though, «-o arc antircd, it was sternly rejected by Charles, vho desired his tempter to furnish him with proofs of their guilt such ascould be submitted to I'arliamcnt. No interview, however, of the kind could have taken place. It was William Murray who was (he go-between of the King and his imprisoned well-wisher, and it is not disputed that he catircd three letters from the Castle to Holyrood. On the very morning of Uctobcr 11 which, as alleged, was to have witnessed the abduction or assassination of Hamilton and Argyll, William Murray visited Iilcntrosc in his prison, and was
V 3
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68
The Gentleman's Magazine.
durgcd by him to deliver a letter to the King, in which he exi]ressa his eamcEt desire to convince his Majesty of the machinations of H enemies. As will be seen hereafter, the language he employed wj loo vague and too general to command immediate attention.
We learn from Principal Baillie that, after the subsidence of Ker and Hamilton scandal, " sundrie wyse men even then did to smell some worse thing ; hot at once there brake out ane no)-sc i one of the most wicked and horrible plotts that has been Iicard that putt us all out for some daycs in a mighiie fear." Commissar)! Cleric Spaldinj; is hardly less sensational. "Much about the im of October," he writes, " there fell out a fjrcat stir at Edinburgh (thi King and rarliamcnt peaceably sitting) ancnt an allcdgcd plot devise^ by the Earl of Crawford, Lieutenant-Crownei (Colonel) Slcuaie Crowner (Colonel) Cochran, and some others, for taking or killing the Marquis of Hamilton, the Earl of Argile, and ihe Earl of Larurld brother of the Marquis, as the chief insirumenis of all their troublesl For the picturesque summary of the rumour chat got abroad, and which was unhesitatingly accepted by the Covenanting public, W4 cannot do better than refer to the gossiping Principal of the Glasgoil University. This is his report of the current version of the affair : t
It was noised everie where ihal, upon Captnin Waller SlcwaiC* icUUoq] llg,inillan, Argilc, and Lancriclc, oahe for com|inriie, should have been called ft^ «iit of their bed that same night it was revcalt, by Atmonl, as it wctc |o (^ King'* bedchaiiibei i when Ihcy should have tome Ihey were to have becq jiresled as traitors, and to hnve been delyveied lo the Eutcof Cnurord, waliiia on with armed sojours al Ihe fnat of ttiE bach stairs in the gaiden, liy ihcm U) bM csisl in a close C'^alch, and carried to Ihi; shore ; for there wu a IxMiaKcndinj; tai, rthcir convoy lo one of the King's thipps which for some weeket had been in th« Road for no other purpose known, but should have been Ihe prison out of the which (hey were to be hioughl before the Patliamcnt la answer chailengei uf iba highest treason ; boi, if in their arresting they should hnve made any teiistance,. Craufotd and hil sojouis were readic to have slabbed ihem. Cochrane w*i said to have given asiiitcance (or bringing his rcE''n'J"' f""n Musjelhuigb to cotntnand theeauscy of Edinl)ui};h: and that night, with the assistance of niaiiie ftiendt itt the tonne, to liave made ful, or killed, if need had been, so manie of (hft Piiliamenl men as were suspected might bave been htadic for the priionet^ relief. W.iyes were made to delyvcr the eastell to Montrose ami his (cilow priioners. The Kcrts, Humes, Juhnalouns. and the most of the botdcrcts Men said to be in readiness and warning to march towards Edinburgh; the sojours of Bctwick aliOi, who yet were not disbanded, Thew horitlilc <Jesi]^e> bieaking out, all the ciiic was in a iloueht. llamiUon, Argils, Laneiick took a »hort good night with the King aod lied lo Kenncill. The ciliicns keeped a strong g^ard iliat night. Manic of the weel affecled noblemen caused watch their house*.
Such was the popular way of looking at " The Incident," as the affair tame to be called by common consenL In the Hatdwicke,
" Tht Incident:* 69
colt«ction of " Miscclbneoui Stale Papers " is printed a brief memoir, signed by the Earl of lanerick, or Lanark, without .iny address, but purporting to be D-rilten to a friend whot« good opinion was highly valued. It n dated " K<:nneel, this aznd day of Octob<:r, 1641." As Lord Lanark was a conii>aratively respectable, colourless, un- imaginative individual, it may be fairly assumed ihnt his narrative is truthful so far as his personal knowledge was concerned. His life was too insignificant to have been in any sort of danger, but Ihc use of his name imparted a more natural and substantial aspect to tfie pretended plot. Collusion might possibly have been suspected had Hamilton and Argyll alone seemed to have been threatened ; while the addition of tlic liarmlcss SecreiarA' of Slate gave greater breadth to the scheme, and excused the vulgar belief that a great blow bad been meditated against the friends of the Covenant. Lanark's statement may be brielly epitomised. He begins by saying that l>e fancied the King distrusted him until he took an opportunity of assuring hb Majesty that he had no more loyal subject than him- self, who would aid in bringing even his own brother to justice if he deemed him unlaithfiU. Charles replied that he believed Lanark to be " an honest man," but thought that his brother " had been very active in his own prescr>-ation." Subsequently to that interview, Lanark watched his brother very closely, but became only the more ^convinced of bis fidelity. The King, hou-evcr, did suspect himself, ugh wrongfully, and that feeling was intensified by the untoward event which had just come to pass. General Leslie one day sent a t>M»sienger to Parliament House to bid Hamilton, Argyll, an<l himself come to him privily. On their arrival they found awniiin^ them La CoIoimI Hurrie, or Urry, who lold them that there was a plot on ribot to cut ibeir throats that very night, and gave as his authority Captain Stewart, who hod been asked to join the conspirators; the three LsobJemcn, be explained, were to be called into the King's " wiihdraw- 'Ing chamber," as though bis Majesty desired to speak with them about some Parliamentary business. As soon as they were within the apartment, two lords would have entered from the gar<len stairs at the liead of 300 to joo armed int.'n, who, in ease of resistance, would have made short work of them, hut otherwise would have carried tbem on board a King's ship then lying tn the Roads, As there was only one witness lo attest this tale, Hamilton, fearing a tiargc of " leasing-making," could only inform Charles that a plot ad been formed against him andhisfriends,"the particulars whereof he could not then condescend upon, because be could not BiiflicieniJy piore iL" Later in the day, however, Captain Stewart confirmed
i
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70 TA£ CenlUtnan's Magazine,
Colonel's Urr>-'5 statement, .-ind shortly afterwards Li«ut.-GdocKl Hume and some others deposed that the^ had been ordered to hdi themselt'es in readiness for a great dcsigo that was to be accomplishied that night, for taking part in which they would lje dtily rewarded. As the appointed hour was then nigh at hand, Hamilton and Argyll withdrew from the Court after sending for l^natk, who very reluctantly tore himself away from the pleasant society he was at that moment enjoying. Impressed oith a lielief in all that tb«y had heard, the three consulted ihdr safety for that night, and of» the following morning they wrote to the King to explain their absence on the previous evening. Hit Majesty was sorely (]).spIcascclL with these letters, and on go'Dg to Parliament House, allowed som^ goo avowed opponents of the Covenant to follow and surround hi^ coach. With a view to prevent a tumult in the streets, Hamiltocs and the others, escorted by a small party of friends, quietly rode ou* of town, but took care, before they did so, to entreat the l^ored Chancellor to assure his Majesty of their unshaken loyalty and attachment. Lord Lanark concludes with the remark, that on hearing that the tving had spoken of him to his di^dvantagc, he had inime diately written to his Majesty affirming his fidelity, and protesting his readiness to punish his brother with his own hands, if he had done anything amiss. The King, however, had vouchsafed no answer.
According to Bishop Gmhrj-, the King and many others were of
opinion that the prcicnded plot was devised in the expectation of
suddenly terminating the parlbmentary session, and of bringing
about a rupture between his Majesty and the majority that followed
.\rgyll, though one does not see very clearly the object of such a
measure. To avert this issue, Charles hastened to Parliament Mouse
with a strong escort of devoted Royalists, who are acciised uf having
conducted themselves in a riotous and unseemly manner within the
precincts of that august assembly. The King's party, inflamed by «:a
and indignation, demanded that Hamilton and his companions
should be proclaimed traitors, and the King hiniself, as will be
presently shown, dwelt with bitterness and sorrow upon Hamilton's
ingratitude to himself. In the first instance the seemingly .affrighted
noblemen proceeded no further than to I .ady Anne Cunningham's
country seat, about twelve miles distant from the capital, and a few
miles from Linlithgow. Some days later they removed to Hamilton,
and ultimately to Glasgow. In the meantime great excitemenl
prevailed in Edinburgh. General Leslie was appointed Capuin of
the Guards and of the Castle, and Governor of the town. The
King himself, says Spalding, was much astonished, "and immc-
The Inddent"
sword about his craig, which he Dcver did before." ncrs, or " spies," of the English Parliamenl lost no Ih Uoc in repotting this commotion, so ns to make it appear in the H xat possible colotirs. Fyin straightway affected to bclin-e H ihH a Popish plot had been deriscd by Lord Cravtford and other ■ I^tpita against the religion and tibenics of both countries. The r fWUittCDtaiy leaders thereupon applied to the Earl of Essex for ■ddioccAl guards to secure the independence of iheii debates, and "• conplkncc with their request a hundred men of the Wcstiiiinater ^niioed Bands were stationed round the House. The Scots, how- ""ct, tifnply suspected Montrose and his fellow " Plotters " confined "* tlie Castle, and had no fear of their Popish enemies.
A iingularly ijiuint and racy description of what passed in "^xliament in connection with this curious business is furnished by ^^r James Balfour, Lord Lyon King-a:-aims, which may be sum- ''^•tmod without entire loss of its original piquancy and Ravour. On ^^^ctober II, the n.-irrati^-e begins, the King informed the Ixirds that **e had a Tei)- strange story to tell ihem. While walking in the Sbden on the previous day, be was Joined b)- t1ic Marquis of Hamil- Ion, who, after presenting some trivial iK-iition, began " in a philo Igphicall and paraboticall nay " to show how his enemies had been ttteringagainsl him malicious calumnies, "to misinformc and exasperat ay w)fle (Queen Henrietta) against bim, wich weny muche jireived hm.'' He went on to say that he could not believe hlx Majesty WIS accessory to such base plots, and so begged leave lo retire from the Court that night. The King then took out of his pocket a letter which he had that morning received from Hamiltcn, gratefully adcnowledging his Majesty s manifold favours to himself, and pro testing his own loyally and devoicdncss K\fn unto dcalb. This letter having been read aloud by the Clerk of the House, the King, " with tcares in his cyies, arwl (as it seimed) in a vere>- firate greiffe " ex- pressed his surjwisc at Ku<:h a letter, and declared that had he believed the reports made by pcrtoti^ about him, whom he respected and tmsted in the highest degree, he would have " laved him faste" long a^ but he had always slighted such rumours and had taken his part through everything.
The depositions of Captain Stewart, Lieut. -Colonel Urrj-, :vnd IJcDL-CoJonel Huroe having been noted down, the King demanded that Hamilton should be forbidden to enter the House until the matter bad been thoroughly sifted and full justice had been done lo bbnelC The Duke of Roxborougb went down on his knees and declared that he knew nothing of the matter, and Lord Amend, whose
i
no har-d -,r par: is a=7th:::a m bast SsrranatfleE. coatinoes SL Jainai Eilicicr, Lis Mij«;srT "-zn. rxr-ggsraB iht Lord Haaultixi gcnnj afttt that man« fcm bffl C'lcrt;'' : asd, aHofiag :o the confideoc he had reposed ta the Mir^ra, whea oIcniciaEed br Locd Ochfltre and othen, te said fce iiioaatr he cacid not hare foond "a sttte lancCiarv" than ±e Kirss biafcsacifaer. Bet since he had fnafi. " stxhe a noiise 2=d besides ' it n::is: be fcr one of two Teasons- "ather fcare wica fce tbocgr.: cacid not be inbtteni to nuney Scott: mucEs lease to fcim, ore eils a grate distrcate of htm."' The Lor Chinr^"<3r desired that tfce a£iir shocld be ccndacted ta a strict] Pax^iarMnUTT manner, and that tfee per^ns impEicaled should b arres^tc, kejt apart, and bron^ht to a pnblic triaL To that reasoi] abtfi pr',posh:o!i Lord Lindsav deomrred on the grocuid that it wool be onprecedetited, which drew from Charles aa estraordinaiy expc Ktion of hb views as to the power and daty of Parliament, whid he aTcrred, was not " taved to the rigor of focmer lawes, hot to mak lawes and rot to foOow them hot in such cases as they pleassed For himself he should feel that he was wronged if the Hou9 appr.inted a committee, as he was aware that there were many ind Tiduali who were trying to make mischief between himself and h lubj-ic;.!. The Ho-^se then rose, after committing Ciswford, Stewai and C^if-hrane to the custody of certain " bailzics," or >"iltii-«;
On the following day we King expressed himself as much paine that " Hamiltone should haue so sciirweley wssed him after tlu maner. Now he hard he wes gone and had debosht the other tw with him. As for his brother Lanreicke, he wes a werey good yoon roan, and he knew naething of him. As for Argyle he womidere r(uhat should move him to goe away : he knew not quhat to say c him ; an-l he wes in a vere\- grate double wether or not h should ttU fjuhat he knew of Hamiltone, bot nou he wold not In this fetble maundering style Charles whined and babble throughout that untoward business, scuffling with Parliament bi never daring to strike home. It is true that, with the excepdo of the iJuke of I-ennox, he had not a single staunch and arowe supporter in any one of the Three Estates. He was bufleted to an fro by angry winds and waves, and found nowhere a sure restinj place for the sole of his foot. His own Advocate, Sir Thomas Hopi had the cITrontery to exhort him to remove from his person an court those who had been cited to appear before Parliament : common incendiaries and stirrers-up of tumults, simply because the were reputed to be well-disposed to the King rather than to th
•' The Incident:' 73
.;.\.i-^:. To this impudent suggestion Charles replied that it would uttCDdoce to peace "to put publick nffronts oiionemen of quality; ltd it wu betUr to quensche a flame with watter thnn ndc oyle tlma' A desultory conversation ensued, in the midst of whicli the House was inforroed that the Earl of Camwatth had said to WiUiaa Dicic " jresieraiRht," tl>at now we had three king* and " by C— twoof thembehoued to want the head" This .ttaiemcnt was cufinned by William I >ick, who added that the Earl spoke "with inicnecrattons of tlamiltone and .-\rg}'1e." A committee, consist- ■^ of three members of each K^late. w^ then appointed to inquire ioa tMi ibturd affair.
At the sitting of October 14, Charles condescended to explain ^ it was, OS LteiiL- Colonel Home had truly deposed, that (^Whtinc was brought to his bedchamber by William Murray. ^Kftnsc, he said, had been strongly Tccomtnendcd to him by his **er, the deposed Queen of Bohemia, and therefore he had consented *reccivchim. On being introduced, Cochrane ^taied thai, if assured *'«ecrccy, he cotild reveal some matters of great importance, hut, as ' 'set, he did httic more than sing his owm praises. For liis own ^^ he would rather say no more unless the House pressed him to 7* So, and Cochrane gave his consent He must, however, call u|jon ** Lofd Chancellor to find a way to clear his honour, lest he should ^ **csteeimed a searcher out of holies in men's coattes." On this *^*ne his Majesty harped for some time, though to quite unsympa- I ^tic ears.
The wrangle as to whether a public or a semi-ptivate examination ,f*^^uld be instituted occupied ilie House also on October rf, and ^~* the end Charles lost his self-control, and, with a great oath, » ^*cvcfated ih.it Hamilton, the night before he went away, told him k ^was bosely "sclandcrcd." Why, then, did the House deny him ^is just and reasonable request? If they refused him this, what l^^^ould they grant him ? At that moment the House was informed ^•^lai I^rd Crawford and Colonel Cochrane craved to be heard in ^lieir owT» defence, but the King insisted that no answer should be Veiumed 10 ihcm until he had received one, otherwise he would ')irocUJm to all ihc world that Pailiamcnt had refused him justice. On the next day the King ai>pealed to the barons (lairds) and bur- gesses, whereupon Sir Thomas Hope, son of the King's Advocate, moved iliat ihe absent lords he invited to return, as they had quitted ihe town solely 10 prevent rioting. Charles rejoined that he would take no part in their recall. If Parliaraeni agreed to a public trial, their bieods could send for them, but personally he would have
I
The Incident."
75
pjo>«d lb* hiippmcss of knowing hfs Majesty, and
> be had received at iiis hands.
f Uut weaTi«>nic month tlic clouds and thiok dark-
Id dispeite, and a little light penetrated through the
from Sir James Balfour, that on that day " the
for the iail incident does moke their report, and
Jtnkcn by tbi-m arc publickly read in the House."
fns on many essential points ilatly cootradiacd one
: had evidently been much loose and idle talk among
Insiblc cbaiicrcrs," but no trustworthy evidence was
bihing that could be construed into a serious plot Of
pity even to these vague utterances, there vras not the
Two days later, diaries rcmaikcd that the return of
' lords would give him pleasure, but, for reasons best
elf, and which he did not caic to communicate to others,
agree to their being recalled by order of Parliament.
on November i. Parliament voted that Hamilton,
rk did well to leave ttic town in order to avoid tumult,
rt the Prc»dcnt to write and lequcst them to return, histhrec fellow "plotters^ then demanded thctrrcleasc, been imprisoned for seven months without being allowed pig. Parliament, however, refused tuconsidcrtheirappli- lonlrosc should have explained what he really meant itc to the King, thai "he wold particularly acquant his a bussincs wicb not onbc did concernc his honor in a but the standing and falling of his crounc lykwayes." are ordered that he should be examined before The aitlee, who informed the House that Montrose pro* ke in a general tiense, and had no intention of accusing [answer that was reasonably pronounced unsatisfactory. Ion Ncn-ember i6, Parliament "ordained" the libcra- Irose, his brother-in-law Archibald Ixird Napier, and Ceirarul Blackball, "on caution that from henccfourth emMlvex soberly and discreitly, and that they shall I the committee apjioynted by the King and Parliament ^ neiit." The Earl of Crawford, and the other military in the alleged plot against Hamilton and Argyll, were lly released " one the humble su]>i)licatione " of those
; lo custom the dissolution of Parliament was preceded —a phrase explained by the following entry for in Spalding's Jiiitoiy of the TroubUs, ^c: "The
The Gentieman's Afa
King *i,h his E«ar„ r. , ^''^<*Sine,
="d with Ihekl ."""^^fofhis^^'^.^ '^"merited i"? fide opportunity 7„"°"''^^g- that the ir" ""^"''"'^e and ^'"^ «
^^read?,7;-''oras wrote .oiT'"'' ^"'^ «" t e 'tlt'^ *««
Q 11
" The hicidcntr
generally known that there was nothing in them that in ar rtfleciedupon his Majesty's honour. The papers, he continuec left in his hands unsealed, with instructions to allow them inspected by any members of the Privy Council who might dei read them, though no copies were to be given to anyone withe Majesty's special pennission. There the matter rests in its o obscnrity. In the words of the late historiographer of Sa nothii^ resulted save " chaotic contradiction and confusion ' the pa/Iiameotary investigation, which was either " wrecked, steered as to reach no conclusion."
JAMES HUTT(
K:.--
o;" \v
7$ Th£ Gentleman's Magazine.
UFE IN THE NORTH SEA.
WHEN the hot summer sun shines upon the city, hlistering pcwi mortals with its fierce rays, when the dust and din and steam of town have done their work, our thoughts turn to the sea. Yea, even in the still country, when spring is past, or the long summer days have come and gone, a time arrives when we begin to think we have had enough of gentle life, enough of the
Shady rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madiigats,
and we long for the roar of the breakers.
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll 1 Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain,
we say to ourselves, furbishing up our memories of Byron, and then perhaps we pack our trunks, take our tickets, and make for the sea- side. Arrived there, we immediately set up as amateur sailors, rowing in dainty little boats, taking passage in trim sailing yachts— sometimes even daring to sil far out on the prow— crossing perhaps to Boulogne or Dieppe on a creaky old steamer, and, when ashore, generally and at all times strutting about in loose semi-sailor dress. It is all so sweet, so pretty, so "awfuUy jolly," we venture to say, even allowing a little scope to our language when away from town and freed from conventionality,
We become roused to a wonderful pitch of enthusiasm, and beein to think in soberness and faith that no life is like that spent on the ocean wave.
But perhaps we cannot get away to the bright seaside, and as a
sort of compromise betake ourselves to the Royal Naval Exhibition
at Chelsea, where the smell of the sea is in the imagination if not in
the air, and where perhaps more may be learned of the great ocean,
and those who go down to the sea in ships, than by many months'
ioyown in indolent activity in fashionable watering places. Amidsl
jj host of attractions in the Exhibition, our attention is speciallj
riveted by a ship of quaint structure and dimensions, with a great
I,ire»ty-feet flag, bearing the words " Mission to Deep-Sea Fisher-
rLifc in the North Sea. yg
^^ ""^ »t|fc 1 snaJler burgee fljring from her mi^zen, inscribed the felT"* ^'''' *'*'''' ** ^'"^* *"** " wonderful history, to be icad ns '"tfftmiHt is a BritUh dandy- lifiged kcich, and is a perfect r**'''^ of Ihc dccp-sci fishery trawling boats. She was built at ■maouU in 1858, and has been fishing out of that port fnt over tlunyjtan. Hci king list of voyages vras ooly closed during ihc past *''ite, vhcn she leiumcd home seriously damaged in a gale. \'a '^kttlyts 1SS9 she was rcgisicicd as ' first-class Yarmouth,' though ^ mKi.3 that arc non cotuinictcd for fleeting arc mostly larger "un this »-«iseL
'tVben first built, ihe Heroine was rigged as a lugger, and was Opgedin the heiriRg fisliin;^ but since i836 she has only been used ^ tnirling. Till that time, during the spring anil autumn home ^bctniy fishing, she accompanied the drifi-nci fleets, though in let and winter she acted as a trawler. The Heroine appears ilnjtta have had Varmoiilh as a centre, and, unlike the Scotch and Mm boats, did not follow the herrings round tlie coasts of the bnhisbnds.
'When trawling ihe carried a oewof six men, though from 1 lull and Criiaby only four men and a boy fbnn the crew of a trawler. U'hco tnptgcd in drift-net fishing, eight or nine men would form her crew. "She is itominaKy only 36 ton.^ burden, but looks a larger vessel, Mhi a vondcrhil record of combat with the waves, for in this rc< VWibe has proved a veritable A^m/fff. Formorethan thirty years she ^ liKn toswd about, taking all vrealhers and surniouniing all dis- **ti, and there is probably no gale of memorable severity during '^ ka% period vhich she has not encountered. For instance, "1 December r, 1863, a terrific storm swept a portion of the ■^on.S Sea, where she along with other ^'armoutli vessels was fishing, ^»nKeen Yarmouth boats were lost, and many and many a fisher- ■^yn went down, but morning dawned to find the Heroine riding "lyy. She was o«t again in the March 1883 gale, when hundreds ■^fishermen were drowned, and twenty or thirty smacks sank with 3ll hands. Thb and many another storm battered the ancient craft. "On October 14, 1890, she was fishing off Borkum reef, in North IlrJUnd. It was blowing heavily, and the ship was ' lyingto ' close ftcfcd on the siailioard lack, when a he.n7 sea rose up to windward tad broke broadskle full over her. It was d.-irk at the time, being lalf.I)ast six at nighL The miacn mast was snapped off at the deck, ntd sails and all were hurled into the water on the port side, danger- ously held by the rigging. The crew cleared it away successfully,
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The GcnlUinatis Magazme.
only to find that tiic bulwarks were smashed, the mainsail burst fi shreds, and— W/ma spes I — the boat stove in. However, th«y roa the night out successrully, cleared away the wreckage, rigged tli torn foresail as a trysail against the mast, were picked up in lli morning and towed home by another of the ame owner's boaif The mysterious whisper, 'coffin ship!' has been heard relative t| the /frrniw— but her skipper ought to know, and he describes h« as a good sea-boat This same skipper, who commanded herdurin her last voyage, was, oddly enough, cabin boy in her when first sl^ went to sea ; while, still more oddljr, one of her former skippers w^ cook or cabin boy. A liaticred, genuine old rub, a true child of tfc ocean, that is the IJeroirK."
The Hervint is thus a typical North Sea trawler. That is to while there aic now many craft in the big North Sea (ishing fled which far surpass her in %\iq and general provision for comfort, yi she i» a fair sample of what smacks used to be, and what many i them Rtill arc. She forms a link with the past, and still bears th smell of the sea upon her ; for, almost yesterday, she rode upon tiM waves and look her share of punishment from the wind and tempest
Suppoite we take a voyage in her, and imagine that the time A ten or twelve years ago. ^Ve shall then sec what a large fleet is likc^ and how the days and nights of these North Sea trawlers (of whoni there arc now 10,000} arc sjwnt. It is a winter's morning, there 11 some snow on the ground, and, as Hamlet sa)-s, "it is a nippingaa^ an eager air." VVc had better be at home in our beds or brcakfaxL rooms than seeking for adventure on the water, we perhaps tiiink, ai we squeeie ourselves through the hole in tiie deck which admits tl the little cabin. This is no easy mailer, even to thin-bodied nw like ourselves, and we can picture more than one of our friend whose girth of flesh could scarcely enter here. It is a thin lb ladder by which we go down, unsteady at the foot, and it rcqui a clear head and a steadying arm to support one while feeling his wa' The last step is made by a sort of jerky slide from the rung of little Udder over a tiny locker on to the floor, and then we are a! to draw a fresh breath and look around. The first thought is th! here we arc shut up in a little cupboard. No spacious stale-rooi ihi.s, or big steerage cabin. By the side of the stairway a fire blazing in a rough grate, and a targe round pot is upon it, lashed m ])Osiiion by a strong iron chain. Were it not for this chain the pi with its fwiling contents would soon slip from its rcsling-place 1 the little vessel began to pitch and roll upon the waves, and 01 knees would probably be sadly drenched and scolded. The liui
Life in the North Sta.
room ii 61* feet six inches hiRh ; its length k about eight Tcet, and
ibetc KK deal loclKra on both its sides. Above the lockers are
ectuin diminutiirc cupboardc with sliding doors, but thne are the
bunb into which big burly men have to squeeze their huge bodies
if tbcydcsitc a rest in bed {iif*\ but which, wc mentally vow, will
nevtrtempi us within, their dbmally smntl recesses. Should the
ffmm go down, say wc, in this wild North Sea, let us at least
ptiiAin a bigger space than those coffin beds. The keen air is very
pwwJBgon deck, and as wc clear the river and get away beyond the
Vuagutb Roads, we can hear the irhish of the wind in the sails, and
hot that the grey wares are already beginning to lash the sides of
llKiliip, Involuntarily wc think of the giim talcs of shipwreck
Kd doth on tliese dangerous roads, and wc vhh more than ever
ibionrcTUue may be brightened by friendly skies and smooth seas.
■Coae u|>, sir," bawls the cheery roicc of the skipper ; " coine on
Wi; ircarcnowin Uie open." '* Aj', ay, skipper," we respond,
indiben make OUT way up. The shore is now a mere black line
nKlc^ in a mi.sty haie, but the clear vky looks down upon this
•'■*i)f tea. It is piercingly cold, and wc find it necessary to wrap
** nrmcst clo:hing around our bodies. Meanwhile the little
^"WK ploughs her tray right gallantly, rising and falling gracefully
"^ the niululating swell. Rising and falling a little bit too much
'"^ m howc\'cr, for a strange sickly feeling has seized our inwards,
*" tlut ihe far-off wonder of the heavens and the nicasurcd musicof
™' nves begin to hnvc their magic taken out of them. As the
.""Hits wear on the light-hearted chceriness of our sailor friends
., ''^wses ; little snatches of song arc sung, pleasant badinage is
**rd, but there b liHle pleasure in our hearts ; so that wc are tain
sscek once more the shelter of the grimy liitle cabin. If the cold
- Veen abo%c, the heat is here stifling, and adds fuel to the fiame, so
, ■■ as our sickness is conccrDcd ; but we make the best of it, quietly
.j^^idled in the comers at the farthest angle from the red-hot fire.
"^e steward — a griirxled old man he, who has seen many a sad day
J^d wild nighi on this rough German Ocean— is busy cooking the
tincr. ^\'hen it is ready, we dimly observe that it consists of a
^*>iall boiled leg of mutton and a gigantic sweet suet pudding.
Jest try one mouthful, sir," plcnds honest Mat Taylor. " No,
*Hank you, steward," say wc, loathing the very sight of food Hut
^>ie hungry smackunen eat, and cat with a vengeance. The mutton
&oon vanishes, and the quantities of that indigestible suet pudding
that are stowed away are simply illimitable. Brave stomachs ;
braver than our hearts I This afternoon is a cheeriess one ; the wind
vou cci.xxi. so. 1917. G
k
Sa The Gcntieman's Magazine.
is sweeping the dark cold sea ; wc can imagine the black douda massing in the sky that looks as if it were about to (all on our heads; wc know that the waves arc now lapping and then thrashing thi sides of the &hip ; wc feci tiiat every minute takes us nearer th« Dogger Bank, whither we are bound ; but, indeed, we can think o| little, nor, of that Iiltle>— long. So the afternoon drags along, and tea-time comes. A huge pot is lliat simmering on ihe fire ; gicai beakers are those that the big fellows hold to theii mouths ; but the tea is not for us. ^Vc have a mad inclination to sweep everything to Ihe floor, and glory in the wreck which wc have made. But calmer thoughts prevail.
And now the night has fallen ; that most solemn of hours, nighl to 3 landsman in a tiny craft in an unknown eea. For to us it is>| unknown under these cireuin stances, however well known il may be to the seasoned salts who form tlic ctcw. Bad as we feel, we must make a determined effort to go up and have another look around, ere wc make our beds in the corners for the night. We tlierefure scramble and squeejic our way up the Uittc staircase, and, tike drunken men, steady ourselves as best wc can when on deck. The sea, oh ! how wc have loved it in song and in story ; oh ! how we hate it now as it churns us on its bosom. Feebly we gaic on inky skies, an inky sea, and a dancing, uncanny heap of board:! under our feet. But the strong man at the tiller is jolJy, and treats us to a sacred song with this refrain :
Rock: and slorms I'll for no more. When on ihil Eleinsl shurc Drop the anchor, full the util, I am Kafc wilhin tlie Veil,
As the night gets blacker and the skies denser we descend the | ladder once more. There are the cupboards ujk there, which the ' crew call bunks, but we still prefer our corners on tlie lockers. It is a long and weary night through which we pass. We can scarcely be said to sleep, only to doze wearily, awaking ever and again lo a sense of continued sickness, and disturbed from time to lime by the callS' of the men on deck, the roar of the gale in the shrouds, or thai stertorous sounds from the sleepers in the bunks. But with th«s morning calm reflection comes, and best reflection of all, tlic thought: that our sickness has quite passed away. We bounce upon the decic with renewed vigour, and " a strange sight and a beautiful " meets our eyes. Yonder is Ihe broad bright sun slowly climbing the eastern wave; the clear steely skies are free from a single cloud; the sea is smooth and friendly, and a gentle breeze lills the saib.
I
L
Life in ihe North Sea. 8?
HiUio hoar's exercise on deck i^ves U9 a vigorous appetite, an<l we citMif ve had never eaten before, and indeed wc have touched BHlns snce ycsterrnorn. Our courage is unee more up, and thoughts rftAvDUre ariie again. EvcT>body seems happy, and the smart Hmm (she is alreadjr old) skinu gracefully on her way. Ere night- fill n shall be with the Short Blue fleet, now fUliing in the Great SInt Kti, and wc shall behold that floating village jieopled with a Ibnmul souls which hitherto wc have only seen in iningination or wde pautes. Our sailor friends amuse us, for they tan spin any Buobci of yams, soroc gruesome enough, and others gay, but all BDcUiig (i/ one may so say) of the sea. As the day wean on wc haw tbt company of a flock of sea-fowl, andaswc have been careful ■o pwide guns we forthwith set ouiscltcs Co deal out death to the poet birds. It is not an easy task, howc^'er, for it is one thing to *)>Mlvdt on lermfirma, and quite another from the deck of a iclliiig Korth Sea Ashing smack. Still we manage to biinc down '*'X lluugh we are almost sorry for our bloodthirsty woik, like him ^ ihot the albatross :
And I hid (lone a hellixh thing,
Aibl il would work ihem woe :
For all avcTTcd. I had killed the bird
That madt the \attix to Iikiw,
" Ah, wrttch 1 " Kiid they, " the biid to day.
That nude the btccie to blow."
. Hlien early dinner time comes wc arc fully prepared to do
j'^Wice to the subsiancial "lack" provided by our good steward.
***<% it is a wonderful decoction known as " broth," with cold
'*'ton, and a tremendous currant dumpling. Tliese are Ihe times
the " coper " in the North Sea ; there are only a limited number
IcctoCallcrs as yet in Ihe Hccts, and we find that of this crew of
r^en, five wash down their capacious meal with a jug of ale drawn
r^^Jm a little barrel stowed away in a diminutive locker behind the
*We stair thai leads on deck. All through the afternoon we arc
*^vou[ed with the lamc se3»on:ible breeze and pleasant seas, and just
^j the earliest approaches of dusk are noticed wc sight the fleet.
-*t firat the sails seem like a group of snowHakes on the horizon, but
4s we get nearer and nearer the smacks loom bigger and bigger, and
at last we find out^clvc* set down in the midst of some two hundred
Gshing vessels, and at Icart seventy miles from the nearest strip of
Eind. Some of the smacks arc bigger than ours, and some smaller,
but yonder ones far away, whether smaller or bigger, seem no larger
ihao a coosl fisherman's lugger. Hearty hails greet the ffemnt
02
i
84 The Gentleman s Magazine.
from many a qoartcr— " What cheer, oh's?" and "Wdcosa'
innamCTabl& Our crew have another fre^ I^ of mnttoa in dock, and three or four crontes are iDvited to (xtme od boani to-mvnnr and join in the fcasL
And now ihe evening has (alien — an early, cold, winter's etc, and
the village of floating cabins fades from our view, all sare the shm's
^ts that twinkle in the gloom that has crept over the scl Fv
away yonder the smack of the " admiral," or leader of the fleet, b
pointed out to us, distinguishable by a special white light that deams
in the rigging. At sundown the "admiral " had given his flag signal
for " Down trawl," that is, casting the net overboard, and it is now
our turn to shoot our great 40 feet trawl beam, with its gaping net-
bag, to secure, if possible, our first catch of fish. The wind is
freshening, and there is every prospect of that " smart breeze " which
the trawler always welcomes as a good and profit -bringing biend.
The heavens are dull and bbck ; no stars are vbible ; only tbose-
faint and lustreless ones that dot the surface of the sea — the lamps
of the two hundred smacks that surround us. It is now time to
" turn in," so the first night-watch goes on deck for his lonely vigil
until eleven or twelve o'clock, when the "admiral" will give his
signal to " Up trawl," by firing a white rocket.
We are sleeping as best we can in our two comers ; one man is lying on the floor with his feet to the dying fire, and his head on his rough sea-boots for a pillow ; the others are crouching in the cupboards up above, most of them in their usual garb— less the sea- boots— when suddenly a tremendous voice is heard from the deck,' sounding like the irump of doom, " Rouse out there ! rouse out 1 " II is the most unwelcome moment perhaps in a trawler's life when this shout is heard, for the eyes are heavy, the limbs stiff, and the cold night wind raves above. Yet we all rush on deck— we, the land- lubbers, as anxious as any to have a share in the first haul. The net is heaved up by means of a wooden capstan, and we set to work with all our might to turn this round and round and round again. Talk about gymnastic exercise ; this is muscular exercise with a vengeance. For two mortal hours we are at it. Sonre of the other smacks have an engine to work the capstan, and the gear is got up in- twenty minutes, but our tug of war in the game of competition is an uneven one, being only muscles versus steam. " Bah ! " cries the slav-at-home personage who knows everythmg. from the fate of emnires to the latest bit of scandal, "this is mete child's play to big- chested brawny men with irony sinews." " Well, my dear sir," we may . . ..try it yourself; or if you be a weak valetudmarian, send one
Life in the North Sea. 85
otyout vhtettc friends, and perhaps he will be glad to get 3 respite,
lilt nothtr aUilcie now icclinirtg and puffing uneasily on ihc deck."
But, liku IB, iheae arm-chair folks know cvcTjthing with scientific
iwxacf'. When the tniwi is fairly hauled in we arc gloriously
Hwudcd for our midnight toil- 'llicrc is a grand " lake" of haddock,
Ittiibui, vhiiing, and, best of a]\ such " prime " fish as sole, plaice,
md ittrbol. " Better nor some first hauls is this j-cr, male," cries
RUrtt fourth hand, to Jim, the third. "Ay, ay, friend," responds
Jift "btttcr nor that 'im when on'y a wee whitin' cam' npi" 'ITiis
'ciditoonc ortwo further stories about the he.irilcss days and nights
'talirnuksmen s|>cnd in thecourscof their arduous handling of the
*»l. Kbcrcin the climax is reached by the talc of a former eight
••tkj* voyage of the lUromt, in which only ^{^30 was earned,
"(•ttenting about £,% or ^d as the share of the entire ciew. Pity
"f poor wives and children of these hardy fellows in such a case.
"wMhile the fiih ha^e lo be cleaned and put away in boxes, and
*** trawl is again shot into the water. Then wc turn In ; all save the
"^ODd night-Hftch, whose place is on the deck, guiding the ship, and
l***iDs Ihc liours 3s best he can under the sileni compaiiionshi[> of
'"* htsirens. Al 5,30 the shout is heard once more, "Rouse out !
'^Oacout ;•■; and as a second refrain, "Allhaul! allhaull" VVc
"^Mcn to the cajistan and commence our second stiff tug. When
"^yiight has come Ihc boat is got down, the fiih boxes lowered, and
' **"ce of the liands row for the steam cutter, which is now in the ficcl
^^^ting her cargo of iish. Day is welt up ere a bit of breakfast can
^ Krvcd, but when the food is ready all hands fall to with might
*'*«aiMin.
Sknrly, but withal pleasantly, the days drag by. Perhaps the two
^^«:iit$ tliat dwell most vividly in our tecullection are those of a
lT*^! to the coper, ajid the fierce gale that smote the licet with dire
- r*^.¥oe duiinj; ilie early days of the second week of our sojourn on
_**e Great Silver Pit*. The "coper," or floating grog-ship, is, wc
^^ *)d, the imacksmen's cltief rendezvous. They arc not all drunkards
^"""^■far from it— liui the fleet, as a whole, is, to say the least, bitten by
* Vc serpenL The cojier is a Dutchman, carrying a considerable
Supply of vile brandies and gins, and certain other merchandise that
^lad better !« namelc3,s. We board ber on the fourth day of our
■%t«y, and arc received by the master liim.iclf, who bellows in our ear*,
*' Vclcomc, and veJcomc, mine very goot friends." " And vat viil
■you 'aw," adds he, in dulctt tones as we reach the dimly-liglited
aflci-cabin. "Just von leetle drop ov Hollands for vtclings and
goot vcllowships," he continues, producing a bottle and pouring out
i
86
The Gentltman's Magazine,
n liny drop Por his cuiiomers, as a whci to appetite, (airly thronged both below and above deck, and a brislc clearly being done, litis is the engine of demoralisation fishing fleets, without a doubt. It is a vile drink that is rctaile it atouscs vile passion*. Not only are Mant earnings thrownj to the imiiovcrishment o( faithful wives and loving children faJ in the dark streets at home, but dishonesty is begotten as wd there are nets, gear, and fixh handed to Mynheer Dutchman i belong to others, while coarse langu.ige is now in ihc asccd comWned with fierce horsei^ay and occasional bitter quarrels, j forbids to tell of all that we see and hear, and. indeed, the 1 atmosphere b so sickening that vre hasten from the dcmon-st from a tainted thing—
Tlie nishlDuue, Life-in-ilealh, ii the That tliicki mcn't bloud wilfa culJ.
As we row back to the Htr^me the mate tells ys n sad the coper. " It wiis Ted Jones," says he, " and 'e 'ad been 1 Louiit with two o' 'is crew. They spt-nl the afternoon in ( cards and thick drinkin', and it wus dark when the Dutchie | 'em offtlie shii>, and cut the boat's painter. This fair angered who was three pans drunk, and he swore like a trooper. PeieTJ the second mate an Ted's jmack, 'ad the stcctin' oar as they g but Ted 'e would 'ave it. Pete and the rest said 'No,* and tbU Ted more wild than iver. So "e got up, made fur the stem, the oar, and yelled, ' I'll steer her lo hell, by God t ' Rut jcs be lost his balance, for 'e wus 'alf m.id and more'n 'atf drunk, \ sank like a stone in the black water."
This is but one of the many stories which reach our eari sad misery wrought by the "coper," or "devil's ship," as soma pious men call her. She is, at this time, theamacksman'sonel and a faUe one she is, luring men to poverty, brokcn.down 1 loss of character, and, ver)- often, to ruin and death. Thert need for one to be a teetotaller to sec such evils and deplore On the whole we find these hardy fishen a brave, simplc-h) fine race of men. but there is wide-siwead ignorance in the no books, no means of improvement, none to "allure to b worlds and lead the way," save and except a few godly indiv who are hoping and praying for some deliverer lo arise, doia best— but what are these amongst so many ?
It is not all fair weather and plain sailing during our tci sojourn on the fisiiing grounds. \Ve gel at least one good I
J
Life in the North Sea. 87
Ae drifiog tempest and the Inshing waves. It is nightfall, and the ■nd ii evidently ficshcning for a gale. " Going to blow, skipper? " aif w, brawly. "Ay I there's a bit o' wind about, I'm thinkin'," tjjiM he ilowly. and peering away to the nor'-east. In another ticutcttott is fairly on us. The howl of the wind and the mad '■t'tn of the waves make os fancy that a thousand demons are ^•wwhng for our destruction. Drenching showers of apray keep toiSooihc deck, and every now and again a great rush of water tftuadere wcr ihc little smack, threatening to engulf her and us. It » loo dugcrous for landsmen to remain on deck in such a storm as '''^ >o ve must needs keep below, tossed about, as one of us lemarts, "lite an egg in boiling water," It is only the lynx eye and dexterous "'^'^cus of the smacksiuan that save his life on such a night as "^> and very often lie cannot save hiui&eU, but is swept into the 'onibliag sea and is no more seen. The gale continues at its height ■■U fotst midn^ht, when its strength Is moderated, though the ship ''^^ Knd pitches uneasily as ever. We venture up, but a look is ^"gh. "Oh! oh! 'lis foul," we exclaim, with poor old Lear ^'^n the morning dawns the Dect is scattered in alt directions, and ^t we reunite, sad reports reach us of lives lost, limbs broken, ^** carried away, bulwarks smashed, and, saddest of all, we are '■1 Hut the Marie has gone down with all hands ! •Ve return to Varmoulh wiser than when we set out, though '^'^fied to think of the stern battle in which these men are engaged ; **'hdr isolation, fri endlessness, and sad social lot.
Ten years roll post, and once more we are in the Heroine, on
'' way to the trawling grounds. This liine we are making for
'Icet known as " Durrant's," which is fishing in the North Sea
^^ut seventy miles from Yarmomh. "The winter is past, the
J*'* b over and gone," and the broad, bright sun is shining in a
I^V of unclouded blue. No fear of frozen, fairy rigging to-day ;
^^le fa gladness on the sea, warmth, and peace. Our experience
. "^v is like tliat of our good holiday making friends 00 shore, who
^fc in the glory of the summer and rejoice in the friendliness of
*''>e breaking sea, scarce thinking of the grim battle that scores of
**»«[i on their (ar-away ocean homes arc waging from time to time
'^'ith storm and squall, beyond shelter and beyond succour. But
lo-day even we think not of this.
Ilo* mcirily the c^ay: of Thnlabaga by I
But it is hours in our case, instead of days, for we arc not long in teaching our destination, and once more sharing in the toils and tiials
i
^
[ifiS Tht Ginfienian's Magazine.
orihefish«fmcn. But the toils and trials are now lightened by the ptcscncc of what wc may safely call a bright mtssenger in the flecti. On the la»t occasion wc hcArd iniirh—too much — or the "(icril'j mission ship": now wc arc .-tbout lo hear a great deal of a tend, reverently spgkcn of by the trawlers a» " the Lord'x mission jfciji' Ti»cre she is— riding gallantly in the centre of the fleet, with all ha imwling gear, fur she works wiih ihe se*-ular arm as well as the oocd or the bencrolent. Her name is the Euston, and we find she was the gift of the Duchess of GraAon, a lady who has a h«itt for sailors, and a feeling for their cares and sorrows. Her skipper it a young, intelligent fellow, who knows how to handle his trawl net as well as the net that ('alches men.
One of our first duties is to board the Euston. She i» a trir crift> larger than the Iftroint, and larger, too, than most of the othe smacks engaged in this fleet. In the Utroine the crew's cahin is i*» the after ]>ati of the ship \ here it is in the middle. There \% a U^ ])old for ihc flah boxes, which may, howe%-er, be cleared out an<^ room made for the men and lads, when they a&ieinlile for a religious service ; there arc: lockers for ihc lobacco (of which more anon) > there is a latge cupboard with a really excellent «tock of drugs > and, in the after port, a plain but most comfortably filled cabin for" the abode of clergy or laymen who may be out to assist in ih« religious work. The Etutou has her gear down like the other snucki, and her ctew are no la^ards. It is only two days sirK^^ she came out for a fresh voy.igc, and we hear that during \xt (ibsence the " coper " made its appearance, for, though scotched by the presence of the misMon ship, the snake is not yet killed. It is a wonderful change this that has come over the fleets since wc were in ihcni ten years ago. The " coper " is virtually banished. The smacks- man has now a real friend, instead of the insidious fobe one. " The Fishers' friend," as the men sometimes call her, has a cargo of good things to be had for nothing. There ia no temptation here to spend hard-earned savings or owner's gear in noxious liquor of- nameless articles of merchandise; no one will leave the Eustai^^k with gnawings of conscience, unless it be sorrow and regret for by -past days of sin and wasted energies. Even the tobacco which is sold in the mission smack is charged for at but a men; fraction above cost price, while the woollen goods, such as helmets, comforters, steering mittens, and scaboot stockings arc retailed at one-sixth of Iheit real value. The skipper bears the ccrliiicate of the St. John's Ambulance Association and the National Health Society, and is fully qualified to minister to the medical and surgical wants of the
Life in the North Sea. 89-
men in iny but the most serious cases ; and even ulicn serious and daoserous cuet arc met wiih, ihc slcij>|)cr ha-s iiowei, if need tie, to nil into port, bearing such cases to the bospil^it ashore. The invler's calling is, as we Itnow very well, an cultenicty d^itigerous oiu;3nd hi.s cjillinj;, housing, and hard fare, between iheni, breed many lllneioes, such as troublesome scaboils, poisoned ftngcrs and ■ns, ahich though not usually dangerous, yet urgently require otcdfiil tieatment. ]-"or these men cannot " lie by "' like many siay- •[•iiome (oiks. They have bread to cam and stern duties to perfona, for none of ihnc smaijks arc over-manned, and much kcDBvenience is caused when one of the hands is disabled.
llcte are some te^lunonivs to the great i>hysical blessing that tlic EusidM, and vessels like her, arc in the fleets with which they sail — fcf they arc empowered 10 receive patients on board, as well as to ttisptoie medicine to sick visitors. These letters arc but samples of
Fiam T. Baitv, iklp^wr of smack fijtkit Al^y.
X *ill« thcM fa* Itnm with hn:lfcll tlanki for the blcstni; 1 havn received at
be knjioJ tbi iiip|icr of llie mikuoii thip and cicit. I have been on Iwsrd
*xt)KD dairi, owinjE loaiiabtcicMi in ilie ihumli, fur which [ bail 10 ci'e up work.
>• ill bd nal boco for the BiUtian i.hip I ihnuttl have liul lu liavc gone home after
•■AviiC only b«cn oat > fonnighi, and ii aoulit have been a very ictloui lou,
*> I bir a wife and (our chiMtcn dcpcndenl up<in mc. lly Ihc aid of ibc
^ujfn, t am ihinkful w »»y I am able lo reiuinc mj duly. There are none
™ iWfabeiBien out here know the blessing we ttu\y icccive both in mclicaf,
"*' Miicd, utd ipiritual gi^ ffom ibc iniiunn, and may the bleuing of God
"'BmtaibeBiwon, and prosper iI.— Fiom your gralclul debloi, T. Baitv.
From J. TuRKBI.I., «f tU smack Srilliaai.
neitk Deu Sir,—-! now uke the plonire of thinking you for Ihe kind- ~^w]ald Iliave rcceiivd from ilie miBion v«wel, ai my ccK>k was un buaii.1 of 7* "•"'d thip four dayt, and ihe ciplain wn* liind cnougli lo Id me \wn, a man T"** ptKcofoun till he was lietler, and also that 1 myielFh.ix'e leeeived mcdi- ■ *«^ wc thank you kindly for (lie luittloo, foe I lliink il n a grand ihlog Uia[ '"fKniaioa smack om* in amongii uh— JamkTurkkll., Master.
Fiom C. G»«woon, of the *m»ck Spri.'t.
™.--AIIow nie lo thank you on behalf of myself nnd others for ihc lienelit
'"Illusion ihal \i doing such jooil woik for the liihcraicn at Ibis flell, ami
'"'hi ireeonneded wilh the ftthinc trade, which eniinot lie carried on witbnm
•"""•Mtidenl of daily oecurtcncc. I mywlf had a bid hand, ami was obliged lo
P*" boirl ibc miiuon »ei«l on Tbund.iy, and hnti l<i itrr]! llll it'c Tuesday mom-
•"K i *ti[i(M, if it iiad nol have liccn fur mcb a t«»m, I should have had to ^a
"""K, ind xtax, rnmldn't have done fir me, or jcl for any one elie, as there is
"^'"loi uttking bIjouI wiibout work at Varmouth. The hand in now going
"•liocly, auJ I hope in a few dnjt lo do my uitul work, I write this lo let
<°ntM khorc kilo* how well wc arc cored for on tbc fi»hinggraundii.~E, H.
90 Tec Gixi^ic^iMMi Sfmga^ge.
We faesi oC adie BnrTii^ ^.*i Vint ; of ti^tA or nine thtMi
paiientt treaied vq =>: Ti'^mnr E:r> dscii^ ooe year, for aili
vairing mjtn K«aiK=e =: pzaaassir «*^«*-»«-^ and from pwi
fingefs or spra'-ne^. w:5ss tr v~rr ^'itrrmr «ad snashed legs. '
we tMat ibc ia jas crjs rasa was no docur or medicines o
kind at a neais cisj-trr -iix-. sczcts of nules across the wild
sea we can viridit Tta'Tig wt^i: a--::*e ssSerii^ most have been
in those times wbe:: -ixx was as t-.ttooo diip tmn^ng allet
to pain and bealisf :3 ^sease. We hear, too, of three firs
hospital smac^ in odier Jteea — wr^ still mtxe ample roo:
maimed in-papeaa — and w*aci tarry, aS die year round,
tniaed and skilled atrial c&ca^ and we can well unde
the feelings of lively gisrtnde wliich SQ the minds of the 1
smacksmen when dwy ^eik of the great wmk of the Missi
Deep-Sea Fishennen amoo^ tbem.
The trawler :nJ have his "bacca. He is nothing without hi
and even his " chaw," S;:?erane people may turn up their nc
they will, bui this is a tier- and ii has to he faced. It is this n
the men wluch lent to the copei her abnorma] power for ill ; m
the tobaccos which she vended were necessarily evil (thougl
they were vile enongh in all conscience), but betanse the "bao
an irresistible bait, alluring to the poisonous liquids which we
successfully pressed upon the customers for tobacco. Sure
checkmating of the coper, which is complete wherever a n
vessel is present, has conferred a benefit, physically, inteUec
and morally, upon the North Sea fishers, which bears abunda
well-recognisable Suit. It is a mistake to suppose, as many d
the banishment of the coper has been secured by the adoption
International .\greemenl for the regulation of the coper traffic
deed, I do not think that it has been adopted finally by all the
latures of the interested Powers ; but, in any case, this is true
draw the mission ship, and the coper very soon returns fro
banishment, ^-igorous as ever. The coper, driven from her
hunting-fields in the North Sea, has now opened an extensi^
paign off the Irish shores amongst the native fishermen and
fleets now forming by Manx and Scotch mackerel fishers, a
bear of the mission being invited by Her Majesty's Customs i
immediate steps to checkmate the foreign grogships'in these
So that the fisherman's deadly enemy has still to be fought.
There is many and many an hour in the smacksman's life
ly fca which a graphic and cheery book or illustrated pa]
ten, and nothing strikes us more in the conduct of the
Life in the North Sea. 91
feUom ibo board the Eushn than (heir eagerness lo obtain a good
bit 0" nadin'. The mbuon, we find, ix rcr>- careful in its oversight
«f Ihcliltnture which is put into ciicuhiion with its stamp uj>on it.
Bui there ii gre.1l variety. Here is nn " English Grammar," a
• RobiiaonOusoe " well thumbed ; " Talcs of Adventure," hy R. M.
Minijne ; a volume of " Addresses " by D. L. Moody ; an old
wpj of ihc " Vicar of Wakefield," and, next door to it, so to s|>cak,
■ray modem copy of the "Pirate," by Waiter Scott Add to these
" Inofle of " Sermons * by C H. Spurgcon, and a slicaf of
fiV*M and lUustroUd London NetL-s, and a fair conception is
pintd of the sort of reading which is freely supplied to the men.
''*<« it a rich intelligence in the minds of our trawler fricndi, long
'■nt it b tnie, bat destined soon to bear worthy fruit ; and what
*S^1 Vx this purpose can be better than the systematic difTiuviun of
••WiJ, healthy h'tcratutc ?
The fisherman is a reader of many books, but there is one which
^ ** bosocn friend. It is the breath of his life if he he a pious man,
*"<' even if he is not, it wields a commanding infltience over his mind.
"^ old Bible we find holds the 6eld in the North Sea. It is to
^••ain its message and enforce its precepts that the mission mainly
***'-'*. In its articles of association, a business document, drawn
_"J*"» the lines of the Companies' Acts, this is very clearly stated.
°^ objects for which the association is established are, "The
j^^'ng b>" means of smacks and small vessels, which have already
r**^. and may hereafter be aciittired for the jiurpose, the various
^'a of fishing ^-cjscIs in the North Sea and elsewhere, with a view
t**"caching the Word of God to the crews thereof, and in every |>os-
'* way ])n;)moting and ministering to their spiritual weifart, and
^^ding to the crews ihcicof advice and counsel in the cause of
*Sion and tcropcrancc," &C 'i'hc spiritual work uf the mission is
^H always kept in the forefront, and is carried on by volunteer
**sioners and the mission skipper. Personal influence is brought
bear ; many " Bible readings" are held ; public religious services
'''tjucntly take pbcc, and so the Bible story is told and letold. And
'""It is tlie result ? Well, here is the testimony of a London solicitor,
*Hich niay be taken as typical :
On Sunday ■« tud a«rvice on board the mission ship. It wps most encout- t^ng to hear nnr mnn (flcr another confca that II wu the mission CixJ boil lued to tiiini.' htm into Ibc Jolil.
Many of ihe ilippEtt lold nie, however, ihal Ihc re»l wort: of llic inisilon wn* lobe iMO in the alleied hoRiciand fAinUici of Ilii^ RshErmcn, Men who htd OKt Ixvn haid-Jiinliing, hird-iiwrtilnf:tnen, now \p &tr.ilglit linmr lo ihcii wivri tad chiMrcn, whom Ibey find happy and faiily coinfortuble, inilcnd of being, »
L
1
92
The Gentleman s Magazine.
beloK, IB misery >ad nc I wxi il« told that the tnmAs of the smacki nint tiid iDQi^ for ifce Eta fisM the pii^c prae had mfoimcd the world of Ili« hard- *hijis Mid uaoectsiiiy iiisi:;(=iccT* ;i*; lie tshenocn were called upon lo radnt.
From all that may be sees scd heaud in the fleets we gather that a great change has been 12 prepress. Otir old friend the Hirnm touches with one hand, we may so say, a state of past things dait with sorrow, trouble. ar.d sin, and. with the other, a bright influence at work in the fices— 5= icnueace hdpi'ul and fruitftil in its present w^opc, and showir;; tctens of wider and csended usefiilness in tie future
AIXXAXDER GORDOK.
93
A PAUPER'S BURIAL.
" /"■ O fetch the Parson, and throw back the gates.
VJ " The old man died a pauper, so the rates " Must bury him, I see no men about,^ "And we've no bearers. Come, your arm is stout !
II. " And he no weight, 'Tis strange the hate they bear "To the houM yonder : only three weeks there, " And told ihem he should die, if once inside .— ■ " To think that paupers should have all that pride !
III. "Here comes the Squire : he'll earn a sixpence too, "Just for the fun of throwing it to you. "Von slouching tramp shall walk his fellow-mate, " Shoulder lo shoulder, through the churchyard gate ! "
IV.
The small, pale green is shooting to the sky, And in and out the church's ivy fly The building birds, and on the gravestones sing. Sweet chance 1 an old man buried in the Spring !
V.
And he a pauper : old and weak and sad ; Yet welcome here. What matter that he had No black -draped train to follow in the rear ; Odd passers shouldering the common bier !
VI,
So poor and sad ; forsaken and forgot ; Not one of al! those children he begot To see him to his parish grave, and lell He was iheir father, and they loved him well.
VII.
"What, back already? Well, our turn's lo be ! "He says the same for rich and poor, 1 see. "The Parson spoke up well : I heard it all, "Resting the horses by the churchyard wall."
Death and a parish grave— these were his rights. Sleep fast, old man ! On balmy summer nights, The sweet-lipped flowers, and moonbeams as they pass, Shall weave thy story on the nameless grass.
GEOKGE HCLMF.S.
94 The Gentleman's MagaziM.
ODD ITEMS IN OLD CHURCHi
THERE are odd items in manif or our old churches of < arequite unaware; and there arc many oihen which, j seen, we jiass by with scarcely a glance at them for want otj standing their nieaning or use.
The penitential cell in the Temple Church isonesitch.] up in the thickness of the north wall, looking down, thr n&now openings, upon the mag^niRcent rotunda, with its circle of jwrphyry columns and effigies of criwi-lcggcd knightj full length on the glistening paremenl, and into the long chq a small slonc ci^il, too short for a man to lie down in at full I and loo low for him to stand upright in, in which recusants wcr fined for penancc; A narrow stone stair winds up till it arrives small strong low door of access to it, and |fasses on to the tril around the rotunda, now lined with monuments to the tncin< legal worthies formerly on the walls of the church below. Vio. been handed down to us that a knight, Walter le Hachelor bjTJ was led up this stair, thrust into this cell, and, with irons I limbs, left to die in it of starvation ; when his body was dl down liie winding siair, and buried in the grounds outside. P< it is this tradition that gives the stony cell an enchaining and ps interest that brings it back again to the minds of those wht looked into it, long after the busy traflUc of the Strand, close b effaced the memory of the showy Elizabethan splendours i Templars' Hall and Parliament room, with their carved oa painted glass.
,\ few years ago about fifty canhcnwarc pots, or vases, were built into the iniernal surfaces of the walls of Leeds Church, in so placed that it was impossible to assign any other purpose to than that of an intention they should assist, in some way, the mission of sounds. This discovery drew attention to the subjec other examples were pointed out in other edilices. Some thai observed in St. Nicholas's Church, Ipswich, were noticed to be handled. Others, found at different times in three churcl:
^
Odd Items in Old Churches. 95
"Noiwch, wre wiihoul handies, and olhere with them. Forty found
in the Church of St- Peter Mancroft, and sixteen met with in AH
Sa-ius^ Church were without handles ; and sixteen found in the
Chindi of St Peter Mountergate were one-handled. Other cxainplcs
Kwcbeen met with in difTcrcnt parts of the country in more limited
nunben. Seven have been counted in Fountains Abbey ; and still
^nuUtr numbers in churches at Ashburnham, Chichester, Upton,
t^lbrd. East Hailing, Buclclcshain, and Luppett. IVn have been
t fbund at YoU);hal, in Ireland. Aichxologiits who took the subject
J up uoertained they have been also observed in Denmailc and
f Sf»}eQ in very ancient buildings, and occasionally in l-'rance, Russia,
»d SviUeiland. Tlteir use has been referred back to the old times
rfAqputus Oc-tar, when Vitruvius wrote that the scats of theatres
''Mid be prepared with cavities into which braien vases should be
r-*ieed, arranged with cenain hannonic intervals which he gives, by
'iiich means the sounds of voices of pctformer's would be inacased
r' cleaniess and bannony ; and remarked that architects had made •* of earthen vessels for this purpose with advantage. On the '"itiacnt these jars are sometimes found in the vaults of choirs, or *Oong the slccpci-walls under the floors, as we!! as in the walls. H ]n connection with sounds, it may be mentioned there is a
"uious insUnce of an echo at Tatcnhill, SialTordshire. The tower *^ the church there has an echo that repeals five times the syllables uttered at the <tntrum pkonUum, which is about seventy Ti^ds dialanL Whispering galleries, too, can scarcely 1>e con- odered anything but odd item* in our sacred ediliccs. Of these, ^kCTc ue examples in Gloucester Cathedral and St. I'aul's.
The twelve small incised crosses, sometimes filled with brass,
wKich were placed at the dedicatiori of the building, and anointed
^ the bishop when it was consecrated, are also curious. In this
counfty these dedication cros,ses are found on the exterior of the
"*"Uings, though on the continent they are generally seen on the
™*efior. They may be seen at Cannington Cliurch in Somersetshire,
^ "ell as at Moorlinch. Salisbury Cathedral has examples, as has,
I^***ise, Edcndon Church in the same county. Urcnt Pelham
r*'*''reh, Herts, also possesses these relics. And one of the piers
Z" New Shorcham Church, Sussex, is enriched in this manner.
"*ise crosses are not to be confused with the five small crosses
'*»» seen incised on altar-slabs, which slabs arc occasionally to be
T^^ced turned to account as paving stones on the floors, as at St.
^^y Magdalen's, Wiggeohall.
There is an item that is equally rarely me: with that would be,
4
^
i
:;■ ix:.i^^::-~ zi -: rj l~^ ,'i^ a j ;ill. '.ccx, cirroT reus io rtj Ti2. '.c-v i.-TTi ~:^nrU --i irjiicd. =ear che alar. It is iu;i:i;sci t,- ri: nr^iidi-i :'r i-.d ricartiLic .;f j. prccessional staBi r;i; j-'c^ r,- re Tiii;;-! -r-ji :.;;er — iisira in. ti:c latabrey, or dse- Ts^iiir-^ Azt"r::iir i.r:jri r^.rssi iii '"esi: ;cser»tti :n 3 few ui9tancts« siiir li^ii ^^i^rtii. :.- -.'r.-i t^^. :c Jm zi^H — :.i. ize =ae at" which hasmC ^ik;;; Ji7C^i i.-r-;, T:^r; ir; iz leis: ±rsfi chcrrrhes, too, th^K >i^-^ i -f-"- ..-r -:..;::!; ;r rt-iss. 7sr3Ji:nc scEewh^r of i< ckuacieC ,-i rr-; -.s^^-.T.-i. -r.ii iji—i :;:ii :n:er. ^e — .^■.;-^ ^( which has iliO -iis^-i .-r _■; i::.:^ .-i^'i. Ttiisi liiTT^ts ors a: Socthwtck ir»
>.-.--c: TT^s -c ni.^>;" :i! i^ru^-i-i Tersrcs bos been pa — ■■i!!:.:i-v,' :v ;-; ir.;_ . :: :. s;i:ii; 7^17^ :r :he iiirli^ cr by CM gift w ^ K'-^J i-i;c ;i ;';r- r.L^.r;:r^ .i^ffiaii ;t by ±e enscdon of ^ -vi-;;—C'.T l- ".. ,; 1 rr.~^--.z:n. 1 tst ta :z.^ cocsdnited ^ ■vw.-'V* - ". - "" V.:-:^-:-' ."::-:!:. ~.:ESis. i. re-b«;a=i U made IC^ vs-i-;- 's u— ■>*.■ >, ::::<ii -^ ?.sr^i-r Cb^irch, Kent, i*
■ ■•^■- XV r- '^ -XT:" .; _r:i; T:>;r::.:s. itizy r^c2f and screen^ jv .• -i -.-.•.-.:s, ::> ;-; i,:c rijlicM. T=e rdcs in Wdlrf v" : -■■.■■,■■ ; t :- ■. _■ ■ •.~^:fz -t' Hi^zy VIII. iy B:sbop Knight-!
■ v-i • - -.-■ v .-, i V'Tri-ii 7ii— ;. \= -;5-- -i^ a certMi soiO -■;. -v v 1-.- ■. :-.\ V-.;- :.; jj-i-rri-i ji'rcld re ::sed as thfi ;".v-.v <^- ■.. .■■■,■ ■- ■,• n-r^—r:^ Jnrrzry. i.-.ctb.er lestatoM ,,''V.' -'s-c -^■'' ■/ re r-io: <:e \- ~ i T-iy^-i •;~e cf maibl^ ,-. ji .v.- X' V ■ "->■ ■ -^' :"~." t.-z -z ~i- btir she Blesse<3 ",v' .■--■■ ' ■■■■■ ' ■ " "^ ^' ■ . "■:- IT TTii :z::'i ;■: £i:r;,"
■ ■-< V '• v ^- ■ ■ -■- ■■ -^-i ■•.' Tiscic KT^cirss s=ll to be ">, n ■ - • ^ ,■■,■ - •■ S;:x :.iK i-V ■ ir^ ;:i!- rliia obtong •■,\\*^-.- ■ -i ■.,■ .■■-- ■•;■ ir: '■■:.:■■ ii-r,-c-i:;c wi-h sculpture ■ ■," ■ ^.- ■- ' - -.^ \. ,v.-s,>c .1 tr- riTs. .-c-; i: ri^-- si:s:les te , -,■ ,■ •,■ ■-,- ; ,;-..-: " ".i.i'T^i :ti \ii: ziiziL sEiie or th«
,'!-sv ■ ,-..■■ V*s.',- r ,v>;r 7i.-s:ri:ca. Ar: example iC K -.^v I •.■ v' . •. ' , •- ■. v^.- -'. s ,- ;r:; Tret- s:ie K" the nans ; V, * V , vv ■ ■ ■'-" 'V'. "." s -lix; =■:« lija tiine fee' ■o-\, ! ■,' ■. \- >« ■• ■ ■ ■-" ■.■■.■- *t.x- L'-i :■- zbe k Je adjoining »'■.■.■■. s> .* '• ' -. o- -.---•>* •.';-.v,^ v:- i-.-^-r rTerir.^ ihroogb
^'•^'^ ,v VNV'.'^ 'v ■> ■'■■ " ■■ - -'■-'^'- ^ *^" — *= ^« interio* ^^1 ,\,. >..4^. *, :, ^'\v.: , -,;i7^,'. «-.T>;',''»^ ;;:: :i« corth and vAi.t '.-.vv x\ .■' ■ , ,■*.■- ,C-.'.-.-.; --'ss :c-s,isxrt. that may be t;iV» A j.w> -v A- ! f V' !.T.-i.-i.T Ti -Js ibrw csamples. ^Vu- AW •■vVn - >; \-;-;.s „>,.-.--. C«-^i:c St Maiy's
Odd lltms in Old ChMvches.
97
^HmpUn, Sl Mkhacl'i, Sunton Harcoun, and tevcral id the ^«i(Jibouihood of Lewes. St. Patrick's Church, Patnngion, tn YoA^re, has also a particular)/ fine specimen. They were all veut to represent the tomb wherein our Lord was laid ; and some •we euiched with presenlmenls of the soldiers and three Uiritt ; and in the days of actual dramatic representation of I notdsubjecu, the whole icetie of l)ie burial and watching at the wnbwi rei'eiently performed at them. We should probabljr have W Daay more remains of them, but for the fact that they were ofttn nude of wood, and removed from Easter to Easter.
Kuons* marks have an inierest of their own in old churches.
"Vre there has been some protection from the weather, such as a
^'|3 orcrhanging comice, wc may sometimes sec them on the
••teiial tnasonry ; but, generally, rams and winds have obbterated
I "'"II there, and we have to look for ihcm in the interiors. On
^''lyistone wc may sec cut the curious device of the mason who
''["u^ it from lire rough block that was taken from the quarry
■go ti« flat surface it now presents. These devices are of
iP^mctable variety and combinations of geomclrical figures,
^'ssts, and lines. They are to be noted in many parts of the
''Idas well as in our churches. In Elsdon Church, which is in a
T***s-ln)oping centre, there are several deep cuts on one of the
, lors of the arcade of the south aisle, which are of a different
^^RKter to masons' marks, and considered likely to have been
^<lc by the sharpening of weapons upon them.
1 This association of ancient churches with the coming and going
%ieD, perhaps on horseback, recalls the presence of another odd
^W, here and there, in the matter of mounting-blocks, or horse-
'<:jcks, which are still in situ in outlying parishes in rural districts.
«iey are generally merely rough boulders taken from the neigh-
*^i«ring moors, of a suitable si^e, and set down rather close to the
Kurch door or to the opening into the porch. Disused and mute
^ough ihcy be, they icll us tales of the pomp and circumstance of
'td times, when round the church doors were to be seen richly
^piaxisoiKd steeds, stalwart knights, and fair women— besides stout
'comcn, with their wives and daughters, waiting their turn to mount
to their pillions plea.<uintly.
Old grave-slabs are sometimes to be seen used up in our old thurehes in an odd manner, showing that our forefathers, in these instances at least, had but small regard for relics of the kind. There was one fine slab, with a handsome cross incised upon it, obser*-cd recently cut into lengths, and made into a water-table, to ivou ccucxt. NO. 19*7- H
Tit CenHerHOH's Afagaiitu,
Li
throw off the nun on the roof of Alnwiclc Church. Aootber lo sxoK edifice may be seen made into the Umel of » window. In the »tMh aislfi o( Morpeth Church, another into a UnicL In Middleion Church, Teesdale, there b anoi] example of similar economy. A portion of the shaft of a cro oBved with Saxon omamcm was made into the stem of a £o dated 1664, in Rothbuiy Church. In this way many (ragiMc hsTC been handed down to us that might otherwise have disapc altogether.
Often in the furthermost end of an aisle, or transept.
Into the wan, or but slightly &*.anding out of it, bracket-fashion. :
be seen the imall piscina that was used in old times when there '
m altar there. Besides these, only much more rarely, a pis
ttpon the ground may be seen. This is a small hole upon the flo
at the cast end of the church, south of the aliar. If there were
piscina into which to pour the water in which the chalice was rinse
we might assume ihi) was intended to carry it away, but in three <
of (bur examples known there are piscins on tlic walls as well, TheM
ground pbcinre have been noticed in St. Catherine's Chapel, in Cai
lisle Cathedral, and in the churches at Ullerlon, in Lincolnshire;
Little Castcrton, Rutlandshire, and Hevingham, Norfolk. It ha|
been suggested they may have been nude to carry away the watei
used in the conseaatton of the building.
Scdilia are sometimes treated in an odd manner. Sometime
there is but one seat, sometimes two, four, or five ; but more fr«
qucnily three. In some small churches the window sill forms tbi
scdilc. In a church in Sussex the divisions between the seats rcduo
them to a size almosl too small for use. In some churches they ar
Btonc benches without aims ; in others they are superbly decorated
and grouped together under handsome canopied recesses. Over aiM
above these seats (or the clergy some very few old churches haw
stone scats, or stalls, at the east end. St. Mary's Church, at Stone, ij
Kent, for instance, has a range of these suUs on the north, south, an
cast sides of the sacrarium. and St Martin's Church, at Cheriton, ii
the same county, has examples on the north and south of the chancel
In the church of St. Nicholas, Rodmersham, are three sedilia o
wood : a rate survival. And besides these, there may be noted hcD
and there a larger recess adjacent to the sedilia, for which it is diflS
cult to assign any use.
Now and then a small door may be seen high up in the pica that divide the nave from the chancel. This is the door that ona gave access ftom the winding-stair within the pier to the footway tl
J
Odd Items in Old Churches. 99
the top of the screen with vhich most churches were once provided. When screens were found inconvenient, and were removed, these doon were left. Ross Church, Herefordshire, has a noticeable example ; Hinckley Church, Leicestershire, has another.
Any of these items might be easily passed by without recognition,
even in a tolerably careful glance round at the general features of an
incknt &t»i& We are likely tQ look at the lichly-carved doorways
bal leem to invite us to enter, and up to the caiven angelic host
vph^dhig the mighty timbers of the roof, or along the lines of pillars
(oiqxfftmg the gracefiit arcades, or at the windows to admire their
tracery or stained-glass, or on the floors to note the last resting-places
oC die good and great ; or we may take special notice whether the
pnlpt has an hour-glass, or the stand for one ; whether the almsbox
has in inscription; whether the vestry has an ancient chest ; whether
^ great brazen eagle is ancient or modem ; or whether there are
uy marble or alabaster effigies lying cross-legged or hand-folded in
^ shadowy aisles \ and miss these minor detaib unless our attention
11 tailed to them.
SARAH VILSOH.
Its
TAt! GenlUman's Magazine.
PAGES ON PLAYS.
TJY a curious chance, an Ibscn play i» once again the chit*
i
topic of ihe pasl month. And in many respects the latcfl attempt to interpret the NorwcRian dramatist is ihc most inleioiing of all the many recent altempls ; for Miss Rose Norreys brought to the part of Nora Hclmer a great number of qualirteattons. Tint
■ and best, perhaps, she had that quality of enthusiasm for hn h author, and for that particular one of her author's cliaracters,i fl wiihoui which good dramatic work can scarcely be accomplished. Her apijc.irance, again, corresponded with our conceptions of the ^ child-wife, child- mother. Then, she brought to bejr upon the pbyifl an experience ripped by many successes, an artistic sympathy with the dramatist's purpose, which enabled her to appreciate not merely the wide humanity but the deep sense of beauty which belongs to all Ibsen's plays. I have seldom looked forward with more interest to any performance than I did to Miss Korreys's Tendering of "The Doll's House"; I have seldom followed any performance wilh a closer attention. It proved to be or« of the events of the dramatic season. It revived an old controversy, it stimulated fresh curiosity. If the interest in what may Iw called the Ibsen question was at all waning. Miss Norrcys's enterprise lent it a new life. I
"The Doll's House" is perhaps the most significant of the whole series of Ibsen's social plays. It ought to be called " A Doll's Home," by the way. and why it is not so called I am at a loss to understand ; but lei that pass. Some of us may prefer tlie more absolute "modernity" of " Hedda Gablcr," others may think that profound problems of life are presented with a more uagic in- tensity in ■' Rosmersholm " ; others, again, may maintain that the strife between man and woman, between hu&hand and wife, is represented as truly and more beautifully in "The Udy from the Sea" It leally doesn't matter; all who admire Ibsen at all are aoreed in regarding " The Doll's House "-I adhere to the accepted ^ . ,.^A^r nroiest— as a very fine, very typical, specimen of the
I
Sea.
=ed in regarding " The 1
very
masters
e under protest— as a very nnr. very i)i"tai, ap-^ims.. w u.q !l!!i!r's work. It is cerlwnly, if it is nothing else, a very rcmaikaWe
es on PI,
cimen of dramatic consiiuaion. The oftcncr it is read, the more
T^eply will ihc reader be impressed by the tcchnicat beauty of the
'^^ilding-up, by ihc exquisite pains taken to insure completeness and
Ij^fvoponion in the dramatic whole. There is nothing too much—
pPlQiliiog too little. The incidents succeed each other with all the
Sppuent ease of ereiyday life, with all the aaual accuracy and
Ic^ of a machine. If it were not one of the greatest, it would
I will be one of the most ingeniously composed pieces of our time.
|v I shall never fniget the profound impression which " The Doll't
r^Kouie " made upon me when I first iaw it acted some couple of
years ago by )1iss Janet Achurcli at the Novelty Theatre. It was
the first Ibsen play 1 had .seen acted, and it carried conviction
with it from the ri»e of the curtain to its fall. It gave me at
once the impression, not that 1 was sitting in a theatre surveying
with more or less pleasure the efToits of actors and acirea>xes to
pretenl a play, but that I was on the singe itself— that I was one
of the friends of that ill-starred Hetmer household— that I vras
witnessing the real woes of real men and women. I saw the play
^ain, and with the same result ; no pby had ever seemed to me
quite so intenjcly real before. The performance appealed to the
public curiosity ; it delighted some, it irritated some, it interesied
very many. Put up for a few nights, it ran fur some weeks, and
mig^t have run for many more if Miss Achurch had not been
compelled to leave London to fulfil an Australasian engagement.
But it left behind it a heritage of controversy which raged then,
ind has raged cvet since, and is raging now, with almost unabated
intensity.
To my mind, the indignation which certain critics have expressed at the motive of "The Doll's House" and the conduct of Nora Helmef is an o^'crsirained, unreasonable indignation. It is, of course, a matter for argument whether Nora w.ns justified in leaving Toivald under tlie conditions : it is open ti> argument whether a woman is justified in leaving her husband under any conditions. The up- holders of vrliat may be called the old attitude towards woman, an attitude half of chivalrous devotion and half of Oriental disdain, will absolutely deny Nora's right to draw that front door behind her on that fomous night. The advocates of what wc may be permitted to call tl>e " new theory of woman " will argue otherwise. Their theory ts the theory of which the Norwegian Ibsen, the Russian Tolstoi, arc the latest champions in art, the theory which John Stuart Mill did so much to formulate, the ttieory which has been the jest of humourists in all times, from the " Lysisiiata " of Aristophanes to the " Madame
^
H
Pa^s m Plays.
'■^•li ate, as opposed to Ibsen's unconscious or unavoired ^*^iats. Mr. Anstcy in the pages of Ptin<k bas for many weeks '^ been delighting the mirthful by the humour of his parodies of ^^^*e plays of Ibsen's which aic tnost familiar to the reading public England. But parody now nas passed from the pages of a '^'iodieal to the boards of a theatre ; on the stage wliicli has been _^vaded by the new Viking, two En^tsh humourists retaliate, with the "tttnourius* weapons of ridicuJe, satire^ irony. Mr. J. M. Barrie, the Author of so many attractive essays, tlie part author of "Richard ^^lec,' has made " Hedda Gai>ler " the tarf^t for his scorn at * <«ie's Theatrei where the audience shrink with laughter over Mr. *'<xfc made-up as "The &taster " liimself; and at the extraoidiiuiry ^tiltj shown by Ihf iss Irene \'anbtugh in her mimicry of the die-away *in )( Miss Marion I^a's Thca F.lv»lcad, and the " grand manner " of ^u Kobins's Hedda. At the Avenue Theatre Mr. Robcit fiKhuon org:uiised an assault upon a larger scale on the Ibsen mabod and the Ibsen creations. Much of "The Gifted I-ady" was tUdMbtedly funny : the whole attack came quite fairly from a writer wto hai STOAcd himself once and again hostile to the Ibsen method *i*ld>elbicn creations. To Mr, Buchanan Ibsen is only a "stuttering 2di with a wooden leg " — why with a wooden leg ?^hc is opposed to fcwwh all the energy of his energetic nature; and he formulates 1* cffiositton in the lime-honouied formula of burlesque. No ■tawn Dot the most impassioned, of Ibsen, could powibly object tUiUtlm. The ten of ridicule has been applied to all great men ■•W the days when Aristophanes delighted the Athenians by the ?*Mde of Socrates swinging in his basket. Ibsen can stand the i^; bis admirers need not be discomposed. "Ibsen's Ghost" and ~ht GiAed Lady " arc excellent fooling when ail's done ; but they dta the most decisive tribute of recognition that has yet been W in Ijondon to the influence, to the importance, to the genius of "••nk Ibsen. His bitterest enemies could hardly say that he is a I BWi of no account," at a time when he and his creations were made objeos of satire in two leading London theatres by two well- n English authors ; and as for his friends — well, their devotion *i'J raoult no leather. No one who admires " Hedda Gabler " will ^^liin; it less because Mr. AnslC>', Mr. Bartie, and Mr. Robert oiidianan have made merry over it. I was much amused by Aioff Packet Ibsen." 1 iras much amused by many things in "TV Gifted Lady." I thought it was too long : the satire would *>»e been sharper if it was shorter: Mr. Barrie's skit had the idnnlage of brevity. But I cannot understand the mood of mind of
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those Ibsen lovers — and 1 believe (here arc some such — who initaiion at tbcse Itght-heiirted \-eniures. IbscD is as £ur Socrates ; and if he should succeed in creating a new Ari why, we should all be heartily dtlighted.
Mb3 Fortcscuc, for some occult reason, cKosc to gi** a five maeinhi of "The l^ove-Chase." "The Love-Chase exceplioiully tiresome play~on« of the worst of its aniiquat It is written in a style which " » my aver^on." and which the aversion of all who tike dramatic language to be nat blank veree to be melodious. Its characters are impossible interesting puppets, iis plot is a wearisome and uiitiatural intri] imbroglio which Marivaux might have made enchanting, and SI gay, becomes merely depressing. Why on earth did Miss Fo choose to revive this specimen of the fossil drairu? She did with Juliet, she did so well with Pauline. What imjielted waste ability and opportunity upon Constance? Perhaps som«^ were entertained. Mrs. Lambert and her daughter, we may fl bcT, were moved to tears by Home's " Douglas," which onlyj Mr. George Warrington .-ind Colonel Lamlwit to iireprcssibl But, ala.1, if an old-fashioned play can be tedious, the art is iined to old-fashioned plays. On the evening of Miss F< firvt malinfe was given, at the Strand Theatre, the first perfoi of a modern faice from the Ccrtnan, called "'A Night's Frolic Edouin and Miss Alice Aiherton arc an attractive and dei popular pair, but they could not make " A Night's Frolic taining.
Jules Lcmaitre, the brilliant dramatic critic of the DtH not very long ago, a somcn-hat remarkable experience. He \ play, " RJvoltde," and his editor insisted that, as M. Lemaltre dramatic critic of the Dibals, he must needs review " R^' he had reviewed the other plays of the I'ansian season. M. obeyed, and criticised, if 1 remember rightly, '■ Rivoli^" siderable severity. I do not, however, propose to fol Lemalirc's example, although i: does so chance that 3m<^ number of the pieces of which I should under ordinary \ aianceshavc to speak, there happens to be included a pice* own. I do not follow M. Lemaltrc's example, not because I doubt my own firmness in dealing with my own defects, but ^ the piece happens to be so slight, and the conditions of its ] tion so exceptional, as to justify me in passing it by. But % silent concerning the piece, I need not keep silent about tla of Mr. Colnagbi and of Miss Letty Lind, which gave
:loalri|
^" Pages on Piays. 105.
lvalue it poiceued. I must speak especially about ihe acting or
ll Letty Lind, because it justified me in the belief I had always
CBttrUined that the exquisite dancer had in her the capacity of an
■cnea u well. Fof my own poor part, I rate dancing very highly
Mraoc the arts that brighicn life ; and a ttiumpham dancing-girl has
Utile reason to envy her graver sisters the lauTCl>wreath ai tragedy or
tk« {iy-wrcalh of comedy. But a woman maybe a dclight/ul dancer'
Kdaiio be able to act wclL Miss Kaie Vatighan is a witness to
IUL She was Queen of the Uancc white she danced : when she
pit tip dancing she was able to prove herself an agreeable aciicss.
If Uiss [.city Lind is our best dancer to day, sh« has also shown
ihu the can au very grtccluUy, very sympathetically — for which,
ihltEd, I have every reason to be grateful.
1 loentioned the name of Jules I^emaltre a few lines back ; let ' BcrKonl the first performance of a play by Jules l^ematire upon a ' IdDJcn stage. There is a company of French players performing ■ ibe Royally Theatre, a company brought over by that indefatigable ntrtfrtiuur M. Ntayer, whose season of French ]>lnys at the St. Jiiaa'i Theatre last year was such a disastrous failure. Perhaps (he oMerpfisc will be more successful this year ; in any casc, it <fcatd well with M. Jules I^maitre's latest piece. M. Jules lenaluehas written three pieces —"Rifvoltie," in 1889; "LeD^puli Imtta," in 1890; and "Mariage Blanc," in 1S91. " Mariage lk(ic''is decidedly the best of a series of clever plays, which per- hifsare better to read than to see acted. I say, pcrha])s, because t aunt think that the interpretation at the RoyaUy Tlicatre does f'JIiiMice to M. Lemailre's britli;int literature. Mr. Clement Scott —•bo is, I think, unjustly severe towards the play^s only justly Kntc towards its inlcr|iretation. While I cannot possibly endorse InsnceiDent thai "few modern dramatists would dare to produce u hid a play at a leading London theatre," I certainly can endorse ^aueroent that "no prominent English company would on the '^perform it so badly." It is really time for London to learn tat ibe (act of an aaor or actress speaking French docs not neccs- 'fily make that man or woman a good actor or actress,
.\ serious interest attached to a series of mati'nfes given by Mr. Todhunicr at the \'audcville Theatre. Mr. Todhunier is a poet, lod a believer in the poetic drama. He has drunk deeply— per- iaps too deci^y— of the heady wine of the Elizabethans ; he has socght to know what things were done at the Mermaid ; he has followed, courageously, in famous footsteps. His Vaudeville wioAn^r offered two pieces to bis audiences. One was " A Sicilian Id}ll,"
I
906
iii»- :d Ik ■—■"«-« - die -mbtsc a. laaw ymx*. dBcd "1
s Gnrdoi*; «n
d fanc-IaraiDni
fc"w^*' 3* sis ■-7™^''^'^ Jiinij sk£ %n CKiQenC Jefi»ny of t&nk vex. Ix -^ A 'S--^?™* LiSrl.^ 3^ LSv riiifiiTiI. «^m I tKoaas. -Ji ^E3[se bggg Kz^ Jniiniiit by her AdI s dbam I
dceadaia? 'foil ?i:n s ^e Gooe
r=SnX aCSTLT X'CAKTH'
107
TABLE TALK,
Rabelais Abroad,
M. Arthur HeuUiaix) «re are indebted Tor (he most important coniribuiion to out knowledge of Rabelais that has appeared bhin the Usi decade. His "Rabelais: ses Vo)-ages en Italie, son nl k fttetz," ' is a conscientious piece of work, which treats Rabcbis ta) a serious point of view, and adds somewhat to our information deeming him. Comparatively little is knoirn of the proceedings 'RabcUis during his successive visits to Italy, and the new book is £*« rather a history of ihe Du Bellays, the illustrious protectors Id patrons of Rabelaiii, than of the master himself. Very patiently, r«ever, does M. Heulhard tread in the steps of Rabelais, and p iflusuations of the houses in which he is known to have dwelt, te spots he BUKt have contemplated, and the scenes in which he taj IttTC paitkipatied, give the volume beauty as well as interest, rom^aratirdy little remains to be added to the account of Rabelais tod c< " Pantagruel " which appeared some years ago in these pages. n»e persecution to which Rabelais was exposed on the part of the PaifaiBeDt and the Sorbonne is put in a cleater light. After the Ittft of Francis I. the enemies of the satirist thought they had him U ihdr mercy. The king, who confined their murderous attacks to nsonirks, enthusiasts, or philosophers, was gone, and the hope to toi Rabelais the way of Dolet warmed the hearts of bigots. As "> iaiual proceeding, alier the appearance of the fourth book, the *^iibment prohibited Michel Fcj-zandct, on pain of corporal punish- •"ttit-a pleasant euphemism — from selling the first or fourth book "Diil the Court had full instruction as to the "volont^ du Roy." ^^Wry II. followed, however, the example of his predecessor : laughed ^ the jokes of Rabclai-t, and allowed him to scarify the monks at "i' pleasure. The Parliament was silent, the Sorbonne snubbed ^ilfac author of " Pantagruel" died peacefully in his bed.
i
— y« « ,
held by.<^^:^^^tou«. a pn«^ ^''^ J
THE
;kntleman's magazine.
August 1891. CAPTAIN KITTY:
A SALVATIONIST SKETCH. By LiLLiAS Wassermann.
In humaD love I claim no pait : To h£r I give your changeful heart. Though unforgotten be Ihe put, Diviner bonds now hold me fast. By this last kiss of mine on earth I seal you claims of higher north. The misti of sin now dim our eyes, But o'er Ihe sea of death will rise A nobler goal, a grander prize.
Eviiy-day Versei,
Chapter 1,
HER face, under the shadow of the ug!y bonnet, was one of extreme refinement and beauty. She looked — as indeed she *M-thoroughbred. Katherine Villiers, in fact, belonged to one of "le oldest families in England.
Nevenheless, she was one of the most popular and successful '^plains in the Army ; and, amid all the coarseness and apparent P'oliinily of the stormy meeting then progressing, she held her head '''£'' and never flinched for a moment, though some of ihe language "wd both by orators and sinners must have been a revelation to her.
fiut Captain Kitty had that enthusiastic, exalte sort of tempera- "tniof which saints and martyrs are an outcome; although there **s both human passion and feeling in her dark eyes. \\'hen she I^^yed, as she did now in her turn, it was not so much a prayer ^ W impassioned protest against the powers of evil— an agony, a
voi_ ccLxxi. NO. 1928. I
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no The GenlUmafis Magastru.
balicring as il were «t the gates of Heaven. One couWhearll human heart-throbs through the c.igcr words. Her cultnn cx<|uisitely modubtcd voice r.ing through ihc great hnll like a sill bell, and set the chords of many a long buried fecting vibrattnc.
" That's riglil. Captain Kilty I Have it out with the Deii Give him a bloody nose 1 Lsnd him one in the eye ! "
The expressions of applause that were echoed about from I enthusiast to another were perhaps not very choice or clefEant,! they were certainly evoked by genuine feeling, undeniable cnoni One man mion the platform commenced to spar wildly in iheiir, though he were fighting with some invisible opiwncnt who w» bi upon ovcithfowing him. A woman— whose eye was black and 1 face swollen, as though she had been exceedingly maltreated— roll on the floor in a fit of hysterics. She began to confess to nciialo| of sins— a roll-call of an exceedingly ghastly and uncdifji character. hcRinning with minor offences against the law— such petty larceny and " drunk and disorderlies" — and gradually workj up to the climax of infanticide, on a nholesale scale, for the saiu insurance moneys. There are even now Lucrciia Horgias id bum) life who, without Ihc stage accessories of gilded goblets and spaiU wines, commit murder on the same big lines as th.-st dramatic p Bonnge. The revelations made sometimes at these sensational re!:^ meetings arc apjialling. But people attending them are so ace tomed to melodtaiiia that they produce very hitle effrci.
One of the workers stooped over the writhing, groaning, gu stricken sinner, and whispered words of hope and encour.igcmei but the beautiful, passionate pleading went on all the time, m word distinctly audible, even through the tumult it raised.
And yet it was not the words that moved them, but the toi the thrilling subtle sweetness of the voice inllexions. These sua; their senses and played upon their emotions, as might the mtuk some great and glorious symphony.
In this sort of emotional religion the words are nothing ; ' voice, personal magnetism, nervous force, sympathetic rsfportdi speaker are cvcrytl'.ing. Captain KiUy was perfectly .iwarc that power belonged to her. She delighted in the exercise of it, just i great actress might delight in seeiiig her audience alternately la and weep, while under the spell of her genius. The dramatic iiut is indued a valuable one to a Salvationist- If it were enti eliminated from the platform there would be few conversions, ft disciples.
.After the oraycr was over, Captain Kiily carae down fti
uown itan.
Captain Ktlty : a Sali-alionisl SkLich. \ \ \
ptaiform and went slowly about amongst the people— exhorting, beseeching, encouraging. Eager hands — palsied with drink, clammy with emtement, foul with the filth of days — were stretched out to grap her as she passed ; and she had a word and a kindly greeting foralL
WTisn she reached the sobbing, hysterical woman, she paused, l»id a cool, soothing hand on that miserable, beslobbered brow, pMttd the ragged wisps of hair, and gazed into the bleared, drink- sodden eyes.
"I'm a bad un, a downright bad un ! " cried the sinner, with a soitof despairing pride in the gigantic nature of her guilt " It's no Bunneiof use me ttyjn'to be good, because what I've done is enough lodaiDD the whole of creation,"
"The Lord wants your heart, or He would not be asking for it "o*,' replied the Salvation captain, in a tender voice ; and the woman, ttwping suddenly, grabbed a bit of her dress and kissed it.
Oose beside them stood a man who had been a very attentive liitaier to Captain Kitty's prayer, and who had followed with his Its her every movement, with a sort of breathless eagerness.
Hewasa man of perhaps thirty-five years of age, with a handsome, iirome, haggard lace, and a lean ligure, upon which his rags of cloth- "fhang loosely. Poorly, meanly as he was dressed, there was about '''"I that nameless, indescribable air that marks unmistakably, to the '"d, him who has once been a gentleman.
'^Tien Captain Kilty drew near .md began to talk to the hysterical ''""an, this man hid his face in his arms, as though either to bury '^"^y some intense emotion, or to prevent some possible recognition. If he was moved by the latter feeling, however, he defeated his "*" object ; for the Salvationist took it for granted that he was *ed by her exhortation instead, and stayed to clinch the argument. . ^e cause was hers, heart and soul, and she but lived to rescue ""'lers from the Devil's grasp.
^Vhen, therefore, she noticed that the man's shoulders werewotk- , S convulsively, and that he kept his face sedulously hiddvn, she ^""^Sed that it was the Spirit of God at work within him.
She laid her firm white hand upon his shoulder, and at the touch '^ shuddered from head to foot.
*' Brother," she murmured, stooping over him, so that he felt her ***^ breath on his cheek, " God asks your soul of you ! Will you ^* Him ask id vain ? "
The man groaned, but made no other reply. Captain Kitty "^CTit on,
1 2
i
>12 T"-*^ Gentleman's Atagazine,
• Oh, mjr brodWT, my dear, predcjus lored brollier in Christ, .nu
I you not lUira lo my poor pkading, and cast away the burden o( ik
that U weighing you to ibc canh ? It is so sim|dc— so simple, mi
tl»e relief is lo untuwiaWe ! Give mr your life, and let me pass act
loGod."
At this li«t adjuration the nun seemed moved by some irrcsistiUi force to raiM.- his head and to look her in the face.
As (heir eyes met— her* eager, supplicating, ardent, full ofbefcedi ti^ love and tenderness ; his full of nothing but a haggard tiouWi and despair— she cried out wiWly, and put her hand to her hcaii, a though subbed there by some sharp and sudden pain.
"Julian— Julian Gray!" she exclaimed, in a tone of great surpiia and excitement.
" Ay, Julian Gray— or at least all that is left of him 1 " replied thi man, in a h<^low vokc. Captain Kitty was breathing quickly, he hand still piewcd against her side You could sec her heart bealnj through her dress, as she vainly strove to regain her sclf-possesioa The sight of this face, risen from her foinicr world to confront liei had disturbed her strangely.
*'l— I thought joawere still in Australia," she gasped, after i moment's yause. "Where have you been all these years?"
The man laughed— a ghastly, unminhful laugh, that would hav ]>rovol(ed notice in any other place, but did not sound at all extia ordinary there
" Where ? To hell, 1 think ! You hear lots of <]ueer exjicrience in this new life of yours. Well, call lo mind the very strangest on> the vcT)- wickedest of them all, and you still wouldn't be able t realise mine '. "
For once, Captain Kitty did not appear ready to grasp th opportunity this confession oiitncd to her. She was usually qujc to sci« upon every chance given her lo fight the powers of tvi But now she seemed struck dumb. She merely stooti siill, an gazed down into the depths of those wild, despairing eyes — a tik trouble growing into her own as she gazed.
" I— I scarcely thought you would have known me ! 1 hopei you would pass by, unrecognised, the wreck of the nan yo once— knew 1 "
"I should have known your eyes anywhere," replied tb Salvationist, slowly.
Then she sighed, and awoke to the reality of things. She «
one of Chfist's soldiers, and she must not neglect her duty. N mere human emotion must interfere with that. "—^
I Captain Kitty : a Salvationist Sketch. 1 1 3
I "JsIUn," she said, and now her voke w.x^ quid, though full
Witpnsfcd ifltcnsiiy, "you did wcli to come here \ I have prayed
fat jwalmys. I have Ix-ggcd that Cod would give me your soul,
nttatl might renderit back toHim. >ly prayer is surety answered,
sxt pu arc here ? "
" Don't you make any mistake, Kitty," he answered roughly, " I
W on come here for any of that tomfoolery. You don't catch me
iMbtrinc over my sins, like those idiots over there \ I'm a man,
ricnall'ssaid and done; and, if I've sinned, I can repent without
^Mb« about it."
^H^*I hoped you were here to teclc salvation, my poor friend I
^Vbc im it that brought you, if not that ? "
^V "The chanceof seeing you ! 1 heard about you, and I could not kkm h, until I saw it with my own eyes. Besides, I was hungry fc> the sight o( you— after all those hateful, God-forsalccD Jtml"
Sic would not notice the break in hix roice, the plending in hb ittched eyes.
She was all duty now ; and, since the time for his conversion was M ytx com^ she must leave him for other and more accessible
"Yoo must come again," she said—her sweet, dear voice com- Ifetiy tinder conuol. "Come again, and again, until ihc Spirit of the wni b^ns lo move in your torpid soul. Btlicve me, dear 'dim, there is no way to happiness, save only by the way of Wnnton! "
But at night, when she lay on her hard narrow bed. the thought *fAat strange meeting came back to trouble her, and to prevent her '^^ sleeping, tired as she was.
Years before, when she was a light-hearted girl in her teens, Jofiai Uray had been her betrothed lover. He w.is the younger son ^» buonet, whose lands adjoined those of her father. He was then "'ftemny. His prospects were not, perhaps, brilliant, but they were "''jtood. He would inherit his mother's fortune, .ind his bride- *"^t«as not penniless, so that there was every reason to suppose **' the ]-oung people would be very comfonably off.
Tlwi, little by little, a change took place. Rumours reached '"' hotiw that troubled the peace of the family — Julian was "Willing a by.word in his re^jinient for fastness and general reck- 'ntofts Qf conduct. He gambled, and became he.ivily involved in *^ in consetiuencc. Then, to drown his regrets and remorse, he 'Wk to drinking. That finished him. Before long, news came
fl
:hai he aa<i te±n ihiiged :q i£J inc. jsui t*as imw oiz bis «af kme,
L'Tirfiir --i»e ■^rzamsQiicas. Mr, TUlieis jrvarti, oat '■■■"■.imiifff. ipon -.hfi lereninca u ins iaiighn^a ei^uceituBit. ;^^- rdKOed a^tut ±& sHr: . yoL iil ji vsio. T'le amlj was i {vood ok, and Jier :^li£r tu'.tcued '^nr :;i: .it-r-nar-nr- nTtfrnrrfTrotrheireKmriiag had neen fcuniesa. And diac ou siuuiir af rfi«tpr:M-y h^^-j c^r mud tip/ia dieir name. W,-juIii liie — ^umg lil cris inm consabmkMk— alW neneit ^uii i oian vhcse naniff joil '■^•f-nm^ DotociotB fcv emr
K^ilheriie i»is j'^imir and adsrr^ xnti 5C£ cocM iwt amm :hi.i. Ku'^.-C b^ cnaeacnij £i die Kcaanijo. Shi£ begged in 1^ tnifl but fcr or^ ±xjj— whici was. ria: sne mi-iht OEeok s. to him bj-soni (Jt moczh. > :ha: beuis th>» par^ ur ever she "li.rfir haxe cmx fini interview wiili bim. Haw weH ihe n^mentheni fh-tr ij^± ,]2f They liad niet by ca special de3;re a£ one at their oti crysdng-idaces for he did txx fed eq'^ t:i arir;:; :he disipprariiig e^ics rKit vouh ia^e cpr-fi h;ai cp a: :hc HiZ.
The dJT "is d7i-»ir^ a i dose ; a. a;^ dear, sunless Oaobe da^, w.'.h a low viiui morm^ afaoc: axoc^ the ^lases at their feel *h«e thev itood oti ihe barrea sar.chi'Jj tkiwri by the shore.
h'r.e rs^A j.ic;.;re it all (^.lite distir.c-y now, when she closed he eye* : ihe loTig stretch of CiXi. f aliid sand ; the bleached sea-gnsse ffom nbif/n ever and anon crept cp a sound like a shiverit^ sigh the gray vjlltn sea, with iii gtea: wares ihundering on the shore.
It was all hopeless, u::eriy hopeless and colourless ; like th future that strttched before her, when he should have gone out of i And she loved him so— she loved him so ! Sever, perhaps, had ihe realised this fad so thoroughly as attbi hitter moment of final separation,
' I am not g'X)d enough for you, and they are ciuite right to pa UN,' he said, with a son of sullen resignation ; ' but it was my on hope my only chance ! '
' What will you do, Julian ? ' she asked timidly, after an inten of Mjrrowful silence.
' Mow do I know? Go to the Devil, I suppose,' he replied, wi R itciiicratc brutality, born of much jain. For his love had beent one K'wd anil true thing in him ; and now the sight of her pale & nml pleading eyes unmanned him, and made him bitter and sava| ir lie alone could have borne the suffering, it would not have be wi luiuiuiurable. There was reason why he should be made to sma
^-flK'dnti
Captain Kitty : a Salvationist Sketch. 1 1 5 t in the power thai puiii^ied the innocent for
:>o the very tenderness of the nun helped to harden his heart, and to m«dden him. But love lends insight, so it is possible that tUheiine underMood.
Whfn it was all ot-er his peo]>le managed to raise soinc money for ho, and packed him aft to Australia, thai refuge for our scapc- picn. Docs that much ill-U5cd country thank us for making her a (■otni (rfour younger sons and our ne'er-do-wells, 1 wonder?
Whether or no, at least it is convenient that, if they have nothing iebie them but starvation, they should do ihcir starving at a rejicaful distance from their aristocratic relations.
He had kept his word. He had uid that he supposed he would loiothe Devil, and now it certainly appeared from his words and Inb ihii he had done so in earnest.
But, as for her, ilie ha<i yiveii herself over lo the good cause, body ttdtoul.
Thcj might i>revcnt her from niatr>Iiig the one love of her life,
™ Ihty could not prevent her from enlisting in tlie ranks of the
**"l'i Army, much as ihcy might be scandalised ;U the low vulgarity
''the proceeding. Had she turned Catholic now, and entered a
'^vent— that would at least have been a well-bred notion I
""okcn hearts could be hidden in a much more reputable manner
'''bia convent wqUk, since the j^iil was so foolish as tQ declare hcr
^n to be broken by a worthless scamp 1
But Kalherine Villiere had no vocation for the life— if life it can be
^'cd — of a nun. There w.is a vein of wild, lumultiious blood in her,
^•ig with all her goodness and virtue ; and this made her yearn
^ something more thrilling and exciting than the drearj-, gray
*^»iolony of perpetual pr.tyer and periJclual telling of beads. Better
tiic at once, she thought, than doom herself lo a living death !
Just at that dmc there roiled a sudden wave of enthusiasm for the
^^vition Army across the countrj- ; and it carried back with lis
*^bing tide one eager, enthusiastic recruit.
Once more hcr colourless existence became infused with vivid *f«B; gold and purple and scailct Bashes lighted up its dull mono- **in3f, and in the blare of trumpets and waving of banners Captain Hitty forgot for the fitst time het own private grief and despair.
But slie liad never forgotten to piay for bim. And now ? Was the Answer to that prayer come at last ?
I
1 1 6 The Gentleman s Magazine.
Chapter II.
She had but slept for a couple of hours when someone cameio rouse her.
"You arc to dress at once and go to No. 9, Mulcaster's Rents- There'sa man there met with an accident, and they've sent foryou!" Captain Kitty wondered a little as to who it could be that wauled her in particular, and not one of the nurses who lived in the pto; but she was too sleepy to feel much astonishment at anything. She did not delay long over het: toilet; just dipped her head into a basin of cold water to dispel the drowsiness, and hurried on her clothes anyhow.
Mulcastcr's Rents was a nasty neighbourhood for a lady to viiil alone at one o'clock in the morning ; but the Aimy had madf it a head-quarters for one of its divisions, and its soldiera were free of it, and in no danger of molestation.
Captain Kitty felt very weary, both in body and mind, as ilii toiled up the greasy, dirty staircase; where the boards were rotten am crazy, and where the stair-rails had been lorn out for firewood. Bn the weariness was all gone when she entered the wretched room, im recognised that there, upon the bed, lay the form of Julian Gray— th nian for whom she had been praying so earnestly.
A doctor was bending over him, and hailed her advent vil pleasure.
" I don't know why on earth they didn't take him to the Hospit at once," he said, in a tone of vexation ; "but it seems he begged hi: to be brought home, and to have you sent for, before he relapsi into unconsciousness."
" Is he much injured ? " asked Captain Kitty, In a low voice. The doctor shook his head.
" It isn't that. He was knocked down by a cab— drunk, I suppo and blind, they generally are — and has two or three ribs broken; I that won't kill him. He's been a fellow with a splendid physique, begin with ! "
And the surgeon lifted the arm of the prostrate man and lool at it admiringly.
"Then, what is it you dread ?"
The doctor gave her a sharp glance. There was no fear of she
ing a Salvationist. They were too well used to every variety of v
" It's the fever that will supervene, the D. T, you know ! '
, nan's been drinking like mad for weeks, I should say, and now
jjjood is little better than alcohol. Who's to see him through witl
Captain Kitty : a Salvationist Sketch. \ 1 7
1 wonder ? It'll be a tough fight. She's not much use, poor little vTctch ! " be ended, with a ghncc loivards ihe fire:iidc
Captain Kitty rollowcd the direction of that glance, and xlnilcd. The figure of a girl — untidy, dishevelled, ragged— was silling ihwc vith her head buried in hci hands ; sobbing in n soft, subdued sort of fiuhion.
The Salvationist turned pale to the lips, but she let these same lips in a firm line.
" I will see him through it," slie said, with c]uick decision. The lui^eon loolced at her doubtfully.^
** But perhaps )'ou don't know what It is that you are undertaking ? It is no joke when the fits come on, I can tell you. "
"I hare tome idea. I spent four months once in the accident ward of a hospital."
"That's all lighl, then ! Vouknow what you h.ivc to expect when be CORKS round. Vou will have to keep giving him doses of this — *««iude of potassium it is— to ciuict him, or inflaniroation vrill MtiD;and if he should become violent he will requite to be strapped ^wn. Are you afraid ? "
" Xoi In the least ' Look at my arm, I am as strong as a man." 'l was indeed poirerfuUy and splendidly moulded. The doctor ^ hij eyes over her, and confessed to himself that he had never seen 'pander specimen of womanhood. From the glorious masses of ""^j-broirD hair, to the firm, shapely feet, there was not, to all ^fPearancc, a weak spot about her. Nevertheless, the quick pro- visional gaze dcicclcd something amis?. j^ '■ ,\rc you quite sure of your strength?" he asked, with some /'^^tation. If she did not knov, it would be worse than foolish '" ■^•►am her.
L_^^ut her eyes met his in significant response to the question under- "•^g his spoken one.
, "I know," she said quietly; " you need not frar shocking me I I
^^e known It for long. But I am going to nurse him all the same, "^^ I shall not break down."
" Has he any claim on you ? " he persisted. j,^ " Yes. It is partly my fault that he is— what he is ! Had I been ^*^ve enough, I might have saved him^ — once ! "
",\h!" was the long-drawn monosyllable that eame from the ^•^lor's lips. Ii meant a great deal. He had seen sufficient of life ^Uting tlw course of his hart! -wo iking years in iht East End to guess *t the facts of [he story j)retty correctly.
A man who hadbeenagentleman, dying of drink and dissipation;
A
I
Its
The GenlUmatis Magasme.
a woman, still young and very beautiful ; bound logethei ])ast, unfotgoKen and regretted— it was eaity to piece togedi Tomancc as this.
But the doctor came across so nuny queer stories duriit] work tliat he had no tixiie to speculate concerning them. ^ wanted was to do the best he could (or his patient, and to see t left in capable handi. And those of the woman before hit thoroughly tapalile, even thouj^h she had hean-disea&e, a not lau long under the Mress and excitement of the lil leading.
It w,x<i a |)ity, because she was a fine creature ; but, i
wat no business of his 1 So he went on giving her directi
told her that in case of neccMity hhe could send for the
lived un the opposite side uf the landing— a big, powctfutcc
who was under obligations to him, and who would j;ladl
her atsistaiice. Tlicn he took up his hat and left her tl
wilh the slcepin); man— and the fair-haitcd girl by the fire.
^V'hen he had gone, slie sank on her knees by the bedsi
" Oh, ( lod, why did we not die, both of us— on that diea
day, long ago? It would huve been bearable then, and wei
passed out into the night nnd the darkness— together.
mine then, d.-iriing, and 1 was yours ! It wouldn't have b(
to face it, hand in hand 1 Uul— now?" Here she stot
moment, and the sound of a low sobbing fell on her ears. Sh.
violently, and rose instantly to her feet. " Now I belor
and must do His work," she said resolutely, setting her
frowning. "And as for you, Julian, you are in all [irobat
\S\\M. 1 have got to do now is to save you for her."
Mastering her feeling of repugnance, she crossed the put her hands on the girls shoulder. " ^'ou niust stop said ill a firm voice. " If you want to be of any use t< must leave off crying at once."
The girl gave a queer sort of choking sound, making i obey. Then she looked up wonderingly. She was a, rat fair-haired creature; ver>' young, and apparently very inueJj s to being commanded. Her big blue eyes had a frigh in them ; and every now and then, when anyone spoke sii would start and shrink, as though dreading a blow to folio "Who are you? What is your name, 1 mean
Captain Kitty.
■' Me? I-or, I'm only 'Meliarl " she answered at once to rub her eyes with her not too clean apron, prcpaialory
L
Captain KiUy : a Sa/vaiionist Skehh. 1 1 g
kupoaanaccountof bcTSclf ; then, with a wi&tfulgaie across the room, " He ain'^ a-gCMii' Iodic, is he? I thought ss 'ow 'twas only the jim- iuM he'd got ; but the douor 'c saj-s it's a bad job, an' 'is libs is buke ! Bui hc1t gel better, don't you think ? "
" Ves, I think he mill, if you and 1 do our best for him. Kow, iltlii, 1 want you to take a note for mc to head-quaiters a« soon oii ni bgbi, and then get nie a tclcgraph-fonu. U'hcrc i& the nearest fSaV llelb thought a momenL
" Thert':^ an orfis next door but one round the corner — K. Green, gucn sn' confecsh'n«r, general jiosi orOs, an' tclcgraft ! Will that ik? It won't be w|»en afwc arfpast seven, though."
"Vcs, that will do. Now you had better wa*h your foce and lie dtn (oc an hour or \wo, and I will watch. Is there a vacant room "Wriiis?" 'Mclia iMMJded.
" Oi»c ncji' door, I'eople IcP only the day before yes'day. CJol
■whin' in it but a 'cap of shavin's. Hcvta mind. I'll tyke a bbnket,
"d lie on the shavin's till jou call mc— if— if jourc (juilc sure a* he
"'n't mils me."
" I will tell you if he asks for you," replied Captain Kitty, coldly.
The girl turned )ier bi^, vacant blue eyes on the other, as the tone
^''Uck her with ationt.ihment ; but the Salvationist wai'cd her away
"■Peiiotisly.
The ne:«t few hours were like years, as the woman watched by the ^^c of her long- lost lore.
It all came about as the doctor predicted. When the slujior F>a«ed away, it was followed by wild delirium and cerebral excite- ">««, terrible to witness. Ncverilieless, Captain Kitty did not find " necessary to ask for assistance. Those strong white arms of hcts proved a-f elBcacious as bonds, as she wound them around him and Wld him down hy main force, when the frcu/.y seized him. liut there was something also in the very presence of the stronger nature that acted upon him like a spell ; even though he did not know her "* tfic least, and kept on calling for Captain Kitly lo come and drive * ficvil away, and give a fellow a chance for his life.
during the^c ravings she learnt how her memory had been woven ** aU ihuc wretched, misetabit years of his ; how, amid all his sin y*^ degradation, he hnd never forgotten her. .\t length the opiate ^*t effect, and he slept the sleep of exhaustion.
, Then she had time to think and to mature her plans. It would ^ ^ Casy enough to get leave of absence until he was out of danger. ^H
I20
Thi Caitii-man's Magazine.
\
But th« things thai were neccssaiy for hi« conifon and health could scarcely a^ for thote from hcad-quaiiers? Her own she had simply given up to the cause, leaving herself pennilcs*. itut she WW not fricrKilcss, alihouf-h her own kindred di approve of her doings. She decided, therefore, lo aslc her bi the one who was fondest of her, for a sura of money sufiicii tide her over this crius ; and, at the same time, she would urile him for paniciilars of the present attitude of Julian Gray's towards him.
«•■•*• •
WeeVf glided on, in a sad, monotonous routine of sick nu and it seemed to Katheiine V it tiers as though her life h^d and ended in that dark, sordid room in Mulcaster's Rents, it did not appear probable that Julian Gray would ever recover ; good nursing, combined with an originally tough consiiiuiion, puU him through. J
During this period she was of course thrown very much iBM« company of 'Melia ; and, without wishing or questioning on 1 pan, heard all ihe girl's pitiful, r.iiserahle story. How " he 'ad be so verj' kind to 'er, an' give 'tr a meal, oh ! ever so ortn, whi old granny, wot she lived with, got blazin' drunk an* lumcd of doors, after a-bealin' of 'er till she was black and blue : an' after granny dii;d, an' she was lef alone, she crep' up 'ere one an' asked 'im might she live along with 'im ; an' he larfed, an* cal her a little fool for 'er pains ; but siill he was down in the motith seemed afraid of bcin' alone, don't yer know, and so she stS' An'— an' that was all !— on'y she was orful fond of him, an" if to die, there was nothin' for 'er but lo make a hole in the water
At length came a day when he was pronounced out of dai and after that a long, lingering convalescence.
\\'hen he could manage to sit up in a big, comfortable anO' by the fire, the room was so transformed that he eould believe il to be the same. Curtains covered the smoke gri it windows, flowers bloomed in pols— an air of refinement, if ri' luxurj', reigned there altogether.
On a seat by the window sal 'Mclia, clothed and in her mind— if one might judge from the way in which she diliga pursued her task of needlework. jj
He looked away from this pleasant picture very quickly, howd and up at Captain Kiliy instead, who stood carelessly lean against the chimney-piece opposite to him,
" Yoii have done it all," he said feebly. " How am I
1
to thanlJ
Caplain Killy : a Sa/:'.!li\'iiisf Sl'ih/i. i 2 1
(or saving my life ? Not that it is worth much, any way ! " he added, as a bitter after-thought.
She looked at him thoughtfully.
"Not to you, perhaps," she replied, in a slow, dreamy tone ; "but God knows better than you the real value of your life."
"How can it ever be anything now but a broken, worthless tlui^? But that is not the question. I owe it to you, such as it ii-not to God ; you have saved it. What must J do with it ? "
"Give it to Him ! If, as you say, it is mine to do what I will ■itfa, 1 here call God to witness that I give it into His hand, to deal lith as He may think best. Julian, I prayed for this— for years I fnjtd for this, and it has come at last. You will not disappoint me K*, dear Julian ? "
Her voice crept up to his ears, in those exquisite, thrilling modulations that were wont to draw tears from the most hardened ^ ; and those of poor Julian were very soft and weak just then. " \Vhat do you wish me to do ? " he asked, in a hoarse whisper. She knelt beside him, and took his feeble hand in hers. "Iwantyou to give up drinking, gambling, all sorts of wickedness; J Want you to lead a new, healthy, and happy life, with the light of "^ven shining into it ; I want you to go home to your own people ; *i(i^aj](j I ^ant you to marry 'Melia." ■'K.«ask/Aa/?"
•' I do ! She loves you. She has given herself to you, and you •^ aU she has on earth."
"But you forget? She is uneducated, vulgar, with no moral ^'^se— a wretched little gutter-brat ! Kaiherine, you are not ^^*"ious?"
Kitherine rose and stood over him, like an avenging angel.
"And what are you, Julian Gra)', that you should dare to disdain
^^ immortal soul ? Have you made so grand a career for yourself,
^^ all your education and ability? If she has no mora! sense, so
^^Vich the less is she to blame for any sins she may have committed.
r^*idif shehas done wrong, she has the one supreme grace of loving —
J^^^ing grandly and unselfishly. But/uw l^what is there in you to
*-^5tify you in despising her ? "
The sick man cowered down amongst his pillows, and put his **ai3ds before his face.
" Do not — do not be so severe, Katherine," he remonstrated, in ^ broken voice. " I did not mean to despise her ; God knows how far more despicable I am myself ! But— but — for_jc« to ask me to marry her !— it is that seems so strange ! "
122 The Gentleman's Magazine.
" Nevertheless, you will do it for my sake, and foryouiowi^will you not, my friend ? It is the last request I shall ever make to yoo, Julian ! Surely you will not refuse it ? "
Once again she knelt by his chair, and looked up into his (ace.
" You ask me— ask me to marry another woman ? " he repeated* hoarsely.
Their eyes met, and seemed to cling tc^ether as though dram by some irresistible power.
" I do," she answered in a faint tone, yet firmly.
"Then, Kitty, I — I will obey — if you will kiss me— kiss me — ■ only th's once ! "
Their faces were close together. The same attraction drew then nearer. Without another spoken word their lips met in a long lingering kiss.
Then she turned away, and hid her face in her hands, for moment
" The last time — the last time," she said, al length ; and her voic was like music, broken and jangled.
Then she rose and went over to the window. 'Melia was watching her in sullen silence.
"Come with me," said Captain Kitty, imperiously, and thegir; obeyed. ^Vhen they got outside, however, 'Melia turned savagel; upon her commander.
" Why do you go for to kiss 'im before my face ? " she cried, ii jealous anger, " If I've got to lose 'im, there ain't any call for /*«« anyways."
" You're not to lo^e him, 'Meh'a ! He has promised me to marr you, and that's what I want to talk to you abouL"
" To marry me? That's a good un I What right have you t go a-kissin' of 'im, then ? "
Captain Kitty flushed. For just one moment original sin got tt better of regeneration ; and she would fain have retorted.
" I bought him for you by just that kiss "—that is what she wou fain have said, but the evil impulse passed, and the words remaine unspoken.
"Do not let that trouble you, child," she said; " he will neve never kiss me again ! I have said good-bye to him for ever. You cs nurse him yourself now, and his mother is coming to help you."
It was true. His elder brother had died of fever in India, a* Julian was now the onlyhoiJe of the family ; who were therefore pr pared to receive him with open arms. Whether they would equal
Ciiplain Killy : a Sn/ra/wm's/ S/,-i/,//.
'«'o- 1.
- -r^r-
'■■^ m^.',
1 t.
appreciate 'Melia as a daughter-in-law remained lo be seen. ] would keep his word : Captain Kitty was sure of that.
It was long before the remembrance of that last kiss fade( Captain Kitty's mind. At night she felt her cheeks flame dark, as she thought of it. Then she fell to praying agair tunptatioD to dwell upon its bitter sweetness.
"My prayer is answered, God be thanked for that ! " she i heneU,in an ecstasy of passionate joy and grief mingied. " hivemade him promise to be good. But I wish that I did not liied— so very tired ! The work is too hard for me, I fear. *ill not be for long. I shall not last much longer — so that i Slid— if 1 do not take care. So much the better! I am t tifed— tired ! Cod will certainly give me rest soon '. "
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134
The Gentleman' s Afaga::i»e.
A MOORLAND SHEEP-FARM.
\
I.
I HAVE at last found the man who docs noi love the moon, was quite by aa.Klcnt, and consequently the shock was a liltJ* more scvcic. ItuI it came out so gently, and 1 wax taken iaC< confidence so simply as a fcllow-thinkcr, that I nearly proved a tnit' to my best bdovcd I had just suffidail bravery to K-fcr wrtth opolo to the summer flush of the hcsthcr, and memory enough to Mr. Ruskin, nhoie words are ever our bett rallying crie^— " beds foot deep in Rowers, and close In tufted cushions, and the mounla.i air that (toaicd over them rich in honey like a draught of methc^iiX'
I may be wrong, but 1 think that one who l<>\-cs the moon is n content with their artistic glories alone ; be lives in sympathjr wicS all the tiresome routine and startling vicissitudes of the numcfo^si denizens uf (he airy and bleak uplands ; he is a moor bird, and, t<3 parody Tcience, everything connected with the moors is m' interesting to him. Are there any others, I wonder, who will sh; with me in interest in the affairs nnd in the sorrows of a moorbn farmer?
A moorland farm Is not necessarily situated entirely on tlie moor«- Many of the farmers who go by this name have land which, while it lifts its face into the sky to smile, stoops down also to the riverside to drink under the shade of trees. The lower ground is invaluable iot supplementing the use of the moors. The produce oi these " bed* afoot deep in flowers" may be divided into three i»rts, naniclyt mutton and wool, game, and honey, yielded by shec]>, grouse, and bees. The mention of these items in connection seems to us scnac- what incongruous, for what has a moorland fanner to do with gtous^ and bees? And yet the three seem to go so well together, they sound so much like a northcin promised land, that we feel disjxjwc* to cast the burden of incongruity rather upon circtimstanccs aw^ oidinances than upon the idea itself.
Before speculating further on this nialter let us inquire a little into the stock and methods of one of these farmers, whose sheep ran
A MosrMnd Sheep-Farm,
1=5
n the iDOOfs. After speaking of a shec|>-fann I can scarcely wiih roprxty postpone the considertition of ihe case of the woolly ones, '^n in deference to ihe more noble animals which are associated ■ith them. The nanws and nicknames given lo sheep by shepherds IW itumerous. 1 can only mention a few. Hogs, or legs, arc the ••"ocp one year old, which are diuinguinhed as wethers and gimmers, Kcoidii^ as they are male or female. A am is tutially called a tup, ■Ad a ewe b pronounced something like "eowe." Barren gimmcts vt fed with wethers, and become prime at four xean old. I do not bow ahy I am writing this : it is not meant as a compliment to lynchers, whom 1 do not consider litcrar>', nor to instruct them, for ''■^ know the age* at which animals arc prime. Tlie use of what I TO dtuiling will best be »cen when some town bird visit.* the moors '>d be^pns to talk lo the shepherds. A careful use of the words t^j,' "gimmers," and "lups" will soon gain ilie Yorkshire moorland ean.
Shearhng ts an adjcclire applied to the various classes after the irst iheating ; for instance, " shearling gimmer," "shearling wether," sheading tup " are expressions used. The corresponding lenns after be seomd and third shearings are "two-shear," " three-shear "gimmer » vetber, as the ca.ie may be, and so on. Tlie age may be learnt frOBuSeiccth: a shearling casts his two front middle incisors, and tbe t»o next to them in the following year. This shedding of the ^ceih is not always at the same age for each shceji, but varies a little >"wding to health and condition. Those jolly old bachelors among *"«p, who know all the runs, and lake to each class of food exactly "1 Ibe right season, arc styled " old cock birds." They ore favourites '"^Usc tlicj' thrive on poor food, stand the winlrj- blasts bravely, ^"■J yield a good fleece. But alos ! when they become very old cock ""^s they are extremely tough eating. " Old cnacks " ore old ewes "Bose teeth have begun lo open, and whose fate it is to be sold lo go ^ '^ver land* to receive more shelter in their old agc.
l am now speaking of a millstone grit moor, and one can readily '^IcTbUnd why the sheep do so much better on limestone thfli> '^: for it appears that, while on the giassy hills they have a ''liimous and uniform pasture, on the raoora they only take to the ■**! provided for them because they cannot obtain anything belter. ^«n they have become accustomed to dead ling, with an occasional ^ rush, they arc recommended to leare these and lo try the louk "^Sa and moss-cops ; and when they have habituated themselves to **t i-cgctation, their guardian will again force the ling upon their ■*licc. The fact is that, though the sheep do not appear to see it
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,1 *,. liiv. 1.. iii']iiirc wliat diet Nature provides next. Accident.
',', , 1,1 . .'„ 1 UuK .-'"'I ^rl'f'C-'. all conspire to point out the newest
H, |„ «,„km« am.,nn the ling the young sheep now begin topuU
it
j4 Afoorland Sheep-Farm.
127
by chance 3 (vw toul; tlioots, which the older oiicj lecogntse with aiure as soon i.% they si-c thi-m. The shepherd liimielf. if he he a isideralc one, aim |)ulls them up and strews them on the ground, iritiue lie is really annioiis for ihc inexperienced to Iram ihelr luf. 'ITie louk grass soon makes this valut knoH-n by the jrcasetl huahhincas ubich it imparts: (he dear, bright faces, the >od complexions are rery soon to be noticed, and when once iht >ck have aeceplcd the new food they begin to thrive and do well.
The puUiag'ki|i of this grass is not a pu]Iing-up by the roots, but
drawing otil of a sheath— a process which is only possible after Fcb-
lary. Birds, moor-game, and others understand this. I'ossibly
tc same sensations whkh occur to man from well-cooked as{>aragus
re present with the sheep and birds ;and Nature, being the most
imci of cooks, will not sc^^x her dainties up until tiicy arc ready
ihe pabte. *I*he wily shepherd therefore attempts to present the
, juicy end to his saucy yoimi^sieri by the method referred to, and
sman way in which thv otti hands can draw out and nibble from
bottom u[nrards it worth observing. The moss-cops are the
NB^ flowers of the louk, which arc bitten olT at a lime when the
ttent stem begins to be drawn out.
AfierwarLls the bents sutrcecd, and carry the niliblets through the imtner, at the cloie of w)iich an adventure awaits many uf them, to >kdi I mast now refer.
Those fanners who have not lower grounds suitable for wintering : Tonnger sheep are cunipelled to make terms with others, who mdenakc the care of them at a certain price per head. 'I'his custom "testing," "giiting," or *'joiiting"la!l these terms I have found con- itd by Halliwell) seems to have been in use from early lime:;. The ■eiod of agistment eummences at Michaelm.-is, and ends in some Asccson ibe6ih, in oihent on the 34th, of April, The scnding-away the young flock is as pathetic and anxious a matter almost as tending lads away from home toschool, The masters who supply Muiishmcnl at from six shillings to seven shillings per head are as ■rand in tbcir characters as are the gentlemen of whose profession r. Arnold and Mr. Saucers are acknowledged types. Sheep are not jfl Vofkshiremen mere representatives of wealth ; the farmers take ^Brof them from goodness of heart as well as from greed, and, while *heT deeply regret the death of the poor dumb beasts, they can, when *:iiwney-sore is hcak*d, laugh as heartily over their own mischances vover some humorous talc at another's expense. I knew one very *3i^iA former, io careful that his friends said that, If it were only six- «Kc which came into his possesion, "it wtna prhonir." This
KS
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■KiK -jixi. i-nii -'z^i ist-i. iiiJ-TT ; lies 2nfe crs» oi afaoot thirtf r.f-sr. :.:-r-: :: -^r L^.tisli ^.'^j^i P-:r jre sil? brc^^t one b>L r-. i;xjr -:= t::^;^;;.^ c:riT=;:n Teri by piecs— as the <dd atf yix:sisi. ;rrT^^ -7-^ ^" sl.z=:^ -=:r.s Ttnr Tart cf an old Ktthe- sr.ii. 1: jfc: ::; .tizrin^iii :=;~T;f ^^7- ^^eci of pain, sadao^ -•xzxr^ n=l -.:= inz- unii^r-^.tn. TTici =3=zeCed i:an to bnblU -,1;; ji :.-i:'r:; u' =;rn:u ;=T:r;; sLrni^ "^r=P~''i~i' W3» a sight nil
T^ r_c H -.:^ jf 1 iitii^ f-ts fie 3ia= -Fro jctsts it Rctmi' vjs t-j:k ta -.•y.^: ■_:!; ;i:rTs. T!iji jz^ir arrsageineit ii ll ^.irjsLir- =ai=r:.::^ :tLL.:*£. ■;=>; licrra ze!=5 bmufed wtdi tbl ■..TfS^i'.iin' 1 ::i:::ii. ;i± izi: v= -^.:z ^^i; — ^s::^ shecc hja not 1xeii(E^i ;....«:i 'J. Tzii : :>:=^ ii:oi jzi =-:i: ~ r>i: Tie =iriec and thmfc*' Vjd ::i=7Ci^i:c -.: ijr:.:se ;f 11.=, j- TsrfT ;s=ow^ Em I amm* ;r;^arsi : ; i-v-ir -_--i; i.\-t---~r.i::_-z iod 7^ d=irc:y disappeared
S^-jt -.c i-.i ;.i:is :: ■•:: di 3r=:c-* irs !n<i=ced to send dailt ioii-, i,:. zziTLT.^. '.•..- -srj-.''.'z^'~lin:L 0=« o:" 3iy friends, «to: rii 2 '-tciiz^ i-Tiii:-!^:; i2':c: il:^, irci i foci to a manatdci ■-A-.t-ir^-:- i::i fc:-. ^^ v.^.i - f:^ 11;=. i= the Apnl fo'Jowing. Be; :.:=:i. ':;; >:=:=:i:=; abo.:; them, whidi fc
C'je-: - -t rt;;..-* r.^:Ji ~±;=:ii.:-r7 :: fcrlirr^ caused him to fiiUot l.-.^— 'r.-,:z.; ^Tii'i^r.i^j 1:11 s-:— r»f--7 Tz=:z.r^v.T^^. They were DBC i'lLtli-.-rj ; a.-.: "J-.t :Li ::--— I'-i^ii^L-.h, who, no doubt, "W ;^ived =r-ar-.y i re-_i:i " i':.:;: ir.fr; d-,~i^ their residence nearUl. :.rr.:-.hy, :r,.'e=- hi-k:.:':- -.he »-iy :: :he y;uA. "Are they alljlin ir.jmar.?" '-Tr-syire." "Theri :hey"ve oay just come out bal-?- hand." " I •.hjUih: O-.e si—e,"" said cay irJonnant. li appeais tU t'r.e old smith Eear.% ■- They hare siiyed i:;. indeed, which is soi» thing; but thejhave d&r.e r..;h;=^ — -.hej-have made no score." AJ he hinted that sheep-owners wc;:ld do well in future to inquire astt the aniccedenU of the schoo". mailer, whether he were a Dr. Anutf or a Mr. fyiucers.
Among the chief enemies of the sheep are holes. I said that tt loult grass keeps them free from disease, and that they thrive veS ijjfTtn it, and I might have added that the flocks which inhabit smnpf peat soil arc free from " foot-rot" To go further, sheep wlud iire already infecltd with this disease may be cured by turning thes (lilt upon the bog. I may explain that there is a species of bog wlad w not peaty, but of a clayey, tenacious character. It produces 1 UraHH railed by the shepherds "fluke grass '': a seductive but ma jicrnitiniis food. But in the bogs are holes— how they get there » hliall perhaps sec latcr-and when the sheep is quietly nibbling ol
rf4 Moorland SAeep-Farftt.
129
moss-cops which ovcihang ihcm, deceived by the hcalhcr and t^ which grow owt the side, ihe dogsu<idcnl)' »t.irtics it and causes to Tall into the pit As man)* as Tit-ti victims have been found at ^Ike uioe time in one of these Imps.
The fact that wc u&e ^teel monitors to itlusiraic what rams can do
liie oiy of warfare is ioine indication of our opinion of their
>rcneu. Tbetc were two rams of similar styles which met one
[xnctr.ing on the moor. One, just purchased, bore a bad character;
tljeuher h.id aetuaHy, on this vcr)- moorside, killed several com -
t>e:>:ucs. The owner of the latter is suspeaed of causing the meeting;
I ^^K (jiticr of the foitner saw it. At lirsi tlicy wallted round each
l^vtfcer, and then they marched off twenty or thirty yards, as if it was
lowr and the busine»» endud. \i\i\. now they commenced to pull
Asd champ OTchew a piece of tin]; stubble. One bleated to the other
SUA *M promptly answered. They then faced toward* each other,
Pui:in| thctnseU%!( into attitude, and, like .-iiruw«, i^hot together.
llcmg old pugilists or batterers, they ran wiih their bodies .ilniost
twctiing the ground, so that the shock might tind them glued to the
' nnh. This b all-imponanc, because anything so spindle-likc as legs
I diMppear like a spider's web. W'nh all the an and crouching
I «(l!w home ram, however, he flew in a somcrs.iult over the stranger's
, and the heart of the onlooker was in his mouth. They were
I ilire, in spite of the shock, and the one who had stuck to, rather
I itood. bb ground went back 10 aec how his adversary fared.
Ihc)' then separated for a second time, but did not go so far apart.
Ikaibcy met, and a third time retired to thi; end of the lists, and
pfaiily withdrcn- for a fourth encounter, on c.ich occasion the distance
I lest. In the end they grucd amicably together, and for the
! the one who turned the somcrs.iu!t admitted his rival to be
conqueror, although there was nothing further to denote the
■ftsjor.. Thenceforward it would be wid in sheep- circles, when
tiuding to this encounter, as the slave of Aufidius said of Coriolanus,
"I do not say 'thwack ourgcneral,' but he was always good enough
fcrhim."
In the Dujority of such engagements one of ths combatants is blted.
The fanner, besides his fiotk of sheep, keeps a few milch cows, &ora which, in his forefathers' days at lea*t, if not now, butter was produced of high esteem. The buttermilk, mixed with a little meal, helps to feed the small stock of pigs which in summer time must "findihemseh-cs."
He keeps a horse, and occasionally rears a colt. The work of the
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Tlu GetiiUman i Magazme.
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hone is varied. Hedocia little ploughinir r.. " leads" the hny and procures bracken ^ r l" getting peat, l-'ormcrly, litilc else but this p(<tt was used for liio, On some farms the stock has not been entirely cleared out fait quaner of a ccntui)'. 'ITic digging of peat accounts for the numeni holes which 1 have referred to as dangerous lo sheep. The dcplb of the cutting varies greatly. In earlier times each fanner huj own appropriated breadth which it was his right to euL
It is said that no bread tiisles so well as thai baked on the peat coal itself, and the ashes of peat make a s|>lendid lilL-ige : vhfa ftct neutralises a few of the strictures of the press— whether Tory not it is not my duty to say— regarding some of the methods tA I Irish tenants. The V'orkshire, as welt as the Iriih, tenant has troubles, and I may venture to refer to them again. Uut the no of heather themselves seem ever full of joj- : " Continual morning lb them and in them ; they themselves are Aurora, purj^Ic and cloudlcsij stayed on all the happy hills."
II.
The sonows of a moorland farmer arc not few. I mim not spe; of the arrivals of iiiution from the River Plate and from N' Zealand, but of one or two matters which make his struggle wil these imports more didicuit and distressing. The simplest way putting these difficulties is to say ihai a tenant-fanner is not h own master. He cannot grow the cro]>s which he thinks best, when his crops arc grown he cannot deal with them to the grcali advantage.
The question ofgamc introduces itself into this important discussii on crops. A farmer wishes to produce a little wheat straw for hcddii and thatching ; he can also do with a little wheat, in order that may get his batch ground for his household and his cattle. I for a moment imagine him to be more confiding and less suspicKX than he really is. I will imagine him to be so driver) by blin fate as to put in a little wheat, in a suitable sitvialion, and I wilt ask tti world to watch the result with me. If we were ourselves to walk ove the ground, we should simply remark— "How well the wheat loci:*!' after a certain time we should say — "Ii seems to be in a foir wa for a good crop if the rains keep olT," But the gamekeeper, prowiin over the land, looks at tiie green sprouts with \ery dilfcreni feeling! At fust he cannot believe his eyes, but afierwanis he feels " it xtm be, il is wheat." As soon as he is quite satisfied about this, hi scarcely confers with flesh and blood, but he writes out an advertiM*
A Moorland Sheep-Farm.
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imrnt which he foruardt lo a Miiiabl« paper. This adverlijeinent intimates that a good price will I>e given for hares of a cenain age. The appeal i« well resjionded to, and fonhwiih a colony of hare* are " taken, and brought, and clapjwd down upon the land," to uje the elegant words ol my friend. The entire crop i.t thus devoted to the feeding of these strange hares, in which he has not the slightei^t interest ; not as much as the value of the xeed vs. produced from the field. It mu« he remcmberecl, too, that a hare will ileep on the moors, and come down daily from his couch, miles an-ay, to eat from any crop which is specially pleasant to his taste.
It may be ihniight thm the farmer has himseJf power to dcswoy thc hares which infest his wheat. He has this power, hut the bndlord has also Hn out-balancing power of finding another tenant if the hares- suffer. Mo&t of the farmers to whom I allude arc on the annual tenancy systcnt, and the tenant is, as a matter of fact, entirely in the gauDekeeper's hands. One of the items, therefore, in our nonhera patradise is wanting : thegameisentircly the [jroperty of the landlord, atid » in his ej'e* ihc most valuable living thing upon the estate, not cxcq>iing the tenant himself. In any northern paradise thii cannot be : the Earmer must ha\-c entire control over the game, and must be able to deal with it as he thinks best Without a doubt he will take care of it within due limits, and re-let or sell the shooting to the best bidder or to his £ivouritc sportsman. The keeper wiil be the ser^-ant of the fanner, not his enemy and tyrant ; and probably a more acientiftc' method of preserving some of the rarer s]x:cics will arise; Sport will become a better test of skill, poaching will be Icm possible; while slwoting will give health to greater numbers of workers than it does at present
It is curious to note liow Ihc older men are much more nervous aboai their landlord's displeasure ifian the younger ones ate. The older Israelites longed more ardently fur the flesh-pots of Egypt than the youngcf ones, and the generation of Aaron had to die out before ihe generation of Joshua and Caleb could enter the Promised Land.
The farmer may not dispose of certain of his crojis without his landlord's teave, and consec}tiently a dull, monotonous routine is necessitated, which is goo<l for no one. The man who has to contend with .'\mericaii wheat and beef, with Australian mutton, with foreign hay and oats and beans, cannot do so with shackled hands, nor by means of a cul-anddried system which is supposed to safeguard the interests of the bndlord ; but he can only compete by means of keen
Much ought be added hurt as \» ihe great vaticiy of gimc which eonld be ged on the land by using the ilIiTcicni kinils of graunil avnilililu.
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13a Tlte GeHlUmans Magazine.
wit and 3cii\'e energy, whkh adopt ercry advantage of chenttuty.anil adapt thenuclvcs to every demand of the lownsiKoplc who aie dote to his fields. 1 was about to obtain relief in xotncthing like Ilonoldl method—" I Khali lamm the Boat if you will, and the Trouls-mJ the Loch too I "—but it b better not.
Perhaps the revelations which have been made in Ireland "ill prevent anjr strong representations appearing as to the dwellings which are ihoughi suitable for some of tl>e Vorkshiie tenant-lanMii. I can only judge from the limited number of inuancex which! have seen, and I must say that this fine old stronghold of the English yconuin is not without its tenements which are only paniiUr roofed, destitute of every necessary adjunct of civilised life, and utterly uninviting.
But even in the least luxurious farm-house, where the inmates ott and all have a hard sirusfile to earn a living, there is much to intOHl and attract The horse which makes its weekly journey to the ntaite town carries generally an alluring assortment of produce. After an interval of decay, butter-making is improving la'.hcr than declining of late years ; jwultry- keeping is increasing ; mushrooms and bbd- berries arc becoming suiple articles of sale ; and we hojic suon 10 sec game and honey added to the list. Kruit has been ncgk'iud, although it would Ho much to assist the weekly income ; vegctalilts and flowers are now very rarely grown. Let the traveller point oot any human race throughout the world whose members arc moic naturally formed to bring about a perfect state of fanning than the rjce of Yorkshire dalesmen. Thej- areittong and active, caicful* shrewd, and persevering. If once started and filled witli a liitiff ' cheerful confidence, some member of the family of the rooorlini*- ' farmer would know each bee, be familiar with the haunts of cvery^ J hare, select good fruit trees, put in the most suitable vegetables, atiiS^ have a plentiful supply of eggs and poultry at all times, bcside^^ being easily first in all the larger branches of the business — horses, J cattle, and sheep. No one like a VorVshireman can iindetslanil ■■ entirely the pleasure of " the trivial round, the common task " ; and * he would sooij take eameslly to the only means of meeting fordga ■■ competition. To encourage and assist him would not be an unworthy ' effort of the landlord class and of the public
So much for the potentialities of this worthy tenant race. Some ' of their ways are strange. I do not find them very much at church. The question is wonh asking — how far his necessaij' duties to hii slock excuse this abstinence, and how far the clergy trouble them- selves to interest and atiract their parishioners. Their absence from
^ Moorland Skeep-Farm. 133
diutdi on Sundays is somewhat made up for by the i-ery great r^gu- UrilT «>lh which they appcv at all funerals. One uf my friend^ who happened to be clad in his best clothes for some excursion of a seni-hoUday kind, was passing the old sione-bieaker, by nhotu be ■stKCOited in these uords : " Now, John, ihou'tt niL-adc- n misuck ; ^'n not buryin' him to-day." The sijuirc had, iiulttd, died, and aotiag but a funeral could properly account fur the vet}* respectable dMhes.
Al soBie of the funerals there used to be singing a.'s the procession ttcml, and in one instance the minister lost hi^ book, causing the pKf to be thrown into a slight state of confusion. The chief mHtna— perhaps a little self-conscious, as rural folk sometimes arc — oBed out in impatience, " Now, come, sing something and gang on ; •clftok Mrs "kward standing here." So that it has now become a Bjiaj when anything pur/lrt, " Come, let'j sing sORiclhing and pifun, %i Tom Anderton !i:iid at t' buryin' of his mother."
A icv relics of supenlition may still be found in these regions. ^ Litchen chimney in an old fann-housc having taken fire, two '"^ "tte jioking in it to put out the smouldering soot, when, to their ""Inst, a bottle fell do«n ; when they h.id wiped this bottle they *" Ihu it contained hnir, pins, and needles. They did not open " tt (he moment, but later, after showing it to their father, tliey '9'eswd their intention cither of breaking or opening it. This, ""^ Wuch fervour and excitement, he forbade them 10 do, lest the **"* or spell, which he declared emphatically must depend on this ^"^ should be broken also.
•Vaiurally many of the superstitions arc connected with ihcir
"^^ on whidi the farmers have to depi^nd (or e.\islence. ,*\ caJf
,"^h dies under certain circumstances is buried feet upwards under
■,.'*^ K^ufisione, after having been stuck full of pins and needles.
^* is done to prevent a recunence of a similar calamity.
A fuve old man, now living in decent retirement and comfort,
*■* accustomed to bind the churn with withies to drive out the
'^ch nhen the milk was loo cold to turn : the scientific lemperalurc
t>r. Vockkcr was not then arrived at. I knciv this good man
It was considered unlucky not to scratch a cross upon the cheese C^hristmas time ; but this ancient usage belongs to a class other ^n those referred to. The most remarkable case of survival of . l^ersliiion which I have myself encountered is the following, which ^ true of a neighbour of mine within the Inst ten years. It was ^luidcred tmlucky il^ after the birth of a calf, the owner did not distri-
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134 '^^^ Geniiemans Alagazitu.
butc the " boastings "* (the firet milli) to the surrounding fanners' iri«i. ll was a mo^t i-sscnlijl detail that ihc c.in or jug in which the mill was sent should be rctufticd unnashcd. Hut details were tKXUngtl the original picsentntion tvas not made : the omi!«ion of this couruij was a most unluclty enor, 'Ihc farmer to whom 1 refer, throu()i some overiighi or neglect, did not send the customary bcast)n|i to one of ihc neighbours, and, " as ill'luclc would have it," he was vnr soon visited by a 8cric<i of disasters, which he attributed, with all ibe energy of heartfelt belief, to the witchcraft of the woman whom be had overlooked.
\Vc may still hear of the celebrated " liarji^esl,'' or "guytrash"— the animal with great saucer-eyes, which walks on the toin of walls and jingles chains. Wonderful stories are yet toKI of these creatures, ami descriptions are ^ivi-n as to how they walk round the house, and look in at the windows, while, for fear of their eyes, some will draw down the blinds as soon as darkne^ts fall.t. N'on- that the animal itself hn^: become extinct Ihc name is applied lo any ill-conditioned horse or beast.
K personality less iniaginar)', but more illusive, than the last is the " Will-o'-the-wisp," or " Ptggy-wi'-th Man tern." Thomson says ;
Drcai is ihe tlale of ihc benighted wrclch Wb(i ihcn, bcwilder'd, wnndcrs ihro' ihc daik. Full of pale fancies, and chimeras huge; Not viiilcd by one <Ii[w:live tay. Frciiil C(ill.if;c slreainjng, <>i from any ha!l. Peihnps lm|intlcm sa h<^ sliimliles on. Struck fiom the looi ofilimy rushes blue. The wildfire ttaitcrs toutid, or gaihcid irailt A lenglh of flame deceitful o'ct ibc inou ; Whiilier ilecoy'd by the fnniBstic Waz*, Now losi anil now tencw'd. he ^inkt aliiiMbM, Ridei and hntic, amid Ihe miry gulf.
The case which I am about to mention is not so bad as this but the light must in reality be very deceplive when it misleads the moorland farmuis and shepherds. One of these men was out in a heavy, damp, foggy night, when he saw a light across the field which he took to foine from the lamp of some iioachers. ilc went towards it, but found that it shifted its poMlton rather rapidly. He thought it wiser, therefore, not to waste his breath by running, 90 he called out, " Now, you've no need to run, 1 sec who it is "* ; but the poachers made no reply. Consefiuenlly, he " made after them " as fast as he could, to try to overtake them, but when he got near the fence the light seemed lo make a circle round almost to the spoc
A Moorland Sheep-Farm.
which he had just left. So he w«nl to ihe i»earert farmer's houic, ind acquainted the inmates that certain puachcn were in il)c Acids, and a parly set i>ut lo uiie them. " But," he Kx\i„ " wherever we Hem, ' WiU*o'*llK;-v(i«|) ' was always somewhere else." " Peggy.wi'- th'-lantera "— this " (jpu'i /aluui or a hnW of wildfire"— is like Bardol|>h'3 iio»e in ihe matter of moiiture ; it prefers a wet meadow of lenaciom soil, in November, on a Mill night. The deep ones who have studied her thinft th.it she is neither more nor less than a conltici of gases arising from the earth. The [ihilosopher adds that Ihe world is a large " Heggy " — its bright things are never to be (caliicd ; following her is like going
^leaiiM
SirRight down ihc CTiookcd lane Anil oLI round the xguaie.
must not forget the sheep, which have to endure what the *' fantastic Uaj« " exults in. The damp atmosphere infects them with a kind of catarrh, and makes them what the shepherds cal " phantom -headed." And they appear to be most ausceplihie lo all eoming changes in the weather — befuri; a winter storm, for instance, they arc seen to become ^^cry nervous.
In the list of livinj; things 3n)ong which Ihc moorland farmer lives I have omitted my old friends the dogs, two of whidi find a place near him, when liis work is over, not far from the fire. In one of the characlctistic letters which I sometimes receive from my " Vorkihire shepherd ° occurs a ]jass.Tge which I will venture to introduce in this place. S|>e.iking of a celebrated Scotch dog, he sa}'S that a photograph would greatly assist (hose who wish to study this breed of Collie : " it would bring symmetry and intelligence together, as he has a good hend. The late Duke of W'elimgton, I have been told, used to say that he liked lo see a man with a long head— it bcsiioke a long memory, and I quite think so in sheep- dogs I am sorry to say that many of the dogs we have lack that propensity, although they arc the descendants of ihc dog Rik, whose offspring were kept in this neighbourhood, and were so highly esteemed th,it ihtj- lud them stulTcd and put into a glass case (of course, after they were dead) ; but I think we have not many here that merit that bcstow.il." I am not quite sure whether niy friend means the phrase in parenlhciis for a joke, or to correct any suspicion I might have that tlie dogs were killed before the time in order that they mi^ht be conveniently stuffed.
I do not think that I wish any evil to landlords ; I am sure that 1 with every biasing on good ones, of whom I could name many ;
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Tlie Gentlemaiis Magazine.
but I wish that the system did not stand so grievously ia th in many districts, of better farming and more successful E as opposed to foreign, work. I should like to see a combina all classes to bring about good and cheap mutton ; plentiful butter, and eggs ; vegetables and fruit in perfection and in Lastly, from the game- and sheep-stocked moors let us hopi to hear the drowsy hum of bees, whose various homes sh with the other living things, on every farm. If town and c are neither of them misled by any " Peggy-wi'-th'-lantem," bu bine for the benefit of all, we may yet attain a goMen prime in our cities and on our moorland farms.
GEORGE RADF<
»37
VERNON AND THE JENKINS' EAR IVAR.
ADMIRAL VERNON was not a great man, nor was the war in which he chiefly distinguished himself a very memorable war. ""*! although now forgotten, they were considered of the first importance 140 years ago. Vernon's claims to remembrance are that 'Of a short time he was England's popular hero, who gained one small "^val success, which was shortly afterwards counterbalanced by a greater disaster. To a certain extent Vernon deserved the popular applause. He was a brave and able officer, who did well what he had 'o do as long as he was left alone ; but he was possessed of a most violent temper, which rendered him unfit to act in concert with others. In the events about to be related he was more than ordinarily unfortunate, because, in his most important expedition, he had as a colle^ue a man who, according to all accounts, would have ruffled a less inflammable temper than Vernon's, The war in which these ^■^■ents took place is certainly one of the most peculiar mentioned in English history. It commenced through the natural indignation of the people when they were informed that several of their fellow *:ountrymen had been most cruelly treated ; but, with the exception " "demon's expedition, very little else seems to have been done ,£^'nst our original antagonist Spain. Wedrifted, as was the custom '" 'hose days, into a war with France ; and our hands were so fully *"^^^r*ied with the Deltingens, Fontenoys, and CuUodens, that there . ^ *^o time or thought to be wasted on Spain. But, as far as the -"'^'^ish war went, Vernon was undoubtedly the most conspicuous . °'^*"^: concerned in it. Very little is known of him b i ogra phi call y,
'^'^■liat little there is shall be briefly given. ,,. -^Idward Vernon was born at Westminster on November 12, 1684. ^^ father, James Vernon, descended from an old English familyf L S prominent pohtician during the reign of William III., having
J. ^*X Secretary of Stale to that monarch in the latter portion of his %*x Young Edward, our hero, was sent to Westminster School at
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T^ GentUntaiis Alazaztne.
the ag« of seven, and, after spending several >-ears there under t( rule of ihe celebrated IH. Busby, he proceeded lo Oxford, whci he particubrljr devoted himself to tlie s.iud>- of astronomy and ll theory of navigatiun preparatory to entering the Royal Navy, step on which it is said he decided in spite of the opposition i his father.
His first experience of naval warfare was obtained under Adtnin Hopson. who so gnllanily brolcc the boom at Vigo in 1703. Soo after Vernon a|)i)can to have been second lieutenant of Rtsolution, in which veisel he made his first acquaintance the West Indies. In 1704, having returned, he was with Sir Gcoi Rooke when the Archduke Charlei of Austria, the titubr kin^ Spain, was conveyed to Lisbon, and seems to have made him; either so useful or agreeable thai His Majesty presented him with ring, and a purse containing 100 guineas. In ihc same year he present at Rooke's great vietory off Malaga ; and on January >i 1706, he was promoted to the rank of post-captain, and appoinid to the Dolphin frigate, in which ship he proceeded to tl^ Mecliterranoan. In 1708,10 command of the /«■/■;*[•, heswledM the We^t Indies, and on that station, under the command of Sit 9 Wager, he remained for a considerabk period ; and, although nj great actions were fought, still, \ernon found scwral ocosions which he distinguished himself in single combats with the c: Whilst in those seas he aNo was ordered to cruise off Porto Bel nnd Carihagena, and then obtained knowledge of those and places, which in future years was of great ser\if:c lo him.
After the Peace of Vtrecht, Vernon was employed on stations, and, although he had no opportunities of incre.ising hj reputation as a warrior, he gained the character of being a thoroughl efficient and energetic officer. In 17 22 he appeared on a ncwaceni having been returned to the House of Commons as member A Penryn in Cornwall, for which place he was also returned at til <^eneral Election in 1737- In 1734 he was returned for Port^ mouth, which he represented until 1741. On his entrance ind pojitiral life Vernon immediately joined the ranks of the Op|K>sitioii the self-styled ralriots, led by PuUenej-, and made himself ea^ conspicuous by his speeches, which were more remarkable for eneri than for polish. For many years he appears to have been wiiho^ professional employment, and the Fates seemed to have decreed thi he was to spend the remainder of his days witli no other distincticj than that of being a noisy and pugnacious member of the Housed Commons. Events abroad, howerer, to which we must now tvd
A
VtntoH and tke yenh'tis Ear War. 1 39
>ui iiteniiofi, soon f^\e Vernon a change of letting olT his AJptrlloous energies in a more congenial an<l honourable dirociion.
Ixtty year since the Peace of Uttecht the feelings between
Sjoin and England liad grown less and le^s friendl)'. Thetc
aniodtities arose diiefly out of the conduct of bolli parties as to the
AWnlo Treaty. By this treaty Knglish iraile in negroes and other
neidBadisc with Spanish Aniciica was limited to one shij) of 600
buburden. The English traders kept to the letter of the treaty,
bn nolaled its true intention to the bcM of their abilities. A
TCttI of 600 tons burden certainly was the only one which was
MffOKd to have direct communtcatiun with the Spaniards ; but S6
this Misel was kept cruising olT the Anieiican coast, and was
njiaiihed with goods and provisions by small craft front Jamaica
« ohm u required, the .\siento ship, as Carlyle remarks, nas
ttotntedintoa floating shoji, "the tons burden and tons sale of
•tddiiet arithmetic at defiance." The Spanish authorities natiirally
NXDied these fre>iuent breaches of the treaty, and their guarda
im became suspicious of e»-ery English vessel that appeared in
^M waters. Many shijx were boarded and searched — some
I Jstlifably, some not— but tlic Spaniards made no distinctions; and fcnewal years reports were consianily reaching home of the gross <iuliy smtained by British seamen at their hands.
Some years |)assed without much official notice being taken of •^ cruelties until, in 1 738, when the " Patriots," having failed in l^etxleavoitrs to obtain a reduction of the army, suddenly adopted 'B<^ipO)ite course, and loudly clamoured for a war with Sgiain.
In this attempt they were more successful, not only as there was •"MsitJOn in tlieir argumtnis, but also because the nation was tiring ofWilpolc's long and i)eaceful administration. That minister wis "PiQtntedat being weak and timid in foreign affairs, and as "the cur ™!0f Britain and the spaniel of Sj>ain." Petitions from the aggrieved '"'Khjnts were presented asking for redress. These were sup- Wftdby the doqticnce of Pulteney and Wyndhani ; and the energies <*f Ihejjnat WiUum I'iit and of Murray, the future Karl of Mansfield, ''tacrtcd on the stme behalf. Several captains and seantgn were *'**ii'icd at ihc bar of the House, and old stories were raked up for ^ puipose of strengthening the cause of the war-party ; amongst *'''*'iilbeiiwsicclcbiatcd being "The Fable of Jenkins' Ear," as it was ^•Wlitearonby Burke. This Jenkins, seven yearspievioiisly(i73f ), '"d ailed to the West I idiesasmastcrof tlieAV;^r«ii. After loadinga ^''Soofsugai-at Jamaica l.c proceeded on his homeward voyage. But, ^^itnry winds preventing his progress, he »'a» for some time kept
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Tfie Gtnllemati s Maj^azine.
hanging .iboui near the Havsnn^h. ^Vhi!5l there, he was
Spanislif*flrt/iifl>j/a,an<l,allhou[;h nothing contraband was nor was it proved that lie had visited nny of the prohibit' was, neverthcles*, treated with great and bniwl cruelty. lie up at the yard-arm to ociort a confession as to the when the supposed contraband goods. The halicr, however, n( satisfsctorily, the cabin-boy was tied to his feet to add to tl but the Spaniards, apparently not being adepts in the an and nooses, tlie boy succeeded in escaping;, much to thi Jenkins. He, poor fellow, was hoisted up three times, confession could be wrung from him he was at last released before one of the Spaniards, in his exasperation, tore off loft ear, which had previously been nearly severed by a I one of their cuilaHCS. The ear was then flung in his Cic was lold to take it 10 his king and IcU him about it. 1 guards then left, taking with them the Hehttea't sextant \ l>Topcny and goods to tlie val'.ie of about jQiu. \
Jenkins" story, as delivered to the House of CommoiJ a great sensation, especially when, after producing the ear] up in cottonwool, he was asked what his feelings had beeai cruelly treated. He replied, " I recommended my soul to I my cause to my country." And his counirj' justified his cd by taking up his cause with fenour and enthusiasm, I there were many who denied that Jenkins had ever lost his others, more cruel still, who, whilst admitting his loss, sugga the pillory had had more to do with it tlian the Spaniardi ever, be the truth what it may, ^Valpole had, after fruitlei negotiations, to bow to the popular demand, and mcasii taken to retaliate on Spain. On July 10, 1739, an Order in was issued for reprisals and granting letters of matqu^ October 19 following war was formally declared.
During the debates which preceded the Spanish war, |rf are memorable as having first brought to the public nd greatest of all English ministers, William Pitt, probably! took a mote violent part than the member for ToJ Vernon's inveciivcs were so Turioiis that he wa; on sevcd sions in danger of being confined in the Tower. He ai strong measures against the Americ.in dominions of Sp undertook that with six ships of the line he would take Pot one of the strongest and most beautiful of the Sfjanish po^ These words made him a great favourite with the populaca same lime they were considered as a reflection on .\dinini^
VernoH and the ycnkins Ear War. 141
thft it iTid, with lircnty 5hi;« of (he liii«, had eflectcd no captuiM octiplotu of di.ilinctiun. I'oor Hoskr, lioncvct, had only orders to nUh, and not to act Half l)ic men uf the Beet died of disease, aadihe admiral himself sickened and died fioin the distress caused bf bii in^rious and miserable occupation. As a fact of hiittor)' he iiim forgotten, but 1 hope is still lemeinbered as the subject of GImr's beiuttful bolbd, " Admiral Hosier's Ghost."
W>ni war was determined upon, Veraon's offer was accepted, and kc, iQ his own great astonishment, was appointed to the command of ttcWest Indian fleet with the rank of Vice-Admiral of the Dlue. Thu ippointmcnl created a considerable amount of comment at the liiw, uit was then a most unusual occurrence for u prominent mcm> be of the Opposilion to be appointed to any pLice of Inist and iKnour. Wal|>o1e's enemies soon, howe\'er, succeeded in finding mi, ot inventing, reasons for such conduct in the faa that the com- cund would remove a dangerous and |>opuIar advcTsar^', and that WiljKrli: probably hoped ihe six iltips demanded by \'crnon would BO' iuSicc for conquest, but only for defeat, and thcrcljy bring dis- EUton him and his skipjiorters.
Atcotdingly, Vernon sailed on July ao, 1739, with liis flag at the cKiun of (he Burfori, with nine men-of-war and a slooji. Of these ^cveiKls three were of smaller size, and \'ernon thus had only Oite lis command for aggressive purposes the six ships he had ■tHBcd. The admiral proceeded on his \oyage in the hojics of in- 'dnqiting gome of the Spanbh treasure ships, but failing in this he **inlforjamaic,i, where he arrived on October 23, and there leaving wtiiBallcr vessels he ai>pcarcd off Porto Bello on November 20.
Potio Bello, £0 named from Ihe beauiy of its harbour, is situated
JWtbelsthmusof Daiicn or Panama. The harbour isaimost circular
"■fann^ the entrance being defended by a fort known as the iron
^*»!ft The town lay at the far end of the bay, protected by a
''"^ fort called Castillo de la Gloria. On the morning of the sist
"•C Sarfffrd, Hamfiton Court, Priitcess Lottisa, Strafford^ and Nomneh
P'^>c«ded in line of battle to attack the town, the Sluerntu havmg
^*Ji left to cruise outside. Hut the winds proving contrary it was
*J*'y possible to opaatc against the Iron Castle at the entrance of
/** Intbour. The ships were piloted close up to the fon by Captain
^*>6ofte, and immcdiaiciy commenced a cannonade, together with
* T»nn 6re of small aims, under cover of which the seamen and
**'*af9 were landed, and although no breach had been made, the
^ikm dambered up into the fort, pulling the soldiers up after them,
iBd soon compelled the Spaniards to surrender at discretion. During
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the ni);hl, the vessels all having gnined the interior of the they drifted out of range of the loun and of the Gloria O the CKCeplion of the admiral's shijv, upon which the fon Of and during the (greater i>nrt of the night the duel was < between the fort and the Burford ; but soon alter daylig! sand, a white flag was hoisted on the fort, which, to|;ethei town, was soon after taken possession of by the British. operations only seven English lives were lost. After the sun forts were destroyed, and Keveral vessels in the harbour w or sunk. Ten thousand dollars were also captured ; bu allov>-cd no plundering, and assigned his share of pri/e moi sailors as sonic comitensation for their disappointment at allowed to plunder, or to cut off the ears of the Spaniards ardently desired ; one sailor, indeed, apologised to his wi: sending her a SiLinisH ear, and added as an excuse, " admiral, God bless him, was too merciful."
After the victory, Vernon, on December 13, proceeded fleet towards Jamaica. During the passage very bad wc cncoiinietcd, and several of his ships, including the Bag' Butford, were injured or dispersed. He having shifted h ihc Strafford eventually reached Port Royal, where the He remain some time for repairs and reinforcements. This ini not wholly wasted, as many single combats took place bei men-of-war and Si>anish privateers, and several nests of pii attacked and destroyed.
Meanwhile, the Sjianiards had been busily strengths defences of Carthagena, which they knew would be Verr point of attack. The Governor, Don Bias de Lcso, amuse with sending insolent mcwages to the English Admiral, I have the pleasure of seeing him before he left those wj which Vernon replied he would most certainly call ij at the earliest opportunity. Accordingly, on February ; the fleet sailed from Jamaica and appeared off Carthag strongest of the Spanish lowns on the South Amcria land— on the evening of March 3. On March 6 few following days, Vernon attempted to bombard the t although several houses, churches, and other harmless were destroyed or damaged, he found he could not greatly I town from the sea, and, therefoie, resolved to abandon tl until he could be supported hy a strong body of land foi March 10 he accordingly sailed for Porto Bello to refit ai leaving two of his ships to cruise oflT and watch the barboui
VemOH and the yenkins Ear War. 143
wUotd and provisioned his fleet, Vernon pul to s«a on Wat<:h ai ud proceeded to i-'oit Chagrc, a notorious stronghold of pri- ntms aitd pirates, situate on the Isthmus of Daricn, and only a short diKtBce bfxa Pono BeDo. On his arrival he immediately com- Btcctd to bombard ihc place, and after a vigorous cannonade had bMS kept up by ihiec ships of the line, a flag of truce was hung m on Monday tlic 34th, and the Governor and troops immediately ca^tnhted. Vcmon ordered the fori and other defences to be ni«:d 10 tile ground, alio the Custom House, from which were previous])* itDoved an immense cjuantity of valuable stores kept there for the mof the Spani.ih callcons and privateers. The ^vnri/dro^/n vessels b iJie harbour were also destroj'ed, but the town and people were b lO respects unmolested. During the nciit few months Vcmon •noftrplisbcd but little with hi.i fleet, waiting aniciously for the rcin- fxtanenu of land and sea forres with which he hoped to be able to dtttoy Carthagena. Several of his ships, however, continued to tniK about in the West IndLtn seas, and frequent combats took ^KC between single vessels. The most noticeable of the captures tAeKd by the En^ish was that of a Spanish vessel commanded bj WW of Don Bias' chief lieutenants, Don Apolanco, the identical ofictr, as it was asserted, who operated on the ear of poor Joikins.
Meanwhile the news of Vernon's successes had created the potta wiihuiiasm and excitement in England. He was com- pTftJ, in prose and poetry, with Raleigh and tlie other naval heroes ** England who had humbled the power of Sp.iin ; and Mr. Cave, ^tiwn proprietor of the GtntUman's Magaanr, in order 10 keep in **A Ihc spirit of the times, employed his chief literary hack, Samuel JAiuon, to write for his periodical the lives of lilake and !>ralce. *<li Houses of Parliament, and the Ixird Mayor, Aldermen, and ^«raDon Council of the City of l^ndon presented addresses of ""patulation to His Majestj' on the successes achieved by his ^•■fctca ; both addresses particularly emphasising the fact that ^^Bello had been taken " with six ships only," Even Walpole ""^ Ihe Duke of Newcastle gave great entertainnietiis in honour '' 4e event. Captain Rentone, who had piloted the fleet into ""te Bdto, having brought home despatches from Vernon, was ^'•tmed by the King with a purse of 200 guineas for his good "•*!, and was promised the conimand of a 60-gun ship. During "* remainder of the year the public enthusiasm continued un- ■•Itd, and Vernon was regarded as the hero of his counirj-, and "■Sjvenger of her wrongs. The anniversary of his birthday was
La
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144 ^^ GiKiZcwLjKs Jfa^-asi'ne.
tepc in i rljii rrtil iishjr= ; btls rj^png, bonfires hunuDg, eating and cr-.V-T^ i=£ ;l^=~ir;:cs aZ ctkt the aty of London and ttiD=tr::=: lie kir^ixn. I: ijpcais rfiai on that day a worthy gen-Me=ii= cf ±e :Li:^ re Ee= wis promoted to the dignity of tla Aiden:ii=ic riwr:. iris rri=-_ 1= COTjcneion with the birthdij feefT::;es. tcctc-I ::>.- =:--ci i:x £= honest parish clerk, who hnkt ocl i=:o poeTTT, £» f;ll;»^;
Tii; JITS -,: Ve=:c icri— tic robe to B«nn.
The Eni::Te:^ary cf '^-.e carr-iM cf Porto BeJio was celebrated lidi equal hcso-jTs ar.i ne:oicirs : asd as the hero of inn signboanli Vernon had no rlvii :n fcis own time eicep;. perhaps, the DuIm of Ciunbeilicd and :>.e ProtestaM Hero cf Prussia.
About this ::::-.e ar:o-Jier celebraMd public character was recdnif the lewaidi ci r.-.s braTerv, On December 12 the Director of the East India Coaipany presented Captain Jenkins {our eail« friend I with 3=-= guineas for having rep-Ued, after nineteen hoan* figbtir.^. an atisck aade or. his vessel, and these under his conroy, by fir:s-.esoS'Gca.
At the Ger.er,-.'. E'.ection in the ear'.y part of 1741 the namettf Vernon was a waxhword in many p'.aces, and he was returned triumphantlj- fcr Ipswich, Per-n-n, and Rochester, and polled heiiily though unsuccessf-'Jy for Westminster and London. Before thii^ however, the Government bad ai last go: ready for sea a lai^ fleet to reinforce Vemcn, under the command of Sir Chaloner Ogle, ow- sisting of 35 ships of the line, several transports and smaller ciaft having on board about 7,000 troops under the command of Loid Cathcart. The Opix>silion, of course, and cenainly with some reason, complained bilteriy of the great delay in strengthening Vemon'i hands. It was ascribed to a malicious desire of the Govenmient thU Vernon might be defeated and ruined before the reioforcemenlt reached him. The true reason, however, I think, may be leadi^ found in the great difficulty then experienced in manning a large fleet and preparing it for sea. But whatever the cause may haw been. Sir C. Ogle and his fleet at length set sail, after various fiilile attempts, on October z6, 1740. There was one vessel in this f«ce which ought to be very noticeable to us. The Citmier/and,<}(io guns, carrying 600 men, had on board a poor young Scotch surgeoo'i mate, earning a salary of from thirty shillings to two pounds amonth. His name was Tobias Smollett, and to him we owe the most Indd ■•nd authentic account of this expedition : an expedition memotabl^
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emon and the yenkind Ear War. 145
if fw nothing die^ as having given to the great novelist his first and i^openence of the British naty. its officers and men, of wliich he ■ftcnaidt made such valuable and well-known use. To Smollett, ihc^ vt owe a vivid description of the uiicr miseiy and want of care Alt then existed in (he nav>-. Tor many generations England had ibMa the gieaiest indifTcrcnce a« to tlie comfort and lives of those to rtom she owed her military glory, but that callousness, perhaps, smt prevailed tnotc than at the time of which we are writing. In iddioon to Smollett's evidence wc have another account of one of the VA irickcd pieces of inhumanity e\'er perpetrated by any Govern- Ban, and which took place only a few weeks before Ogle's fleet idcd Commodore Anson had been appointed to command « ^Bdroa which was to sail round Cape Horn and act in concert ■i4 Vernon on the Spanish main. Anson's instructions were 10 take on bnid a regiment of foot, but when his squadron was ready for sea, he tend that the Cabinet, in spite of the objections of Sir Charles Wager, Iht Tira Lord of the Admiralty, had ordered 500 Chelsea oui-pen- ■incn to be taken on board irutead of the troops promised. These PM no, who lud been pensioned on account ofold age, or of wounds ■Kind in the service of their countr)-, naturally felt the cruelty of AilixdeT, the consequence being that, when An»on ]>repnrcd to take 1^ Ml board) he only found 259 of the oldest .ind most decrepit ■Jitiag (or him at I'ortsmotith, as all who mere possessed of the least 'ngth or vigour of lirob had run away. Of these 159 poor old *We* not One returned alive. With forces composed of similar ^tttiiils to these Anson proceeded on that voyage round the world, •^ although not assisting Vernon, has rendered the old commo- ^ the hero of one of the most memorable expeditions in our naval
AAcr a long and tedious voyage Sir C. Ogle joined Vernon at uuica on January 9, 1741. Before the fleet arrived at Port Royal, peat loss had been sustained by the death ai sea of General I^rd nheait He was e^'erywhere regarded as a capable and efllclent lioeT, and what added more to the grief felt at his loss, was that
was succeeded in ilie command by Brigadier- General Wentworth, 10 was as generally con-tidered to be totally incompetent.
Vernon now found himself at the head of the largest armament It had ei-er been seen in the West Indian seas. He had 114 sail, ge and small ; and the troops under the command of Wcntworth, :luding the American regiments, numbered about 10,000. On irch 4 this large armament appeared off Carthagena, the fleet ling in three divisions, one under each of the Admirals, Vernon
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■:-.=:tr.:ri::-.i ;:' -.-i r-i::-:iT V^vjt:: ";«- tiktn zr.d destniy«d, 'r-4-'.:5r. ir^t-i r:-'c i^i "J'; ':■:■:=* r-.ktr- VerEc^n regarded r-aval y.r::'.- -f -j-.t :7ct---:t-j li c^:— t'.;;; ini rT:iAed. He a; wl-.y ".v»r.--r.-"- cii --,■. r: ;■. ■:- :2 a^i i^is 'h; t;>wr.? Wentw **'■'! i.'t '-V,',-: -OTC.- =: 'sn-.r.:--;"-ic;-:7*:i-irr.c;'iheTieei. Ve f■^/.j|^i ;• »i-, ;:r.:,'-j=i-.'i'.e ::r ri^ :; ;="- ■"■-* 5"""-?s up to tbe t
Vt^rHon and the Jenkins Ear War. 147
nations and delay, Wenlworth got his trooj^ landed preparatory to
attadung Fott San Laairo, the suon^cst of ihc inlciior forts, and
which was between him and the town. Vcmon recommended cany-
itig ihe |»lace by storm. Wentworth said batteries must be erected.
BaiKnu trere accordinj^ly commenced, and ihcn \\'ci)(wor(h changed
I'ltKiiund and thought slonning would be iKtter, and gave orders for
Itfw «otks to cease. This last plan was strongly opposed by two of
[ Iffffltwxtb'e officers. General libkcncy, the future defender of
Uwna when Byng failed, and Colonel Wolfe, of the Marines, the
r of the great general immortalised by his viciorj- before Quebec,
I by Thackeray in the "Virginians," Meanwhile, whilst their
were quarrelling and their general making up his mind,
I niay season was having a dreadful effect on tlie uoops, 'ITiey
tUdovn dead or dying from scurvy or fever, not only in hundreds,
1 in thottsands, and, as the}- had no medical a.tslstance on shore,
einimodiiiei of the commanders greatly increased the horrors of
tsRiation. Wentworth dixdnined to ask help from Vcmon, who,
this turn, would not make overtures toWcntwonh, And so things
f WW DQ until Wentworth had at last determined to storm the place.
Ikuoopt appointed for this undertaking advanced in two columns
[■pihe hill on which the fort u-os situated, and, in spite of a galhng
I ud 1 continuous Brc, they marched up with a dogged firmness simi>
[■tlothat exhibited a few years later at Fonienoy, and added one
'•ttew the list of combats, so large in English niiliiary history, where
ikoiNinge and heroism of the troops have more than compensated
fa the almost perpetual bhmders of their leaders — a fierce and stub-
kni fight having been kept up for four hours, and the attacking
jnny having lost more than half of their numbers, they were at last
OMtpelled to retreat to their camii, which they did in good order.
The admiral and general now at length found one subject on irliich they could agree, namely, that ns it did not seem probable that Carthagena was to be captured, it would be wiser to retire from ihe place than to throw away any more of the valuable lives under Iheir charge ; and accordingly, on April 16, all the troops were em- barked, and, a/lcr having destroyed all the captured forts and having TcmoTcd everything that the Spaniards might have considered a nophy, the fleet set sail for Jamaica. On their arrival at Port Royal 00 May 19, Vernon and Wentworth spent the larger portion of their time in quarrelling and heaping reproaches on each other. To a certain extent both were blameable. Wentworth was without doubt thoroughly inexperienced and useless, and Vernon, wh')=e ability and energy nobody <]uestioned, probably let his feelings of anger
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and costempt get ibe better of bis judgmCDt, and perhap reader ;ha: assistance to Wentworth which he would have doi had been working amicably togeiher.
AmoTigs: the omcers engaged in thb disastrous expedi
Opuin Laueoce Washiotion, of the American regimenl
wiwOiycfEd'Jce. He taiaed the friendship and estceni ofbo'
mini ar.d general, and greaJy distinguished himself at the att:
Sin La=uo fort. After the failure of this attack he retumeij
hii estate in Vir^j^ to which he gave the name of Moun
ia honour of the adziiral under whom he had served and
respected and admired- At Mount Vernon he acted the p
kindest of g-.:3rdians to his young half-brother Geoi^e, to i
his death, he left the estate, where the great American pal
in peace and happiness after the Rerolutionary War was
where he died and was buried. Mount Vernon, as a place c
age. is a'ir.ost as dear to Englishmen as to Americans, wh
admire the great and noble man who lived and died there.
Sivn after the arrival of the fleet at Jamaica, the admiral d
his strc-^th by sending home several of his ships under the
of Ov^niK-cdore l.estock. Vernon himself was so dissatisfie
result of ;!;c Cirthigena expedition, and with his colleague \\
Ih.ti he asked iNjrraiision to return home, but the opini
couiitr," w.\s siili so strong in his fa\'our that he was rec
retain his command, and instructions were at the same tim
«n attack to be made on the island of Cuba. Accordingly,
1741, Vernon sailed with his fleet of eight ships of the lii
fvig.ttos and smaller vessels, and forty transports on board
were ,1,000 trvv^ps under Wentwonh's command. They
(■iiai\i,iii,(iiio Hay on the south side of the island on the 18
ctinrulcm tlid the leaders feel of a complete conquest tha
ntuncil the bay, calling it Cumberland Harbour in bono
ii'Vrtl Hiikc who C'lually, though by different means, added
diNKtitcf In til,. Kniilish arms at Culloden and Closter-Sei
ntliii'vi'mcnt was all that the expedition accomplished
ttllluninh ihc inwps were landed with the intention of talcin
by niiiiiiiM-^y,,, Wcniworth, after having allowed almost half I
tiilitiiiiiic iuciticiciit throui^h sickness and fever, wrote 1
liilniiiiiiig liiii, ihnt he thought he could do nothing, an
liiiii|iN i,nj 1^.^,^ i,^ re-embarked, Vernon expostu
Wtinunl, hut nx Wenlworth would do nothing with his tro(
""=!' miniberH were fast diminishing, the admiral had
c<|tibiii:P| mni returned to Jamaica with only a,oco efhcie
yt-rnon and the yatkins Ear War. 149
-ihtwle remnant of (be large force which had l>een sent oul !o the Wts Indin under Ix>til C'aihcan. This last exploit proved 100 ffludi for the temper of Vcnion, and he wrote to the Duke of Ncw- anlt, ihe Secretary' of Siate: "Though I pretend to \ay liitlc flcptfitncG in military fifiairs by land, yet it U ray belief that if the tokcoonnand had been in me, both in the Carihagena expedition mdlbcCuba one, Hrs Majesty's forces would have made themselves ■■tn both of C^rtha^ena and Santiai;o, and witii the lost of much fem ntn than hare died."
After thU f;iilurc, the fleet cruised about for some monihs without Uugffiwith the cni.-my, and nothing beyond a few naval duels Bosned until Match 1743, when, further reinfor<:cments h.iving Bnnil,thc admiral and general determined to sail for I'orlo tidlo, ■dhtting there landed the troops, to march aeross the Uthmiis of I'*riHi and attack the tich town of Panama. Vernon '1 Mirprise and indignation tnajr be well imagined when, on ihearrivalofthc Heetand Bw^ at PoRo Bello, a couneil of tlie land officers, held even before l^fDops were landed, and in spite of the fact that the Spanish PniMabad retreated from I'orto Dello and there wak nothing to ^?0K them, dceidcd that the attack would he im]>racticable, and "Wwii an immediate return to Jamaica. Vernon, of course, could do •Wiling alone, and so, after stormy debates and angrj- expostulations, ^ to submit, and the fieet accordingly sailed for Jamaicn. After *"«»eles>and ludicrous parade, there can he but little doubt thai •Wtmn cipcrienccd the greatest saiisfaaion when, on Sejitfrnber s j ~^**ing, he receiwd a letter from the Duke of Newcastle ordering "™«ixl General Wentworth to return 10 England.
"eftite leaving the subject of Vernon's West Indian command,
~* ^aiwction with one of the most romantic episodes in the history
">e BriiUh Peerage oufiht to be mentioned. James Annestey,
■ .^^e adventures are described in " Peregrine Pickle," and whose
*^ry supplied materials for "Guy Mannering," .ind formed the
J^^tion of the late Charles Kcade's " Wandering Heit," having
T^t^cd from slavery in which he had been kept for many years on
. ^orth American m/iinland, besought the protection of the British
. ^ind. Vernon, having heard his story, and fully believing in his
***» to the Anglesey title and estates, furnished him with clothes
^^ Whcr necessaries suitable to his station, and otherwise behaved
WilL
f* the greatest kindness 10 him until he was enabled to give the
, * ^ant a passage in a homeward-bound vessel. Vernon's kindness,
^eicr, did not end here, as he WTOte to the Duke of Newcastle a
^led account of the young man's misfortunes and adventures, and
4
i
~iu- J^-cr^-acssV JIfqgttzine.
v-----:Ti.~r--.«; :.:---• -.Tcl'^^iziibce. The -Anglesey peerage tti --^--■*i- :^.--: in-, rr. t-^I r«: icai described in many boob -Ar, --. -1.- •■>;•.-.- Mr r s 3o:sc rrcoablc that, if it had notb •-. -, .-, "o'-M- ■ i^-crr. rLs c±^«bn:ed trial would never h i V.-- .X-.- .. —^ i: at: r-cs x orcbie advantage over another t i --I ■ . ~^' — .M -,>.w ;,i.=u.r; CLSi i;: rwtng much shorter and' :--v' ■ .. .V" '.v-^ttir.: ire r.'is-iroc.
> v ,-r -I-.—: s:.'ji:i 3-;cL Tjraaica in the latter pa
--- ■-- - » >*. -^rirTwdb,-c:< is difierent vessels, am
■ ■ - -^j; " ,■■- ■-- -i^ji-.; iz Brae -uwbM« he was received
, -, - ., V, ;*■-..-..■ ■ . -;>r-ii.- isi KMs=. The frecdom of the
1 - .-•4.--,., V • - ;- ; -.-.c X-tiTiiiSiwdiyslaterheiookui
. -i-O-iT. T^jdi hii creviotisly been conlit
:.s,- ir:s i.i';:stl a =ie=iber of the Merc
- V r.ir- .-c-jsuc be Jsi: lao guineas t
V -o.-i: ,r' ir-j r«Cthbocrhood. From
■^~ - ■ !i- r^i-.Tii' iiT-.^;;^ although his &i
" % -..v,-.-i^i;-i -^ c^eru-jowing Sir Ri
vi.-.- ■«-.,>; -i T-13 r-ozesavelr pTomoti
- - ,-. ::>i >.;'i_ Aiiiial of ihe Blue,
":■ :'»i 7.,;...;, b^miftier. i:i spite ol
'■:•: :7:,-TO;'i. ir; 'A-es; I^ciar*. forces, 1
■>.- ■ :'v: i.T,cr .i=.i esfrrjiroa with »
■■-■ V . ^- .-.■..,-^, .:.-.i :- i ^nea: extent lif
• '^ ■'■ ■■'■ - ■•• - ^ --- •> :-■ :« :..i :: t.-'; i-ie-^isi.-o and inco •" ■■• •■ "- '■■■ ■■ ■- " .— .- v:j rfc-ii-i ::5 a hen> wk ■"■"■ " ■ ■ ■'• . - ■ . V, . - r i;s sciz::;^. .\i :o his a
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>...->■.,, -.: v.- .-.-. t.-wT-. ;s was ijo e<
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Ver»<m and tits yenl'tNs' Ear War. 1 5 1
[public clanKKiTpointc^l to Vemonas an ofHccc who ought to have
I ooomnd during that time of danger. He was accordingly
to the co.-nin:ind of the fleet in the Downs. 'Wva
nmuul he retained for a few monttis, during which time he showed
lua accustomed eticrgy and 3t>ilily ; and although he never had
food fortune to meet the i-ncmy, still, he justified tlie public
ilidencc by keeping that jxirtion of the coast under his charge clesi
free from invasion. This was the List command Vernon ever
at shortly after he bad struck his flag be was made the victim of
R unjustifiable piec« oroRicial tyranny.
In ibe early part of 1 74A two pamphlets appeared, respectively
owW " A Specimen of Naked Truth fiotu a British Sailor," and
Smh Seasonable Advice from an Honest Sailor." In these
lets were several uncomplimentary remarks on the way in
■ttial iSbin were managed, and on the sutcsmcn who were
at iIk head of the Admiralty. Many observations and copies of
% contained tltetein seemed conclusively to point to Vernon as
author ; and there appears to have been no doubt that he was
In the month of March, 1746, he received a letter from the
to the Admiralty Board, asking if he were the author or
*** To this Vernon ictumed no reply ; and on April 4 another
•fn »as written to him, to which Venion answered that the request
••* unprecedented, but if the Board demanded his presence he
■will duly attend. ,\c<!ordingly, on the loth, as he was leaving the
"""* of Commons, he received an order to attend the Board at
""^ office at seven o'clock that evening. Vernon obeyed the order,
'7'^ *ftcr being kept waiting some considerable time, he was
"^'ttcd to the presence of the Board, the Duke of Bedford, the
, l-Jwd, presiding. The Duke, after delivering a long lecture on
'**^wcr of ilie Admiralty Board, and on his authority as its head,
*ficr expressing astonishment that Vernon had not thought
j™**^f 10 answer the Secretary's letters as he li.id been expected to do,
^L^^lded from the .\dmiral an answer, "Aye or No," to the question
. •*ei he was tlie author ot the obnoxious pamphlets. To this
|T^^ii n.-]>lied that he fully admitted the authority of the Board as
^ ^«ad of naval affairs, and recognised the Commissioners' right to
. *■ him to perform any railiiary duty, or to ask him any question
. v/^'^'C to his profession, but as w the pamphlets he denied their
^^^ telling them that he regarded this as a private maiier, over
" ^^Ti the Admiralty had no control, and therefore refused to answer
^r (luesiion. At the same time he expressed great natonishnient
**\ sn officer of his years and services should be treated in such an
i ^
i
1^1 T'te GenzUniaiii 3^j^x^me^
«rtrw,r»iinar7 manner, ^"i—i Timcn ?tad iTni^i.^ riie Doke o B«ifr.rti :niVjmed hi.-n :ha: if "ne T.miid .^tb 30 atii^ answer, he mi^ w:thrir3w, and ther "inew Trial icv bad ta da. On die fbCowing da; V'tmr.ti :^ce:«d 1 etier inra *e Secresny, intbmuctg Him that tin ciirjimsunces ii' '.he ose Haii been '.aid benjre the Eic^ who hu bean pleased X crdiir V-ncn's aame x be scmck cff the list of fiij oRJcarT. Whaia^iT ma.? be ';cr ■iirinicn zi Veraco'a discretioa am rj-.r.duc sre cannct iut 5^ -lar =e laa Treated in a, most tuiJDS and cruei aiar.Ecr. I: sfwnH aicnscrms a ns, with onr ideas 0 justice. LHat a jal'jr.r and acie i;£cer shccld be d^raded am defjaired ffoci h:s prcptessi;!!, withcat 'aia ha.vrng been pat opon an] feim of crlai, or his case having been snbmicted to the least inTtsb ^ion. There is anatizer <:a:i3e fcr resret in, the &ct that ^^m &11 old lailcr Anscn was oce ot ±e Caminissionecs of the Admiralty i: the time. I: is almost impossible to iniagine that the stindj fit. circnmnaTigator was any part? M scch a miserable piece of woik.
From the r.me of his dismissal, with the exception of occa^ou!
speeches 1:1 Pariian:etic on naval naners, Vernon lired in retiremenl
at hi.i scat a: Nacton, in auEblk, where he diedoa October 29, 1757,
at the a^e of 73. Verv little is known as to his private habits ffld
l;fe. He was married and had three sons, the two younger of whom,
however, died whilst their fa-Jier was absent on his West Indian
(■.wnmaid In p<;r5or.a! appearance he was noticeable for extroM
untidiness, and for having a preference for oM clothes, an (dd
gr'^ram coat usually fonning the most conspicuous portion of hJ!
atlite. It is said that to this fact we owe the origin of a word now is
well known on land as at sea. During his West Indian commaiH!
Vernon ordered the spirits for the men, which had previously been
Kfved out undiluted, to be mixed with water. This innovation was
naturally not much relished, and the concoction received its dot
(amiliar name in honour of iis founder, who, on account of his
]>artiality to the before mentioned old coat, was known throug^ioul
the fleet as "Old Grog."
H. p. ROBERTS.
All dales Old Siyle.
SUMMER BEU'ERAGES EOR FAT PEOPLE.
THE old adage which says that "What is one man's meat is another man's poison," may be carried a little farther, and nude to apply with equal truth to what he imbibes. I think it may beidmitted, without fear of contradiction, that the length of the life of IB individual depends a great deal more upon what he drinks than upon what he eats. Excesses in both are equally to be deprecated ; tKil. alas for weak human nature ! the gustatory nerves are very keen, and it is cot every one that can resist the temptation of pandering to ""cir desires and commands. Of course, where drink is used for ^iiwching thirst only, it is scarcely possible for any persons to over- itibibe r^;ularly and continuously ; but how few there are of these. "fn are a great many more, unfortunately, who would do well to "^wniber the advice of Socrates, where he says, " Beware of those ^"^ that tempt you to eat when you are not hungry, and of those "■"ts that tempt you to drink when you are not thirsty." But, ""^^tunately for themselves, few people do take his advice, or any "^ else's advice, where eating and drinking are concerned, and there- ^ as, especially in the warmer months of the year, a large amount '9liid becomes necessary for quenching not only the natural thirst, ' *lso what may be called an artificial thirst, a few hints on the J^ct may not be out of place. One thing may be admitted at '^i and that is that pure water is harmless in any quantity, to fat ^ lean alike ; indeed, pure water is to the kidneys what pure air is , ■*€ lungs — it flushes them, and helps to dissolve the refuse in the , ^*t1 in the shape of excess of salts and other products of waste tliat , ^ fulfilled their purpose in the operations of hfe, and therefore ^Id be carried out of the system through this channel. There is , greater adjunct to health and comfort than can be obtained by ~^*»]Lng, an hour before breakfast, a full tumbler of hot water, but it ^ ^\ild be as hot as it can be drunk; if it is only lukewarm, it is apt *^ tuuseatc. This dissolves the salts that coat the stomach after its
r^ i-.--. Irr ir_-_ .rr^-.T:^ ;-=7- .-r/..- ari 313: 7-t»—iiTt- £33«
■r'..«'.-: -.«-:v;.,
;- ;-.■. ..'.■ -.■„T. rs- ■■ ::■-' r..:.— ."nc I v~:r.: =: zrzizis re "L
■. ■-.; i'.'. ?^:.-:.: -. '-■--' :. t-..-j: I i^. jsr— n::-?; -: K>r^ i«
■*.■,-: : •/ •-■^i. : ;>-j:^ i- -.•.:t ^jtt :r :i:tESi i:ni inrar" t«tcu£. ssd
!-'.'':•■' '-'' '- ■•■' f^*- '"!■.■- :-u::;.:'t: -I-jr — i;:^ -i TCfit-T zz xi^:2t
■/ ■.*•-.■:;.-,;■■ ;-.:. !r--. -.-. -;r::^5- r. 'im? *= ^izsiL a
r< v^// *■ i" ".I ■-- i^t ^-tt v-^iz -i- :>t i:Qs:- iijs -w^t-, bcfih
s^^ /ix i-".'. ■.■..'_•- Tii* v-ft L.--:--L.. f-.r in=cx.^=s. :h^ nanisht
.-if,.* '4 rv-.'.^ T--t'. -I i'o± :: itt;= rJ^.? Hi is fed 00
,. C fi''i-''.v .'.'■/>;■ i-*- ---i^^'.td -.: tli^ iwxT hi life ia b
Y:;t~-y^ -A •:.'; ,•.►:■. ■-i.-^;*: i-.i. i-.d >.; i.v,' i.-.ten. On the
!.»*.■; 'V .'.'/fv^; if >.': .'- '--'-uz-.: ;r, :V. ar.i '.izv from grass,
.-, •, "/' ■..■-',:. '*7 '//'•■■■'i '--^ ^ r-.-re c.r.ces^atcd fix»d uid pie
1 ,1 (■ .w , ^■,''. 1.': tu]..'V.y \Ar.i wl:'- his ij.z. I was zmused the
.%/ 1./ 1' j'li.z iri a ":v>.;«y" jjsper an article by a lady, in
tti' s;ii'l 1!" iii.jr wijijl'l not curt f-tjesity. Why will people write
it.Miir': ili<7 '!'< ri'i> iiri'l<:ThUnd ?
I UiiiiV I iii:iy ' U11111 In know something about this, and mj liMi'i ii':i>||i'n 111'; tli:it lliis is the uk/j" way to cure this diieasi .llll-H. itixl iliHt ill tliii way it can !« done safely, rapidly, perma
( iiUiimiiiilv, iiiiil iliis on a full, sufficient, aud even lu;
tll'liiiv. lliitiliiiK tin" l^sse'l inl" well-merited oblivion, b litiVBliilMBv 111 ilii-iHi<H is belter understood now than in his d '11««"11 lltat 'iliim).
I
Summer Beverages /or Fat PeopU, 155
My intention hcic is to formulAte for those really unfortunate individuals I have been rcfcning to, namely, the corpulent, a few inliublc beverages suitable Tor summer use, at ihc same time can- niuiioDally harmless, and containing no ingredient likely to induce iacicued obesity.
fcthe lirat pbce, it is needless lo say, this r:tct being pretty widdj now, that these "cups" must be manufactured without the aidofiui^r, this article being more faticninj; than fat itself.
The evils tliat arise from drinking fluids in the case of fat or goutj' pdsoiu do not arise from the cjuaniities of the ti(|uid that they drink ^Ihey may drink a gallon of water a day without harm— but from the ounpctition of the beverages, sugar and other articles that arc injurious
t people being necessarily largely used in their manufacture. I catering for such people— not only in the li(]uid aliments that te<iuiTe, hut as I shoued in my former article (in the May er of this m.igazinc), in their dieting a;, well — saccharin comes incmrday as a great boon and a perfect substitute for sugar for ntctening purposes ; containing, as it does, no fattening or injurious prapenics. With its assistance several drinks c-in lie rendered enjoy- ^t that, tuisweetened, would be unpleasant to the palate. I look Bjxin \\s discovery as quite one of the most important productions fteeeiw years, and if its virtues were more generally known, it would 'tnwre highly appreciated than it is.
ir people whoarc subject to biliousness or gout, and people who are i>diMd to be corpulent, were in all cases to substitute this for sugar, "■Diild make a great difference to their health and general comfort, ••4 being perfectly harmless, nothing but a want of knowledge of "* »irtuet can prevent its use being more general. In its most flible form, as prepared by Messrs. Burroughs, Wellcome, & Co., *** Hill Uuildings, I.ondon, i; can becarried in the waistcoat -pocket "■ 'He shape of minute tabloids in sufficient nuantities for daily use, ^ thus be conveniently at hand whenever occasion requires, or •'*'* sugar would be necessary.
lie exigencies of space preclude my entering here into a long ™*Btation on the evils of obesity and its tendency to shorten life, ^"d the only safe and pleasant system of obviating it ; but those to ""om the subject is of vital interest may gain this information by '^inga little work that fiilly discusses this subject, and also contains 'W only recipes for beverages suitable for them, but also a choice of ^oilsiad articles of diet as well; and tliosc who wish to know and under- •"nd why and wherefore it is so necessary that certain people should 1^; puticulai care as to the foods they cat and the liquids they
L
I
=1:,^^ —1. : _.- :— = _^ - iTir i=S;r3 3£ die uumal economy »^: — Z i;. . . - -. -r-^. - ; -ir-ii;^ a: this volnme,'
^-: ; -.-.. - .:. -:. ■_ -~ r' ih^ n— icle. Taking, id th
irr i_-i -.7_ — . _- — _;. u^" : — 3. :hs time of Xoah to tl v-s>i— .. _ .■.-.; : ;. : _-=- - t:.; t:<:= ::jid paints, and tl Tr::^ /. T .. ._■ ^— ,- .::;.- -.,-_ ".^_ ;^ :c?v33i:ffi merits, by muif V— .:^ t; 1^- ;i-_-r -.."-^.j^, -: ui Tz^^k iha: has been hdd i :. ::- ^.. -_. . ; .-. r-ir.-:-.. — .--^ ::_;■ k* s; :ra::£ ihat the ordina
r:;_.:r- ^„ , ~_ ^.-_: n =-■i^:^:.,^T; aimasJ any kind, oitl
-.,-.-.., .i .. ^r . :v_:-. ^r, , — . ;:^ :U i id^k lo enumeiate t
1- :.,.-- :.._- .- , 7.-.: ,- .. :_- i ~,.r.u ^-.'r.t lite a diy nin^soi
-.;. .1 . ..; , :_. .-. jz^ i,-; - -.vr.:; — n I may usesuch
▼-.-.— ::; ,.,-, , ,_- T .^ - ■ ;ri v :r; ;.; i::^^" some the"dn)i -.■ — .; --— - i:.-.- i.s - -~ .r.-.i rr;^£ inown as Chile .■ 1.^-.-. ^. :. . . -1 .- :' . s _--..r^ :-.■..— "x .; th; Chsmpagne distJ .-;:;"..K_; >.^;:'i-:l. r, r: r^= ilil::rj:>=s wine that com
,.■_. r _.:. .... . . i r.x; .- ,- ? z.Zi. :■ ^srs b^V stoutertb
■.I.?: . - ; -;>;•.-- ;_-. : ; -'- .";: -fi 5.3 ia the WW
-....■:_:.:..._ .-:..= ;-: ;;':ype« d^ink, T
.■■:-■ i--z-, -.: : r-: .-: ; ---,?- .. ■ ,.,-.; ;_-; sr-^re is " Mairia _ ^ M.ii ' ■.: : ■■ ;~. .:;.." ■..■.-;';;"; ti:;; crlr.ier ; acdt \..L-~L ;.^-M ;;-.-ii f-: -- ■ :'ii^ "..--;. tr.e vic:::a of d .-; ;-,;: '- I.-S-- i --! :.-ir;>5 :,■. ~~i. .-- f h;:;: of drinki i^^l ".:::.:- .:'i. > ", ri->:- :. ;-; -J^h^ Bdl'ol ■- ,-.;j-..- -;;-; z.1. ."-:-; :. T'i j:..;:.i :j ; tjtt s:ou: persom
;-■.".; -I- .: — ': -■"■- -; -- -■'■ "-— - -" "■-=• ^^-^ tfce sw« 1' ; ::.":: u-.'--: ■'-"-= -"- ;-^^ —-' — --- --- cruiced port J
' -t:-".tr t-.-.:t. -■-=" :~ --' — ; -- "-- -~- ^ w:i-er pony ub ,--., -^■-■. -■_:-. '-■ii ".IT- :>.--? h-r.;.~;'ro-""-i ir.i sr-^n or.. X ^-■■^-i----' ri^r.. tvi- :r. ~U i7-;>. ~i" ;ri:e=i;i;-s ; indeed ,,..» -a-':* t-airi :i ^.'.^ivi .:-i;T :>.; ir.r.ue-c^ cf alcohol •"I'l i-.:.i.-.',i cf l«'.::;;-5 "-■-- ■■' -"' '-■--= ^^« beyond mi( '.,' N.--.^- af:=r ir.s ci hii \-.i:-.:-.~b. wher. osered by a Hamt: ''',-;irlr': a. '-?:££«■.: cf a choice selictisn ci w:r.e, refused to take
Summer Beverages for Fat People. 1 57
aimbouks. Few people irho icincnibcr the Duke of WcUing^ion could
UltolMi-e noiked, mote or less, hi& extreme abstemiousness ; and
Bmputc— to tal:e a third instance of men rcmailcable for nerve and
Htiiljr— uraall)' confined hb libations 10 one or two gbstes of
Cbfflboiin (3 very delicate darei) once, or twice a day. What
WnUtd him most when a captive on board the Belleropfmn vas the
.JBODK of wine the officers dnnlc, and he refused to follow their
tamjk. I may say here at once, tliat if people of the class I am
■watering for drink wiive, and if they wish to do so without harm
j lo ihemselves (and I can hardly suppose that there are any who
I'Ib Ht)^ ihey must take only wines that are manufactured in
'. Ik colder climates where the grape is (;rowI^ and of these the best
iKlhe&;bt vines from the banks of the Moselle or the Rhine.
|1beie«iacs, unlike the wines of the south of France and Sguun, if
! 4*Ji tre Kiccied with proiwr care, contain neither sugar nor tannin.
*Utd)dr flavour and bouquet will vie with those that come from
*mD«cliiiiaics. These latter arc alvrays liqucuicd to suit tlic English
' H* wd market. Only recently I have carefully tested and
oudned a bigc number of dilTcicnt brands of wine for the use of
Aeditiof patients to whose comfort I confine my ministrations —
IB- (be obese and the gout)-, and in the treating such jicoplc it is
*CTinporUnt to know, not only the solid foods that the)- can uke
^iilioui increasing ihc mischief, but also the precise nature and
wiposiiion of the liquids that they imbibe. As a dietician I may
••y cmpiiatically, that ^uth jieoplc are debarred by considerations of
lialih from drinking iioits, sherries, full-bodied burgundies, and
*psrkling wines of almost every description, as these are all full of
■"(u, and the waste of uigar when combined with alcohol in the
"nitm, is the most powerful factor in charging the blood with gout
PWoti ind loading the body with fat.
Aficr testing great numbers of Rhine wines and Moselles, I find •ftdrinit to be Zeltinger, Schloss Rhelnhausen, Tiabener, Sonnen- ^ Kotlland.and .Schazberg.' Zollinger and Schloss Rheinhausen ^W the most distinctive Moselle bour[uet and Ihivour of still wines. It is difficult to find a s|)arkling wine sufltcienlly dry to admit of "* bring taken b>- corpulent persons without injury, and a very dry ^oielfc (Nonpareil), sparkling Burgundy, and sparkling Hock arc *^ the only ones free enough Trom sugar as to be po^ibly and
l^^ttM wiM* wsd others aut imported rxir* dry for mc bj- A. Atdout & Co., •niiiiija Gmi1», Holbarn. Lcii'loo, E.C. Th^y iti«y be lisd by any other* ■iwdtiire thon, aad Iboy are kr«^'»lly •uil«hle for corpulcni, £Oul), and biUous Pnplc.
CCtXSt. NO. t9lS. U
r
f
158 The Gentleman's Magazine, 1
sparingly admissible in such cases. Parenttietically, 1 may Tcmail^ here that ifan obese person in theeaily spring undenremacouneofl proper dicictic treatment by which his weight vas reduced toheohik-^j dimensicns, he might durir)^ the hot weather indulge in wines th^i under other circumstances would most certainly bring on a fit of tt«4 gout ; for the system, once cleared of the poison, it u-ould lake a good deal of " indiscretion " to fill it again. 1
While on the subject of the hygiene of certain wine*, it is aj curious fact, but one of undoubted interest to the gouty, that Rhio^ wines, as a result of iheir frec<lom from sugar, do not tend f^l induce the diieascL It requires a combination of sugar and spirit, j apparently, to produce gouty poison, for those who take latfic u quantities of sugar and abstain from alcoholic beverages enjoyagctiC |j immunity from gout (though not from biliousness), vhilsc those iribcv drink spirits that are fiee from sugar likewise rarely suffer from ihi.^ malady. On the contrary, however, others who take liquors thi^ contain the two properties combined, such as port and other smc*: wines, are notably subject to guut. Sir Robert Christison, duiin^S thirty years' experience in the Royal Infinnary at Edinburgh, onl3^ met with two cases of gout ; and both of these were in fat and Oltf^ fed English butlers. Russians, Poles, and Dant^ though tbeydliaV4 large quantities of spirits, enjoy aimoat complete immunitj' from jout-J
Now that the hoi weather is here, and tennis and other outdoc^^ exercises which induce excessive thirst are indulged in, it may beaike^^ what bcvetages can a fat, gouty, or bilious petson drink mitli the lo^*^ injury to himself. Of course there would be no difficulty in h'a t^dia^ up anycookery book and finding dozens of tempting recipes; but the^* all these contain sugar in large quantities— for saccharin, a harmlc** product three hundred times sweeter than sugnr, was unknown toour grandfathers— and sugar, as I have said before, will in warm weather fatten rapidly ; so th.it while the victim of superabundant adipose tissue is fondly believing that the exercise is reducing his bulk, be i< being egregiously deceived. Many iicoplc put on fat — not flwi^- rapidly in hot weather, and this is one reason for it. Another is tbtf there is not the demand in hot weather for the combustion of foodi that are chemically converted into heat in the system, as the tempcn- lure of the atmosphere in the summer approaches that of the humu body. So that really a person should not only choose certain foods as more suitable for the hot weather, but should also take less of them : and there are few people who would not benefit by taking one or two bottles of efferiescing potash water daily to correct the undue acidity usually prevalent during this season.
Summer Beverages for Fat PeopU: 159
^'e «itl MSUtne that the render is not one of those who takes tbeadvJccof Socmiet (pu-vtously gii.-cn), and is, tliertfore, fond of ■iKte beverages containin); wtni:; In this cue he cannot do better i^ make a "cup " according lo one of the following redpc).
/Is inccharin as a stit»titH[e for sugar will now be given in all
tner^cs, tlie reader nill please remember that as tasiis dtfTer so
'°'>ch in a-gard lo sweetness, it is bt-tt not to ovctdo this process.
Ills an easy matter to add n little, but too much cannot be with-
*^'>vii. Generally spcalcing. one saccharin tabloid — this U nbout
''''C size of a si^il-pca of the sho[>s — is sul^cienc to svrcetcn a lai^e
•^•1' of lea or coffee, or a tutnhler of k-mon-watcr : if this is reniein-
•^'Cci ihere will be no difliculty in regulating the amount necessniy
■ninygiTen cup. Each of Burroughs, VVcIkomc, & Co.'s tabloids
^'otains half a grain of pure sacch,irin, and one of these has the
•■^eteuing piopcnics of half an ounce of sugar. They should in all
'"*» be dissolved in boiling water, and this then put aside to cool
wfore use. A more wholesome and pleasant drinking beverage
"* tennis tKin the following one cannot be made. There are no
*'eniiig or bile-making properties in it.
'X'akc four saccharine inbloidis and dissolve them in about a nine- 'sfol of boiling water. I.et these become cold. Then mix in a 'ch-bowl one bottle of Zcltinger and one bottle of soda water. ^''^«: in the whole of a lemon, a gntting of nutmeg, and a sprig of '"""^ge. When the saccharin water has become suRicientty cool *'^'i it, and throw in half a pound of ice broken into small pieces,
^VbeTe a large quantity is requited, increase these ingredients in "^ ame proportion.
A more s)>afkling " cup" may be made in this way, and though, f "t conne, it is not entirely free from sugar, it is as harmless as it is VdBible to hsTc any "cup" that contains a sp.ukling wme.
Dissolve eight or ten saccharin tabloids in a nineglassful of boUii^ water. Take a bottle of sparkling Burgundy, a bottle of StblofiS Rhcinhauscn, a slice of cucumber, two bottles of soda water, and mix. ^Vhen cold, add the dissolved saccharin, and break in two or three pounds of lake-ice.
Refrigerators arc now to be found in most well-appointed houses, but where tltey are not, one should be procured, and I can safely say that the small cx^iense incurred would be amply repaid by the luxury in the hot weather of l>eing able to have nice and cool beverages. Tltcre are so many in the market that it is hardly possible to recommend any particular kind, but most respectable ironmoDgCTS would know how to get one suitable for keeping cool
Ml
i
k
160 y^e Geniientan's JiJagasine,
claret and other "cups." In th«sc d.iys, loo, ice can be procun nlinoxt anywlicre, and if wrapped up in flanrwl can be kept mainy hours, or c^xn days.
Pcrhap.i it would be ii) place to mention here that tlte ixop wajr to break ice into lumps is to take a sharp in$tturacnt~«y djtming needle— and a small nial1<.'t, By using the needle a chisel the ice can be broken into suitable pieces with perG: cjise.
Tokeepa liquid cold, the vessel il is in should be wrapped rou: with a wet dotli. The evaporation of this brings the contenu oft vessel almost to freezing point. The cloth should be kept V hy adding water to il as it dries.
A very nice " cup " suitable for tennis paiti<>s may be made the following manner.
'lake two liottles of ScMoss Rhcinhausen, one bottle of d sparkling Moselle, two lemons cut into slices, four bottles of lod vraier, and two pounds of ice. Sweeten with ten or twelve sacchari tabloids, previously dissolved in a little boiling water and allowed > get cold.
It should be rcmcmlitaed itiat thcne beverages arc quite 9 pleasant to the Wstc as those brewed wlicrc large quantities of Higs gre used, and far more healthy to those people who prefer drink containing wine. In fact, made with safcharin instead of sup' even ordinary people would find tticni less bilious and equ^ palatable. There are veiy few people indeed who in tlie soinme do not take more sugar in some form or other than is good fc them, and congested liver, gout, headache, indigestion, and fum tongue are the penalties they pay for it.
If anyone doubts this, let him drink a bottle of had champogm or sweet sherry, and await results. Cheap wJnes arc poison I
An extremely refreshing drink may be made by taking til bottles of Trabener, half a gill of brandy, the strained juice 1 two lemons, a sprig of borage and of mint ; these should I allowed to stand for an hour, then strained. Having previom dissolved six saccharin tabloids in some boiling water, and atlowi it to become cold, mix and add two pounds of ice and fo bottles of soda water. Wrap the bowl this is contained in aroui with a wet cloth, as previously mentioned. The e^-aporation the water in the cloth will keep the " cop " cool, and the ice frd dissolving too rapidly.
The wines of the Moselle have the peculiar flavour of the HinC grape, and even sparkling Moselle may be procured of a very d
Summer Beverages /or Fat People. i6i
chamctcr. This is a siitt qu& imn where ihc wine is (o be cirunk by chose who require 3 wine .is free from su;;ar as it is possible to have a sparkling wine, for it muu be icincmbeied that a supplementary >|uan[iiy of liqueur is nddcd lo sparkling wines lo prevent their turning sour. This varies from one to three per ccni.
'I'o tnaVc a bc%'eTage flavoured with sparkling Moselle, take two bottles of Zchinger, one bottle of dry spsikling Moselle ("Non- pareil "), iwo bottles of iced soda water, and ihc juice of one lemon. Having previously dissolved four saccharin tabloids in a wine- ttUasful of boiling water, and allowed it to get cold, mix all together ■" a I>o»I, and serve as cold as possible.
A pleasant fruit -flavoured beverage may be made as follows :— Alaccratc half a pound of fresh greengages, peaches, or upricoij, •D a pint of gin ; strain by pressing through tnuslin. To this add two btUes of Schloss Rhcinhauscn and two bottles of soda water, six *K^cliaiin tabloids, previously dissolved in a gill of boiling water, wd four pounds of ice. This will make a pleasant bevctage, and tbould he suf5cteni for eight or ten persons.
Another plca»nt drink is a bottle of Liebfraumilch or Marco- "natmcr, a bottle of sod.i water, and a slice of cucumber. Having pf^e-vwusly dissolved two saccharin tabloids in boiling water, mix ■liiss ,with the above. Ice up and serve cooled, as previously ina.eiixicd.
The best way to utilise a bottle of Scbazbcrg is the following: — Dissolve in some boiling naicr four saccharin tabloids, and slice into jt a lemon. When Bufticicntly cool, add the wine and a boltlc "■ Soda water. Shave in half a pound of ice, and scrvc-
It may seem a far cry from luscious beverages, manipulated with *"Oicc Rhine wines, to cold tea, lemonade, iced soda water, and other "l^'e simple dtinlis affected by those who look upon alcohol in any ^^^^ asasubilepoison. But as there are large numbersofpersonswho " determined enough in the inteti.-*t of lieaUh to eschew intoxicants ^ *'l kinds, it is onlyfair that their idiosj-ncrasics should be considered, a few beverages constructed on these lines offered for their
lad
3CC<;
litancc.
a»
f be ordinary tectot.il beverages are all sweetened with sugar, and
Iheicforc unsuitable for fat people. What I ask these de-
T^^^dants of Sir John Falstaff to understand is that in these days
^V need not be debarred from sweet beverages, ihougli they are
^^t^ sugar.'
' Til* tKcacy of mgir In inomoling Tntncii ii illapliijetl by the change ihal ^^^n In Ibc conJtlion of Ihc n^ro duiing the sugm-nolilng ■cuon in the
<
[(52 T'u: 3^-:ntUma7i i Jl/jgazt/ie.
To beiin ^.:h. iere rs 30t i aicie reoeshing drink than tea, but iie fac nan ihcuiii sweeten !iis :ea :n ill ■;ccas!Ons with a tabloid of sacchar.rt iaiiiii :i :.ii::ir. -f 'ii; ii:es net want to increase tbe burdiin :hai lie hss tg 'r::rrr j.bi;iir T;th him.
Whsri -■iA. is ir-^r.k lji iar^e :uantines. :c is as well to know tlui
the most Thcloscme iir.ii is :har 'i=i-»v2 as Ceylon, for this tea is
mon: fris r^m :a=c^, ir.ii inueed :s vjTerlizr in flavour to the teas
of Ouca ■:r Ir.iiij, Z; is i ;:.^c-j.".t :hir.i; ;o ^et J^irv Cejlon tea, for
it is ■::sual',-_- i.tT-in-i. s'-.-Jr. :[htr k:=cs ; iniieei many of the brands
of CivLcn Til ir^ ^""Cic'i :: -zzTca --tm estares in Cerlon, but,asi
rule, "J-.esc :sii:i3 ij =i:c exist. Tiicse wi:o are determined to have
it can ztx. :'. J■-■sc^I:;^;■ 7i:ri -^rz ti-.e -Vi^ Tea Association, whose
heac-v-^i^ir^ i-i -: Vi-;-.-L "r:;^ :ea cj'ines direct from the estaies
of Mr. H. 5_ -irv^i-arscK, M,?. ?ireot:a"y, I prefer this lea to
any I rave tvir List^ii. ir.ii ':z :3 is ■;:".eap ia price as it is luscious in
flaTOtir — a ^ea; cis;d'i::ir,ini : ar.ii I verv" m::ch question whether
anyctie t'-.o ha* ;r.c; -lshz. --irv C^y'in tea. would ever care to
dpr.i ir.y .:;.-.i;r.'
W;-i -;.;i.-:i ;:■ .::5;i; ■.>.; sa.— e r-I^s — ■;=: be observed by stort recf'-e. -.*-;: i;, ■'.-— :; ;'-.:-;'i ze iTvsetined wi:h saccharin iiA ^fO'^.'i'i. "-^i'-i". -■'•..: "I — =:t "■.L'i.
ScT.e. ''.:z'.i r.r.i cr'.d tia ~i:-:-—=i with lemon juice a most iefr±sr.Lr.g Icvinii. .\-i ■...is ~^y be iTTeet^Eed with saccharin and iced 12 ITS iir^o ^-ay as ;r. :ri;r.ary " c'are: c-jp."* Indeed, in Russia tea ii i:i^-"- •:i^=i "£:ir;d :- :-< »^^y.
EvCT}- ho-se ;!-.,"-'.i yossess apirc^er.e apparatus, as with one o* these macr.ir.es ^n u~'.ir.;i:id s-p'l;" of aerated waters may always b*
«,-„. j_ 5;jj_ Tr.i cri:r.:;7-.* :':■;■- ::''.-:se "eor'.e. I was informed hy a plantati""
_-,.., I,- :-T ■-. ti-'.'j;: -«, c^rjliti i.-: Ir.ilia com meal, itce, bolter, o'"'
I, ^-;-ii .- - - - 1 '■■.rJ.-:-=, o: ■"« ye^'- '-"■« ''***■ F-'.iw, which u gtown » " -■■'n cr - ■) '"^e 'V. -jrcan;. I l:;rn: :'tcm :he wir.e source, in confinnatiD'*
*V"."''vii-^'-.c-;r.v.orcibvclr:ir*.-.r,a:.;-rirg the seison for Catherine tlK=
«r c-e »■' :■:! "-er.li -.'-r^^ih M^^^. April, =nd M.y. the ecRrora »f*
'"B* .' ■ ■..,-.,-._. ^-.! thir ih-* chance is allrihulftl. IDO
DOt
calie
'., '^''Vri'n'rU'ioo long, itic ■»[■■=>'" ""^ '"'"' in]"' ous inEtedienls of e«<> i, all"**- J -^ ' ^^^ .j^^ inlusioD becomes Uttet and astnngenl inJ
the l^t ■•" "^ ■•'^*" -^ ^^.^, .„ j„pe,ly the tea,«l should be «;u™ed «d „„I,l,:=.ant f. .h U-.<.- j^^^j,,,,, it toiU. live teaspoonfdsof Cejloa
„„ «3ter r-'"'"^'' "'" '"""„,,, ^,f boiling «->l". »■>'! it should d«w for eigM
- """'" ;.: ,!;:;:nVSi- aL^..yS-^>>u. - - -^ -er a». .
Sumnu-y Bewragts for Fat PeopU. 163
retdjr for use, and the soda water made by their aid is in- Ctuive, and u good or neurly ax good as that bought in ihe shops ix tinu the price.
Por using with soda water, a cooling and pleasant -liavoured ble tvectcning may be made in this way. Take twenty saccharin . and dbsolrc them in a pint of boiling water, add to this one sorcitricacitland twodrachms of tincture oflemonped. When tk, and it is fit for use. One or two lablespoonfuls added to mbler of soda water will pleasantly flavour it. This " syrup " will ^ a week or more, be essence of lemon sold by cliemisu may he utilised in this
making the basis of lemonade. ke of ciiiic acid three and a half drachms, essence of lemon ten , four saccharin tabloids, and h;ilf a pint of boiling water. Shake. ' two tablespoonfuls of this added to a tumbler of &oda water 1 soda wvter will make a lemonade.
other easy way of making lemonade for drinking in hot tr it to ilice Ivro lemons into a pint of boiling water, throw in six ftatin Ut>loid3 and a grating of nutmeg. When quite cold add '^% of borage, two bottles of soda water, and half a pound of 'n ke, when it is ready for use.
The further fabrication of Mimmcr drinks on these lines may be I the ingenuity of individuals, and I am only surprised that ctprtsing chemist has not ere this manufactured dilTeient nnds for the purpose.
jiidices die hard, and the prejudice in favour of sugar has nded down to us for many generations, regardless of tlie fact ' lo many people it is a slow [loisont
k» those with an hereditary tendency lo obesity it is certainly so, pc sooner such people learn this fact the better for their conifmt, jnd even their chances of long lift
eiencc has done much in recent years, by the light it has thrown imc of the bws of nature, to increase the length of life of tliosc profit by its teachings, and if a knowledge of dietetics formed a jf a " liberal education." there is no reason why the '• three tfears and tcn^ of the Psalmist should not be considerably ued, while at the same time these increased yeais miglil be not l^toil and sorrow," but of robust and generous health.
N. E. VORKEnAVlFS.
i
164 The GcntUman's Metgazine.
LIFE IX AN ALGERIAN HILL-TOIVN.
WE see plenty of Arabs and a little of Arabian life in the to clustering along the Algerian coast. But, to behold people as ihey were yesterday, are to-day, and will be to-mon we must push up country to the estremcst French colonial se nients. One cannot help comparing these new places with sir towns in Queensland. We have only to change the Arabs Australian aborigines, and it would not be ditTicult for a travelle imagine himself in Australia. The European homes are sin usually one-sioreycd, roughly-built huts, with a few more preteni building stuck in between. The climate is much the same ; abundance of flowers verj- similar.
My hcad-quarters were at the town of SouV-Ahras, havi
popubtion of about six thousand, of which five thousand were
Arabs. The odd thousand comprises five hundred Frenchmen,
a mixture of about five hundred Jews, Maltese, Italians, and Spani
Just as in Australia, so here, even" shanty where drink is sa
called an " hotel." The French colonists appear to live by ko
hotels, cafes, restaurants, cigar-shops, &c ; a few are in " busii
such as ii is. But there is practically no opening-out of new cot
and little clearing-off of primeval forests (except on the northen
of the hills) such as we see going on in all our English 'coli
The Arabian Europeans open their shops about seven, but they
from half-past ten to ha!f-i>ast two or three for dejeumr and a !
Then they run on till seven in the evening — if they hav<
customers. If you want to buy anything— cigars, drapery, grocer
--and the owner of the shop is not in, you have only to send tl
off to the nearest caf^, and keep shop until he returns, and pn
the owner will come back with him, and perhaps serve you if I
^hat you want.
But It is not the ways of Europeans which interest us in » li^e this. It is the life and habits and associations of the
Life tn an Algerian HiU-Tou-n. 165
^gares which are moving Ihruiigh ihc afreets as dignilied as if ihey
ivcrc ancient Roman senators— or who are t)*in(^ packed like snrdincs
in a tin, on ibc causeways, r^early all of ihcm fast atleep. Their long
Sty woollen bumnusn arc furnished wiih a hood, hkc n monk's cowl,
which is pulled over the hMd during the greatest heat of the day.
TIk head is closcl]: cropped or shaven, and covered with the many
folilf of the turban, which Initer is wound round again and again
^iihabrown-colotircd woollen cord, The turlian, therefore, makes
* o^tal pillow, and the Arab finds s. cheap and tolerably clean bed mntif doorstep. Except when bathing— which 1 can readily btfaeie, from ihc strong smell of humanity among them, the town Aaia uldom indulge in~thcy never seem to lake off these woollen fumentv They Uve in (hem, sleep in them— sometimes actually VRk >a them. The gaimcnis get older and older, like our old- bhigoed buckskin breeches ; but age does not seem to wither them iCy much. \\'hcn these garments begin to go, ihey go with a nin. Hetcare a few ancient Arabs walking about (many uf them live to ttcajcof a bnndrcd years — there is no reason why ihey should not be for ever if it is true that it is work and anxiety which knock a BUI Dp) who resemble so many rag-merchants. 1 am very fond of iKiqnitics, and should much like to know the exact age of some of I^TeQcrable garments. I feel sure they dale Ijeyond the time of ^ pment generation. We arc told that the Children of Israel *ndtrcd forty years in the Wildcincss, and yet their clothes waxed Ultld. I can readily believe the narrative now; but it is a bad job b Ihe tailoring liuuncss. I have only seL-n one Arab tailor's shop 'iKe I came here, and he was evidently making some new clothes *» the young Arab " mashers."
Bet, if the tailor's art is not very busy, the cortl-maker's evidently
* Some of the ragged old burnouses have been stitched and
W^hed over and over again, iinttl they are like the old knife the
'"•Of set such store by, which had had six new blades and five new
^diei, and yet was as good as ever. Here and there, stalking
"^Jeatcally about, we come across fine specimens of manhood clad in
"^'tiand tidy robes. The young Arabs of about tweniyihree or
"'Otit arc roost of them fine fellows j but they are not so picturesque
^ the ragged-clad, grcy-bcarded, and blear-eyed old men. Here
^yarc in hundreds — artists' models, every one of them— silting,
"^Uatbsg, standing, walking ; but chiefly squatting, and none of
"i<in working !
Somcof the younger Arabs are splendid physical specimens of outnanity. They average about five feel nine to ten— some are six
i
1 66
The GenlUman i Magazine.
feet in height Their eyes are large, lustrous, and ptcaaani to \«k u ; their fine limbs bronzed as if tlie/ had been cast m a Kieod metal
The Arab boys arc everywhere, but generally where the* aieM wanted, as boy? ate nil the world over. The chief induitiy ataecx ihem seems to be boot-Wacking, snd I roughly calculated UKtcwt six boys to cvcty pair of European boou. They swoop do-n m >-ou like mosquiiocs vfhcn you come out of your "hotel," in nhii httcr place your boots arc not cleaned. Tl»en you proceed l shady comer and hold a tevh. I am oot acquainted with i Arabic, but I am fairly up in wty native Lancashire dialect I bm found ihc latter very useful in Gcmiany, Italy, France, SwiuaUdL ■ Belgium, Holland, and elsewhere— among beggars and scatnpi So it is here. I gravely address the Arab boys in my Lancashire .ihlte. and dumbfound tlicm, just as I have Gcnnans, Swiss, Niggetj, ud Frenchmen. It is a new lanRuage to them all— never heard uaa the fall of Babel. There is an archaic sound about some of in expressions which may be French. Dutch, G«rman, Arabic, « Malayan. It is a noble dialect, fully capable of expressing a strocwt feeling than you actually feel. A man who can blaspheme in At true I^ncashire dialect cnnnot be beaten even in tlie Western StaUi of America.
I could not have selected a better season for seeing the Arata a their natural worlt-a-day slate than I did, even if I had tried Ii was the Fast of Ramadan or Ramazan. The Arabs don't much, and therefore have to fast much. The Fast of among the Mahometans, is in commemoration of iheir diriiM! book, the Koran, having been communicated to the Great from Heaven.
One thing must be said of these ragged, poor, idle, untan^ Arabs. They "know in whom they have believed " — or, rather, ihtr think they do. There is nothing in any religion more to be respcciw than sincerity. Without that, the highest and raosl authorised fom of religion is a form only. The one thing needful is to " worship Him in spirit and in truth."
I watch and move among my fasting .Arabs in this isolated hill- town. One of my boot-blacks, whom I was initiating into mysteries of the Lancashire dialect, told me on the ijuict that he not Ustcd food for nearly twenty-four hours. He looked hatifff. enough to eat a red hot poker. He was at the " hungry period his life," fifteen or sixteen. I tempted him with a piece of Frend bread ; that is like tempting a gin-drinker with a go of gin. But he
W Life in an Algerian HiU-Town. 167
]]r fmtled, butloncd ap hi» ragged coat across the stomach where icbing pain by, and kept his " Kamaian." JKK Mahometan Arabs are only men, and the old Latin prorarh ■that the chief tendency of mankind is to go wrong. One ■the town of Souk-Ahras, an Arab went wrong. The Arabs, BHahometnnt, are all Icial abstainers. I confess that ihcir ; such does not recommend the practice — that is, if wc arc to
I£ total abstinerKC from alcoholic liquors with their peculiar life. I dare say (his particular Arab broke his pledge. That enough—but to break it during the I'ast of Ranuxan was He may have taken very little, perhaps not sufficient to have cabman happy ; but it got into the only sort of head he Ited. He reeled, he was drunk — during Ram.-U3n I Old and [ men, l>oy3 of every age and calling, immediately gathered [ Uta, and would have lynched him. At least three hundred e bowled and hooted af^cr him through the stinking streets. I d a better idea of the Arabic language for cursini; a man, on ccasioD, than I had done before. Uillingsgate is nothing to it ! Mtive Arab policeman came tip w^th n whip as long and strong PKtralian stockman's. He not only cracked il as loudly, but I ting within the crowd as l.irgc as thai of a circus. Wjtbin banned and protected circle the Mahometan sinner retreated ■aed.
be requisites for the proper observance of the Mahometan fast una^an are, first, that the observer must be a genuine Mussul- He must have passed the period of boyhood (fourteen years), » of "sound mind." The latter ought to be a matter of ml requirement in all people who profess to worship in sincerity. bit requires that observers shall abstain from all kinds of from daybreak to sunset.
f course, in a large .\nib town like Souk-Ahras (the name in c means the "chief market"), even among the Arabs, there :h and poor, speculative people, and people who ate hard-up. ; are Ibfabometan " mashers," with fiowers stuck in their turbans, artj-ing cigarettes behind their eats, as if the latter were quill and poor beggars who are as badly off as the Prodigal Son — u n^ed and quite as lazy.
le weather here just now is what an Englishman tvould call aly hot." In India such Englishmen would probably pass the if cMtemc heat in playing "flyloo." Tlic Arabs do better — 0 to Ele^ I cannot conceive a more sensible thing for a D do on a hot day, when not allowed to eat or drink (except to
I
i6&
The GeniUmaus Magazine.
I
dilnlc water), than to tnooie the hagpy and unnoticed hoim anf until sunset. It U related that an English miser used to go to w early and rejoice because he had cheated his stomach of a The Arab.t du this tciihouc rejoicing, duiing the forty days Kamaxaii fast.
Hut, af Sam Slick sa]rs, there is 9. good dea] of human natae nun. I wandered round the (own, and in the Arab quancr, «: the bclter-off fastcrs wtre fatting just about sundown. Tiictc be a delicate question as to the exact half-second of astroni time when sundown takes place. This has been seitk-d by the of the town subscribing live francs a day for the I-'rcnch bilto} lire a gun when the actual moment of sundown occurs. It «n few minutes before that interesting period when I rambled the chief fasicrs.
Here they are, hands and feet washed (perhaps the only put the body that has been washed for some days], squatting ondi steps, tables, forms. Eveiy man has a cigarette in one hand a match in the other. He has had to include abstinence &0 tobacco in his legitimate fast, although tobacco has come into i since Mahomet's time. Close by him is a cup of Mocha coSce. H tantalising its odorous vapour must be to a man who has been dim ing of coffee and cigarettes all day ! It is like a drill practice. T Arabs down one side the market place and along the three othen all in the s.imc atliuide —cigarettes in one hand and matches io Other, and Mocha coffee close by. Then the gtin fires, the raanA are lit, the cigarettes inhaled, the coffee sijiped, the cous-tom orden and every Mahometan thanks Allah. That short period of refrd ment over, cigarettes and coffee, after gun-firc is the most silent < an Arab's life during the Rama-zan fast.
From sundown to sunrise there is ample time for an emp stomach to be fille<i, especially if its owner carries a full purse, ft haps that stomach gets over-filled, so that the fasting of ncit A comes in, not as a penal infliction, but as a stomachic rest. Itjj sible that indigestion may render fasting useful rather than Oil Arabs, young and old, clean and dirty (but chiefly diny), and ragged— the latter preponderating— stalk about in noi fashion. You cannot help being struck with their dignliicd gaiL was very much impressed with it, until one day the Jehu who driving us with a pair of galloping horses suddenly turned the cort of a street. We came upon a dozen stately Arabs, who scatttn themselves like a flock of sparrows, le.iving their dignity behiodtlil as they gathered up iheir ragged petticoats and fled.
Life ill an .-ll^cyiaii IIiU-Toicn. 169
The younger men seem of a very affectionate temperament.
They wallc about in pairs, with joined hands or their arms round
each other's shoulders, just as I have seen affectionate lads do at
school The men are fond of their children, and you see bronzed
Arabs of forty or fifty carrying their babies about and pelting them.
Soys of ten and twelve are the handsomest human creatures I ever
nw, and contrast with the younger girls, who seem very plain-
fcatnred indeed. I have only seen two young Arab women, and, of
oonise, they were swathed from head to foot in garments whose cut
•DdpatterB I have never yet observed in fashion -books. I judged they
wte young because their faces were covered up, except the eyes.
There are plenty of old Arab women about, but they are chiefly
Jnresses, and Mahometan women who have grown so old and
whered that to keep their faces covered is utterly unnecessary.
Sl Anthony is said to have been tempted by the Dcvit in the shape
tf a iromaiL I feel certain that he did not present himself in the
l^nesi of an old Arab woman !
Many of the oldest men are completely blind, for ophthalmia is wj common. They are striking figures, these blind old men, with dukbronzedfaces,sightle5seyes, white moustachios and beard. They ■re led about by their sons or friends, and gaze upwards at the boi ain they cannot see, but whose blazing heat plainly tells them it is in the sky. One or two are mutely begging ; they are evidently •oopoor to have many friends.
the Arab caf^s are all closed during the day, and give th.at part of (he town where they are most abundant quite a Sundayish appearance. The causeways in front of them are crowded with •quitting and sleeping Arabs, whether the place be sunshiny or shady. When sundown sets in the cafds will open, their Arab customers will waken, coffee be brewed, confusion of tongues begin, lambling will go on — and the easily fed and amused crowd will be luppy for five hours at a stretch.
There is one building of note in the Arab town of Souk-Ahras — the town hall. Its architecture is of the French hotel de ville style, and it is said to have cost 2a,QQal., all of which was paid by the Arabs as a tax or octroi duly on the butter, dates, vegetables, &c,, they bring into the town. In return for this tribute, the Arabs are allowed to have a mosque, from whose minaret we hear daily calls to prayer.
Out^de the town, in a broken-down, wooden-paled enclosure, is a sight to delight the eyes of an antiquarj', and one that would make half the directors of museums in France covetous. It looks
I70
The GeniUman's Magazine.
like a grave-yard, or rather Uke the back-yard of » mmmneiitil
sculptor. It is crowded with ancient Roman and Carthagiiuin ittB
and statues (most of the latter sculptured in white marble, life-Bze,ud
with many pretendons to artistic beauty). Many of the nunuinall
aie engraved with Funic inscriptions — the relics -of the great obt
Mediterranean rival of Rome All have been brought from Ite
immediate neighbourhood of this hill-town, and there are manj ■!
left Grass and abundant weeds grow in and about this n^
"museum," which is utterly uncared for, although its contenait
archseolc^ically priceless. The ancient marble statues are ptcsd
over with moss and lichen ; and the engraved altars and stonet at
fslling a prey to atmospheric action. No man seems to own thai
oi caie for them ; and I was told that half the members (rf «U
we in England would call the " town council " of the French cdsuli
of this important town could neither read nor write.
J. E. TAYLOL
171
n
FLOWERS AND THE POETS.
!X the following pages nn attempt is made to throw a liiilc light upon some references to Rowers ia the writings of the poets. Ipite of the untiring vigiLince which com rat' ma tors have brought lhe«r opon the subjcci, ibcre «ill remains in this dcpaameiit, as in fcera, much that is obscure if not incoinprchctisiblc. The remark plies to our earlier poets especially, and the fact is scarcely to be mdered at wh«n wc remember how many of the popular names for Ken have disappeared before the adviinc« of civilisation, and how, ») of those still in vogue, many enjoy but a precarious existence
remoteT part« of the country still untouched by modernism, loihei fruitful source of eon fusion is ihi: muitiplicity of names giren
the same flowci, and, conversely, the large number of flowers lown by the same name. ITie application of these names is obvious oogh in some cases : thus it is matter for surprise that the term ydtowweed" should be given to but three plants; so, too, the laiM expression "son before the father" — in allusion to flowers Itpcanng before leaves, or younger flowers overtopping older ones — e Gild used only five times. It is more remarkable to notice that >e word " water-lily " in a rustic mouth may denote one of four o»(o^ and " cowslip " one of no less than nine ; and it is not dear why •tte should be six kinds of " soldiers," seven of "' snake-flower," six of
^ttfi-toot," and so on- But the converse is siiU more striking. Thus
*2l probably be a revelation to most people that, as any reader of *''Dict»Oiiaiy of English Plant Names "can assure himself, the poor ^ stoncctop has to tn-ar the burden of thirly-thrcc aliases, while •'e are no less than fifty five for the blackberry ; these numbers are 'Paaedbythcwild rose and the foxglove, both of which have sixty- ' synonyms, b)* the hawthorn with seventy-two, and the early spring ^b (Orikis mofotld) with eighty. Moreover, there are aa many
Weniy wild flowers to which the word "star" is applied in some ^y or another; in respect of " stars," therefore, the musicbali is a «1 second to the floral world. That this tends to throw difficulties
the commentator's way goes without saying : Corydon may bind
The Gentleman's ASagazine.
Ihc shcares with TTiesiylU, but all the time ihat slow tfaou^ gripping brain is weaving bonds or another and no less cffectm! Firstly, then, to attempt ihc solution 0/ a mfstcry banded fiotn Eliubcthan times. In Spenser's tixty>founh sonnet be among his ladj^s channs
Her tc««7 brawj like bitcliled fajbrncwrw. Editor after editor has nllowcd this word to ptss without the eflbrt to get at the poet'9 meaning ; in this respect companng &voural)!y wilh the worthy hedge -school mistress, who at any rate succeed in making out part of ilw name by which the graminivon king of Bab>lon is known to historj-, and although she had at leq to admit a limit to her capacity, and the pupil was told to "1 'Neaar.'and let un go," ibis did not happen until heroic attacks fa been delivered upon the awkward array of consonants. But isthi so much difficulty in uiidersunding what our word means? 0 thing may be uken for granted, namely, that the bclamourc bai white flower ; we also know lhat Spenser, with his ready and rv fancy, was always coining names for his characters expressive of ll jiecuUar Uait or traits of each— Fidcssa, Duessa, Sansfoy, Sansloy.ai many others will at once occur to readers of his great rooaiM And now for a possible solution of the problem. He is writing d sonnet, and pauses in search of a rhyme ; ke it thinking of tlu jwa <frt?/,and being fatniliar with their language from long residence amoa country jwoplc, the rustic name for snowdrops, " Fair Maids," is \ once suggested ; he has already— in the " Fairy Queen "— used l| word " bclamourc " with the meaning of a " fair maid " ; here is ji^ the rhyme he wants, and in a uicc he has forged fetters which In held the comtncnialors of three centuries in hopeless durance. Aj should it be objected lhat, although iheword may have been come in tlie way indicated, there is yet nothing to show why some otb flower with an an.tlogous name may not have been meant, tlien tl objector might fairly be asked to give an instance. Having ransadd the " Dictionary of English Plant Names " without finding any go< aliemalivc, we do not think much of our friend's chance of success his quest.
Lear in his madness is presented to us
Crowned wiih rank rumilei ind futrow-weeds, ^'ti>i hiirdoiti, licinlock, iivtilc, cuckDO-fiowen, Ac.
So the third and fourth folios, and, with the slight variant JvAk their two pri^tleccssors ; the »]U3rtos give har-doehi; Staunton, and other editors alter hardocki to Imrdetki. Farmer su
/•lowers aitd (he Poets.
'73
, tTiiotmi; a verHe itom Draifton whvre mention is miuJe or )lb Saner, which has, Imwcvcr, remuiii«<I iinideniiried (o ibc present ill) ; wtiile otlicn, nifirt (titlficuli lo i>I(^i»i.-, prefer tkarhKk. For ocr- stivcs, w are strongly of Dr. Prior's o;>ii)iur). tliai ihc reading of the folios shoold be left at pc-icc, and thai fiardotk is merely a local comipiioo of hurdfxk ; indeed in tddiei^ Still used by Cheshire folk, wt hire wliai is i>lainly a half-way trord.
And cin anything but the burdock be meant by the htdiodu of I.;ly'icuriouii>lay "AWoman in the Moon"? He makes Ptndots, aterbcfoolini; all her admirers, say to one of them who has sbowD cKomon foUy, if tlvai were possible, than the rest —
Ttiy bcid it (uU of heJittkti, Iphicle^
f»itiioIi'i rHXe to this is " HedJocke* :— i.c. Hedgehogs" (!)— dark- ntn mibic here and no mistake. A writer in AWw and Qturks >*«« jeirs ago proposed lo read headaehe, a countrj- name for poppy iWn, and this reading one might perhaps say something in favour ^ ■i cnly lis application could bu diirovered. It must frankly be sdmiticd, however, tljal if the burdock be meant, or rather the adhe- sitfruitsorbura of that plant, the application of the word is difficult. l^liai we arc in searcli of is some such expression as " lo have the lind full of burs," meaning, when used of someone, that you doubt "itposie^tuonofacbim to rank with Solomon and other cnsamples of *woni- Is there such a phrase ? If so, the liability of a heedless P^fsoa to gel himself covered with burs while nioocliing along the "IfsWe would naturally give rise lo it. Then there is the other word "but," with the sense of a whirling — Kcats's " bur of smothering ^■Kio" at once comes to mind— and if there really be such an ex- I'Won u the one we allude to the reference may originally have ■^f" to ihii other word, and afterwards, by a confusion of terms, the '"" of the burdock would usurp tlie pkice of its homonym. And if «ii be not the explanation of Lyly's phrase — and the aimihrily of •^•Jiii' to " hediocke " should not be lost sight of — one cannot '™*'i fiom doubting whether ihis ancient ciux will ever be •"^Icd.
^^onsNlering now tlie scries of terms, hardock, cddick (and per- ^liediockc too), hordock, burdock, we are met by the fact of the ' ^n diifcrcncc between them being that the changes ate run? "P* the vowel in the first syllable of each ; hence the difficulty lelt "'lotne in admitting the identity of Uie hardock and burdock will WtA\<ii vanish.
vw- ccLJUti. NO. rgiS- K
ijA The Gentletnan' $ Afagazine.
We do not much 13ce Tennyson's description of the labuni " dropping wells of £re " : this we cannot help thmking unt nature, and as such unworthy of so accurate an observer. P nomenclature, usually fairly correct in respect of easily noticet may be talien to illustrate our objection. The laburnum is ca! rustics Golden-Qhsxn — just as the acacia-tree is the Silver-Q also Co/ifrn-Drops and Crtf/fftA-Shower. On the other hand, passage from the " May Queen,"
And llie wild inaish-marigold tkitut litejirt in iwamps and hollows |
the intense vividness of the deep yellow flowers as seen em upon their background of dark green leaf is happily hit off ; : popular names Fin o' Gold, and the Scottish VfUX-Fire (\\ show that our peasantry have " found and made a note o peculiarity.
Spenser's astrophel (or astrofell) we agree with Nares and
including the authors of the " Dictionary of English Plant B
in thinking to be the starworl {Aster Tripolium), the only ]
representative of the familiar true asters of our gardens. A ]
in a poem eulogistic of Sidney, by a contemporary of S
wherein the astrophel is mentioned, is supposed by the author
"liictiorjary" to ix)int to the speedwell, one of the many
Bowers. This is, however, an obvious mistake, for the wri
scribes it as a
.... ilfluie tluLt is both red and blew ;
It fiist grows ted and then to blew doth fade.
And in the midst thereof a star appcares. As fairly fotm'd as any star in skyes :
That hcaibe of some stariighl is called by naate —
which is incorrect in every particular if the speedwell be me would apply very fairly to the starwort. But we ought not to of finding the word " starlight " still in use to denote a flo' thus of settling this vexed question, unless, indeed, it is al shine.
The musk rose of the poets can hardly be the Jiosa x Keats was very fond of this flower, calling it " the sweete wild nature yields," and in one of the sonnets he says it far the garden rose. ^Ve meet with it again in the " Ode to a
gale," as—
The comins muih-nst full of dewy wine.
The muim'rous haunt of flies on summer eves—
Flowers and the Poets. 175
and he tells us how Cynthia
I>j.
Sweet as a musi-reii upon new-made haj'.
It ia bIso among the flowers called for by Milton "to strew ihe hnnat heaise where Lycid lies." In these, and other cases, it is most likely that the dog-rose is meant. Hie cassia of " Comus,"
Nard and taiiia's balmy smelli,
is understood to be the lavender : the passages in Virgil's " Georgics " »nd " Bucolics " where mention is made of this word bear out the identiGcatioii, which is one of long standing, dating from before old Gemde's time in fact On the other hand, Keats's cassia is, without Jwbt, the so-c&Ued acacia -tree {Hobinia Pseudacaa'a), for he mentions
the drooping floweis Of ■aihiled tastia fiesh from summer showers.
"* word seems to have been derived from "acacia" in the same **y *s " anemone " has become "an emony "^namely, by mistake '^ tlie fiist syllable for the indefinite article. The cassia alluded *" ^ the Laureate in his sonnet " Love and Death "—
When luimng round a eastia full in view Death ....
.... first met his sight —
apparently the acacia-tree too; it would scarcely be one of the
V kinds of true cassia known to Ihe botanist.
^ is to be understood that the long purples woven into her
*ia! by Ophelia are certainly the trusses of Orchis masatla.
*^ was always some little doubt about the identification until the
,^ "dead-men's fingers" was discovered as a local designation of
. QoiTcr. Doubts have also been expressed whether by the "iong
\fP^^ of the dale " of Tennyson's fine " Dirge " this flower be
J- •Xded ; but we see no reason why Orchis masmla might not be
ji- *^tl upon 3 grassy grave. It certainly cannot be the Northampton-
^ long purples, which, as Clare's use of the word shows, is the
t»le loosestrife — a stream-side plant The only alternative we can
k
, — ^est is the musk mallow, formerly much used to decorate graves; V)gh it must be admitted that the phrase " long purples " would ^ be felicitous in this connection.
Ought we to say "lube-rose" or "tuberose"? Some lexico- ^"^phers allow of a choice, but we hope Dr. Murray will be less '^'tapliant. The plant undoubtedly reached this country via France,
._ .',ir _■'.■.-» -■ ^--CZi^-^-
*. fc^
— --» T-t mET cDndode ws ^ji t:d: rra wj toied ,_-i7:-j -TV* ii nane irhitcio. t:^ r:Cir':™^nT in the pies 1 ue ain'ax of some i«nj ± "in T-i-JT?^ as a trisjllihlc, : TT. iTiS B^ri^ns charge of . i: -'rri" ibs tusSc, quoted
■.^^- I-^B-v
■Jt L - -.
IS -7'".r* a: ^'>pe>l in nidi
5ir:izrzre ca" ihe poem in
?: r'r — ■•^^:t'jT Tbe vase nuj
>s? £:i: - is in acaptest, lot
-■ST =^:te.
.:" ii aaner. But . := ■:=r^=^ ~. ±a "Wood-
Ir. {_'.-.. -.r.^ .-.:7'.:r.- ;: -..-^j -P—i i^— :> ;-— ".res -.he T'or-'-'jir praciit* '/■-^ ,'.■ •.'■; -;-..r.i :::>.= -.-b: r.-rr_-;> ::t ; t'::-; — -.ha: is, the rum* ff tV.ev ->^ -";v.:j::he f^r=; :,--. £,. -.:-,^ :he - ■::« : ibr instance, j^,;..; '-i. :r.; r^-:-: 7-1 — ->s :--ce " -i" OTiica." dropping the fir-.-, r.-. rr.- ■ C-. j. ,r:\7 , »hi:h ce- ::ei tr.-: i; -j \ quince, and not o(« «/•-■.'; :;.ir.y tr-,r.; y/.-nt? irL:"- ;l-. e--,:i". c'.iim to the title japonic*' in \-:r.': ft.r.:',r. Po:ia,:tha luUrssi beccraes '■tuberose"; and** t.U'.':r'.':M t-'imits of maniiV.d other i-star.ces,
'I f...r': ':3n l>e r.o do'^bt as to wha: Poe had ir. his mind's eje i*cO alh:'l;nt; in "Al .Varaaf ■— to '-the gemmy flower of Trebiwd^ riiij.Titij';'!;' f'.r the footnote reference to the intoxicating qualities^' tl,.- l,',r.'7 fii-'i'lc ihtrefrrjm is proof conclusive to the botanUt. Th'* h,„„;/ lias l-.:cn known for many centuries : all-and who indeedlu^
' *'"'• 7'^'; ■'^'^"oi'hon for their guide, have taken that memorable
j„„„„ J, wWi ti.e ten thousand, will remember how, when ncaiing
Fiouers and the Poets.
177
Tiebiiond and home, thcsoldicis findingnt-inybechivesin the valley
T«rocecded to annex ihc honc)', with the result ihnt they became
vntoxicated; wcaiealso told how the greater part of the amiy sufTercd,
Oie ground about the camp being sttcwn with bodies, as if a battle
tad been fought there. The csample, we suspect, must have been
muag;iou3, just as in the Indian legend the introduction of vrine b
ssoibed to Jamshid's wife, who thought to ]>oison herself with the
jnict of the grape, but the magical cfTccu induced others to attempt
Micide in the same way. Aristotle informs us that the honey deprived
ihcsc of their senses who ate of it, and cured those who were already
•okI— 1 proof this of a lurking belief in homceopathy on the part of
f the Stagyrite. Dioscorides speaks of two plantsas yielding intoxicating
't' My ; one, from which a more limpid kind was obtained, he calls
'^•Soltthron; and he refers to the second as Khododcndros — Lt. the
oleander. Hut the old l-'rcnch traveller Tourncfori aequitted the
*)'eandn of the charge, and showed that two closely related plants
'"^ rtsponstble for ilie mischief. These are a rhododendron
'*■ /wr/rVww), now commonly cultivated in gardens, and the )-el!ow
*'"'*5i (A. ponlita), the species which produces ttiose deliaw
, ^"^scs JO common in flower-shops during springtime. Toumefort
"*<) both these plants Chamttrhododtndros—i.t. false oleander — in
***'On to the misulce of Dioscorides, a mistake which obviously led
°* to speak of his flower as "misnamed."
^Vho knows llie cglamor? Readers of Browning will remcmb« description of ilie flower with which, we arc lold, was linked the '*****« of Soidello's beaten competitor —
A pUnt diejr h.nc yid.lini; a thrce-Idverl bell Which ^vhitcni SI ihc hcnri cic niKin, and alls Till erenins i evening giws il to hei eal« To dear away wiih bucIi foi)p)itcn iliitigs A« aic *n cycsurv to ilie mom : ihis tirbgs Him In ihelt mini!, and Itcan his very name.
To all retguests for information about this plant we have been com- pelled to return a non foaumui ; neither has It yet been out good fortune to meet someone better [losted up than ourselves. What is ccttatn is that among the several thousand Italian plant-names in ibc Conlesa di San Giorgio's ■' Calalogo I'olyglolto" there is none at all like "eglamor." Itut when one recalls how they did net bring the good news from Ghent to Aix, can the charge of unjustified scepticijm be laid to one's door if the suggestion be mooted that the flower is no less mythical than is the gallop of Dirk and his Cricnds ?
i
I
178 The Gentleituxns Magazitte.
And has Milton in " Comiu " served us in the saoM way, mvi> that uumbling-bloclc of the coninieiilators, hxmoay? By tlic genera) voice (he question is answered in the affimiatii-c: Thiu Profeuor Ma.tson : ** Milton invents this rume for the \x\t\.\), darkish 'leaved plant of his fancy " ; and again, " It has been suggested that the reference is to Hasmonin, as the old name lot Thessaly, an esjiecial land of magic among the Greeks." Loobtig at the <Ie:ic:ription with a botanist's eye one cannot but sutjiect lla idea to be cone<:t. The plant is so common, ne are told, ihit " the dull swain trends on it daily with his clouted shoon " ; and jct it does not (lower in this climate — failure which would render il liable to rapid extinction by its more highly- favoured rink Nevertheless the agrimony, which was some years ago said to be still sold in Bristol market under ilie name of harmony, has bea suggested ; but, inasmuch as the agrimony flowers frtiely and has not prickly lea>-es, the suggestion may be summarily dismnsed. One may allude in [lossing to the Chtisibn symbolism as would seem read into Milton's lines by Coleridge in one of the Lay Sermons — symbolism springing from and buttressed by the suppo^d derivation of the word hxmony from a'fiu and nii-»f.
Some misconception seems to have existed as regard's Milton's choice of flowers for the imaginary obsequies of Lycidas. Professor Masson says : *' It is the call upon all the valleys of the landscape:, and the banks of all the secret streamlets, to yield up their choicest flowers, and those dearest to shepherds, that they may he strewn over the dead body " ; and in the notes to the poem lie speaks of the flowers as being "of selected hues." Selected hues? — why, the whole spectrum is represented here ! But let us have the passage with all its lovely music ■
Bring ihc r»lhc ]itiniiofc thai foruilicn dicJ,
The tufied crow-lov, and iinle jcuamin?.
The while pink, and Ihe jiimsy (loik'd witb jet.
The glowing violel,
The musk -rose and Ihc wcll-sllir'd woodbine,
W'ilh cowslips luan ihnt haiij; the peotivc licod,
And cvcfy (lower that sld cnihioidcry weirt :
Hid ammamhus all hU bcauly shed,
And dafladilliK fill iheir cups wilh ICMt,
To sirew ihe lauteal hentw where Lycid llej.
No ! The flowers are selected not for their hues, but for tlieir fragrance^Si great point with all nations that make funereal use of flowers— and not only for their fragrance, but for their symboUsni as well. Thus the primrose and the ciowioe {i.e. hyacinth) have long
Flowers and the Poets.
179
been associated with death— the primrose especially with early leath ; and in the East the jessamine is still planted upon tombs. As for the pink, we know that in Wales, where floral decoration of Jie grave has never passed out of custom, this flower is frequently •mployed. Moreover, the pansy and the violet, as symboUcal of vmembrance and faithfulness, are touchingly in place, and, with its neaning of constancy in love, the woodbine also j while the rose, ly a common and widely-extended practice strewn over and )lanted upon graves, may be looked upon as pre-eminently the lower of the dead. We know not of any funereal symbolism ssodated with either the cowslip or the dafTodil Perhaps the owslip, on account of its similarity to the primrose, may formerly ave done duty for it at a funeral ; but the more obvious appli- stion is to be found in the supposed sadness of the nodding flowers, hile the corona of the dalTodil suggests a receptacle for the tears led in memory of the departed.
SPENCER MOORE.
i8o
The Gentleman's Magazine.
A GREAT RAILWAY CENTRE.
A GREAT deal has been said snd wTitlcn concerning our ttilj ways ; but wc have not ycl arrived at the point where "thn iar and no farther " becomes a necessary command. One halfi world, wc are assured, does not know how the other hair In-et: i statement embodying a reproach to the " other half," for not sup ing the requisite information. In this paper I propose to afToid I few facts and figures showing how a not inconsiderable poriioa ' the world lives and enables others to liva Human societjr is together by mutual obligation : every man is, to a certain dependent upon his fellows, and it should be, therefore, a matlet^ supreme interest to each to know what others arc doing. That m cannot be said to be well informed who is ignorant of what contemporaries are busying themselves about, even in the le heroic walks of life ; nor is he a true patriot who can regard so ignorance, either in himself or in others, with cjuanimiiy.
It is safe to affirm, however, that even in these practical and prosaic days a large proportion of the people know more of ancieoi history than of the history that is being made every day round about them and in their midst— history in which they themselves, in iH probability, play an important, though unconscious, part We rod the talc of Troy with delight ; wc meditate in wonder upon tie glories of Tyre and Sidon ; but the records of preseni-day doinft fall fiat upon our cars. The schoolboy eagerly devours the myth that Dfedalus made himself wings of wax with which lo escape ftoo Crete, and yet remains oblirious of the fact that his neifihbours art daily engaged upon more wonderful and valuable inventions. It s true all the world over thai "distance lends enchantment to tlie view," and the enclianlmenl seems to increase in proportion lotbe distance, even as the I'bnet Venus is said to acquire great<.'r Imllian^ the farther it leaves the earili. And yet it is true that we arc litii? in times with which the days of Homer and of Vitgil cannot be coot- pared for importance — limes in which actions far more momentotf than those recorded by Liv^s and T.-icilus aic performed vritlij
Great Railway Centre.
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kpidiif and foltowed by more weighty remliiL p'octs and figures re drj", I know ; but, like many other dry things they arcof incstini- lUt valae when rightly used and ipprcciaicd. Accordin); to the nnliy old fossil who once lectured our good frtcnd Tony Veck, facts ind fibres are of the utmost imporuince in this busy world, and I la decidedly of that opinion.
R think 1 shall be wel! vithin the bounds of truth if I tay that, le yatt majotiiy of tlic travelling ]iul)lic, Crewe is less a talwion than a name. In hiii jicrcgimations from one part of England to another by the London and North- Western K.-iilway, or iVw ether tyxtenu that work in conjunction with it, the wayfarer is Kcuiocally infomied, either by a polite official or by his ticket, that bt 1111 iniTcl " iv'ii CrcKc" and in the course of his journey he pro- ■Uf spends a few minutes on one of the several pUiforms at that biif centre; possibly he may even suffer the annoyance exjierienced bf (be " oncrovRcd king of Ireland " some shon time since, and be kAtoiind for a night when important businet.s awaits him at his iontocy's end ; but Cicwc remains a name, nevectheless— only this "id nothing more. The traveller thinks of Crewe merely as a busy Knireof converging lines; as a place through which he must pass, "id It which hi; will probably have to change trains in the course of ^» journey. The town of Crcwc is literally and metaphorically in 'V background: it has few visitors of sxt-j kind, and hardly any of 'i»iinction- 1 am awaie that at first sight this statement will a|i|)ear >l^nto question. Names among the most learned and illustrious 't"5»n to the civtUsed world may be quoted fr()m a certain visitors' ^k vithin the confines of the borough. Ilie ;o!ume contain.s the fDliires of kings, prinoes, viceroys, ambasEiidors, statesmen, "dtntins, lillirattun — men of all nations and distinctions. In that ^^ may be seen the mystic characters that spell the names of 4IJlian khedivehs, Turkish pashas, Indian rajahs, Persian nobles, 5W even Malagasty envoys. There, loo, among a host of dis- ""goiAed names is the autograph of the man whose exploits have "Oilly engaged the aticniion of the world— the intrepid Stanley; " Ctcwc works was one of the last places visited by the great ex- '"tt prior to starting on his wonderful march to the relief of F.min. ShI I have !« the cat out of the bag in referring to Crewe works, *t*ecn which and Crewe town 1 diaw a sharp distinction, In the *** of Crewe there is practically nothing to be seen: in Crewe ■""is very much may be seen and learned. The scientific man may 'fihl the «hole day in these great locomotive shops and go away ■Ihout seeing half that is there. Nay, one might easily spend a
I
l83
The GetUkman's Magazine.
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week without nuking a complete exploration. The stranger i to Crewe [o " do " the irotki raielir seei the town. ]{e is by rait from the main-hne station direct into the workshops, : istobeseen, signsthe viutor&'book.anJ leturm ait hccanic: Hciiil blissful ignoranceof Crewe, and Crcwe is equalljr unconscious of Ud He is |>robahly unaware even of the fact that he i« for the timebdif vrithin the prcciiicis of a borough which revels in the posscsstcn <f i Ton-n Council of about as cantankerous a nature as the moit 4 tankerou« Town Council can |Kissib!y be, which is saying a grcnt 6/k Men uf world-wide fame, men whom crowds would follow in opt) mouthed wondermeiit wcie ihey to apiK-ar in (he streets, have va^ Crewe, and the inhabitants ha%-e pursued the even — somciiiBl uneven — tenor of thdr way subliindy iinconsci(?ufi of the fact. ' The town itself has been somewhat waggishly, and no< ioappl fniiately, compared to a " hup of badly-bumcd bricks." Fifty yoj ago there was no town at all. A farmhouse or two and i H scattered thatched collages ocrgpied the site of the borough wli now boasts a population of close upon thitty thousand. K kM poet (?), describing the place as it appeared in tlie time of the Gw Reform Bill, refers to the Crcwc of that day in lines more remid able for accuracy than elegance —
< • . ■ A hamlet knuwn u Crewe, CoiiirlMlni! ofi hoiiM^ ui iwo,
Or bcilcr lermeJ i khnniy : A tew farmhoUKt old and mean. With here and ihcrc a col, were icen, And nnlivii few and {ax between ;
For Creweites Iticn ncte macty.
So scanty were the natives of the locality in 183a that ih mustered only 14S for the whole parish— Si malcsand 67 females, that year the whole poi>ulation was numbered, and the name, asc^K occupation of every househwldei is in possession of the writer. ItC werethen only 27 houses in the township, and, as to thcinhabitMBj have documentary evidence of the humiliating fact that of '■ whafcH traders and capitalists, clergy, office-clerks, professional and odi educatedmen,"ihere were— none. Even the old gentleman who W thecensusof the parish, or, as he cnllsit, " this account al>o^'e,''hlri redeems the locality from its utter lack of " other educated men' for, though he carefully records the fact that Elizabeth Galley kqH *' scool,"' it is evident that he had never been a scholar there. U had been, then the old da;ne must have enjoyed somewhat Ofigil notions of oithogra]>hy, for the document which old Richard Shen
A Grtat Railway Centre.
183
r^hat was the runctionar)-'s name— has \eh behind i$ a cuTiosit;r '»
I 1 hsvt menlioned these few fnctx in order that (he levolution iwrooght \ff the establishment of the London and Noith-Weslern jrRaihrar Company's works may be duly a|)i)rccia[i:d. The 14S lis h«rc grown to aboHl thirty thousand. There ate agood ame may think too many— doctors nnd lnn-)-ers in the the ckrgy are welt represented, in most of the familiar ain.iiions. Ollice-clciks may be counted by the score— ay, by nadrcd — whitv, to cap all, there Is, as 1 have snid, a full-blown 'decidedly mihtant Town Council. Mote than six hundred pan daily o\-er the spot where filty years ago the good old hhirc farmer gra/cd his laz>- cattle, and the traditional Cheshire kid milked her gcnile " Blossom."
r first train passed through Crcvrc on the fourth of July, 1837. iw gives the date as the sixth of July ; but Umdshaw is here ■r, 83 a medal sctuck in memory of the occasion proves. The I Junction Railway, as it was then called, united London and I wiih Mancheiter and Liverpool. It was commenced in , Mr. J. Ix)cke being the engineer, and the co^i of its construaion I tnillioa and a-half. The opening of this line really marks the n^ oC Crewe, though the practical development of this ini- t centre did tMi commence till five years later— in 184:1. Prior to 1 1830— the Manchcstcrand Liverpool linehad been constructed I ia 1837 became amalgamated with the tlrand Junction, thus , with other additions, the I>ondon and North Western system, the Grand Junction was opened, the rate of travelling was ■hat stower than ii is now, though it was reckoned exlrenicly ; that time. From liirmingham to Wolverhampton, a distance at 1 1^ miles, w.is a joutncy of 40 uiinuies ; the distance ilhesame [tlace to Siaflbtd, srjf miles, was traversed in i hour liatites; 10 Whitmore, 43 J miles, t hour 55 minutes; to Crewe, iles, 2 hours 14 minutes ; to Hartford, 65I miles, 2 hours 59 I ; to A\'3rTington, 7,8 miles, 3 hours 34 minutes ; to Man- », 97J miles, 4 hours 30 minutes ; to Liverpool, same distance These figures arc all official. When the Grand Junction ' was opened a medal was struck to commemorate the event. On J*>e »dc appeared a reprcscmaiion of the Ixmdon and Liverpool Knts converging at liirmingham, and on the reverse the distances tad times given above, together with the times at which the various Itsins started. Four first-class trains left Binninfiham during (he by, Ute times being ; a.m., 11.3a a.m., 2.30 p.m., and 7 p.m.
-i --■; ;.-: 1^--.. ~— ^r: :; '.-iTi vi i i^ti- ce:i:re comni
■;-.;; i:-.-. -u:^ V. -jL^ ■_-—.. ::"i-.4 i^ur^r^e wcts r.ut s
■j..;^ -.-d ;-■ .-.: : .■■-^^■:z^==L iT:rfL 17 th- '.■:i:i;;:y. I: was sd
-.c-i.— — n^; -^t :-~— i.-;i Tl-.e^-i ij^-i ihi; rhe j^lace woul
■■; vi;^.:.- :■; :. :.-.-—- .r^t zir v.e :-;t:=cr;cti:ri ar.d refair 0
V. -. -ii. '.■■-: .-:.-: .'.:i:~ ^ '■V;7i= »;re Ijcattd at E(
— t-*" . . :.-. i -_■ 1..- --i-i-:r:~ := :j Warrir.^on had
■ iv. ;:::, " :: _■ :-_:! "".j:-. Ii;;;r_ r.ow Lord Winm:
T- " - --.- i-.i 1: r L.-.c H.J', ■■'.";^.;^;--. ref'jsed to part n
..;.', . -. ;-.ii .1- : .7 ".t -T^;- :", :: "- '"'rrishops, and thus 3
•.'.z -,;-.-. -rt : :-i. A::::ri.-^". ■. Crewe was decided upt
:-. '.-.t ::.-.-_. -^LT. :-iT. :'-; G"-iJur.c:ion Works werert
.'■--. ::-.i-. -_::.-; -.-_r; -;7: :r. Crs^e proper only about th -i. Vir.-.=. ::.; z^- jive- ^i:-/; beir.^- spread over the whok
='-.:- T>.;:e ^::r;; i-'.v j;-;e ha'.i-dozen houses in the «ci t'r.-j TX.'.x^-r, ar.i ;r.c Compar.y found it necessary- to con b-i'.i:r,; o;.e:avl:r.5 I'^r the ;.urjX)se of accommodating the wi Itrough*. fyom F.d^chill In this way the present town, a gri lion fji which belongs to the London and North-Western i Coniiiariy, was commenced, one street succeeding another ii succession.
The " works " occupied between two and a half and thru
ofhnd, and are now known as the "Old Works," The ■
bclonginj; to the company numbered seventy-five. Mr. F. Tn
was the first locomotive superintendent. He was the son
renowned Trevilhick who, in 1805, exhibited his wonderful
coach " on the site of the present Euston Station. Ten yd
the settluiient at Crewe, in 1S53, the manufacture of rails «:
monced there, neeessitating a considerable augmentation of t
employed, and four years after the northern and north
A Creai Railway Centre.
iSs
iof the IjHidon and Noitli- Western fystcin were nmalgn mated, Crewe became also the centre of the locomotive and C|unincnt5 of the northern division of the line, the centre aihcfn division being Wolvcrton, In 1859 more accoin. V3S required at Crewe, and the carriage dcpaTiment u-as Dily reiitovcd to Salllcy, Birniingliam. ril, |86}, the northern and southern locomotive divisioru iroateO, and Mr. Ranubottom, who had in the meantime Mr. Trcvithick in the capacity of locomotire superintend- tnorlhem division, was aippuinted locomotive superintendent intcal engineer for the entire system. In the year jireced- " erecting shop " had been opened, at which time the p1o)-ed in the Crewe worlu numbered i,;95. There were, 2,031) persons employed at the out-stations, making in The 7j engines in stock had increased to 574, and thti f miles traversed by the company 'senj^ines per year reached The population of Crewe at the same (late numbered From Mr. Kainsbottom's appointment in 1863, the Wolvtrlon (therto devoted 10 ihe consiiucDon of locomotive', began lo , for (he building of orii8|es, and Crcwc monopolised the ; work. In i3s,t the waegon dcpanmcnt had been removed jRown, and thus Crcwc, WoU-crlon and Earlcslown became les for the construction of locomotives, caiiiages, and waggons
important branch of the Crewe works was opened in ( steel-works, a department which has since been consider- led. The old Chester line was then diverted, so that the now runs outside the works, instead of inside, as for- I old line being utilised for private purposes, one of nhich chance of visitors to and from the workshops. New shops, I " Deviation Works," were built in the fork formed by the ,and to these the mlllw right?, pat tern -makers, and moulders bsfcned from the "Old Works " m 1S&7. Three years later piler-shop and smiihy were erected close to the steel-works, ^engine- repairing shops, substituting those of Wolvcrton, had kdj built.
mringsustothc termiration of Nfr. Rambbottom's service. rauu gentleman retired from the service of the Lundon and iFestem Railway Company, and was succeeded by Mr. V. W. be ptcscnl locomotive supeiintcndenl. ilr the energetic snpctintendt-nc^o of Mr. Webb the work of lion has gone on. In 1S74 the shops for the building and
tS6
The Genttemans Magasine.
iq»mng of tenders, for painting, &c., were removed from ihe "OU '^Votks " to larger premises nesr the Elccl-vrorks, the vacated sS9(4 being used for the manubciurc and repair of signals, which hid ben previousljr nude for the Cocnpan^r b>' contract. In 1S71. «ha Mr. Kniasbotlom left, the popul.ition of Cren'e had fCTown to i7.Si^ and five years after, in 1S76, ilie workmen of the tonrncelebficcdik cocDpIciion of the two-lbou>andih ermine connructed in the «i»ti When that ceremony took place, the workin<?n eniployed at Om numbered 5,951, iho-e at the out-Mations were 6,;6i— a toial ri 11,713. ^^ tt^ '^"'^ ^1*^ xhcK were 1,305 cngiiKS in stoc'<, 2nd At mites coTcred per annum were 40.91 1.411.
This contintied giowih of the London and No*ih Western way works at Crewe evidently caused no little uneasiness and ^-cry naturatlir to^ Private cn^nccting firms bef^an 10 moDO^NjIy, and in Match, tS j6, the London and North Western way Company were served with an injunaion restraining ihm manufacturing engines and rolling -slock, except for their own conse-guencc of this injunction the Company can neillicrman (or sale nor hire ; they must confine their o;>eTaii(>nstolheiro«lll or lines worked !)>■ tltctn, urloiomjuimrt lining their lines. Thef- howcver. let out their rolling-stock to another company in casev eitnordiiMiy entergenc}-.
{iaring traced the progress of this great railway centre commcnccnnent to 1S76, 1 will now give some imcrcstinR fi; will bring us down to the last two or three years. In 18S1 the ber of engiocs Iind incrc.iscd to 1.347. and the miles coveted were 45.803.581. The miles covered by the Company's locoon l)crd.-iy were 115,489, bdng 5.115 per hour, 87 per minute, crl for everj' second of time.
In the month of May, 18S1, the new foundry' was opened, was the occasion of an imposing ceremony. The engines numbered 3,544, ^^^ t'"^ number of empIo)-<!s had grown to t The yearly mileage had increased 104(1,335,016. Uy October of following jear 345 addilional enijiloy^s had l>een added, aixl ye^trly milui^e had risen to nearly 47^ millions. In Scpientei 1 8S4. when the inembets of the Iron and Steel Institute were lained in Crewe Works, the einployt-s numbered 15.776, of 6,395 ^ce employed at Crewe and 8,776 at the oui-statkii^ addition to 605 in the signal -de iiartment. The mileage wis 4$ millions.
Two years laier — August 13, 1886 — a large contingent ol O Indian and Colonial visitors spent some hours in Crewe Works, »b8t
A Great Raikoay Centre.
1S7
jSiItidard Moon, ihc then chainnnn of the London & North ^^'cstcm Rubny Company, did the honours of the occuion. At that lime ^cspttt) of the company w.is ^110,000,000, the annual revenue |^t9.ooo,ooo, and the annual cxi)cnditurc ;£5,ooo,ooo. The total HBbcr of persons «nplo)cd by the company in iis various dL-p»it- Bmts iminbercd 60,000, of whom 16,000 were in the locomotive dcpMmcfils. Tile length of ihe company's lines, ukcn in the aggregate, Rt j,soo miles ; the number of tt^iiions, 800. There were in use l6,«oosignaMcvcis, andct'cry nighi were lighted 13,500 signat-temps. tUt nittsber of passengers earned annually was (>o,ooo,ooo, and ,000 tons of goods and minciaU were carried annually. There 5<\oeo wofigons^ 5,000 carriages, 3,000 horses, ao steamships, 50a engines. Tlie lota] mileage of theenginesforthc year was 199, being an average of 149,1(8 miles per day, 6,218 per 104 ))er minute, and i j per second. 'I'o put it another way, IS equal to the engines collectively making a trip round the OBce in every four hours.
figures Kive U.I some idea of the work nece^nry to be done c, vfhich may be regarded as ihc yreai artery from which tlic iR and Nonh-Wcstern Railway s)stem draws iu life-blood, fewit of all the wear and tear going on unceasingly is that a new B required every five days to make good the reguUr dcprecta- liM ; and carriages, waggons, tails, signals, and n host of other things. IlK to be turiKd out in proportion. Uridgcs are made, engines for ■nmshipa, canal-boats even, for use on the Shropshire Union Canal. Ik The works which covered 1^ acres of ground in 1843, now *s»tT about 1 30 acres, about 40 acres being roofed in. Where rti hinds were employed at that time, over 6,000 arc now at work ; •nd the spot which tlicn boasted a population of about 30, is a town >t4 not f;ir short of thirty thousand inhabitants— a town which 9ks name to an importanl parliatnenlary division of Cheshire, and (Bciically return.s the mentber, Mr. W, S. B. M'Laren, a nephew •(Ibe late John Bright.
'^Ju'y 'i> ^"^yi* the electric telegraph was first tised on the •■■t between Euston and Camden, the necessity for rapid conimiini- '^licn between station and station having been recognised two years ^riier. In 1835 an cfTort was tnnde to use semaphores, but it waN Qtttccccssful.
Bit may not beout of placctonotethnt the first engine that ran through Qt»e,on July 4, 1S3;, was driven by Limes Middlclon, who entered w service of the l.ondon and North Western Railway Company as a Iknr. His first employment was the cleaning out of boitos, which were
b
The Gotllcman s Magasint.
tbcD too naaO lo admit of s man grttuig ittadc. Tb'is i^^ "^^ i faw to r-uty the new* of the birth of the Prince of Vf jk» tm Btimii^lutn lo UverinoL There was no tclegnph u> AtWW town, and Jainei Middklon jumped upon his avffriK wA^m''- ■ ■ the highest |io«sibte s|)ced to Liverpool to announce the ' that an heir had been bora to the Engli&h Throne 1 1 who has continued in the service of the Com[>any e^'ci since, *■ gnnted a [xnuion some three years ago ; hut, game to the expressed a wish to work a bit longer, and his wish was believe he stiU runs a train on the line. In the JuUIce ycsrtlic tnan was entertained at a poblic banquet, and introdaced U Richard hloon. In the same year the 3,000th locomotive in Crewe Works was completed, a " compouiKl " of the Webb <m the side of which the figures "3,00a" occupy a jiodilion. At the present time tJie work of adding another 10 the long list is going on merrily.
Any account of Crcwc -iiA its industry would be wilhoui mention being made of its vctunlccra. OT all ow dtiKn army perhaps the Crewe Railway Engineer Corps is i!ic novel organiiatioit. This corps, which was originated by Mr. t '■' Webb, coruius of Hx companies, each numberir^g one hundreds^ None but workmen employed in the Crewe shops arc adr:""! thoujth in the matter of officers this rule has not been rigidly atlhuoi to. Not a few of the Crewe workmen have seen foreign service, <i>^ a large number of them had screed in variotts rilte volunteer coo- panics. Therefore, when the Railway Engineers were orpni)t4 there was found i>lcnty of well-seasoned material at hand, and id <li)6culty was experienced in getlitxg suitable men. Indeed, ilieonir embarrassment that assailed tlie authorities was the duly of wcc^ out the least suitable men ; for, as ihe full strength of ihc corpi «" limited lo 600 members, and very many more presented tlicm«!*ft some had to be tcfiiscd. The result of this selection has been B get a body of men who fgr physique and intelligence will comia* favourably with any volunteer corps in the country.
The iluiies of these voluniecrs consist principally of operationscw- neclcd with locomotive tngineeriog. They have weekly drills witbi» the works, in the course of which lines of railway are laid, biidge >" cooslructed, and, in fact, all the muliifatious operations required >" laying down a railway with its necessary rolling-stock and ihew* ing thereof are practised. The result of this constant excfciie * th.li a portable railway can be construcled in a mnr^-ellouslylbrtS space of imie, and only actual experience on the battlcfidiil
i4 Grcai Raihimy Ctnlre.
189
' to dtmonstratc the value of such an auxiliary force. There 1''^ unlH^lancc class connected with the corps, the results of ■cccudifig to Surgeon-Major Atkinson, who instructs the fts, trc rtTf tatisfactoiy. SeefficieiKjr of the Crewe Railway Engineers, or, to give them Ml official title, the Second Cheshire (Crewe) Railway Engineer iltm, has been remarked upon by the Duke of Cambridge, incwed them at Crewe when the Queen's Park, given by the naod North Wcsii-rn Company, was opened by his Royal ets. General l>anicll also inspected the men at Vork, and a high terms of their smart appearance. Major L. V. Loyd, f of the Grenadier Gunrds, and subse'iucntly of the ind V.B. IVarvickshire, who is a director of the London and Noith- It Company, became Lieut-Colonel of the corps on it^ forma- ; aAerwards resigned ; tipon which Captain E. T. D. Cotton, CBcnts the ^Vtn3l dirision of Cheshire in the House of s, wa« apiwinted to the command, ji corps numbers among its members numerous army reserve , those not in the army reserve arc offered facilities for join- I order to encourage these engineers to scive the Stale when- Jl be ncccssar>', the London and Noilh Western Company to any man volunteering for active service, reinstatement Implojment, or such other employment as he is ({ualified to
tc at the expiration of such service. Every year the corps < <!ainp for a week, and quite recently a thooiing- range has cquircd in order that thr; men, among whom arc several crack may continue filing practire.
twe b a town of mushroom growth, but its importance is not iittinated by its age. It is no stretch of imagination to affirm c influence of the place is felt throughout the United Kingdom brougboui that Greater Biiinin of which so much has been irithinlhe last >-earot two, When the line from Crewe to T was commenced. Sir William Jackson said it began in a field idcd in tlK old rotten city of Chester. Crewe now covers the lod Chester ha.i been galvanised into life, as Sir Richard Moon vthily remarked. A hundred and fifty years ago a Bishop of J wrote in his diar>- : " Rose in good health, thanks be to God. idered tnyn;igi, and foddered my cows; returned 10 my closet [ter devotions with my family, perused the joumnis and made jbwing extracts." At that lime, according to Bishop Stubbs, ocesc of Chester covered the whole of Lancishire and Cheshire, \ part of Yorkshire, and portions of Cumberland and West- ccLXxt. so, 1918. Q
at EI jlina?^ TicMp'
■;=i=' ~~ — ^ wrz:^ =7t =:£. yr 'r-";;* k ■•!»asi7 A-\i.Kuied.
XBE 3t TH^ —=?--— -liTTTT Tae7 xc»e. e =c frst place,
■31 _'EH_ TT-t' — l-TK- —If ^TTl^l ll'l» TT—TT IlBtlT frmi d
jlilS a" 'Zie LiOBT ■"•'■fTiTTtrTr^ ^H . ■ i-n—r- nnr jTy witb| )
Tag :ti --T-— T-nT: jr-^a:i:i^ 'icEiKTSccaiieto be found ■=£ ~'-'^ ii-.Tiii ^ =r--^JTT. od =: xacT quarters of i ticTt z s iix I; s T' ^"7 -■"'««=' -7 u (ay that
■±£ V-zic ^ocis 1.-C =. ize E^:=si. Oiccies. Many of ■ri~^ =1 ■"- •■ r=.i i ir-^ - ^-j*---' i= Mesico, and, aea I:.ij ji ii^ -JLi =>;£=e a" socse. Daring the
L»4.t ie^tl; '^n^ii:. ■ii^ =if be said to have «
. vi;ir:-:il— :c Lcri DaZrociie, many men have 1
Wcrii :-:€■ fcrr^i ■- -J:« East Sot a few of the "gaffei cSdali 11 Creits ars sccx-±ses termed, have also recdve- appo-xtEie=3 asrcac- cm eren within the last few moot the inSnecce of L-.ese great locomotive shops continue itself silently and in various ways.
There is one striding leature about this industrial c that Uthe opening it oifers for real ability : the positions be won by indomitable perseverance and enei^— withou distinguished position should be expected to be won. necessary, several men could be pointed to as having o their period of service in Crewe at the very bottom of and successfully clambered to the top. It was a ma: Napoleonic armies that the common soldier might beco nanhal-the possibility was there, if the necessary qui Ihcoming. In the United States of America the p. ome President : a truth that has received ample
A Great Railway Centre.
19(
ling into particulars vitb respect to Crewe, it will suffice : the late manager of the works, Mr. Charles Diclc, mely death all parties in the town sincerely deplored, e place a stranger, and commenced as an ordinary Much the same may be said of his successor in that ffice.
JOHN SANSOHK.
:=ics ;£«^j:hi?»i use fcasaoc^loi*
T--; Es^^far- bxra '^zcj. bce= 1= :bi iuhn cf garnishing tbeir os- Tena^= «-;th a. izr^zli iirr^sE.c «h:<± his earned (or iben,* tie r.- — ^JT-, ; --«r.i.— J ihii cli^iS ;j :-«= still. We can hadlf tclp ad=;;ri=g "Ju: ±^7 -1;=: ■»£; dsscrre ihe desgnation U 46 fTCWEi <iaT, fc we shculd icarcelT eipevT :o End i: applied totfioi a.? tariy as ie t^iza cf Ken.-7 W. Thu s;;ch, however, vasthe os^ is r.'.ts^ prored by the er-jierce jiren at the trial of *= ihe Maid d O^earjj' in 14;?.
While Joar. 'J Arc := F:etarci; her saccessfiil attack opoo ihe English at Les To'itce.!=;, near Orlear^i, the foUowiDg episode tiko (-la«: :—
" £t ainsi qu'elle de/.beroic de passet, on presenta i son bosK un?: alose, et lore il !■.:>■ diii, ' Jeanne, mangeons ceste alose annt qiK ;,iTticz,' ' En Nora Dieu,' diit-elle, ' on n'en mangeia jnsqno au vM;-tr, i^ie nous rei.ossercrs pardessus le poot, et tameDcnB ung goifcn, qui en mangera sa pan.' "
Some Eitglish Expletives.
hen visited in prison nt Rouen by the EarU of itnfford, ihe Maid excitedly exclaim* : ■' En Noti D^ By him que c^s Angloys me frronc inourir, crvdcntcs post m mcam lucrari rcgnuin I-'rancia.', scd si csfcnt ccDtum mille 1^ noi) hibcbunt rcgnum."
OK who cart to refer to the \aixh depositions containing the iBon in qucsiion, will find tficm given in " Prociis de Jeanne b]f M. Quichcral (one of Uic publications of the Soci^ti dc ire dc France). Vol. 3, pages iti and 134. M. Quichcrat the tcnn Coden as " expression poputairc du 15"* sitcle,
ksigncr \ts Angbii, dc mC-me qti'on dbait
nagu&rc.
let
the public accounts of the toun of Orleans for the year 1439 ■n an entry of pajinenl for tlic making of deux godons, to be 1 the annual cetebrMion of the fiU to commemocate the cap- Les TourncUca. The sound of the word j^oJon l«ads one to icluuon that tlic second syllable of the ctirsc wai pronounced ancestors doin, as it still is in the \orth of England. Is fonn of imprecation occurs very tately in Shakespeare's ^ far as I am aware ; and, in later literature, the name of the more usually omitted, very amusing caiicaiurcs were published in France during pan of the present century, representing Milord Goddam ■Xy boorish individual, who begins or ends every sentence fiivourilc oath. Indeed, his stock of conversation is compleidy exhausted after giving vent to it le Vision of William concerning Pcrs the Plouhraon," by Langland in the reign of Edward III., and commonly 1 " Piers Plowman," shows us that the English of that period ;ht it necessary to interlard ihcir slatetneiiis with copious lives:
I hive Tia pcny. quod \'ci%, |;alcl» In biigg (pullets lo 1>uy), And 1 tigK (My), U my saule, I have no uti bacon, Ne nocoIccnvyM (fuwU), M Criii, colopci to miLkeo.
Patim VI. kI Glutton confesses [Passus V.J !
^PaX I I<iTe littpMMCl wilh ni^ tun(;r, ) Cftn noii];h<c tcti how oft, worm Q»i<Ui tttUe, ind la Cad nt ktlf, knit Hati-iom, %crc no need ne wu, nyne hundrcih lymen.
learn, loo. [Passus VII.] that mcrchanls in general fared D ptitgalory, " for they iworen ij/ heore ioule." Examples of
I
^ ■ ■.■.:•■.■■-> J/,Ti;;a:iN£. 1
- , - ^.■. -r-e 0:d Bachelor," is «iui:..f i |
Uad=^-i. .- ;-i r.^.-.-r c^' tj-rlei^^- It literally bristles irillicfl^ j
«hid» &<s =--^ Krrrse as so mnch when we find tlat i^ fa*
K7KK»aa.-«;. .-c ;i4 loinis of Dniij Lane Theatre, tockltact »
itaj. '-.ai i-^sr ^Sr c-,-svi.aKc of the siege of Namui, when aa m
itieni -I'rvCc Tc4^' *» wocnded, and when, as he infonoi*,
•• t\:r i-—w* s«^--« Wjb;? =1 rjodare." Congreve's plays eiU*
sctttc c-r\.-i:s:v jL;tiK:u*»c fc<TQs of English oaths. The grand 4
icxtjccwr. .'.Ti «if : ,»ia: a soooroos ring il has), becomes '*«
God'* K^XNi s>:.YK=a ~ro 'AJJc^J; 'AdiMeari also ocous, ■
'.^iiiifii: »-^. i virww of Ae Shake^warian 'Slid. Then we h
A Vf'At'.' r^t;. £,p*^ I .-va,- 2? G*J^ O GaJ, Gadsobs, 'SdatA, i
ie s.S>sw: forr;'- ."Viert. Ltri, O Z^-rJ. By the Lord Barry, and
|«J<T'.1< e\v«s^.,■^, o^~j Jj^'.^rf, Mts, Mades, and smbbm
- Hlo.' J ^". -■!«"' s a= cCJ saying which we also find
•^Tfce Merry U -,vs cf Windsor," " 1 cannot tell what the die
hi* airse is." IViscs » ivssib'.y a contraction of devilldiH.
i^sW *< jh.-{Ux ihtf proc;=Kiiaca of the letter "o" as "a,"ii
wa* jl£.v:^ j; :>:3 f<r»>i by ihc dandies and loungen
ftw;u<£;;x; ;'-,• ij^hiccjti';* Ksorts of the Spring Garden, the p
v4" t,\'veu; O-uzucr, and ;bc Royal Exchange. It prohably di«
extend u> ;':•.- '..•a^.-r oixicrs of socUty : for in Congreve's "Lot
Lpvt," :hi' olJ, ;;-.;tsc «x« o^.v" : and L-?ni ! and the ytKing
feom scj. -■ ^;. .:■..■ ta-m, 1>.« ^aih n- G<fd is ubiquito
old Ea^UsI^ ■.-;.: r.c:v. Is :he - Ijy of Havelofc the Dane," n
atv'^: the > s^r : ; s,-, ia -.he :«i^i- c: Edward the First, we meet wi
exclumtu;; J\ ;,, sc^-vri, v.t^os. I; is. of course, the Latin wo
(..od. ar.d ;T^V.:b:y the cti^ino: form ci our interjection, DtKCt
'■^^ere rU«:-.:i:-. • the Es^lish torTa. Bv GuJ, is seen, wl
Chau«rs i.ve-.v.s it scales s;de by sice with the French Pu
Pur^y. li a-->eirsin aa inSr.i:.c number of forms— conuptiam
mtentior.!. :■.- ,„o;d takla; Gods name in x-ain. or irninta
&om .jr-.OTur.c.' of, Sue -.he iC-.ruse meant. Besides the old
/y nw. .. v, ar.^ \y«_.-. ^^ have the modern, ^- gar,frrg^,i
fiy ip,m, f I -•,. r. and the negro sliw's cv ^cc'Sv.
Congreve alw ha^ o G^mi^\ whici. sounds strangely
: T r/-' ^'^"- "^^"-^'^ «il- "^ that the eaS Ch used the «ld K^mao oath, JA,^^-,, ^b>. Henrules), with«,t \ what It -^an. ^ too the mocher. who, wher. toWing k
"^^r^^r-- °'"''"^>-°^"'^'- notknow^^t, that tho« exr^re^ions are eilipti^al for Cod plag«e yoo, and ^
you. ^' '
^9
^m Son
ome English Expletives.
197
VMinil of the first syllable of the names Gemini and Jove ^b] the modem Clirmians continue to SHearbjr them. One '"dill's cliaracieTk, a lady, exclaims, By Gtmini \ Its more •OiRi it Hj) Jimminy.
k lo reium to " Lore for I^ve." Mtts ! and By tht Mtsi I Wial of ihc once common oith, By ikt Mast. Wc meet \ in Chaucer's " Uokc of the Duchcsse " ; and in " Hamlet," •■" By the Mau 'tit vcr>- like a camel "; and in " Damon and "(1571). whkh will be found in the collection of old ^\vi% Ijr Isaac Kccd, wc have the lines : —
^
J«lu.—^y the Muic, I will lioxe you ! /*>//. — By cocke, I will foic you '.
tnd AmtH is a form of the old oath. By Mary. In the T M)-steiies" (circ. 1450), the Patiiarch Noah is made to } Maryt. Why not hy Jo:in of Arc? Zi>0ks means (lod's Ve find two other forms of the interjection in the pby, viz.. If and 'Odtsooks.
exclamation, Ftah ! is a contraction of 'Odifltth, which
elsewhere as 'Odifish. 'Odio is probably a corruption of
les. Marry comt up, like the Marry guep of " Hudibras,"
3, has been interpreted Mary ^o w/, an allunion to the
lion of Our I^y.
t we come to Sheridan's Plays. In " A 'I n[> to Sr^irborough," led in 1 777) we come acraw some good round oaths. Thcex- UirdFoppington, when trying on his new clothes, exclaims:—
i and tttrnaJ Itrtum, hi ! 1 lay ihe coni Is itiL> wkk licic by a fool. JR.— My Lotil, if i[ had been tighter, 'twouUI iiciihei have hook'd nor
If.— Afar rf« he^i and tutteni, tif t As God shall Jaige mt, it hangi BoUcn lik< a chaitmno'a turlout.
ktle btcr, the Fop exhibits his powers of conversation: — STCfioycd that you think of continuing here, slap my vUals ourite expression). /»/■ Gad's sak<, Madam, how has your } been able to subsist thus long under the fatigues of a AStl* and, when wounded in an encounter provoked by his ^, cries out : — " Ah, quite through the body, stap itiy vilals!" ]ttE very nearly stopped tlial time. Wc must not quit Sbcri- «rka without noticing the bold Bob .Acres' "genteel" style of hich adapts itself to the subject fur the time being under dis- 1 — " Ods 31-Aips and wheels, I've travelled like a comit," «4rt and tleoim ; Ods ericttts; Odt frop and tambours ;
: :J -■-i.'- " - C.L juats, pan, niii C^ imuttt €md Umda ; Oit^ifrm
m3 phy-arting Md cAb pD?i^
_ T-e^TT ETum n^^C a AAe, mnquis, eiil,
g»w--— t>3n ss <i-iTTmyc xmi jagc tencp. aid all inftnK posoi^ ihtec ^pTm^ jmi i:iir -:«■=£. '3~:«es ami m&iws ««c to pby i«uba
ejirgj-c ?- -g^sn: Jagr xaxanai-mtxid. base paid, a»d angle aom* fc-.-^fi'^' 3: 3b=r Cii'i>- c aok. Tbe dBdncuv lxl«£en duld («B<K3iiIv Mit^^-i ntts SOIL jBWa'iTr javjus seenx u nis s^ V^ ^dc .:£ "csjsmgjrij ^e i&sacsKac; pnadpiei oC i Conuiia ««ali:^ ':xc 'actisa se H.:i:se cf Ldr^ was aboKriied. the rotul wEK scH 3ei::-.:ifnsei K x .~jiK.Eai^£ crude doctmie of -JieEqtiaE^ <f >£iB,.ni>:a-«ass; TwagKC iDcc:3y Ae Fi^Kb icpdions in dj
At ^ — g"i-ir^7iT ;c ^le ti.-i'.»i»Jt-- ;*mi» faBmtd u a rati ■cxsffzisrxi ;t r^i^s srsssa. :x r^ctrsaoB. & teae of mdr^dlFd Ikcd aed vC ?cii,--jl:c = z^ ^uL».aias cEtscscil. ahut die peofft^ cndulgel
A: iK=. = r» =iwKsi=£i T«atr rf Sisg George H, a suiwte 1 roswii. »^i.-"- racras r^i: -Kcssaach xs e» faonid, impious,!
w ,t=ijr:> vX^i^ iz^ "jcaisecK lacS cSeoKve to erciy Ctesfl
tThe CL'jr::~ie? rKirrei ::■ r«-.=i; rtofcabiy Ae Ww of the And
S-Mxssaoc *r-',-i i=>r>^«fiec :r:€ bacJes c*" IVttingen and Fodtt
aad ie Scocc; Rebelii^c ct 1 7*5 » aad thji, *■ who cm the hn
in txnng tor -■— V--->- those crses haiv ttoc answcml the im
fat which th<y wiere oe^^-sc. by =<aES of diScnhies iiinKH
pnttinj scch jit«5 in esect:r:-rc~ i=«i ifoes oa to pravide ■ loned
this shocking sate c: ii=iS i-r «act:ng. that after June t, 17461
pcnon convicted beioTe a it^'^f^i^t^ on ti>c testimony ofone nl
of {xofan^ cumng and svearin^. sbouM fiatfeit a sum otu
pcoponionate to his stata in the social scaie. For diis pmpoi
British {nbitc were divided into three elates: —
Sotn£ Etfgltsk lixptelivts. 199
' I^jy labourers, coniman soldicri, common sailors, and com- "^iob iciiDcn, who were lo be fined one shilling for ever)- oath. ' Otiiei persons under the degree of a gentleman, who were to I>ay two shilltnjjs. ^2) PasoQs of or above the degree of a f;entlenian, who were to forfeit tbe sum of five shiltingi for each oath they uttered. ^ , *^or a second offence the culprit was to pay double, and for a ^Cqueni offence treble the penalty, which was tn every case to be **Plied for the benefit of the poor of the parish. The common '*i*e, sailoT, or HMiman who could not or would not piay the jicn- 'y and costs, was directed to be "publickly set in ihc slocks," where ^ probably exhausted his entire vocabulary of oaihs in cursing the '•holeuibcof "constables, petty constables, lything-incn, and other P^ceofficcrs," who had brought him to that low estate:.
This statute, which repealed an Aa of William III. to the same
^"eo, and an older and still le^u ettident one of Kin^ Janicti I.'k
^gn. vas ordered to be publicly read in church, immediately after
iDoraiag or c^'cning prayer, on four s|wcified Sundays of the )X'ar,
"Oeeedingi are now more usually taken under ■■ The Towns' Police
QwMe* Act" of the present reign, by which persons who use
pcfine or obscene language in any slrtel to the annoyance of
Kodents or jutssengers, are liable to a penalty. The " had
lugttigc * of the present day must be characterised .is obscene rather
6in protaiK, and here it may not be out of place lo mention a word,
^tiicli is ofien classed as profane or obscene, but which does not
Pf^ly dll within cither of such categories. It has been tabooed
n flic "upper circles " of society as not fit for ears polite, and that
"* txcause it is wicked, but because (much worse than wicked) it is
"few. Among the lower classes, on the other h.ind, it is so
~**6antly used that it is impossible to w.ilk from Westminster to
""tt:hapd, or from Highbury to Highgatc, without hearing it
jj^^tcdly on ihc lips of passers by. I refer, of course, to that most
^***cieriMic of English epithets, bhody or b , as the printer
^**l^ prefers to spell it. Many are the derivations which have
T*** assigned lo this word. A favourite one, that it represents a
*tened form of the asseveration By Our Lady, is a very tempting
"^^ It is, perhaps, as likely that the exclamation Blood ! is a
'^traction of By mir Lud as thai it is the equivalent of the French
**S-iiett ; and, by analogy, the oath By our kddy would naturally
^****tiKt into bloody f But the use of the word by itself as an
"'^♦rjaaion i« so exceedingly rare th.it the above ingenious derivation
*'*llie term must, 1 am afraid, be abandoned.
sH =. ^=4 ^ >;!=!£ 7jnsii lit
^£f a. -r-.-- .2 bis leferenatt
- a; ±rnrk s z '-iri' "ITb " a — I— Sx —i "idepw
T-:ri i --i: — g zirre iliMH -■ " ;: :;::-:= Er-;"ii'- adjedh
;. :: V— — ■\-- jrfsoB ^,^-- Ti-n '■::■: J^ :t i:a& .r:_ — -i :-• -- ;f :h;-jneDl
iT-T,: 'i':oi±i:sy, at
: r^r.^;! ;;r::i c: repto SLrl.-^T:':--.z -loodil
;; — - -;^7 -^ ;;i^ ":t ^iiirg 9
'■ >-•.— ■■ ■ Tt J-i-* ;- M.'-is.' »Tit:s:: b^SirCe
Iteaire, contains i —Gin him half-a-crown. Xol without tic witl piomiw (o be tifoJy dfunk.
—Attl., Setat I.
; is here "outrageouis" "devilish," but not neccssaiily Ishcd.
ift, in his " Journal to Stella," Oclobtir 5,1711, writes : s bloody cold, and I have no waistcoat." Here wc sec lied lo the weather. Thus, in Qiteen Anne's reign, the ndled down to what it continues in Queen Victoria's — ive adjective used adverbially, haii-ing passed through umibi to that undergone by the adjectives " awful " ' I'he three examples given above are selected merely hat were (irobably the successive stages of dfgraiaiion hrough which the word has passed, and nui^t not be vscnt hiMorically the precise sense in which the word gsed at the respective dates named, ing to-day is vague and colourless in the extreme, 'ery, very pajocke," and his "Too, too solid ficsh," ;ly translated into modem English by the help of the ■c have been considering, and I can only hope that my oured explanation has rendered this terrible bugbear as was the lion, who confessed that, in spite of his san- irance, he was only Snug the joiner after all !
THOUAS H. B. GRAHAU.
3<l=t ' '^
jiisaii^mtBt z .BSJ^^oaK.
3 ««■ ats. metn- t^ TT'ant she "Sx
'itt 'vmci I. :isnair i "'^'"*" 7"'"' "*• ^e ^n^ "Vim ~lie suit jT-igTTi^-r -i»-i»-it*t ■ Li mmt ir '«nK.
''j^^nio e:e:L sec TrnTOen?i£ imf m. gngnfc ftiic fh-jB flerrz: -wuL. Trr-.iiHnu Im x ■-^"™-
'*'>i7 Jam^it uc -*3Se^ : xk tut wrne snr ^d^m£ : Kxetwii >n% 'j-jT '3i-.meKE3i^ sv sc '^ 33 -ma^ ;
k«:*"..'V sex 3ieE_ ir_ ---vci".'2=':a "^^iT^ ^^^- 7^"^.
f^iTfi.^ u TT^ej ar» ^ r-r~-— ~* iZ. it ti>3od. f;MieM V* vg-^z^CA - Ei -jeka tj csrayarr: : C^vT *3ffryx\ djt, OCT Izslvi-ps c^rse in t^=- S}t»f/Mt ^'iCsA izA 'tsnesCjesi tare ve : We l.-l fi'' fitii* — i.* vair, vj cH d;« sea : ^i^t^i/ittA nitn lurre, tbcr^r helpless orphans weep ; The Und i* niimrf — Christ, Hb Saina, they sleep.'
•|>iu* cifl t^e Saion. Centuries before,
Hv/'d t^ fi«'-c prophet once on Israel's shore,
Ab^ne, and ycl with boundless might endued,
<!«llinit '" •'■-"ni *« t^e vast multitude.
'■ I )(** llMl hear ? He is a God," he said ;
" I'ctf-hai't he sleeps, must be awakenM ;
(fi (r»tri \\f»mK journeys, or in musings deep,
HlnV» in » ton**'' "'°'^*^ profound than sleep."
All 1 thai ficnx taunt, the watchword of the firay—
KliiK* il ""I y^' "'^^'^ ""^ ^""^ '°"'^y '
„ (•„ ,ry alo"<l I ''Vli'=« '^ ^*^y God ?" we heai-
I
The Cry 0/ the Saxon.
203
t Re, and, (lumbering wiih cai<:>I.-iden eyes, \ as in dn-Ams ihtf strirc of ccntuiics ? !Khancc, dead, with old hopes round His grave ring as gh<»ts which have no strength to sa\-e ? not sleeping, not beneath the sod, mites ivo answer then ? Where is ihy God ? Jt ! He is a God ! He sleeps ! " is said, not. What profit ? Not asleep, but dead."
" still they say, " no doubt the mourners wept to the gates the sad procession swept, he Cross- bearer, bent, with Tattering breath, d with slow footsteps up the road to death, past now. The foe has worked his will ; hose pierced hands that Libouring breast, are still ihe cross o'er, its shame and anguish past, Him alone to sleep in peace at last, u one cUuDOuring o'er a long-closed grave, : thou on a God who will not save 7 "
R Thou, Master ? Through the riftless sky le dim eyes would seek Thy home on high ; iiough its doubts, its fears, its agony, orld has raised despairing hands to Thee, il triumphs ; yet, from strand to strand, y fills dark places of the land ; <e fierce anguish, roused within our breast, like 3 mighty wave that will not rest. W Thou not ? AVe perish " — then wc cry. fe down from heaven, and save us lest we die ! "
3vd, that questioning, bom of doubts and fears, f the first time echoes in I'hine ears ; ke the rifts of hope through depths of pain, nd can stir Genncsaret's waves again ; e rough sailors, labouring on the sea, t, in their despair, for help from Thee ; Om Thy pillow rising, as from death, the reply, " O ye of titlie faith ! " ^m-clouds part ; the vessel nears the shore ; % our storm-tossed hearts Is peace once more.
M. A. CURTOtSL
PA:iES ox PLAYS.
T
zx: iissx. ha =3=ts "-. -^s rad. One bj one fc
-.Ti:! '.■--^ -r^rrr-iz^'^ im^s rsi'ase : tbs ]^:5 are pot ont ; hon -.-.' ; -■• b~-jjii :iii ■^-*' -pbtrs na:: in- women of bie atial lLL;;':ii:i '.r E-;;-ri:i as Titir =i:-ii tni the power of ihe playei nwi
tiit^. ,-^;*^j^li -Vt -■'■•»— ?=r-~ »f-^JTac-T^inth^fnlninmff tor '
— r^ ;--■- =iLi.-=JS=zi. t£i^ '"-"' :be d=ie has catae in vhidi, wilhi i.z:^r-.-t::.i-.t i—'^ajz^i-rj. h i> pic^sie :a rmew the crests of Ac cri— .i.Tr: ia^i- j^£ iisLiTtjwhaiwss good in it. It was, in man; n}W L rtrr Tt=j^'i^-.-t d:»=i=dc seafr's. The ds months that have s^^ t- =!r:-_s 1 lep^ wrtirii tiese *- Fa^es on Plafs " have beeneftnt- f_: =-.-.::i=, ;T-_l:r:: =v::is. asspicious months. The seasoD lai Kriz -.w:. c;:^t :;-s-^'.T szcassfizl English plays: Mr. Henry Artlmt Jor.es'5." lJir.ezz Gii":,'" and Mr. Haddon Chambers's "The Idkt" I: has ster. ;l-s P.e::^sa5.r.ce of Pantomime in England, of the genmM pantomime which had praciicalij- been extinct since the days of Manager Rich, :he genuine pantomime which is the direct descendul of the Commedia de'.I' .\ne, of the Comedy of Masts. MoB imponani of all, it has seen what I cannot but call the triumph rf Henrik Ibsen,
This year will certainly be remembered in dramatic annals as te Ibsen year. A number of his plays were played in rapid sifccessko; one went into the evening bill and ran for some weeks. Ibsen « the chief topic in theatrical circles. Actors and actresses who hid never heard of the Norwegian dramatist before became excited bf the controversy and grew eager to appear in "an Ibsen plij' It got to be a kmd of impression that Ibsen was so acUble o author that any one, no matter how incompetent or untried, tad only to take him up to win immortal fame. That this was not tie case t«o disastrous failures showed. That Ibsen did afford a^ tional opportunmcs to earnest and capable interpreters was ^ lear by no ewer than four very interesting performances-"Gh«ts,-
the RoyaUj. under Mr. Oreins management; "Rosmershota"
Pag€s OH Plays.
305
•," at Uic Vaudeville ; and M«s Kofreji' repie- TxAYi House " at the Crilction. Kvc of Ibsen'it )-s were thus presented to the i>ublic ihix ycstr, the lint time.
en my oiiinioiis u;ioii ihc merits and defects of x ; revitiwin^ thctii now tlml the perfoimanccs perspective, 1 find little, if ntiything, to change. ran>nlic inten)rciaiion of " Hcdda GnWer" has expected it would du : it lia.i i-amed her an laiic theatre. She played " Iledd^t Gablcr" iKty; but, as I thought and think, niih a false lart. Her " Hcdda Gablcr " was conceived in the tnd for her reward she has been translated to the \m she will do well there, that she would do well ter sjjecial powers were given free play and full e, indeed, need doubt.
las not tried the " Doll's House " a^ain in London, ittcally promised that she would do so. Perhajis itcd by the reception it met with, by the hilarity of silence of Mr. Archer. But a serious actress should |om a serious purpose by the playfulness of a critic % Ibscn, or by the austere disapproval of a critic who The critics who do love Ibsen arc not all of a mind, ieir adversaries.
lething curious and not unpathetic about the imita. British public, and of those who set themselves to
£ public. Because Ibsen "caught on," to use the on, e%ery actor wanted to play Ibscn. Even the most loud in the expression of their scorn for Ibsen chance of distinguishing themselves in a play by the Itoll's House-" In much the same way, the success odiguc" has drowned us in a perfect flood of panto- itomimc now. pantomime or nothing. The success of ic May and of M. Courtt's has turned the heads of our 'c drenched, deluged with paniomimc, M. tVTarius mime. Mr. Toole burlcstjucs it in " Ici on (nc) i^b." Miss Noncys, ever on the search for new Ions, docs wonderful feats of tnimin;; and dancing LIS Moore's dainty " Moonflowers." Mr. Cosmo ilr, Charlw Colnaghi, and Mrs, Crutchk-y coniri- charity and lo the popular cme in tl)cir pathetic Pierrette." What a jieople we are ! I\inurj;e's 191S. s
;--^i- :.-: -. -i: -: _-. I ^J-~: "refc: ^^vty issDied ihS Mi- Z-fim-:-— r-±i ;^-"^i :- — ' — ii^-Kt^Jsnti. :i eagei lotirte
-.1-,- ■- — -_V;r r_- --- ■I. IT 1 -: ' -^ Terismuace, itbdhoB
-.■n::iii r -.: r::irTilLi.-^z- -: -.z ¥r=ji±^L I' :s leal'iT aptjfl* ■rt -.-tri: i ": -- = --• -_■ ^j: - t- f 1-27. 1: i:>.:-^strik«thepcpta ':^~i. - -r t; :^- .t :. t :.- i '-i^ -t-it: :::, ur.:i'. at last «e Inn «- ir— ;.i.i- ^T i : lt?-z--^^^ ^:- - iri t.:! z-± i :-" which so delimited*
J. £^. ^. ^ ^ .^^ , - - J -^^ T Tij i ?*-^". ce".:ca:e. enwruiwj
;^LL.--^-- :*:; — ;■; ^; ■.z-i : _^ :.= -- z'-i wlrVs :alt and as comBS
A: i-i —* = :-: i>;- ; »T^:;. ;-e cf rr.e two chief En^ «^r^*T-i< :- :-r --i^j-rT ri* ^^f: ir.i sz^c '.cm-poTaji'.y ; whendi* '-=^ !"■£:-- — 7-=- -1-: "J-.tr *-z: r-ive ciicrreared. '-TheDaai Orl" r.::^ ii^.:i-i :5 ;>i =11^5 ir.i ::::? ;he rro\-inces ; Lwidonil 'd-.-ir r.;r =: -:rs r"_ -.hi ■=-.r.--;7 5e:ii.r'=. "The Idler," too, l* zz-t -.; "v - — -" -;~-; -;"= *■- =,;:h 10 enhance Mr. AJoanW ri'-— T-:~- 2^; ■:: i"::^7i^c h::r: :r; his anisiic resolution to ptln ;":■:;: h.n I'-t re?: i.-i-^;:r -: — yir.y ;r. London- For thecon^af a: zs.i =L 'l-.-i- • i:ej ri;"y i7:-ear ::> be a dramattc compsiiI> ;>.; M-it Lr, »-.:.-. ^:-. A-,;r;*:-.r. Daly's iV.Iowship of pbrersMtl iTX~z.:.: ::T:-tT.-. ~"£y -re r.;: a co'.'eciion 01 indiridml ii"* ;r:u;r.: :: ;::-.i7 ry -.r.s ,;-2- :e ci (^--2 momen: to be dispeisoi^ :-ec.-j;-re :f-.'-erev; — :~i-- They arpe^r to be a real union.* -£r~:-v :;..:■=-.-. a " Fc.- C:"efii:m," like the brotherhood ■ :.-.e itSTTT.;- : 1,.; 1. :i-i :hey wcrk Together with an artistic puqK* .-.-.>: sy--.7.^:hy i^-[:r. U i-ic-i-i encojra^ing. Of course 1 don* "■,:.-.s ui s.-,y ;.-..-.; ---.sric : ■.:T7.r5e, ths: artistic union are to be :r. :r.e ^;. T.-.-.e- > Tr.izz:c :::_-.r.e of a'.I the theatres of London. "^ LvceuTH T-cATre. the C.A-ick Theatre, the Haymarfcet Thealrt, * L r-.:er:or. Tr.e.-.tre. -.he Sh.. ;";l sbur\- Theatre, are each in their wiY Ci^ntTc-j ,:- dra-'-.tic 3-:. So long as the Haymarketcandii" - iT.lT^^ Ktrr. =,^ :,r.^- ^^ ;:,.^. Shaftesbury can claim Mr. Cyril Mi^* T ^^■•~^',-"' *^'-''^''"'~ '^-'"-'^"■■liiii Mr. Georse Giddens, so long « tlte l.arr-CK c.-.n clahr. Mt. F 01 be < -Robertson^ so long these thBW ni.i> maintain tn.u their immediate principals are supported in » manner woriS.y of the best traditions of the art. But for the p«* tiicre d^x-san>^ar 10 be a kind of homog^neitv about thecoopX? K .t. lamess Theatre which 1 do not think is to be found* L.,h ■ "■"' "^ -^"V f^tl^er theatre in London. the lr .H 'T'^""--*"^ -^vont of the season has been the advent J
hemiud of the-r.riUshn"'"' '""'':"*'" ^'■'"'-■^"It lusn playgoer than another, it is a belief m *
207
of the French pby-nctor and of the French play-wxitcr glisfa play-aaor and ihc English jjlny-writcr. Vet, no ire baseless. \Vc owe ihanks to M, Mayer for helping lo the public. Nottodi^nchantlhcmofihciradmination for tg, which, when hoiiesdy cnicitained upon due experience y expreued aflef due rejection, b serious enough and ough. But any impression that the French are markedly n our cajKidiy for diaiiiaiic expression could hardly, I riously maintained \ry any one well acquainted with the e of our Hn);ltsh theatres who followed the course of
latest ex]>erimeni of three weeVs' duration. When wc he l.yecuin 'llieaire, of the Garricic Theatre, of the
Theatre, of the Criterion Theatre, of the Hayniarket <1 many others, and compare their [)owers and iheir ith Ihe powers and the methods of the Com^die re may be pardoned for chCTi*hini{ r certain insular tisfaction. Not in the least a i'hansaical feeling that tod that wc arc not as those arc ; not in the least a
we are wry mu<:h better than oiit French neighbours for, indeed, to be very much better than, or indeed at all ly better than, our French neigliljours at their best would it mildly, not without its difficulty. But where our xultation may legitimately come in is when we assure ith all sincerity that the h-gcnd of our inferiority to
enemy France" is the most Dy-blown and grotesque ids. We may assure ourselves, without Ihe slightest Lhat we are as good as they. Personally. I much prefer 1 English way of acting a modern English comedy of
the modem French way of acting a modern French
marmers. 1 think our people move more naturally,
naturally, c.irry themselves with a more commendable
0 the caniagc of the real world around them ; that they audience far more, and arc far more willing to forego ere personal and momentary advantage for the sake of the
of the general stage picture. They do not address to the audience with the persistence of the French ■y do not regard the footlights as a sort of Gaitiou; ccn them and their public which it is their duty to come
1 to hurl speeches across into the very hearts of their I certain of the French players— but these, indeed, are It—are at pains to do. 1 should be sorry to be itodenate the senius of modern F'rancc, or to under-
\
The GentUntans Mao-aztne.i
estimate the magnitude of the [artistic debt whkh nations of the world oiir« to her. But I should b« to be thought indiflerent to, or inapprcdative or, the of our own people, and the conspicuous advance < has made within very recent years.
Wk have had a great deal wiiiicn about the stai days or weeks. Mr. Henry Arthur Jonca, whose li not be confined to the mere writing of play^, but m alt manner of lectures, aniclcs, and dramatic schei company with Mr. Sidney Grundy, in the |iages of » of the AV.V Haifu.' expounding lhings|dramaiic with I and thirdly- Of course, he lias his hit at Ibsen. G taVc up his pen without this? I with he could, foe serious author, with the interests of,ihe drama sincere does not really, I am convinced, look upon Ibsen wid indifference which he afTocis in his writings. Pe^ interesting of recent contributions (o dmmaiic litd Hctity James's paper on " Hcdda Gabki " in a prei the Nfie Jin'ifw. Not so much for what it said 1 Gabler." though thai was fair enough anil intcrestij because it is portion or parcel of Mr. Henry Jamca^ as dramatic author and dramatic critic It is tn^ connection to turn to certain utterances of Mr. Henij theatrical novel, "Tiie Tragic Muse." Here is the^ which his hero dre^mis : jl
" He saw .... a great, academic, artistic th^ and unburdened with money-getting, rich in its repe^ high quality and the wide arr.iy of its scnams, and authority of an impossible administrator— a man disinterested, not an actor with an eye to the main < forth a continuity of tradition, striving for perfection, | literature under contribution. He saw the heroim ' situations ' variously dramatic and vividly real ; he | drama and ]>assion and character and English U humanity and history and jioetry, and perpetually, them, shining out in the high relief of some great mi as fresh as an unveiled statue."
But Mr. Henry James's agreeable fancy is doshec agreeable facts. He does not like the practical l represents by Dashwood :
" Dashwood knew all about the new thing, the pH he knew all about everything — receipts and aalariq
Pages on Plays.
209
^:
I aad o^Sfaper anicles, sx\A what old BaslL<!rville uid, and what Mm. I tLuffiet Ihotifbl ; matters of superlicial concern to Sherriii^ham, who I mndetcd, before Miriam appeared, whether she tatked with her
■ *Kalb<>c-gtiit]cinan ' about thctn b>' the hour, deep in ihem, and I findiflt ihem not vulgar and boringt but the natural ait of her life and ^dttcuaoeorhcr profession."
H[ Mr. Htnry James mxf be assured, however, that an intense W inleitit in i\\ the minor details of dtani.itic art and life is quite com- I faitbic aiih the highest belief in the dignity of the art. I II mu« be admitted th^t there is a good deal of v.tgue talk about I the iheme just now— one might say, more than enough. Mr. Menry I JiaOiMt. Henry Arrliur Jones, Mr. Sidney Grundy— there they are all I aphioing and expounding; and exhorting, and nobody is by so much I tsa ptony the wiser. Kir. Crant Allen rushes lightly into print as the I ctiiDpion of a "Tliinking- Theatre," to be instituted for the benefit I sf icne particular actress or some particular group of actresses. I Wii Mr. Grant Allen thinking at all of that ideal theatre dreamed of I bf .Mr. Henry James, the description of which has been just qtioted ?
■ W^cr he was or not— whether in his heart he cares a rap for I ^ciiaenceor non-existence of a "thinVing-lheatrc," he brought I down 1 good deal of indignation—very much as shooting brings I doni lain— from the jealous guardians of existing drama, the lovers B ('lUngs as t)tcy are, who see in any suggestion that is not in absolute f •Word with the traditions of Philistia an insidious attempt to spread I I^K plague of Ibscnism, to disseminate the poUunous doctrines of I tW Xonh. In the meantime, thank Heaven, the drama goes on, I ftd will go on, however the worxiy battle is waged, however it rages, I Mr. Uavcnport .Adams's interesting " Book of Uurlesque " comes I Id my hands appropriately enough at the very moment when the I Gaiety Theatre has closed after its long and brilliant season. If I
said a regretful good-bj-e to " Carmen Up to Data " I can offer l-a warm welcome to Sir. Davenport Adams's volume. Here the Udmiier of burlesque will find a comprehensive sketch of the history 'of an enduring and amusing form of dramatic art. That we shall iaiways have builesquc with us, in some form or another, may, sajs Wr. Davenport AdamF, be accepted as inevitable. So much the better. I will make no attempt here and now to renew the gentle nd io)'Ous passage at arms which I had wilii Mr. Archer and Mr. Walltley over "Carmen Up to Data." I do not think those two scholarly critics quite understood my case : probably that was my own fault. They dbd not si^em willing to admit that one might admire Ibsen sod Vcrlainc and have a taste for Aristophanes, and, at the same time,
21 t
TABLE TALK.
ErrORTi TOWARDS THE I'CKFECTIONINC OF THE BOOX.
EFFORTS for ilic |>erf'ectioniiif; of the book are strenuous both in FriDCG and Great Britain. To the progicis of boolc taceuion in Paria I have more than once drawn nucntton. Ucau- Iftl in tnanjr respects are the two publications which have been Malbjrthe Ac.-i(Umie des lleaux Livre«, which has some half-doicn EngEih membert. \'i^neites, head and t.-til- pieces, decorated capitals, idihe liVe are delighirul, and tjiie and paper are of high quality. 0 the Urger design's, however, which are a s|>ecial feature, printing t Goloar b attempted, and as this is a tentative ait, the results, ■HRgh an advance upon an^hing yet achieved, cantiot be Vded as RnaL Uliat a society is doing in Paris Mr. Morris <W 'off his own bat " in London. In [lassing from the " Abbesse e Castro ■ and the " Debuts de C-Jsar Borgia" of the Academic to Tib Story of the Glittering Plain" issued by Mr. William Morris ■ his new Ketm»cott Pms, we pass, so to speak, from the ™i of Charles II- to some abode of Puritan simplicity and Wl All is stem, old-world, and formal. The first p.TgC of SUQttc A is a blank, except fur the letter. There 15 no title-page f (oil sense of the word, though there is a colophon. The type and dark, the capitals are convimtional in design, and the is spotless vellum with wash-leather thongs or Inces, The is hand-made, and the whole might almost be taken for an BOnable. Here the experiment is reactionary without being less l^tetting. The book is accordingly at a premium. As was to be 'pecicd, the desire for applause of the author has interfered with K monopotjr of the work, for which, perhaps somewhat ungencr> *»lj,ihe subscriber hoped. A cheaper edition, in different ty|>e ^ oa inferior paper, is 10 bring the story within reach of the literary at.
A New Mania.
Btiihat.
r UESPECT the ccnstirc passed by Mr. Ruskin upon the applica- *■ don of the word " mania " to love of books and the like, but \ >crm is convenient and is not really disparaging. To me — to
2 The GentUmaH s
yawell-Vr^awn phrase fits; appbed, I am told, to wine— all col- ang is g>3i b-; same is Switei than others. In Paris the laiesi p is for o'.lectir.^ tie [Tlostrated posters which, as mural decora- ni, are striking fearuiei in put streets. 1 have, indeed, received j alogue of the prices at which ih»^ aic supplied. Amoa^ mudera .ists who produce these afirha or posters, Jules Ch^ret and loubrac are favourites. Their works are, I fancy, unknown in indon, but have a good deal of merit, '• Glycerine Tooth-paste" considered one of the best of the designs of Ch^ret. Anothn sign which stands high in public estimation is now sufficiently miliar in London streets. This is the picture of " L'Enfent rodigue,'" which is the work of .\d. Wiliette. The name, half mtering, bestowed on the new form of collection is affichomanU.
Guide-book to Books,
rHE great desideratum in Ei^land is a good bibliography. When the classified catalogue of the British Museum is issued, full though scarcely a perfect work of the class will be accessible. V'hich generation of our descendants will be able to profit by this it i as yet too early to say. Meanwhile, ample as are the materials upplied by Lowndes, Watt, Allibone, the " Dictionary of National iiography," the sale catalogues of Messrs. Sotheby 5: Wilkinson, and he booksellers' catalogues, of which during recent years there hit jeen an inundation, publishers naturally shrink from a cosdy and lazardous evperiment. In the absence of complete guides, hand- books to books are springing into vogue. Compilations of this kind may have a moderate amount of value, but constitute, for the mtst part, mere tinkering with a great subject. The most comprehensive and trustworthy is the "Classified Guide to the Best Books" of Mr. W. Swan Sonnenschein, of which a new edition has just seffl the light. Subsequent compilations, a batch of which are beftn mc, are, on the whole, delusive. What must we think of a professed guide to books which, under Botany, docs not mention "Gerarili Herbal " ; under Bibliography omits all reference to " Lowndes'i and while dealing with Heraldry is oblivious of " Guillim " ! 0« may expect shortly to see Clarendon dropped from the Ibt of b* torians, and Pepys from that of diarists.
SYLVAjruS fBBAir.
I
THE
;entleman's magazine.
Septehuer 1891.
THE TROUBLES OF AN OXFORD BEAUTY.
By Phiup Simclair.
MOSTlfN had ntvcr been so delighted as when she icccit'cd an invitation to come and make a long stay with her not Cathenne at Oxford ; for the girl's own home at Stokcly, a kie town on the south coast of England, was neither comfortable Ur happy. Clara's father, a dcKtor of some talent, had died very wddenly some years before without leaving an adequate proviuon for ta »ifc and family. Since that date, the widowed Mrs. Moslyn had wn bving in rery humble style at Siokcly with her three daughters. Cbia, the eldest, was a very pretty girl, with a tall, well-made figure, "BgDbr fcatUTcs, itolden-brown hair, and large htown eyes of the kind ^w look so mud) and mean ito little. She was nut a girl of strong **>«i«er or deep feelings ; but she had an instinctive craving for **M and pleasure, and the narrowness and dulness of her present ■■lOoildings acted on her like a slow torture. Like many other ni IB her position, she could only think of one way of escape from "•fpresent existence. If someone, like the ever.recuning Prince *-«tining of her favourite novels, would only come and many her ***ltake her away to a brighter place, where every aspiration would ?« be checked l^ wretched material cares, how happy she would be 1 "uitheie seemed no chance of such an event ever happening in ^tolely. It might have been remarked of this little-known seaside fcttrt that, like the reduse in Gray's '" Elegy," mdaudioly — of the ~ Tou fxixxu no, 1949. Q
_ /*:■ ^^
jitjxs JilM^Msxme.
■j^.. iJtr.-— ^. ~— :: —■■ 7T-=j=r..: i^^ii — :-i.= aarkef it iorliaon. '.-. liti 1 — ■.; -=.=:• -isrjr-- = — e snncusr. '-sa ±«e were »hnji jTi^iis -- —s =.::- T-r^rTis iTii i££=i:x^z. jscec Amoif At TsiiaiE — Tj:^.:---~:^f^r:.£=:. ~.=-j:,zi. t-:!; ^isd Sciu£t because it a =:t;r =:ii itt:.;^- — iJ^'::.d ?ii::;i3. sur: » Can's issx^jfisai —1=11. T-j^ uisi:.—^- :^c-L-=sir=. K=: crjxxL it is true, til ;cc iesi »-r::i:u= is Ir;= — i-Trr-i— T":::!: craz. J'wf w«al[hy cotpO
33=1=. n=i:^ e: reiicK". .■-^Lut^ -fte fSz^eaesempIofedaidBti E =j: t=CL:iisi=c=: -»=£ 1 isrzz^ 'za^^zL. IrwdL-kneed, no*- ! ibru-iie^ ^-:u=i r.:tin?-.r .".rseri ~ — ■'- 1^ ^tttt had seoal j:«?^ ^ s:±-^-iC J"-=i. Jil :s7-L Hi sel r: zo to the little pnifc :z;=-::i *-:jir; s:i; s;::::; =: --le liinr. i:ii Kirtc a£ her so stnflf r:r;c^i:i:r rm sir^izs "^ :^ii =i;s =iLpi5oeiit eSiisions of fc T-jzir 1^ ".s i=si.i:z:; -.;ri:ia kZ. T-"-.-"fr-c cc his eats. At Ktal tTiij. ■s-:£^^^•^ -.1^ mill ij::.;e:e^ :.: ~k Treseai. he devoted* -jiii.-^^^;- :-■ --^ 5^:s^- =l; ±w rJi^cnic placed uiulolii :jr; T-;c_i r^^^ s-^Lrr^i-i ;»;. i^i -ic T«:iz;si:T recalled him to Mi i-.^^. 7.^'^ "i^ srcii i:*.-r:-ir-i-i ^ sii^tle-ininded Josqi^ t;:^^^?- :,-i.- ;.i:- 1-. ;-ir- :-i b; b«= ^ =;:rs 'rKiUiant and bet»- I>;i_r^ z:^:^^ :.ii T-;i:--i ^.i-j rssiL-zrilT uf.:Ziaec his adii-aiices. R* '."sr:^. ;-ij T-^ 7':'-^ i^'- i-ii =■-' T^:sc■^:3. ird such a mudiltf TKTT itr ±-:= Z-^: ; 'ii^s. A^i ±^i »ij£2. aiter some moodi' T- -•"':;-.-i-. i: =j.i; itr 1^ jfiT ;; Is biz>£ aad loTtnne of £i»^ T£ir. be t:j f^rrr^il- i.Ti j:t-n.i^:lT TiSasec. More than i j(* hi^pTiSiC i— r£ irs . ~"; r7,s;>i>i. ;-i " seeded as if a life of hope lisi, :.— zz. r;:o:c:c:t- "^t rtc'-.r; C-i^t. She was becoming fidSa 2-i TefT-.ir.. ire ^se-i :: T.-.-i^ ;■:» to-^ i: would be b^xe ** w.-'::"i :i=i i"t: -■- -~ — - ireiii-i sage of old-maidewV g.-j..j^-T — i-i-ict .-Tr-^rr^-j. ■='r..;l-. h-igr.-.acaa: in itself, caiuedw «-■-!- i~-2r ~ U-; ^C-■s■rm r.:cs;l-;::-d Their a-Jtit Catherine 4" li-^ I>7. >i;-K7^f ;i^> j.?::r. ri:=r::ec :o EBgbnd. ThislidflP frc ±e lis: ==»-s= >-iir= bs- 7e<:i==: in Bei^gal bv the side of fc* kwrusTC-^^. >U;;:Srj;xr-_ ::"-I-.i — -J; Hiffclanders. Onlbeda^ fctm fever c: :r^: r:^.^^'. rSc^r. his w-xcw. a buxom woman widit<P litilebi're. re&r'.v=-i :; Ttrz:r. h:-?. A5:er looking about a little lb 2 •esti::;--lire- fhe .iiriZe'i. ■." i^ccrcorsce with theadiice of sevO*
Time wis «>.£- :he ct.'t tjcien- :his renenble city had ions' was coiDpc5ec c: ±e .ir.ivsninr jrrpfcssore and their woraankirf The latter wtre r.c verj- -•j.^ierc-js. kt it is only recently tW' Idlow of a a)ilege has beec allowed to many. At ptesent, boveilt
The TrcuiUs of an Oxford Beauty. 215
things arc completely changed. Of late years croRds of new icsi-
dcsts qoitc nnconncctcd with ihc univcrsiiy, have appeared in
Oxford. Tlic half-pay officer, the civilian who has earned his
pCTtfion, the retired merchant who wi^^hes to bid adieu lo the smoke
■nil din of the metropolis the eX'StorkbrokcT, and the widow whose
butund may ha\'C belonged to any one of the above denominations,
love ceased lo fly to Bath, Cheltenham, and other homes of rest for
iwy moftals, and have bc>;un to turn their steps lo Oxford. To
Wet ilie requirements of this new population, tiie town boundaries
1m been largely extended. In place of the broad fields that used
M SBtround the old grey city, countless Mucco. fro tiled " terraces,"
• "gedenii," and " crcMrenis " have arisen as if by magic ; and ewry
Hod Icadint; to the town has been lined with desirable vilb residences
Ofihctnott a|>|>TOved desciiptioii.
Xow why, it behoves us to ask, has Oxford suddenly become ko fOfuIuu a residence f" The answer is mainly to be found in the ■ccciity imposed on every Ivnglish mother of linding husbands for Ici dioghters. JitM as the increase of population is continually ' ClKsing once unknown and barren tcnitorieit to be turned intou-aving . icidi of com, 10, as one popular resort after another becomes too Mil known for the purpoKS of husband-hunting, new and untried plitts are con^antly being discovered, explored, and tested by the iKwus matron. One of the last upon which she has cast hi>r eye is 'OifoKl. The adnntages of that city are obvious. During six ■Onihs of the year two thousand young men have to be in residence <UKit^ in order to pursue their academical studies. They are of a *ttp»ible age. They come fresh from the refinements of their ■fiws. Il U but natural that they should long for some female •*•«)' in their new abode. That of their tutors' wives oiid daughters " wly 10 be entered very rarely and by special invitations, And '"<«, it is to be feared, arc rather avoided than desired, for the family *** of an Oxford don is, in general, far loo lofty and edifying for ""iwiy moruts. The result, therefore, is, that the Oxford under- Wwc is only too delighted to obtain an tnlrk to the drawing- ""•OBof the non-university or town residents. In fact.at the dances, ^tnioon teas, and musical evenings, given by the latter during term ^t, ihc male guests fre^juently outnumber the female in the pro- P*lion of three to one. What English matron, with daughters to I^ovide for, would not feet raised to the seventh heaven of delight at WcJl I spectacle? It is, however, lo be feared that its apparent nlocmust be discounted owing tu tn-o circumstances. In the first pUiw, wbcicos at these entertainments the average age of the gcntle-
le: --^-=rr - "_- -.r.^i^ ~- :c z=.^ ltf£es is a: 'east sevenyert _ ._," i_. _ .-- -.J. *~^ — - ^^^f;^; — T,j— --J. ^ is reaiin liitlemcR
_. . .._. -_.. ^■_- , '^, - ;_: — ^ — ^ c::^ga QUI of abimdiri
zt -: T_ ^- ;-:-r:rii= :~ :.= r^;;:^ ir iiiir relaiives. Imt««
~^ - ..- — .1 .- —.J. - -_-s -.— ^ -;-j't sver T^i"fc< of hisfillBt
-i--;-^.- - - ^i ;j:^--c T7:z=: -i=; zc tbi joint of tearing 4«
— .:^i. t:=r=frT±. -z-z---zr- j7~- — i= address, magnifimlii
r — ■ ■;-: i -.^ir —.;-=■— ^ ^1;; u:; ;£ =^—i •=-■*", he is twy&i6<« itz^ :^ i; -:.i r-E-n j:. •±i£ -^■' 5«=s« if ihe word. AndtliBit =■•:,;--_■ ii--i=!=-=.;;-_--i -■—'-■ —t'~^s cf Oxford, after eojOf«( t?-.* -■»•-—« :r i.;i-tr7r f:r 5-:== -rssra wn=ru: any sign of awed4n| — : - T--^ — rj :; " — -» ■i^i b:— _r;ru "::«-^l2 to grow ratherwuTI a=d---V :-":ri:;>=-=s5 '.ii^rii ^; — -,--•-! Vy feet that the briilJ«*
TZiilhi iJ:i i^^ii ':ii-±n ^■"■■■— ■ f;r so I^ng without any res*
rEsd=.i;^ -j;:s>; -.-' - - --i V-r, ^5 s. Oertnan writer has obserrtd, '^■ZL^ zltr:.-: zi^i- z: ie j- „-£;'. irs exrresaely unwilling lo h
y.T~. i-z^- f:-.-^;-i ri.-?.:: := a j:re::y v-r.a known as "Tk C;i:--=-";- ;-.=<:, r I-.j^i. ?'-; {zir.i plenty of old InJiaiH"^ i— - :"---.i; .- :-'.-i. ^-i ?-^;;i::y reranie enchanted with ibt 7".-:. -r.I -.^ _ . . ;. A::,r ir.-.i- tv:?^',!*' time she went down B f::^.:.. :. ;- z ::■.< -: 1-- rt! ".vsi— the Mostyns. She did «( fiil :; :;.i-.i:< -l.'.-. i:n-_^ T'i::iurs the great beauty and Udylib E:^a.-.-i.-j ;: -.r - i:^ C'.-:^ ihr sztot.^'.v reminded Mrs.Sluartrf he: '.;?: ':r;;r.C7. I : M.-jtyr- T'r.tzs was something very sad inlta i^=j c: s; rritty ^-i. c7,-.;:f^; ^ ^\r'. wasting her sweetness on w descr. :L:r ;:i-r"r. -—.r.-hji --.ica as Stotely. Mrs. Stuart.atniif- heaT-.evi i-i i-y-.;:-.- w—.^r.. was .-ut:e tojc'hed by iL Sheato** tho.;^'.; c: "-;: j-- ; leasji-t h.^nic a: Oxford, of her large circkrf frie!-.,:s, < : ■.■,-- -■..-.-■.- -ics your.- n-.;n to whom she could inlrofttf her niiicc Moti^vcr. h:*- pleasant it would be for herself to hut CUra ai a coaipar.ion. ar.i what an element of attraction it «"'* add to her iitt.e j-ar:ies : The idea once conceived, Mrs. Snu« communicated i: to her sis:er-in-law. The latter, who did w* I* on very well with her e'.de;-. daughter, readily consented. And beftm many days were over the whole matter had been definitely anaopi The preparations for Clara's departure were soon compioA and the girl, trembling with delight and anticipation, reached Oxfcri towards the end of September. It was a wonderful change fi« Stokely. "The Cedars" was a very pretty and comforuble hen* Mrs. Stuart had taken a great fancy to her niece, and for the W Ume since hci father's death Clara began to be thoroughly h^-
n
Troubles of an Oxford Beauty. 217
long before her delinite cntt; into Oxford socicly look only after ilie beginning of Ihc winter term on October 1 1 t gave a (bncc, wh:cii irras attended by the usual crowd of linsters and irell-drc»ed hobbkdchoys. Clara, who hid I anything grander than a dismal tea-fight at the Stokely «8 delighted at the eniertainnicnt. Her beauty and grace Ji* belle of the party. The undergraduate* present were 10 find so fair .1 llovrcr in the kortus iUait of withered manhood, and Nied with one another in attempting to t& their {>artncr in the mazy dance. Her aunt was with Clara's success, and foresaw that "ITie Cedars" ome (ho roost popular house in Oxford. The fame of :yn's beauty was soon spread over the whole town. A fier her aunt's party she went to a dance given by Mrs. n army' surgeon's widow with five daughters, who lived Beloie she had been a quarter of an hour in the ball- ra could have filled her progr.amme over and over IC bitter di.i|:ut>t of the five Miss Catchers, good girls and fll no beauties, who found the evening very poor
^nit
SMial rule, the richer undergraduates at Oxford, most of to be found at Cardinal College, are far too great pcrson- ! pan in the plcas.inl but somcwh-it humble cntcruinments he town residents. But Clara's success at Mrs. Catcher's BO tilataHt, that her admirers carried the report thereof : aetual drcle formed by the town society and the under* rho specially frequented it. Among the persons who thus er was a certain Mr. Charles Huntington, a shining tight ,t sporting college of Braicnfacc. He was the only sun of f Worcestershire manufacturer and landowner, Sir \\'illiani I. The gallant Charles did not give mudi attention to icty. He was, indeed, so fully occujiied with hunting, 'ds, cards, and wine p.irlies, that, thoujiih the young genile- ly any chance did a stroke of work from one week's end to is difficult to sec how he could have possibly found time r the courtesies of the drawing rijotn. But it chanced rd such a glowing account of Clara from his friend and ortsmon, Mr. Fielding of St. Jerome's, that he was filled re to have a look at her. He, therefore, asked l-ielding a card for Mrs. Stuart's next dance, which was to come itw da)-s' time. The card was readily obtained. Mrs. lb; Other Oxford matrons, had carefully studi9d the
I
iET 3; acJT S3C of Si ira
' - ~~ _:-■.-: : 7_r:. t-: : if z TZ^i i^ '■x±^ arei-^j coi : r :..- -..i-. — i ; :-.iz-i t-r^ :;s- *'• — - tii ■»?■.;".; erKiir.;. *i!
"-- — :: — — : u.t^2- :l' :.;.:.i f:T lie •:si:xpzxe'. Clw :-s^""-- T-^l, "';::= H-.n::~^:>^ rn: loii :: lis r>:>nis he int
— :■ ?, .1 z — ;-:v i.n s: t— I ^h;; ens cay ai afternoi ^-.^ -::— fc.;^ut.- - :c-' :^rx..'- Tl^ra. sr.d Mr. Huntingto --:;-;.-.-, ^ : : V .^-:.-,:. - L-ti-i v^ -fTe »-:-^".£='i laiher havc a t " : -:• u: ~ ".::: ;■' "; :.; *.— : ~t:i'~sT cheers nor inel -'.-.T_- -- : --' :.j ~:ris f-'T.t .-.zlitr.'.- Hesworethi ^ ._.— :.:; ::.- •..: -. t;-; ir; r-. ::: ■ rrr in; ' peojle he hi -:-. f -; ' I..- T-.j;- :-:n-.i--:-; -.n^i :o warn him. :. -- : ■ ;:: , - ■ -i: :: .-;;r_--:-: f>oX and told them t
■.■ — :.;.-;-- T-i ■-■■;'.':. 1^ ■aire q-jiTc ainazed to fin : --_ :• . - .--::• :.i '■:=rimz w'-.e:i his natural basl -■ 1 :r :i t .— ; r r.± — -'.i il: "rj- -,he fireside with Clai ~-. — . -■-;.-; ;";-; :: -Jir zw.tT e"i cf ihc room, and tell 1
-: -.1 j -; r.-. r; :'ri iz'r.tz diy wi:h a new dog ; how ni:
i'^'- _ _. _
:i =';u;r.:ered : how it was a good dog, . :, 5-." z:<-i -; .""; -"-s -"---i ---5" term that got run over by a .„ - - - >£ ..-i -■!:. ^:k:^ cf Brazenface had gone a diii :.-i;r.- l.-.i: -;-;";; :: ?';-he:m ; howmany bottles of wine t ,-,—;■-■— r.! :r, :>-' w-y : hew they had an accident driving > -^, :'-; ;r;7 ':<'.~- s— ..•.shed to pieces, they had to walk into .-.: ::; ^ v .i^.■.;'- '.ar.z-.r^.- one of the horses ; how his friendl w^i ■ ^ ■■v. c-.:r. hu: r. n;oit awful fool ; how morning ch; -" .-.'»-:■-". b-ri- who- .-, man had been going it the night befo iiwr.y ithcr i-.e:.i;l5 cf the rowdy man's career.
These in^cn-.:ou3 confidences went on for nearly a ngton was getting deeper and deeper in the toils ei , shortly before the end of the term, while walking h< torn a skating party on Port Meadow, he actually p u immediately accepted by the delighted girl To
r
The TrottbUs of an Oxford Demtty. 219
■fK joy of Mrs. Stuart at her niece's triumph would be impossible. I^Cjr niece, Lady Huntington," as she would be some day, sounded Lmti«t too beautiful to be tnic. She got an illustrated history of the r>untj- of Worcestershire, in which the magnificent house of rXuntingion M:inor was depicted, and wondered tihich of the ihiny- ievcn Urge bedrooms she would hai.-c when slie went to slay there. Fttcre was a beatiliful room in the western turret, ovcilooking the A ibit ihe fixed on as her favouiite. .\s (or Clara hcrscH; she littd congratulnlion-i without number. She wrote off a most ig letter to her mother at Siolttly, in whicli she described all peat things she would do for her younger tristers when she was Huntington completely gave up his cards, his billiards, his parties, everything, in order to spend his time by Clara's side, hid never known anything so sweet as the companionship of this ly, purc-hcattcd young girl who loved him so truly. What bad gu to recommend him, he used to wonder ? For he was a simple- youth in spite of his rowdy, reckless life, and very, very He knows now-— but wc arc anticipating. Etcq in his highest momcnu of felicity there was one littlcpoint licb caused Huntington some trepidation. One night at his rooms Btuenface he was expatiating on the virtues of his inamorata to chuin Bulkeley. Suddenly the latter, taking the eternal pipe out lis mouth, remarked, '■ Very sotid, my boy ; but does, your know about all this?" At these words Huntington grew as death. However, after a short pause, he replied that he had ya intofmcd his father of his engagement, but intended to do so ttefirtt opportunity. Bulkeley chuckled. " I hope I shall be there Kethe row," said he. Huntington rose from his chair white with md told Bulkeley that when he wanted his opinion about his afltin lie would ask for it, at which the sarcastic Bulkeley only 'isiltd. It was plain that there was a tittle cloud on the horizon. Slxmiy before Christmas Mr. Huntington returned home. He CUra an afTcctionati: letter announcing his arrival, and saying he would have something important to tell her in his next. 't a week stfler this Mrs. Stunrt was sitting Intc one evening in Priwtc room checking the house bills. Suddenly she was startled ''ffid ring at the front door. It was oi»cncd by the maid, who *fe" moments came in and said, "Sir William Huntington is in "* dining-Toom, and wishes to see you a! once," Mrs. Stuart put
ha
^p straight, and went into the room in a tremulous state of
"■PCBsed excitement. She found herself confronted by a burly, iM-^ij gentleman, who. holding in his hand a letter which the
Troubles of an Oxford Biauly. 231
of Chra'i admiTcre was in no way decreased. The position in society as if nothing liad hap|>cncd to tnitjr, and it vos not long before anotlicr a-tiiirsnt to Ml. movement at Oxford has never had a more enthu- Vivian Dijiby, scholar of Itrucc College. His ihio ce, and bclcadai&ical expression emincnily fitted hini apostle of culture. A great .tdmircr of the woiks of Ure, and oihen of that ilk, he liimsclf was a poet of But his eifusion^ whidi were kept locked in an ftbelted " Tiirtia," were only sliown to the initiated, ily of male friends of his own stamp, with whom be ng hours ditcusting the regeneration of the British what he longed for in vatn was scxme feminine sj'ro- m he might make known the yearnings of his soul, numerous Lidies in Oxford would have been ready to him to any c«cnt. But these, iila? ! lacked that ithout which the ideal woman of Vivian's fancy was
Sunday about the middle of the Easter term, Vivian ed to attend a great " function " at the well-known I Thcodosius, Miss Mosiyn also chanced to be present. e et'iiiisitc that morning ; a result due jjiirily to religious r to the eonscioiisncss that she was the prcttiei.t and d)^rt in church. From that day, curiously enough, le friends began to notice that his poems, heretofore of brious character, began to assume a brinhicr itmc. tinighl after the Sunday above nienlioned, Digby, who iMo Oxford society before, asked a friend to take him Stii.in's "at homes." lie must havr paid Miss .MostjTi >f aiicntioii ; for the eldest Mi-w Catcher, who was « occasion, subsequently remarked to her sisters that » already making u|> to someone else, at which the four 'exclaimed in chorus "How disgusting!" From that ""ere iJigby Iwcame C|uite a frequent visitor at "'i'hc
'Iso manajjed to meet Clara mit at different hoiiscn, * Paid her the most muiki-d attention. The girl soon fcehngs towards her, and many and long were the ** had with her aunt about him. The difficulty .ibout ^^ this, A man of brilliant classical attainments, he *i numerous Univcrsit)- prizes. It was cxticmeiy "^p) that he would soon obtain the pioud position of a
^ ;
^ ^^:" .^c^^- -^%;':v..vc-
The Troubles of an Oxford Beauty. 223
at, to tbe very end of the Easter vacation, his lot was one
contentment. But after the beginning of the summer term,
of which tlie Final Examinations always uke place, a change
come over Htuby. In his conversations lie began to drop
t true genius being unrewarded in ibis world. He also
t short hi« visits to Cbra. For, sad to say, the young
'3 work was in a very bad condition. The Final ClauicA)
nnin.iiion at Oxforddeniandscvcnfroni the most gifted an
.mount of hard and regubrstuily. And Digijy now suddenly
;he fact that, owing tu the way he had wasted his lime over
and love, he had scarcely read a tenth part of Ihc neces-
What was 10 be done? The examination, failure in which
only the ruin of his future career, but also the loss of Clara,
,c place in iwo months' time- He engaged two special
id made a desperate effort to retrieve his position. But it
c. Nervousness and overpressure ruined his bcallb. The
bon came, and even before the class list was publislicd it was
pt " liigby, Vivianus. e collegio Brucicnsi," the ablest scholar
|r, had been a miserable failtire. It k'as all up with his hopes
imhip. His tutor told him he had wasted his time and dis-
B college. Mrs. Stuart wrote to say that, as he bad failed to
ronditions, all inlimacy between him and her niece. Miss
must now cease; and the unfortunate young man left Oxford
10 lake an undcrma^tcrship in a preparatory school.
B Digbj-'s downfall was rather a disappointment to Mrs.
■ho had set her heart on getting into the real University
But there bad been no formal engagement Moreover, even
had been successful in his examination, it is r-ilher doubtful
after all the course of true love would have run smoothly.
it is the reputation of the University of 0):ford that it has
begun to attract stud<"nts from the most distant parts of
The mild Hindoo, the stalwart Australian, the wily Sclav,
Yankee have come from their distant homes to drink
classic lore beneath the shadow of St. Mary's. As a
ule^ the above-mentioned students come rather to enjoy the
fe of the place than to wrestle with the dilliculiies of
bal culture. And thus it happens that they are apt to he
[orgcous in their lutniundings and unnecessarily frivolous in
de of life. Among the foreign birds of passage present at
at tilts time was a certain dark and dashing youth named
tine Vasari. He was a Greek by birth, nephew of Paolo
KD eminent Italian banker and financial agent long since
I
_ /^ J^.7. -TTirt - JS/iriia
-■ .—. .:-— -_--.-rz .-- ; .JL.-r^-^i :^d -> apjUcaioa. He
■ r_--. !-C; .L - :.-- ^tzzTfi -i;; ilt *^Ti ;: hi* T^nagEnglii — .^: :., I-:: :.-^ ri t^ ^i:::^-:- -^ :ji± — :^ —-""---: and bta-ct ■-■ r : _■_-.:_ '.-li -1^:.:- ::L.i zittZt. H± crarj; brmditsail
_-■: 1;-. i.;-- :..-.-i - : -.iTTz.— . i^£ pr^if-i rU coavetsatiDB ii4 .■ : .:- L - ;_■ i r ;■?: ;::-- u :^^ i =^r —- c:--.";^lil tastes andtn^
.";"-. :.-- "■.^^- r;_i ;.;rt J:-Lvt »c-:::rtl him a host of ftJeofc ^ '-'■ '--. ~i - ~-.' :; '^^■"■i-i;:_r:'i<. rf c_; -GiccnSEehiinscIf loone ■-.-. : .- i .J -:-.- - t^-± — t^iiT-r h:rn an with acriiisii(
■..'.-1-: :_- .: :_-:.7: -r .■.: ;;i= — 1:'-. tl-.: sisiinest sportsimn &<■ ;-_;-.:....; "■.-::: T;riir. :-;.-_ -.>.::: he was the besi-knoira Jid
.■--.- -^ I --'j^— . r :■/■;: :'-.ir:::=r!r-:cs was an intense fondnOl ".' ;.: ;■ y.-. ■..-L :>.: -'.tuzT.:. iTsr.k English girls a nil* 1: - t\ -.-.; :> — :-.; ;>.;■ c-^er.-a-juarded ytWM^i ///« <*
: .-..-->.- ;„ :{; r^_ ;;';-•;: _u;.-id -.he mysteries of flirtaiiiA -■-? . ^.-. .-..-;:-. ^i-:;: in :ha; essen:ially EnglishirtasW
-.:"!-:. . .- ; - --::■.;-: :t- r.v.-i'.*. Utfore lonj; no dmce * :..! ■. .-. 1-. '^ ::_-,- ■ .:".tI :-i.Ci;r.:s seemed complete wiihouttafc :.- ■.. i '.•.'..:- '...-J :r. t.'x:;Td sxic'.y before, in deference to ll* ■:.-;.. -; ::>>.. ;r. h- tr.ri'.lci himself among Miss Mosiytt* .■;.■-... -,-~. '■'.:.--. I >..■' y '.v:!* r.o«- nearly always locked up with W^ ': ■-.> : ^" t.":--:.-."iir.:. v?.\.t a li;:io preliminary skirmishing, fou&' r. .'.."t". ■-■.:;.■ ir. Ln.\n-.:nj; the most prominent of all the worshippC ■■■.;. ::■;;: ::.: '.'^e •Kt'.'.-'iir. jv.ti shrine in Chester Road.
Ti-.c f-v.r.'.rr.i.^ :err.i a: Oxford ahvays concludes with a showr '
C.-.r.Ci.5, c-nrer;;:. j-icr.ics. garden parties, and other gaieties. Aiarg
n;:inbcr ul visisors. mainly consisling of female relatives of the uniJe^
i;r,idua!tti, coiin; down. The regular residents are rather apt tob
iK-glcrted during this period. Still, by coming out in new dresse
":ctinga sudden ignorance of the local it j', and getting some newj*
w youths to take them about, they manage to get mistaken fo
ts, and so sec a good de.il of the fun. Miss Wostyn, ho«evO
ar too pretty and popular to be shunted during this festivi
1, Vivian Digby's examination was over, and that youii|
E^i
Tlie Troubles of an Oxford Beauty.
22.;
itlunan had disappeared, no one knew where. But Vasari glndly ed <&K 0{i[X>rtunily lo lake Clara to ewry Kie and emeiUinincnt the commemoration week. HU wealth enabled liiin to do ihe in grand style ; and the value of ihc l>all and concert tickelit, [uetSi and luncheon parties he coi>i]>cllcd Mrs. Stuart and licr to accept would haw kept an average working-man's family in condition for twelve months. The Greek's attentions were by notts unwelcome. Clara knew perfectly well that her stay at cotddnot but for ever. The affair with Digby was now broken Unless she got engaged again pretty soon she would have to go. itine's appearance, theiefoie, at this conjuncture seemed like ^£odteml, and Clara was resolved not to lose the opporlunicy. A Tho has had two lovers — to uie a sporting phrase — gets to know npe& She redoubled her powers of pleasing, she brought aU her nibtle fascinations to bear upon the enamoured foreigner, and etdeavDUrs received their well-meiited reward when he succumbed picnic at NunehaiD.
Mn. Stuart was disposed to be rather suspicious as to Vasaii's
n and character. Hut her doubts were soon set at rest. The
he liad with him proved that he was really and truly nephew
Id Vasari, the eminent Athenian banker. He lud inherited a
iw from his btc father, Francesco Vasari, Paolo's younger broilicr.
tfcw months, as ecveral passages in his letters showed, he was
ig into his tjnclc's business as partner, so that o'enwally he would
wry wealthy man indeed. With such ciedentials Constantinc
graciously accepted ; and Clara's rivals, who had just begun to
o*CT the end of the Oigby affair, were again compelled to bow
knee.
The kmg mcation now ensued. Mrs. Stuart, like many of the Oxford residents, went aw.iy for a long visit lo the sc.a-sidc. iccA Uara with her. Constanlinc had to pay several visits lo coDtincnt, and also went up to Scotland about ihe middle of to get some grouse-shooting. He, however, managed to run occasionally to the hotel at Kastbourtic, where his fiaiuU was and hb numerous letters and presents weie all that the most ig young lady could desire. Tonards the end of September Mrs. Sluart and her niece re- """td to Cbcfwd for the winter ttrm. Clara had been the belle of '"'wd society before. But the glories of the past twelve months *fc utterly eclipsed by the splendours of her position as the bride *fctt of the wealthy and brilliant Constanlinc Vasari. The latter ^l^tsscd himself in seeking to do honour to his beautiful Clara. In
226 7ke GtniUnuais Mt^azim.
Mrs. Sr:ar:'i =ame he gave dances and fitea inimmenUe, in ilaA Clara, was ilwi'. 5 the certre of admiiadoo. Constantine was *Jiefc«i ■J^^: ct a Ic^iir. The alremations of courtly grace and semiiDOlJ l'erTC!i:r wiu; wh:.;h he jeareil his iaamorata contrasted so favmnUf w>.h the i;r.coi:;h iior.^iierces and aesthetic banalities of Iw m former ad=irer5. :hj: C'j^a grew quite fond of him, and npd^ be-,ui:: ;c rer^;inie herself cha: she was really in love. She thoroo^ enjoyed :he e=:h-^iasdc fcomaM paid to her wherever she «* He; rival: were f^oiis :hai the girl who had been jilted bj jooill Hi:===^c= a=d who had treated poor Mr. Digby so shamdnBf should hiv- cirried cc the best prize in the matrimonial miAtt S:iV_ ±eTirew- ±a::he ody way to be happy in this worldistotita what cr.s ci- «:, sni stick to it, so Mis. Stuart's invitations vac accs^tic =:rre ea^sriy than ever.
It hud ':eec arrar. -ed that Vasari should leave Oxford fn Eood at the e-c cf the ■w-.T.'.tT tertn. and return home to make the M ITCtMr;t:.r.s :jt '-\i --j—^lj?, and draw up the settlements. He« to o-TT-e b-cs t,- Er;!Lir.i ir. M::rch, and the wedding was lo uk [-'.jcs ibcu: :>.; eni c: .\;t-;'. or the begianing of May, Wiih tbt n-.or.::;c: '.V;in:rer. treret;re, he began to make preparations fw te dC;-"-'-- T-; JLj; d^y ;:i his stay in Oxford he spent exdunnlj in the Svv;ity ct C.-^ra ar.i her attr.:. He had a long and intereSinj .-.;.-.:■-..■; wLt- :-i \:z-7-.t-. '■-. the course of which he described vi* jLr»:.it c;,\r-tr.,-e the *: ".i-iid l.fe which Clara would lead, aftote n>j-r;j;o. ■.;■. o.-:;t;r.sr.;al c:iy:til5. He made careful arnuigemera .i:v;;t wr.;--. Ir.e tw: '.id.es wer.t up to town to see him off by the cor.i-.r.c-:.-.. r.-i-... i -e .overs sa:d an affectionate farewell, and Cm ».uchv\- hv.-. w.-.^:^- h:s h--.dkerch!ef and smiling at h« "Ik l\;s h,t::v-.sor.u' f .ii:-.i:r.; eyes i::'. the train passed away into il« d.iiVsicss,
- ver>- strange. Up ,«i.l.llc >'. I.::v.:.-.r>-. -.-r. sv.io of reiterated appeals sent from Onibri* ihc %.i>iov:s .u-.o.rcs*c* ^ive:i by Mm. Vasaris silence remained* l„oVav As tVo .;.„,:...■:. ,,,- j j^.^arv passed away without a W* riAms r.v.,:s !-t.: .:, p..va:e. then quite openly, began to m* s.u...si,o ,civ.;r.s. :;c:f.c su^-sosicd that Consianline had W» '"'Tf .. n ir-f^^ ,,,^ .:,,. ^,j Paolo Vasari. like themcid muK m I .,0 W.H-. ii, O-.c Wood.' had refused to pay theiau*
K Ru'^k r " '^' '^"-^ '^'■■^'" -''-^^" 1'""" of Bulgaria, and 11* ,hv KUS.WU ^.overiuucnt lud refused, on any pretert whatew. •
Th£ Trottblci of an Oxford Beauly. 227
kim inairy an English lad}-. The >tira Catchers, on their part, aplydccbrcd thai he was a rank fmposlor. When February came r& Stuait uill buo>'cd bcisclt' up with the hope that Constantine'a ene« Has inienltofKil, and that he was going to suddenly reappear at Phc Cetlan " at the bitt moment and take titcni »!! by surjiriife, like r. Wilham Terriw in an Atlelphi inclydmna. Mrs. Stuart and her Cce med to sit up late every night and keep all the iight^( burning, It there came no xuddcn rinjiitig at the rtont-iioor bell to disturb etr vigils. At last, when March passed away^ without bringing even tt ghost of a message:. Mrs. Stuart's face began lo grow very long, lara had grown too nervous and dq>rcMcd to stir out of doors, Se constant inquiries and hypocritical sympathy of her friends oddcncd her. Suddenly, one morning towards ihc end of April, a tier, inConsianiinc'swell-lcnown handiviiiing. was handed in at *'The edan." Clara, with a mguc presentment of evil, handed it unopened t' het sunt Mrs. Stuart broke the seal and read as follows. The iMlape bore the Vienna pottmark, but the enclosure bad netllier ate nor address :
"Carissima MIA, — It is with pain and regret that I indite these DCS to my sweet English lily. Dur engagement, alas, can now enr be fulfilkd I A week ago I was united in marriage to my ooiiD Anasiasia. But to explain the concatenation of circumsiances 'Uch have brought about so dolorous a catastrophe. I come back D Athens in December. My uncle Paolo meets me with a very [vnc bee. I ain filled with alarm. I demand to know the worst, ^tdb me. The fortune left to me by my late father has been alt Ott owing to the sudden failure; of the securitic-i in which it had been iwued. Except, then, forthe partnership in the bank, which depends *■ my uncle's goodwill, 1 am mined. I tear my hair and ask aid of "•Wfood God ! Then my uncle, seeing my distress, continues, ' My ^Id,' tays he, ' I cannot sec the son of my dear brother Francesco re- I^Wd to extremity. I have a daughter— Anaslasia— of whose future
haw been thinking much of talc. She will inherit my wealth. She **« thee dearly. Take her as thy wife and I make good the •*> of thy father's fortune at once, and thou shalt succeed me as *adof the house of \'3sari.' I am thunderstruck at his proposal.
lii|ilore him to fjnd some other means of showing his alTcction. '*il By uncle is adamant. ' The husband of Anasta?ia, whoever be *t*in become my son,' says he. I consider the situation. If I ^^ to accept, I am loo poor even to wed thee, my angel. I think * my father's often cxjiressed hope that I should wed my cousin. I iQlit Odc cannot argue with the inasici of forty legions. Why
..... ■■_----■ -L---:ii.:-3 ::'C—e'} Ot'.hetlonlj .!!-~-V-.Z-V 1- =- :t^ T^-ji^is-Cinasma, pardon me 1 1*1 --e'-iizM -t ■■- ii^TiTTZini '=.:c vc niys^ bat on that ondte ■i^ r- -^ -T^ zuL^i-l '=. =« — - t-^^iTwgt of loveis I ThoQii ^i.I:^-ii^.i=iit.:W;:7*^s=jZ=ie« again. Givcl^iyte,* ■j~y , — - £-i iscnziis :t =7 =csc Eocere respect, and «cce[t fa ^T-i^ "i ^--rr---" i=-r;o;c zt liiC bcokcn-heaited CoNSiumB
^; .^j^ ira.-* i TJ-' ;-rer ;i« conslcmation and bewildenXB
_-. ^^.~ ;~:s e^LsZ-i -±.Trr Ca^ and her aanL Theeoiw
i=.£f«-i r:=j; '^■"i =.z=:. h-wcrer, say a few words ibool d
ItTzx -.n^-z. '..L* :':r :!« iKsiif^ess of the hunuan heart I W
r'-s iA:^-:^:= ;f — ■; la ii:: abo-' his marriage with Anutti
C-c3Ci=::^'i 5 'ji~=: Tii i t/^ZQ^ from begiQciag to end. Dnri
his KiT i:: fTT-'-z -.iii: s-ierrrisisj young gentleman bad resoh
t,' C-.~rcujr.> i'-.i: -^•.: iLs rzir.i of English life ; and ulule
rcKi;-,-i ;: CS:;ri :: hid occurred to him that it would be
excs.'.ir: 1 -i". ^j «^s~ i= a ccK sr'.eKdid joke, to become regidi
c-jTi^i '.; s:— s Er.i'ij'r. ^irt. I: was true tliat from his biith
hid S.'-;:-. bi:;r:;r.ii :^ h".; c-,i5in Anostasia, and the idea of bre»k
this ^:T;:;;--.;r.: r.evtr sr.teTeii ir.:o his head. But what would I
mAr.CT? li; r.ii j-'r-^ilv hei:d of so many of these English
faiLU-iT.;* ;>.:l: er.iiii ir. nothing. One friend of his bad b
eni:.i4LC.'. :r.T;e ;i~-.K : ir.?;hsr had been engaged for five yeaii
tho f.-'. ci" r.:s hir-.r^ ard had about as much chance of (
bcinj; :r. a --,-5:::.-r. :o ~iTT>- as of becoming the Sultan of Tuil
IK' uv'ior.cd u;' •.-■.c '.or.p lis: of engagements that had occurred
O'iti'r'-! svv-.tty o..-,r;-; his own time. Xot one in three had come
aiu'.liin^. Ve; r.v> o-c seemed to care much ; the parties to rt
aff-iirs won: their way cx.;c:ly the same. There was, therefor^
harm lo be a-.'i'rchc:-.iied for himself Then, the advantages ■
obvious. It wuu'.il be grand fun doing the youthful lover d /'««''
i\n<\ ill".''*, wh.ii ail insii;ht it would give him into English li
I'ossibly ho Would not have put his little comedy into ciecol
unless he had met Clara Mostyn. But she was so fascinating
^.(■11 known, and so completely the belle of the place, that to be
fccot)"'^'^'^ fiinci would not only be very pleasant, but would m
hitn t*^^ ^''"S of Oxford society for the time being. No danger
to ^^ ^PP^'sbended from inquiries by his uncle. ConstantiiK
gptioned once or twice in his letters that he was a great admin
certain English lady named Clara. But old Paolo Vasari, a
ica^uki. "t V/l
ch mi;^ht lend to liindtr the wnldin^. < )nce nnrricd, uld snap his firigt.T.s ^it the ivurld, ird people must have met Constantine and his wife ; ihe Easier vacation ; for even before the fatal lad arrived three days after the summer term began, I hours in Clara's hands, the news had spread all over i impossible for the girl to face the storm of scandal that tuart had given herself tremendous airs during the last The way she had braced of Constantine's wealth pean position had sickened her hearers to the death, isfortune a worldly woman dreads so much as a great intment In her fury Mrs. Stuart vented all her rage I finally told the girl that, as she had made such a her opportunities, the sooner she went home the
too utterly broken-down to expostulate. The bright had animated her on her arrival in Oxford eighteen ]d all been dashed to the ground. Conscience speaks extremely small voice in the breast of a modern its whisperings are rarely heard at all. And thus, her aunt's tirade, Clara retired to her room in a cars, her only feeling was one of indignation at her bad ver occurred to her that to spend all her lime and 'ing to entrap the first eligible person who crossed her lly an ideal life. None the less, as she grew calmer
Tie Trotibies of an Oxford Beauty. 251
appy situation. Simple-hearted Joaei)h had not got over ctiopu Had it been otherwise, it is very doubtfol whether ve resitted the irnjilietl appeal. She looked so bewitching •ss that he could scarL-ely refrain from seizing her in his
the five traitrc^scE. As it was, he contented himself with t brief outline of hh career since they had parted. He o'cely soon after she went to Oxford, and had been to anotbet branch oi^cc of the Bank at Slowljorough in
SonK lime after his removal thither, a distant relative id not seen ct heard of since his childhood had quarrelled pbew and heir presumptive, nnd, dpng soon after, had properly to Joseph. The latter thus found himself in 3f a large sum in the Funds and a half-share in a very City business. He had readily arranged to take up the KAi. actually returning from his othce when Clara met him. rt pause Joseph went on to speak of his acquaintanceship It Stokely. For a moment the girl's heart died within her. ng to say good-bye? liut thit, /orlunaiciy for her, wag }tn his intention. "In spite of all that has happened, t be, " I am as fond of you as ever. \\'iil you jjive mc a wer now?" For all response, Clara put her trembling into his.
was married from a private hotel in London, as both d Oxford had such unpleasant associations for her. Her
rxiher dull sometimes, but Claru has leirnl to appreciate srth. And, with an establishment wi'h which even the t Smart can find no fault, Clara, if not supremely happy, went.
i
:=r -*—.-- . . , Sr^t :i vetymuch^^
. - .^::r-. ;_r^: -": — i^ i--i±r. She must hwtttB ]
»r Hit - 1 — ^.--.-^ «-rf»-its hfT a manm A '
—.-.-: zz.z. i— i.c icTscl;. I wish you couMAlitft*
■- r. z^ ::'—-^T-. H= ^ ;::i:e a family nun. •■ i
^ - - -- 1 — 3;r-r^. H= sttmi to delight so IB»
>!: :.:^ ^-=^i:; :.: =-i.rrirJ.:xz for ihe sake ol W
^:.- >:■_.-'. .■ .V;.v BiUhtntr.
■ f-r-^':ri --:•:-- Ar,--r_ XOTembcr i4(iSij).
7":; _i- I — -i K ;::== nintJonedtoyou, of them
- =.■..:--'—. ■..■^. :: :ir t:T7 zrtJiZ fcippxess, left us. \Ve» i--~~--' i^::.--! - liT :i.:;^::tTi5 •.:■ republicanism, and, ini -. z^ 11.-- -,^..-^ — — •!•- -Ttiz-itd. to be. We were not Iw^ i.- ---^ : .- ;:.- p--^ Li^-'-::TL::::ztT:i :n her. As to any noble .:."i-~i~-;-_ -;i-^i. : ^ _r=rlv i^rc-sslble for a selfish chanoe
;- -■ ir_ j: L : _ : _. r.sr r,:-^ -^jxsn bdng able to separaW -'-'■ -;-■ -li ^irr.-.^r.i h;d ihe artfulness to say thalP ■ — - ":- - ■ - . r - :-. ':.:. ir.i :: was only his being married :-!.;■. ■ .: V :>_- 'Mur.i;. r.Tw. Percy had seen her oncet* -■■i ~ '■^~ ;^:. rit :': .zz'r.'r.iz ier.sible. but nothing more. She<
- -'; '. — 7, 1- i L'. '.Li'. I wr::e 10 her, and was very much chai ■«■ " '^T 1::";-: 'Ve -.>.;,:-r.: :: a thousand pities such a mil "-iTi i''i:.7-i-: '--z i' -.-'.i be left in a place like that she inhat '■■— "-■iri::Ti, T::; vi:^- -^riTent for her to come and livemth ~-.-'7 szi -: ;:;r.cr dine than we found our mistake. It' .:r.c ;:-■= cts we cru'.c icsiibly get her away, till at last Percy ,-.i -A-.u'i j-.-.e r.ty J~icc i^,er annum. And now, thank God,shi
T:-.c ribo\e c\;r.ic:s from Harriet Shelley's letters sho' ~*tremely youthful character of the writer, and how the bri( «n reflecied all the moods and views of the husband of niof "*^ letters also give some form to the shadowy personal ^ and arouse a sympathy for the ill-fated girl. Ch * both these were, untried, inexjjerienced, full of unknow fotis ixjssibilities— unfit each to be leaned upon by the ol ft nnr.^ other on whom cither could fully lean. The id]
>*»( Exiracts from Jfarriet Shtlley^s LeUert, 235
Mnd we would not utter harsh judgments on theie children :. Si\&. lome graver ittoughls xn awnkvned. Let us brivfly line some rirctiinst;iiKrf oi the slory !
lef wa& a youth uf ninelc-i-n, nevrl)- expelled fiom his Oxford »hen he first mcl Hatricl \Veslbrook, wrho was a coni]]anion aUTs, at a sr.hool in Cbpham. Having Tailed to convince Mrilies at Oxford of the .ipptopriaicniss of his ielJ(;iou3 ihellcy was now bait on icvcaliiiE his vien-s to his sisters. I was the favoutilc disciple. In his occasional visiu to House, 1I1C poet met this fair, lovely girl, Hairiet Weai- id straightway included her in hts readings. Charmed with dcT and untried minds, Shelley wrote and talked of his • • mom) teacher tn his friend Hogg— the partner of his K'apadcn. In time the poet conceived the idea of uniting rite sister, t:iixabclh, to his friend — in a relation unfettered itTimonial tic. ftogg was not fastidious, but not absolutely ODtal in his views. The young Kli;abcth stoutly refused 10 the astounding pro|>o5itionr and caused her brother the hagrin and disap{)otn[ment. His anger knew no hounds, a being "—so he wrote to Hogg—" the being that I love tifiemrj; consequently, as love appertains to mind and V she exists no longer." That relieves the moral stigma. o«t with all unconsciousness, we may transfer this form of In the marriage bond, and need no further elucidations tlcy's conduct towards his first wife, terrible as it seems to s. Meantime, having failed to influence Eli/abeih, Shdlei- nth double energy to the other promising disciple. And ad more hope. For Harriet Westbrook w;is a less evenly nature ; she was not at all the gay and careless school- dinary type. Ignorant, beautiful, and inevperienced. she norbid in .loine of her views — ready to consider herself ill- home and at school — itself a sij;n of deficient moral sound- (hcwasfiuick to turn the conversation on suicide as the only rmedy for all woes. .Shelley studied the girl's character, prina'ples easy and quick of growth in this virgin soil, and ) himwlf " Guide, Philosopher, and Kriend." All-powerful ihood and his beauty, he was soon the one object of life, iDlcrest in the heart of her who was to be finally moulded I and careless hands, As to the causes of the complaints ness and injustice which fired Shelley's imagination ivilh the ivalrous sentiment in these early days, they were inapprecl Bincd. Home-surrounding, not altogcilKT congenial —
i
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r-= . -_T - . . -^ — .--zr^-L-^ -r..^.- -W7::n ^g il-oaed Hinid, :-.; ._ -_ z^- : :: — — ii=. i;r^ = "inie ±e zjzcal KsA ;.. -o _. E; - - ti. - xiir:-:^::, r^r :rT;±i zie^mt:^ I3ii -^shefii :— - :.- •— - ■-■-.--— -^^ -.: -.—'■izz. .=z- z± dti^cc"-:** — pofap
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■- — =" -n;- -i . — :z~z. ~r ^. - := ^.i:; n' siit^ifis i.|X3CZ0p{o - - -ir ;~.r; — ■— ^^ r.^r -s:---^-j t::^^ gat t-j-t— -a- -'-^ nulintl rsr —■■■;— -. r-. - i:- Z-^Lr--. x^ f.i-r,:se ^hisinilkc r:s ■ - ; -.- . - -. —1.. : .;!- ^i^;l- — ;^ ^^c ii-:'^"d return to I-.- . ^T.7 ' : ^- . ~ . —._;-. :=^ ---.-r-i-i-, y-e i^nond -" ■ ~ — ^ - ■'- ".^~:"-v .r. -_- i^*ii:"c", wr-o hadbrokn
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"■^■■' '-"" ~— —'-^l; . i.-; ; it -;-.* ^— * of his difiow
■»■■- ■--■.--- ■-. ::■-;-■;■ -^i ta_i::-.i; -.aniagems'*
7- :;-. ■ — : i . ■ : - L^-^= T -_ ;i z'-i » rrli, his had recouw » ■.:-'-■-"■- "--: : ■ — r; >^i :.i;tei ihe chap senlioK*
■•'.IT: -: -:: li; ::t : t:i ::" >.:-:,:r."" So: we agree w tW «■-;- -i ■- i '■: :i --.i 'i.z.:-s-=. ^z-iz "honouralde n* s:.V.. -.-: u ■■ r;- 1-=. •.-". v..' ^:.;n^ c:-^p\e eloped, jnd «" r.-.in id i: ::-- 7.;, -:;r ;-.:.5-:. 7. ilr.b-r^h. on August .'3, i'"* wlOis-:>^;i::-;Tvi= ^;";h::.- i;~i-drf. Now.SbeUeyh**" inteiesv.r.; ::.!.-.'.. ■':* -:.:-. >-; '"."-- i rcyish admiration, 'i3^)'''i time Vac k. :r. -.r.e ■..r^;- ::" MUs H;:cr.er.er, the mistress of a «^ at Hurs:pU:-j y-.:. 5-s^=\. Tr.-.s Udy shared his advanced t*** — fot the res',, was r.;". >--"t "-- handsome, nor particularly'?; »b^e. To her the yo-r.; h-^band wrote, in the autumn foBo^ his marriage, Ot Haniet he saya : " Het letters became own
'^^m Extracts from Harriet Shelky's Letters. 537
, 8'Mnjr. Atlengththeassumcdatoneofsudidespairasindiicct] , ^(jiiil n'ales preciiMtitcIy. ... I ini» shorkod at ihealtcration ^f toots. Uuledkl I giiess its cause— she hnd lifcomc deeply ^ied lo me. ... I proposed marringc, for Ihc reason which I '* giVen you, and she complied. Ubmc mc, if ihoii wilt, dearest txJ— for ttill thou art dearest 10 me. ... If Jlanict be not at six- 1 xU that you .ice at a more advanced agc^ assist me to mould a lynoMe soul into all that can make its nobleness useful and lovely."
; is, pcfhape, not surprising, that, fortified by this encouragement,
lilcherKr tuppktncntcd her wedding (clicilaiions by making
the poet herself. And Shelley replied in that most false
Jogy which substitutes "the union of minds — the love of a
' a fout," and such expressions, for the outspoken utterances
lion. With Miss Hitchcner as "the sister of his soul," and . Jefferson Ho(tg, the man of loose morals and Hippant mind,
he brother of his soul" — while the hapless Haniet was only
ifc — how could happiness result? Shelley wrote to Mik Aencr in his first year of married life : " Were it not for the dear id whose happinevs I so much prize, whidi at some future pd I may perh3j« constitute, ... I might have slept in peace." jky's ideals held their ground for very short periods, and their fitness wss Micceedcd by rc\-ulsi<)n and disgust. This was an un- owable temiieramcnt for the higher evhibiHun of married faith. ic poet caught at each new attraction as a child might grasp at ffliet, and almost as innocently, 'i'liese, however, when caught id retained till daylight, arc reviled as ugly, ill-shaped insects, wlley married Harriet, believing her driven lo despair by injustice, id bytrant of love. (We are bound to .idmit that the incxjicncnccd n1 Ihiew herself on his pioteclion.) He feared her being driven to jKide frgm these very causes. In the end Haniet experienced the omI ill( of wliich the shadows had so terrified her— injusliu and "••fn/ few— and, when faiily confronted with them, she did as she '•iJ ihnaiened, namely, afttr the marriage, sought her desperate *"«l)r in r«l earnest.
Suth the justice meted out by the young apostle of I'reedoni "^ itightl It »fa» not long before Miss Hitchener— whom Dr. *"'leacalls the " Republican Schoolmistress " -was living with the *"% laanicd pair. IJut a few months of closer intimacy trans- '•"fl Shelley's enthusiasm for her into a most lively disgust. The 'm metamorphosis overtook her, which was apt to overtake all the ""^cherished human ideals. Life in her presence and atmosphere ^■Omuble. She must go. And go she did, but not before the
I
k
238 The Gentleman's M^asi$u.
unhappjr younft wi Tc bad learned the taste of doubt, and the of hoptlcra misery. Miss Hilclicncr ai length retiicd. Shch from the lofiy eminence. No longer called "Portia" by ti )-oun){ |ioct a% l)«'3iiliful as F.rat, she was Ktyled the Demon," and Shdky nitiiallj-ofretcd her -Cioo a year as ai if she would go. In November iSi : she dii^aned, and nj to afterwards by her quondam admiier as " our Ittie lonnt school mi stress. "
" \VhaX," saj-s he. a lillle laler, " what would Hell be a woman in Heaven ? "
Nfitlicr Shelley nor liarriet was mofc than a child in mi Vet childicn have griefs, have, alas ! pasuons ; etiildn children infiict inlcnsest pain.
Shelley's idea seems ever to have been, to group togcthe women who should produce a hannonious miu tn siine, wl might disport himself as bis nature should dictate. Hedisrci ulterior consequences, equally with the possible eflecl theelem brought together might have on each other. I^liza Westbn became to him as odious as did the " Brown Demon." He her as " a blind and loathsome worm," and failed to disso< im.igc from that of his fair young wife, whot as Dr I)om entered a room " like the spirit of a spring morning.' In Ju Harriet gave birth to a little daughter, named by the poet or " violet-flower." Harriet was molhcdy, and in a letter Nugent, of Dublin, some months later, wrote ; "I wbhyouc my sweet babe ; she is so fair, with such sweet blue eyes, more 1 see her the more beautiful she looks." We do ni Shelley in the paternal character, yet Thomas Love Pcao friend and Harriet's chief advocate, says that he was "cj fond of his first child." He certainly hushed it to sleep with and uncouth sounds. He was probably more passionately i to the children of his secnnd marriage, but with these we are concerned.
The autumn of r8r3 found the She11ey$ 1m>-e1Iing nort From Edinburgh Harriet writes to her friend Mrs. Nugent, give the letter ; the date is October iolh.
" My dear Mrs. Nugent, — My last letter was writfen from t of Cumberland, where we intended to stay till next spring ; but, 1 ing any house that would Mih us, we came on to this far- famed; little more than two years has passed since I made my first to be united to Mr. Shelley. To me they have been thehapi
Exlracls from Harriet Shclk^s Letters. 239
SI yean of my life. Tiic rapid succession of events since that line Bakes ihe Iwo years a|>|>car unusually long. . . • When I look btdiotheiisic before I was married, I M:emto feel Ihal 1 have lived 1 bag tiine. Tliuiigh my aL;e i» hut i-jghtecn, ycl 1 fed .i« if I was Mch tUer. Why are you so silent, my dear friend ? I earnestly hope jmittDot ill I am afraid it is nearly a month since I heard from jwu. 1 know well you vrould write oftenei if you could. What is }0« employment on a Sunday? I think, on those days you might
BM^afewminutcs to gratify my wishes \Vc think of rcmain-
hg here nil this winter. Though by no means fond of cities, yet I «Wi(kl lo irome here, for, when wc went to ihc lakes, wc found such DKl (rf human bcingt hving there, th.ic it took olT all our desire of ■tnining among the mountains. This city is, I think, much 'tt bttt. The iwople here arc not so intolerant as they are in MOfcn. Literature stands on a higher footing here th.in anywhere (•fe My <brling l»be is i|uitc well, iind very much improved. Pray Idnieheir from you soon. Tell me if I can do anything for you. ilf. Slielley joins mc and Eliza in kind regards to you, whilst I tntai
^*' Your affectionste friend, "H. S. Do not lell anyone where we are."
.Already Hanicl's childish ignorance and immdatut were giving Wj Wore inevitable uncertainty and apprehension.
hnson March 14, 1814, that Shelley married Harriet for the ■Wodtimc, in St. George's Church, I^ndon. It would seem that
* tio» was really bound to her in eiery sense. Yet was his life wanifcjiijF teaching out in other directions. Supposing that H.ifrict ■"ainained such place in his heart as had e^cr been possible for her, ^iippwjrig even that for some time after marriage she had improved ™ poiition with him, it is ncvierthctess certain that, very soon after "» kmrnl marriage ceremony, Shelley was deeply interested in '"'•'w feminine "group."
f*ecMiagc of High Elms, Uracknell, where the poet lived, was •^tbebouje of Mrs. Boinnlle, (he venerable and admiring lady, "^ibtr attendant satellites. This house was a second p.iradisc to J^joei, 3n<i one from which he wis only driven by a fiery sword.
* there were chums on him which did not leave him absolutely ■** lo enjoy " llie celestial manna of high sentiment " with that JW^xif whom Ihc white-haired Mrs. Uolnvillc was chief )nophcicss
I potent magic in hor tea-cgps. Mrs. Newton, her sister,
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■■ '--.-.: ■ .r ::-.-: ;-,.- :-.3u^ht Sightly of ihe"^
" :■ "■■ :. : ::--:;.- ..-.'.'.■i :i^j, to her, and it cannoil*
; . -. ; :r...-:.—,t :r.i: logical effect, on liis morale*
'- ''-"■ ■ ■-' '- crrir.e-i ; still less could she forelner
■J .: -..vi r, trx :i;ni;jcranienL While we admit ll*
;',-:n a: f.rst drawn into the fatal friendship by EBr
^larnrl'"''' "" ^"'" '"'^ ''''^ ''^^'^J' *° disclaim any me« aff««» . ..s Kii ovcr-masicring clement in his conduct, « J«
*Ur,.a .ccvcU hard measure at his hands. Young « »«
I'-y i.-:.; I'll:
^^Some Bxtracti from Harriet Shelley's Letlen. 241
■ ii knowledge immensely exceeded hers. Her obduracy at the
1- . wf their separation cost her dear. For, added lo the hopeless-
ncu of reconciliation with her, (he poet now cherished suspicions of
*"-f •tilelitj', wtikh grew rapidly into proportions substantial enough
t' -r I, IS ncitattle temperament, and left him defenceless against the
new ioditcnoe which assailed him at this very time. For it was now that
ihc daughter of (Godwin and Mar>- Wollsinnecrafl first crossed his path.
Wc know how suddenly and how strongly these two natures went
'onh each lo the other, at first without the hope of any doier union,
^'id jtutly so ; for Shelley was a hushand, his wife a prey to the
•*rife of conflicting passions, and not nt all con t cm plating a linnl
**paratioo (rom him. Wc feel th.il Godwin played a somewhat dis-
*"j;cni»ous part in ihe tragedy of these three young lives. For k<
^AcJ a motive in believing Harriet to be unworthy, and certainly he
clid not scruple to |>rcsent her conduct in Ihc worst light. Could
He liave separated Marj-. his daughter, from Shelley, he might have
ficlt no animus against Harriet ; but not being able to separ.nie the
lover*. It was his inlcicst to weaken the tic between Shelley and his
first nife : thus wc place little faith in any of his statements.
Sbdky did not uait 10 assure himself with certainty as to Harriet's Actual misconduct, but, coupling his suspicions with her altitude of Ik&nh alienation, was naturally ready to believe himself inoially evnindpatcd from all tie 10 her— all tic which should bind his affcc- VioDL For he slill proposed to be fticndly, and careful for her '^elfue. Strange and incomprcbcnsihk this blindness on his part ; ■Mttff. though |«»sibly not uncommon, ignorance of woman^ nature ! l*<i)axk says, " I feci it due to the memory of Harriet lo slate my **i«i decided conviction, that her conduct as a wife was a* pure, as ^^ OS atxwluiely ^ultless, as that of any who, for such conduct, arc ■**tt most in honour." And those friends who knew tlie ShellcyK all ^''^cui in this testimony.
At this time of anguish the young wife fell ill, and came at **"'ch risk of health to I.ondon, at Shelley's retiuest. 'i'hc details of
|*"*t lollowcd are not completely known to us. The binh of a i hiU! **s looked for in December, and the revulsion of feeling on the .**'**g woman's jiart was naturally very terrible. Forced now to con- j^,**^ all at an end betn-ecn herself and lier husband, the gitl was adrift. ^'>o«ing th.tl Shelley could not kgaliy roniratt a second niani.-jgc VliM time, Harriet may noi unri*;i>onably have looked for some re- *^Haliation at a later date ; and [wssibly it w.is in this belief iliat she ^^^^iporistd with him, now when he was about lo leave her for ever. ■^^^ certainly took legal advice, and directed money arrangements to
-— _ -^j__ - :i Ti
■ - H. i.HELl
" 13 Chape! Stn
M/.'.. ... Mr ■..;'-!.*. Vo'.riVari are verified. .Mr. SI
i!>-- I.. --,,„. ,„.,(|i;,„i- ;ii,.| vrtr.iial, owing entirely to God
''iilitiM.1 ii,.;i„, • III. vfty i;rciil evil that book has done :
Some Extracts fr^m Harriet Shciley's Letters. 245
e toUL The faUe doctrines therein contained hive poisoned
jayounsand virtuous mind. Mr. Shelley is living with Mr,
llin'9 two daughten— one b>- Wary Wollsionccraft, the other the
Uur of hi:i pruent wife, called CUirmonL I told you some
I bick Mr. S. wn.i to give Godwin three thousand pounds.
nt in clle<:l>ng <he accomplish nicnt of this scheme that he
obliged to be ni Uodwiii's house, and Mnrj' "'as determined
idiKC him. She is to btAme. She heated \m imagination hy
IQ of her mother, anil going to her gra\-e with him every
till at bsi &l)e told btm she |was dying in love for him, ac-
pftaicd by the moit violent gcMurcs and vehement cxposiula-
L He thought of mc and my sufferings, and begged her to get
aeitcT of a passion as degrading to him as herself. She then toid
. she would die— he had rejected her, and what appeared to her
hesublimett virtue was to him a crime, ^^'hy could we not ail live
t I as his sister, iA< as his wife? He had the folly to believe
Ibic, am) sent for me, then residing at Bath. Vou may suppo.se
■1t at this discloauie. I w-u laid uji for a fortnight after. . . ,
roe to live. The doctors gave me over. They said 'lwa«
SWBible. I saw his <les{>air, the agony of my beloved lister, and
l*Vto the great Mrength of my constitution I lived, and here I
t % dear friend, waiting (u bring another infant into thit woful
fW. New roonth I shall be confintii. He will not be near mc.
J he ctres not for me now, lie revet asks after me, or sends
*Ofd hew be is going on. In short, the man 1 once loved is
d This is a vampire. Hischaracter is blasted for ever. Nothing
Mvc him now. Oh 1 if >-ou knew what I have sufTcrcd, your
n wwld drop blood for my miseries ....
*" AdiKi, my dear friend, may you be hnppy 1 is the best wish of
(tu> SDCCTcly Icn'cs you,
"H. Shgllev."
'e unnot wonder at the bitterness and in-tccuracy of this *"nj ii Shelley's position. The one main fact was frw— he had ^ftl his wife and eloped with another.
^^•icrriblcpain and hel|)le.ssnc8s of Harriet's position caused the ^*1«d words in which she blames not htr httihand, but his rom- *°1in flight. This injustice is eaiiy to understand. Inasiiccccd- **tcr lo her friend, I larrici tells of the birth of her son. towards '*^ of November 1814. The child was called Charles Bysshe, ?'ed in 1826.
I
**>iet taya, writing lo Mrs. Nugent, — " I h.-^ve seen his father : 'C to Me OK as soon as he knew of the event : but as for his
-trisrrjEE i:- =.:. TTOi ry— .i-w. He si^dhe was gbd hvuibiTi tff^;.;:;-; :; t-.r^.i -^i^Lct ^lorr cbisper. Yon se: how thitinbh s:-_ j 5rr.:jri M;o?^ --.-w. i^f e:-: philosophy, isthc^ •r-^ "" : ; 1.7:.:^:^ I-itt-f. it T'^^ and enligfateoed philosojJq i^ ;-:i ii.^'-ri ji r^ £:ttl K; is no longer that pnrtai ;;■:!• 7. -^ :: . t:: i^:^. =:r — t. >= =v»r rerreve himself."
T"-;->; -,^1 T i-ii i-:---:-;e H--Tit:'5 br:ke= ideals. Tbereii]! ;t; _;-:- 7-;-^^r^ :: ^t: i^:;^ — i ^so :o Mrs. XugenL Tta
- V- it2.-l'.r^ N;;i— _— I L=«^:::TT:o -.ellyou my pooi liulehll
_-^i tct- -;- -. Ht J :•;•:;: n:'. ir.i :he first spore timelJt
i;-.::. -.1 "'•'-: V..;;- -::;:=;- :3 E-gland, mydeufiini
l:-L^- ■'■ :■ -i- I r':^i be « hiT^T :o have you neaime, 1
;- ;r. • - >.--:.;. r. rr- i;^ :V;;r:; ; I rei'.'y see no tenninatioBl
r-T j,;— ;ts Ar :: M" ?-i"-ty. ! S=r» r.oihing of him. He neidit
sc-fr T.: -■ r.-r -.: !■;■; —t. I :j:: ttill ai my fathers, which tsn
-.-;:;-il '■■■ --:" '. t" — - T- - "--'"i r.c^ujc I kr.ow not, Evcrjlhh
;.;? L^L-i: - ; t IV -;— -■ ;: l.:e, I .-.m so restrained here, tli
- -•.i-:. --:-'-. . r; H;» 1 «;?>. you were here, ^XTiati
■. _ ^-. — -;-"-' - ---■:--■: ? . . . . I':; now make up your m
--. .-.L :" -■ "■: -ri ;:■■■ ■=.;>. r.,e. 1 w:'.; do everything to ma
:..':■- : .- -r k : >--: r.if* is red. I live for otht.Tj.
r --:i.' I - - i .::f --i- - ^■-'- 'z vicim. to the tomb. Hot
-, -- :- >: --■.: :'- ■-"-"- '"■-- 't-t: t-eer. born ! They slay :
■,.■._- ■ :- -;- : ■-:_.;::.:- -r.o:herE;.ite. How many Ih.
. -, ■ . r , ..:..: -; ..;.■-. ■- . I h-ve been so near it that I feel
:.--■>. "■■■ ?>-- ■-:' '"-J "■■"-(:-■'■ --"' answer for. He has been t
,.-.. >. - - -";--- ~ j;-. :. "■-; -r.i --.Lne. I shall never live with h
,-„-.■■ ■■; f :v- ;>j :c. : r...-.; bser. so deceived and cnielly trea
■."■-.; '. .•.-■■ r,-.,T :":::■.: i: '- I ■>. r.: : w-:h all the affections wi
"-,..:: ,U--"--' ■■ "■.:■■-— .:r.i :'::zt. ::< be so cruelly blighted ! 0
V .■.;■.: M". ■>- - •■" "■-■ '^" "*" '^~^- •'• -s ''^ tw left as I am, a prey
.-.:-_.: >'". -■■■:-"- V ^■-' '- "••-■- ^ "-nd too sensitive to others' pa
V-:.: 1 * ':. :':::\ " - r.:::. Tr.i:e is miiincss in thought. Coiik
;.-.V "•.;,' :V.:-.;:-.y :". 7 - jh^r: -.:~c, how pladiy would I pierce I
Ml'. .'. ■".>■.<:> '-'■■-:.: «-.■ ? rr.y •:.:e. Is it wrong, do you think,
l-iii .in I"-.: ;.' ^•">- * T.:;.ws? 1 often think of it— all is soglooi
.\n.l .k->o'..-.;o. >:■.•.■■. I v.r.c. rtj-C'se in another world? Oh, gra
«li\ ilo >o.i :•>'; '■<■'-■ "> *""■■'■ -'^ beyond? Let me hear from 5
M«i.ii, luv lii'-ir i:^"-.J.. Your ler.ers make me more happy. TcUi
iihout Ircbnd. Vou kr.ow I love the green Isle and all its natir
mg Extracts from Harriet Sheila's Letters. 245 ins iB kind love to you. — I remain youi sincere but unhappy
" H. Shelley. lapel Street"
■e we lose the thread of poor Harriet Shelley's wanderings, inot trace her path from the day when she wildly left her
roof, to that November night in 1816 when she sought a fiige in death by drowning. The Sood of her young despair elmed her, and the tortured spirit sought rest Joud of sonow, of darluiess deeper than sorrow, prevented iderer from returning to any earthly refuge. No light that 1 morel
had never truly lived — the promises seemed all unfuUilled. ras shattered and gone.
ANMIE £, IRELAND.
ccLzxi. Na 1939.
sji6 The CcntlematCs Magasine.
.:\\\U\7/C.'IL RETROGRESSION.
1>VK>l\!"S :-o #o\T.;;!ii- theories are more widely discoMtdv. rao;-? i;':aeT-.\V.v misunderstood among ctiMvated pei^lba l'-,> vu-w* ':<!>'. by ^-.o'lYisw regarding the past history and faW !'!vvi;\v:s o!":h.--T ;'r,''vince — life. Using their technical phiasasd !v.v;;i,-:r-^ :^oi: .•.■^;b.v':;:Lfs in an innncibly optimistic spiii^ the edt v-jiuv. •:■".''-■.» "'* Ji:i;\vi,'. in lis own way at a rendering of thdrmdi »^^■^ w .••■.,U c\:ro:v.c'v $a:i$taciory. It has decided that in thej* ■,'^c ^-cj; ».■■■.■■.', o: V.U--.V :ias been steadily unfolding to revctl i » 5t,i;;;'.v ■.-.^-S,-. ■.•,»:■•-, ■■■y o: :>rnw and successively higher gradatf K- -^. .■.■■,: ;; .;s.*.v:cs vw. ;h;s "e\-olution" will continue with incn*- ?-\^ »>.■■.•.■■..*- ■■.■;:: ;'.-.■>:•.>•:» is'.or. of issextreme expression — maalki N' .■;■ ■■■■•• '.v:\^.-,-;;;v>j.M.\and pleasing as transformation scenoil ,1 •■.■.'■.,■;•.!.■■.•.■. ■,sv.\>> -■..-■,:;;7 in the geological record nor in ^ >:.,,.-■■; I-: :>.■ ■ ■■>1,V'"^--" cmbrrologist any entirely satisfiOiI
vV; :>.• i-,-'-.:-.-,!, :;-,.-Tie .s ,-.>.vs: always associated wilh theag- i;(4:..v, .•: .i,;! ,-.;•. -V ■ ■. >:,v,-i:ic.i'. vhcriOHK-na an opposite idea, «W is ;;s ix-,;;;.,; .w. ■■\".•.^v■•:. l">.,- Mchnioaiiiy expressing thii irooH '.\ -. o':.".iuv sv,'-- ",r: i." :;■,.■:'.. y ;n the world of culture, do modif tvv.:'...- "..■ '."•i- vat .:.■■'.■.>; i'.u*. T.-.i iradu^ers. The toneless glare til^ •.•.•.i>;.o -.» o'.u^o:'. w .".■.'i ;'i:-. '.-c s--t:enevl ^T a shadow ; the monoWo* tii-.i.'; J". ■-':■. o: ■• Kw.-'s-..-: by {"c'^-'.c who did not climb would ctfi :>e t-v swcv.-: hi:m»,vy o: :!-.,• ^^hcros would be enhanced bjifr lOTii, :hi> evo'.v.'-ioi-.ary ,■.:•.;:; he sis — dc^radaiion.
ls^;.::co oases c: di.-:;-"*r.i:i^n have long been known, and p(("!* a;;en;ion has beer, dnwn to :hom :r. ortier to point well-meant i**^ lessons, the fi'.lac;o-sar.aii\;y of jv-^cics to ir.Jindual being emplejd. It M only revcntiy. however, :>-a: the enormous impor^an« of dcgto^ ration as a p'.aitic jtoct-ss ::: r„~.;uie ha? been s-jpeoiedaadiae** parity with evoli:tion tei'ogr.ise-i.
I; is no libe' to say that three -^-■ii-ers uf the people who we** phrase, "or-anic evo'.-tior.,' ^-terttet :: very much in this wm ?~ Life began with the amoeba. ar.d then cime jelly-lsb. s&eC-a^ u'
Zoological Retrogression.
HI
Aose m!«cc]bneou( inrertcbTatc things, and then nat fishes and ibibia, rqililes, hirds, munmals, and man, the lait and first of tliot). It has been pointed out ihat this is very like regarding a t is, the offspring of bis lirst cousins; ihcsc, of his second; these, is relations at the next remove, snd so forth — making the remotest ightuuanbeinghispiimaryancestor. Or,tosGlectanotheriniagc,iiis
ricTaiing the modest poor rcUtion at the family gjtheriit^ to the 3ipected altitude of founiain-hcad— a proceeding which K-ould in- ve some cniel reflections on her age and character. The sounder « ii, OS scientific ^titers have frc^ueully insisted, that living species re varied along divergent lines from intermediate forms, and, as it the object of this pajxrr lo point out, not necessarily in on upward cctioa
In fiict, the path of life, so frequently comiwrcd to some steadily- idg mountain-sloiw, is far more like a footway worn by lei&urcly odcrcrs in an undulating country. Rxcctstor biology is a popular d poetic creation — tbc»ri?/form of a phylum, or line of descent, is ' more like ihc course of a t>u»y man moving about a great city. HKtitneK it goes underground, sometimes it doubles and twists in ituous sbecis, nov,- it rise* far overhead along some viaduct, and, vm, the rivrr it taki^n advantage of in these varied journcyings to dfra Upward and downu-ard these threads of pedigree interweave, Miy working out a pattern of accomplished tilings that is difficult inttrpref, bat in which scientific observers certainly fail to discover ai inevitable tendency to hiinhcr and better things with which the wi"cTolulion" is popularly assodaied.
Tbc best known, and, perhaps, the most graphic and tyjiical, illus- MJon of tlie downward course is to be found in the division of the "■UMa. TIksc creatures constitute a group which is, in several !oni schemes of classilicaiion, raised to the hj^h rank of a sub- M»iD, and which includes, among a great variety of forms, the fairly •■aion Sea Stjuirls, or Asa'dmns, of our coasts. By an unir;iincd ^nci a specimen of these would at first very piobalily be placed in
* mineral or vegetable kingdoms. Externally ihey are simply shape-
* lumps of z stilt semi-uansparent, catiilaginous substance, in which *I>Ib, twigs, and dirt are imbedded, and only the most careful cxa- "Btion of this unpromising evtcrior would discover any evidence
He living thing withia A penknife, howwer, serves lo by bare e animal in^de this house, or "test," and the fleshy texture of tMtni -transparent body must then convince the unscieniifir jnvcs Uoi of his error.
t would forthwith aJinosI ccruinly make a fresh mistake in his
I
i
248 TAe Gentlemans Magazine.
classification of this new animal. I jkc most zoologists until a (to- ])anttvely recent d^tc, be would think of such impassive and, rroo ik human point of view, lowly beings aB the oyster and muaeluits bceihtcn, and a superficial study of itsanatomy might men fiieDftkts this opinion. As a matter of (act, however, these 5in};ubr cteatum ne far more closely related to ttie veriebrata— tliey lay claim to the qw- tering*, not of molluscs, but orimperial man* and, like novelette hnoi» with a binli-mark, they carry their proofs about with thcin.
Tliis startling and wry s.ignificant (act i» exhibited in the dt«3^ of iheir development. It is a matter of common knowledge it*^ living things repeat in a more or less blurred and abbreviated their generalised i)cdigrce in thcjr cmbryological changes Ft instance, as we lihnll presently remind the reader, the detelopi^C chick or rabbit passes through a fish-like sta};c, and the human fiztts' wears an undcninblc tail. In ihc case of these asoidiam, thi fcriiliicd cgg-ccll, destined to become a fresh individual, takesa!tDO«< from (he first an entirely difTerent course from that pursued by ttx« molluscs. Instead, Ihc dividing and growing orum exhibits phis^^ Tcscmliling in the most remarkable way those of the lowlicit smcofi fishes, the Lancelcl, or AmphUxut. I'hc method of division, iKc formation of the primitive stomacli and body-cavity, and the oiisiR of the nen-ous system are identical, and a stage is attained in whid the young organism displays— or else simulates in an altogcdvct inexplicable way— vertebrate characteristics. It has znoletkeri, or primary skeletal axis, the representative or forerunner in all venebraia of the backbone ; it displiys gill-slils behind its mouth, a.idaall vertcbraled animals in the earlier stages only or throughout life; and, finally, the origin and position of its nervous axis are exsenlully sod characteristically vertebrate. In these three independent series t£ siriictures the young ascidian si.indB apart from all invertebn^d animals, :md manifests its high descent. In fact, at this (tajf ic dilTeis far more widely from its own adult form than it doeito*** Amphioxvi or a simplified tadpole.
Like a tadpole, the animal hasa well deraloped tail which pnf^ its owner vigorously through the water. There is a conspic*** single eye, reminding the zoologist at once of the Polyphcmuic^ that almost certainly existed in the tenital group of the v«teh»'* Ihere are also serviceable organs of taste and hearing, ai»d tht l''*^ movements of the little creature justify the supposition that iltbeJ^f is fairly full of endurable sensations. But this flush of goldcnl"^ is sadly transient : it is barely attained before a remarkablt *" depressing change appear? \t\ t.h,e drift of the dcvcIopmeBL
Zoological Retrogression,
H^
The aKidtin begins tomkethingssvriously — a deliberate sobriety
Dy Hiccceda its Ircmulous vit'acity. L'AUvgro dies away ;
tloaes of 11 Pcnseioso become dominant.
On ibe head appear certain sucker -like siruaurcs, paralleled, one
t) note, in ihe enibiyot of certain ganoid fishes. The ^MJiiial
ntnei dull, moves about more and more slowly, and fmally fixes
Klf by these tucken to a rock. It lias settled down in life. The
1 dot m^led so merrily undergoes a rapid process of absorption ;
[and ear, no longer needed, atrophy completely, and the skin
\ the coarse, inorganic-looking " test" It is very reinark.-ible
tkii"teit" shouldconsiMofa kindof cellulose— a compokind
almost exclusively confined to the vci;ctablc kingdom.
Miaiutent glim|»c of vivid animal life n forgotten, and the K-si
hittxislcncG is a paui^'c rccL-ptivity to what chance and the u.itcr
\ along, llic ascidtan lives henceforth an idyll of contentment,
i], Itead dowDirards, to a stone,
The wocl4 foigcltlng, by tb* world forgot.
flow here, to all who refer nature to one rigid table of precedence,
I u iliDgether inexplicable thing. A creature on a level, at lowest,
ilely next to venebrated life, turns back from the upward
I uid becomes at la^t a merely vegetative excrescence on a rock.
II is loirer even than the |>3triaTchal amoeba of popular science •t uke jwycliic life as the standard ; for does not even the
tittia crawl after and choose its food and immedi.ite environment ? bie then, as I have read somewhere — I think it was in an siutical biography ~a career not perhaps tccmingly eventful, 'fidlof the richest suggestion and cdificition. And bete one may note a curious comparison which can be made 'ten this life-history and that of many a respectable pinnacle and yfe on the social fabric. Every respectable ciii/.cn of the pro- "inil classes passes through a period of activity and imagination, 'Ii»eIiocss and eccentricity," of " Sisirm u/id Drang." He shocks '*<ints. Presently, however, he realises the sober aspect of things. -l>Ccoines dull; he enters a professiun; suckers appear on his head; ' ne studies^ Finally, by virtue of these he settles down — he ^'''ts. All his wild ambitions and subtle iesthetic perceptions ^''pdy as needless in the i>rcscnce of t^m domesticity. He ^^Wei a bouse, or "cslabUshmenl," round himself, of inorganic and r*^le material. His Bohemian tail is discarded. Henceforth his /^isa pas^ve receptivity to what chance and the drift of his pro- ton bring along ;he livcsaualmoal entirely vegetativeexcicsccnce
aso
The Genttentatis Magaane
on ihc side of . «rc«. .nd m the tninq«aiity ofhis dllmg finA»«« colourless conicnimciu that rei'>ac« happ'mc*-
Bui thU comparison » possibly fallaaous, atid «i ccRwillf i
digrewion.
The asddian, though n pronoonccd case o( dcpadat>o^i» w*! one of an endless mullitude. Tltoee shelly warts thai owe twi fragment ofsea-sido shingle are dcgr-idedcTUstaceans ; aifiwihpf^; active and sensitive CTcatures, similai essentially to ^hccaIVle^^^: o( the life-history of a prawn. Othei Cinipeds and many Cope^cai sink down still deeper, to almost entitc shapdessness and \(» <I organization. The corals, sea-mats, the immobile oyucts and trutflifa are undoubtedly descended from free-living ano^tora with ejc-spM and other scn&c-oTgans. Various sea-worms and holothuiiaia tot also taken to covering themselves over from danger, and M htn deliberately foregone their dangerous birthright to a mwc varied ttl active career. The most fruitful and efficient cause of dcsiadttlA however, is not simply cowardice, but that loathsome tendency tel is so closely akin to it — an aptness for jiarasitism. There are «b(l( orders and clasies thus pitifully submerged. The Amritta, or Mito, include an immense array of genera profoundly •tiinkcn in this »Ii and the great majority of both the flat and round worms arc poniiiie degenerauon forms. The vile tapeworm, at the nadir, scemsiohiit lost even common sensation ; it has become an insensible mccharan of evil— a multiplying disease-spot, living to that extent, and oihowt utterly dead.
Such evident and indisputable present instances of degciKfan* alone would form a very large proportion of ihc catalogue of lin"* animals. If we were to add to this list the names of all those g<n* the ancestors of which have at any time sunk to rise again, it iip* bable that we should have to write down the tntire rcU t>/ the n^ kingdom !
In some cases the degradation has been a strategic retn^nai* —the type has stooped to conquer. This is, perhaps, most nai^ in the case of the higher vertebrate types. 1 It is one of the best -known embryological facU thai a tit* «
I mammal starts in its development as if a fish were in the nalui*
I The extremely ugly embryo of such types has gill-slits, setue-wpK
I facial pans, and limbs resembling far more closely those of a d«4-**
1 than its own destined adult form. To use a cricketing exprcsRon
I it is " pulled " subseciuently into its later line of advance.
I The comparative anatomy of almost every set of organs io i*
modified placoid fish scales, pressed into the work
whQe others retain their typical enamel caps as
.11 itself h a piscine cranium, ossified and altered, in
ity vtAf, to meet the heavier blows that bodies falling
of water, deliver. The nasal organ is a fish's
cted to smell tn water, and the loof of the mouth
skull have been iirofoundly altered lo meet a fresh
■crisil life. The ear-drum, in a piecisely similar way,
a gill-slit twisted up to supplement Iho aquatic internal
otherwise fail to appreciate the weaker sound-waves
Ihymetric air- bladder becomes n lung ; and so one
^roughall the- entire organisation of a hii(her vertebrate;
■ should find the anatomy of a fish twisted and patched
n oi water ; nowhere organs built specialty for this very
tion. There is nothing like this in the case of a fish.
IDS arc from the first recognizable sketches of their
ind they develop straightforwardly. But the higher
uderab I e distance towards the fish, and then turn round
Ihcir development in an entirely opposite direction.
^ is cridcntly precisely similar in nature, though not in
rctiogicssion of the ascidian after its pisciform or
ler can hear the painful spectacle of his ancestor's I would axk htm to imagine the visit of some bodiless his world during the upper Silurian period. Such a jf course, tniniedi:itely buj^into classify animated nature,
tiniy.
t>c at once ap]Kirent that tlie nioKt varied and vigorous ic found in the ocean. On the land a monotonous sj'ptogams would shelter a sparse fauna of insects, tji arachnids ; but the highest life would certainly be hes of the seas— the ancient representatives of the t. On the diverse grounds of si^c, power, and activity, ead any clasufieation he planned. If our Linnieus died huRian spirit, he would immediately apjioint these Kstors, and consent lo a further analysis of the matter tantiy, and possibly ei'en with some severe remarks out carrj'ing science too far.
)Tcfath<;ni of the reader, however, had even at that ly probably already left the seas, and were— with a t of dignity— accotiuitodating themselves to the neces- iihing.
I
3^1 The O^atUmoM.! J£jg^=au.
•-. n:r;c,-t 'jrr^-.n "hit :hc -jeasfinsx iiSs^xrss :f ix2M ■w-t: .-.-r -iv.c;'. ir i-^rer "han "iht:- ne law. laasseLf ctjwaa fi.i;', ■"■.-: .i.-.ni;- T.iny Kaf.'.ns. in<: :hi; rrrf^rs if -^-tr -rrp t--— wtAI — ■lie; .i.'A'; .-.f.iij. -■-■■Tr-. .1' :..-ii-.- — riire ic :iie zme nxcoTS .Vp^j: ,;-.; ii -■r...i.-..:r ..v;xj :-:r,.Ln.-:e: -.i aiu<i. I3 saiit =:« I ■",!.. ■: J-. .•:'.•: \. :::zk:z ;c:t"-'=:7:t^-.sna iiII-arearhiiE; £sl Ob .i-.-ir.j. ■„-..'; ,v.>.r.q:iv., ;:-,v«r;^:.;r T-.iiiii, juweTer. l:aT^ 5:cai M "I'.'r/ *■•': 'f,'. i,r.-.'i^y;.".cr "-sianriess. i^r-jnntEa in. ^£ j'tsU ■xv-fT-... '.r .r;i-:r. ir.ii -ji^ ;v^ bf iie -JLxr.d. mat. za wocji few I'.v.f'.y.r.fi i>.at hii w.iilii car^iinj^ base rsairiri u Iiz«it. ip«c3iit- a-. v:. ;'.';.-:; ar.r: oair-erii^ nu:;;cn3 '-f ihe Ji:r:.vs ■-.*•- ^rwic atta
j!ir.c<'.T'. T "!'. *.i">t ■■■■''T'TrH'T -!-"<:-■»* -ij-" -t-r-rt' sks^euo, lad Ii p//! K-.v^i /; ;>.«-.'^, -.i.;rar. =..iii-£ih. 1 rsaiaruhle niipcidflD of tic ■iw'.r.f.\.r.7^ v„i.-:.itir v. ".-■.« 'eedi Ct' ie wirdriess ieascc I: wodd Kflvi ..-.';.:r ;;-.--■; tl-.-i rr.;r^:^- ;=. o^l-.^::^ it al^rarioc to midaili j i .T.J. -■■-.''• :,".--'/;■■.■;■.■.■;■.; ir..i ■^'.h.dr po:z J ■:£ :he iniioniy would ri»»
f/rr'-i r. 7 r. ■:■,';? r..;*.-; ir.-.i;:r.td -.r-:i; :.-, -.hse :or=:s vested the inhtiii- ar.'-; '.f 'r.'; ';ir:>., r.'.r r-ivs 2,»iri±d ;r.ea a high place inibe t.3--\-.-; ','. :,-■-■■..-';. V.'r.y -^-ir-; :>.;;y liv-r.z th-s in inhospitable rinn flr,'; .v;.','!.r.,' i'.a.:' ".r.'^..- ilve^ hiii'bi'itd ir. river-aiud? TheantW w/.i'l ;,'; *■'.': '/'! '-■/'!■;/ of 'ieier.cra'.i-jii a^iin : thej- had failed intht sif-;:;:'!':, ■:.';/ ^'-'''- '■-'■' ^'--''^■^ ^'-^ [jowerf-l than their rivals of At f.'.i, fir.'l ;;.';>■ f.a'l ta'^cn the sc^-or-d great road of presen-ation— flj;').'. (■.■■'. :ii tfi- a-/,:d:an has retired from an open sea W cf'iw'l'd and full of 'lan;;er to make life worth the trouble, win lli;it older c|i'j',Ii did ihf; mud-fish. They preferred dirt, discomfort, iiri'l F,iirviv;jl to a tyillanl fi^;ht and death. Ver>- properly, then,lhfl wnuUl In: f.l;i'.s':d in our zoologist's scheme as a degenerate group.
Sotii'j (, o nscr villi vu descendants of these mud-fish liw to-diy ii Afii'Jin and Australian rivers, archaic forms that have kept light ■III to til': i.res'jni tilt; Mruciure of PalKozoic days. Others of their (hiltlrcn, hiiweviif, have risen in the world again. The gill- breathing Kt.-it'i- lii-i'aiiie k'ss and less important, and the air-bladder was con- si :iiitly daboraled under the slow, incessant moulding of circumslancd to llio fiishiiin of a more and more efficient breathing-organ. I'jiii'raiitH fniui the rivers swarmed over the yet uncrowded land. Aideriiiiimc amphibia were the magnates of the great coal mcasurt cpiii h, to Kivr plate presently to the central group of reptiles. From :.e siirani; divergently ihc birds and mammals, and* finally, the
Zoological Retrogression. 253
last of the mud-fish family, man, the heir of the ages. He it is who
goes down to the sea in ships, and, with wide-sweeping nets and
hooks cunningly baited, beguiles the children of those who drove his
ucestoisout of the water. Thus the whirligig of time brings round
its lerenges ; still, in an age of excessive self-admiration, it would be
veil for man to remember that his family ivas driven from the waters
by fishes, who still— in spite of incidental fish-hooks, seines, and
dieses — hold that empire triumphantly against him.
Witness especially the trout ; I doubt whether it has ever been ci[Aired except by sheer misadventure.
These brief instances of degradation may perhaps suffice to show
that there is a good deal to be found in the work of biologists quite
tnhaimotuous with such phrases as " the pr(^res5 of the ages," and
ttCmaich of mind." liie zoologist demonstrates that advance has
been fitful and uncertain ; rapid progress has often been followed by
npid extinction or degeneration, while, on the other hand, a form
kn^7 and degraded has in its degradation ofien happened upon some
«tiuutediscoreiy or valuable discipline and risen again, like a more
■"TOate Antsos, to victory. There is, therefore, no guarantee in
•oemifie knowledge of man's permanence or permanent ascendency.
_ Be his a remarkably variable organisation, and his own activities
*nd increase cause die conditions of his existence to fluctuate far
f "lore widely than those of any animal have ever done. The pre-
KtnptiMi is that before him lies a long future of profound modifica-
"""i but whether that will be, according to present ideals, ujjward
" oownward, no one can forecast. Stilt, so far as any scientist can
^ IS] it may be that, instead of this, Nature is, in unsuspected
'^'*™rity, equipping some now humble creature with wider possibili-
^8 of appetite, endurance, or destruction, to rise in the fulness of
™i* and sweep f^omo away into the darkness from which his universe
"We. The Coming Beast must certainly be reckoned in any antici-
J*oiy calculations regarding the Coming Man.
H. G. WELLS.
254
The Geniieman's Magazine.
fV^S LORD BEACONSFIELD TBI
SUN?
I
A LECTURE IiV THE YEAR 3000.
IT was in a. slate of trance or second-sight after reading works on m^ihola^y, that I heard the following lecture dcCRRl by « learned professor about the year 3000 a.u^ as distinctly ti if < had ijccn delivered yesterday.
"In the de|)loTable destruction of most of the contcmpocsT rerords of ihe nineteenlh century in England, coTuequent on to and wars and thcordin3tyravagcBof1in1c.it often becomes eitien^ difficult to discriminate between history and mythology, or to asiip aiighl to fact or fiction their respective property. In this diificats caused by the dearth of documents, we have no other resource tm to follow '.he guidance of comparative mythology, tn order tosejunK the mythical from the real. I propose then, gentlemen, by to method to test some of the leading features in the legendary lifetf Lord Beaconsfield, s. figure that sUinds out prominently from the pi^ ral ha^e of that remote epoch, with some claims, no doubt, to hJittti- cal reality, but with many more links with the mythical and fictiliw
'I'hat such a being never lived I would be the Ia« to assert ; tldt probably was a human personality at the bottom of the Icj^d ;d) say is, that mythology has so taken possession of his mcmoi)', >M for all practical purposes he is for us as purely mythical as Owiifc Krishna, or Heraklcs ; and this I hope to make abundantly you, by the scientific method that has already compelled so myths to surrender their secret.
Now I will call your attention first of all, gentlemen, to ibe that Lord Beaconsficid is alwa)'s represented as having been byte" an alien and a Jew, not an Englishman- This is to mc moB sg**" cant, for in the mythology of all nations, what feature of the ci^ or Bolar-hero is more consiiicuous than his coming from abroad-* foreign origin? Need I remind you of Viracocha or Monabodiii* l/ie other American culture-heroes, who were not only while tike^
ft*'
JVas Lord Beaconsfittd the Sun ? 255
Pnoftbocame from the East Tliemeaningorthe mj-ihis br who can fail to see that each dii^s sun titarts as a new* id lliftl the world he comes 10 t-nlii^titcn receives him as an a stmngKT? To say, ihcreforo, that Ijord Beaconslidd was DRty to sajr t(>at he too c.imc from the luist : a fact which i-t B othcTwiM: nolcd by an illusion to bis On'tnial imaginalion. I next liis {tolitkal career, if you please ; his bcgitining in I and failure, his ending in power and honour. Here again is ridioilously transparent. For is not this too a characier- e sun, that it tiscs often only 10 he obscured, and after a long ith Ihc clouds or witli rain— the damping nature ofwhidi )fuliy rendered by the figure of political opposiiit>n— ends Id gtoty and might and majesty, the object of univers^il )d admiration ?
egcnd s|*caks of Lorti Beaconsfield as member of Parliament bury, a place said to have been in thoiie remote times the is fiunous cheese-making divlrict, but of which not a trace' ins to prove that it ever hod a real existence-. Gentlemen, t Vigly malcc so bold as lo say that it never had, but that, like jtU| the cityof Buddha, its existence was purely atmospheric, cation in the sky. This to my mind is placed absolutely
Ebtbythe sijitnificunl allusion to tlie cheet,c. Somi^iimes cos, as in the c^ise of Krishna, sometimes it is as a wheel* frhcel of the sun, turned by lluddh.i, that the sun is indicated ; Rsuiing is always the same, and the object is always round ; \l » cheese is as well cniitlcd as a wheel to represent both land the motion of the sun.
n|nBi, if there is any doubt still left in your minds, I HB^oint whir.h 1 think you will acknowledge to be [conclusive. As over against Zoro.ister is set the tempter Dent Ahriman, as over against Buddha is set the tempter wcr against Osiris the demon god Scti, so over against Konslield stands a figure, who is in constant opposition to W rcgubr intcn-als either his viaorious or his vanquished |i the name of Beacon^i field and that of Gbdtitone stand old rchef from the crov.d of other mythical names of h, girt with a certain grandeur of form that can leave us in lu to llieir real meaning and significance. For how can isce in the one the personification of that sobr light, ol 6 0(hcT, the dark night-cloud, is the bitter and persistent ;; or fiiil to rccogniie, in the periodical fluctuations of thcit i foittuKs, an allusion to that episode, which was of never-
25^
The GtHikmans Magazine.
fading interest to our poetical aiiceston, who loved to speak in I of politicnl phnueology of the diumal conquest of tky over i and nnon of Ihc uiumph of daikness over light ?
I ask your ]>aticnc«:, gentlemen, whilst I ^ini out to )«oJ of the rMsons which lead mc to identify the name of with that grc.it Cloud-Demon, non- Dragon, now Snake, of i the mythologies of all times and people ]iav« made so aa call your aUcntion to such foots as the great eloquence suai^ivencss attributed to him ; the great affection and admij for him on (he one hand, so even!/ babnced by the del in which he was held on the other ; and lastly, hts trcc-fclling. These, 1 lake it, are the main elcmcnu in tb of this clearly mythical character ; and I fevl sure you will dillinilty in ant id paling the solution. For what, I otk yo be more eloquent or persuasive than the soft splasli of the i falls from the overbtirdertcd cloud on the parched and thirsty i And is not the cloud as much longed for by the agriculturist i vchemciuly dreaded and disliked by the merchant or the i Or, finally, wh.-ii can be more conclusive than the image oft I need scarcely remind you how favourite an image in mytl the atmospheric tree, that tree under which Uuddha is figuredl attained to Buddhahood, of which Krishna, for the service ' robbed the heaven of Tndm, and which in Norse mythok well known to you as Vggdrasil ; but clear as is ihe mcanli^ i tree, ii yields in transparency to that of the axe, the bt^ swiftly flashing steel, than which it would be ditiicuU to a happier image for the bright lightning that flashes thundercloud, and proves no less fatal to the atmos])hcTic i than to the trees of the forests of earth. No, gentlemen, witi indications before me I decline altogether to follow the Euh who will have it that Gladstone was no mere figure of the ! but a real being of human flesh and blood. No, no, gend when a statesman fells trees with a bright axe, we know ' are ; we can afford to smile at the modem followers of Eul I must apologise, gentlemen, for having detained yott minutes over so obvious and essential an ingredient of myth as the Cloud-Demon, To return to our central £"•"• the key I have supplied, it is wonderful with what ease E of the old myth ca.n be made to yield up their secret instance, the narrative of events connected with the so-t Turkish war, itself only another version of the same old . jng story. Lord Beaconslield, it is said, was in favour o
M^as Lord Beoiottsjield the Sun?
257
vhiitt his opponents sjrmpathised with the Russians ; and one day a bije oowd of the Philo-Turk party met in a great paik, wlience, mhing with enthusiasm to the great statesman's house, they picked ■poo their way an Indian ciossing-swccpcr, dressed in a turban, irtora ihejr raised before Lord Bcacon^ficlds windows as an untnis- ubble symbol of their sympathies with the Turk.
\ii» mythoto^y may often seem absurd, but it has alwaj's a ii. oi.ui^-, and often a deep one, underlying it ; and none but the itical will my here, Wliy an Indian as a symbol of a Turk, thy a turban on the head of an Indian? Then the crowd of 'kicnts meeting in a park— and note that the meeting significantly IS to have been held ujwn a Sunday — docs it not clearly point ihoK Devas, or Angets of Light, who, with hnimonious voices, lyoll upon the Sun to Issue from his chambers to run his course ? fall more fitting than that these, in m)lho1ogicat Utnguage, should Hid to farouT the Turk, a nation whose emblem was the Crescent, ibould hold aloft an Indian, not because he was an Indian, but his tuiban — a eirnlar head-dress— was of quite peculiar itencss in the sight of that splendid luminary, whose appearance •ime course alike are nothing if ihcy arc not circular? IIkd again, it belongs to the legend that on a certain occasion Kucsman, having to bment in public ihe decease of a great Wrtwr. delivered with great emotion a speech that a statesman of 'note had already uttered over the grave of a famous soldier of that n. Surely never was myth more transjiarcnt than here. The ■iiilirily of incident, here ascribed to borrowing, clearly im]>lies ^ifiilitmy of fact ; and what belter image could there be of the sun ihu that immemorial and beautiful image of a wanior, who, aflei Uttimgall day with tite darkness and the Cloud-Demon, sinksat last, f*Jiy but victorious, into the wcll-eamcd repose of niglii ; or what idea could have been conceived than that of each rising sun in ion pronouncing its benediction or funeral oration on the sun It hts jireceded him and set, on the sun that, like himself, was as a patriot, and whom he appropriately deplores with tears, lean of the dew of the morning ?
Our ancestors in the nineteenth century loved to i^peak in this poetical way. To a riation of sailors, Itvinj^ niosrly at m-a in full and ibily si^t of the marvellous phenomena of the hcavcns.such coiiinion events as the succession of day and night, or the contest of the sun with the clouds, presented thcmselve*, not as ordinary matter- of-fart events of no interest beyond the present moment, but as actual living romances of which the details could not be too poetically portrayed.
i
2S8
TAe GetttbttMtt's Magazine.
nor too frer^ucntly or lovingly repeated. Kcticc the wealth o( g that nstoiinds us ; the m.irvcllous elaboration of detail might' times lead us off the right track, if wc ever allowed ourwl' moment to forget our few guiding and simple princijiles. The DawD, the Night, the Storm, and (be Lightning, theM are the which eretyonc that diligently seeks vill as ceruinljr find thi every hlghiray and bycnay of conipatative niythologjr. Wc bow plentifully they occur ihroughout the great BeacoMlield the vcr)' name betraying its meaning, fur surely a «ign that it b<acon in a fitld has its obvious prototype in tliat subUi beacon, that moves, majestically risible, across the azure spec.
\\'e come, gentlemen, now to the linal net in this solar For there i-t one unfailing feature in the history of every sob and one tliat i.t always as melancholy as it is inevitable. At I ultimately succumbs to night, to docs the hero to death ; a clouds that terminate the one arc not more varied or bcail nature than are the manifold poetical fancies by which tbc I figured to die. Nothing can surpass the beauty of some fli images. Whether it be the pt)isoned robe that kills Henik fumes of hemlock that destroy Socrate*. the fever that st conquests of Aloiander, the mistletoe that is fatal to Baldur, ll that (according to one slor)') proves too much for Buddha, th that fatally wounds Krishna, or lastly, the ilhtess that cani< Lord lieactmsfitld, in each and every case there is one and ll allusion : an alluiion, beautifully ima^ncd, delicately conveyi an allusion for all that which few can misconstrue, none can i an allusion, need I say, to the daily falc of that orb, whoe extinction in the West our ancestors with pitying tenderness si to symbolise, by every form of decease with which the familiar.
I consider, therefore, that the death of Lord Ueaconsiield alone be conclusive evidence of the essentially sobr nature hero; but when we take into consideration, and piece tojteiher
Was Lord Bcacomfield the Sun ? 259
tve been impowible for ihe mylh to havedioten a morcsigni- mer. You are doubtless aware that in Clerman folk-lort-, the Rivhtch opens the wayto ihehiiJden tioasutes of mountains itnrosc ; clearly the golden key that pierces the cloud-mnssct, ptains of early morning, and unfolds the daiiling jewels or ts of ihc day : therefore, nothing is more natuinl tlwn to find ited closely with a sobr hero as that hero's favourite flower. \ [)ie myth abandons iis usual disguises, and positively betrays Its diildish traiisparcDCj', for who in the world would have ferred a primrose to a lity or carnation ? Need I then remind nothing more closely resembles our ha/y EnKtiiJi sun than yellow primrose ; and that, as five petals belong to the five vowels go to tlte name of Beaconsfietd, and five pri- (o the composition of the sun > the myth degenerates into positi\-e ])ueril!ty when it asserts ;hc emblem of the primrose was founded a political League. >jcct was the conservation of all political institutions at that istcnce. Noiliingof the sort, gentlemen. No political party fiwe it so impracticable an aim. The whole siory is |ilainly which only makes its elucidation the more imperative Now, when the sun has departed, what takes its place ? Is it .Wd the siars ? Ii is their permanence that is expressed and the fixed stars are fillin^ly lyjiiflcd by the figure immobility. And the primrose which, as an emblem of •fas so sutlab'e in its application to our sular hero, is no leas in connection with that paler orb of night, which its colour ]y resembles. For the primrose is a lunar as well as a solar IDd thus the conclusion of our myth proves as poetical as any in of it. The I'rimrnse League was a mere ciprcswon of this d fancy; its only cxi^.tenccwasin Ihchcavcns, and, iflmayso lyself without undue levity, the so-called League was simply
I the laughter and cheers that greeted the termination of ihia ny vision ended, and I became aware that I had been held in which the future and the present hod been merged Identity.
J. A. FAKBER.
Tk£ GentktHans Mmgazimt.
A DAY AT THE MEVDOUM PYRAMID,
THE N^ite uaveller, if he luu i heart, will probably at ihet hii vo>-a(,'e find ihc words •' MJ Turn." or Hull-Town, ' upon it, for that glorious Me)-dotiin Pyramid, with its three thinirig masonry lifting tbinnselves to Heaven out of the mound of debris at its base, haunts the mind ; and aftet nunj i the traveller finds (hat none of the temples or tomb& he has koiI Nile has banished the impression made by that lonely pile, ^M*! triple-terraced mountainous mass of yellow stone liscs ftom ik"! border of the plain of farmers' paradise to the west of Wuu.
Whose tomb was it? Tliat was not exactly knomi tfl^j recently. It had been said to hare been built by KingStaehj the founder of the fourth Egj-ptian dynasty, about b-c: 3:46, m\ savants had cast doubu upon this, and it has been left fwltl Flinders I'eltie lo show, by patient excavation, that at any rsK»| long ago as the lime of Amcnophis III., and Thotmes 1., andS«t j the pyramid in question was looked upon as Senefru's buildiicj Scncfru, "[^nl of Truth," and " Maker of the Good," wboKuW(j after his death looked upon as a god— Scnefm, whose Itvfl^] pcrhapa owing to this fact, still stands intact at the base of hii «* | pyramid tomb to this day.'
One had often heard of the False Fyramid, as the PcDilMtfll it, Haram c!-K.ad(!ab— calling it so, because, in their ignonncel the plan of pyramid building, they thought that these steps, ' their fathers had made to appear by a process of strippiosl pyramid of outer casing, wctc evidence that the pyramid hadi been fini.ihed. One h;id tlioiight of it as being for all this "tJ^ I nest " or imfmishcdness of appearance the oldest pyramid — SakhiAl step pyramid only excepted — standing in Eg)pt. One had I
'f^encfruisuiilbyBtugschBeylohavebcmtlic last king oribelhMdjM^ (lu« 3;M. by M*Titlt« Key he is looked upon as lint king of the Toanh d«te 4IJ5 ».C.
A Day at the Meydoum Pyramid. 261
the men hard at work piling stone down at Meydotim, Iwfore erer
the i^uuiytucn h-id been called upon to hew a block in the (juanies
of MokaitaiD and Tutra at the cominicid of Chufu, ChAfra, or
Mcaknura. And so on« hoid much wulied to sec ThU forerunner of
lite pjranids at Ciich.
inn if the p)T3niid of Scncfru should, on ncnrcr aciuai'ntance,
<^|fOint one with the manner of its ninsomy, or tlie finish of it,
u ny rale close by wcic Mostabas of the fuunh dynasty ; there vere
the lom^ of Nefer Mat and Atoi, his wife, with their almost unique
tuiilcnce of early Egyptian Mosaics by way of ornaincnt, and then
itdc by ude with these there vould be visible, we hoped, the lomb
chiabet in which Ktariellc found those two remarkable life-sijie
wing itatues in stone of Raholep and his wife Nefert, whose liquid
em and delicate draper)- and colouring are tlie marvel of the Ciizch
Uisram.
So ii needed little persuasion on the [»irt of the great ftloriously-
*h'Am| pyramid of ^teydoum to call one from the Nile steamer and
Itse make one's way across the plain to its base. Vc had hoped to accomplish our visit betnx-en suniise and 3 p.m. I »c knew the solitary afternoon train would have conveyed us I Kckkah, up through the evening lights of the rich Nile land to D, liut our steamer stuck now here, now there, and it was already (■past four when we stopped the engines off the mud village of Jh, or Riggah, and with a bundle of food in our hands and a to cany a donkey-saddle, we b.idc adieu to our ftllow jios- 1 ai>d pushed oiT for the Nile bank, til not so easy a matter as at first might appear, this landing U Nile boat on a Nile bank, for the Nile mud is as slipgier)- as , and what looks solid is found to be soft and rue rrrsii. But '6i not mind getting in up to the knees fur the sake ot" good ;Senefni, and simgglittg from the slime vc got on to the hot , lad entering the dirly little tillage asked fur the railway station, t did not want a train, but uc wanted dorike)*:(, .nnd we believed ttbe station-master, who in these out-ofihe-way villngcs is the of light and learning, would be the provider of so much ass- las would bear us to the pyramid. He could talk Eriglish a , wc .tpoke Arabic a little, and at once he despatched a bare- railway porter in blue blouse and red tarboosh to harry Jlekkah for donkejt. "One donkey he knew of, Aliali might give two, but of this he was not sure." Heaven smiled upon us, for A shout was heard half a mile away, and that shout eclioed another Julf-milc ; there was a running together of cameU and bufTalocs and
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"■ r !| ' "' '^ """^ "■=~-' i -»■-:-: u-y^ards, the one tc
.- ., ■ * ' _~~ ■ - ~- "-"' — - -■-"-:- : : The ; -p of the second i
""- --~~ ■-■^" -■-": .--1 :hjt careful tooling ol
, ■ _'" ■ " - i -~:-i.- ;:.ii~ ir.isotiry had been coi
",'.-. " ~ ^ -"-:-r -■•^;r^. All honour to the mei
'...,, ," ' " " ^ '■ -'^-— "=-■-- P-";-c on of the skin, dan
~ V .'. .' . ^'^ V. '^■■" '•-'■-'■' '-^^-'i: tools.
J. , ,"^ "^ ' ---■■- - -:---^d:r.e sc'.Ld platform blocks of 1
v-,-,^- s ■■ ,.: . ".' ~' -"' --~^'^ cant, whereon one of 1 o:v, ' :'-. -7.'""'". '^ ■ ^'-""r ^ •■"■« farther to the north ,,.,.;„ ^- ."„'." --'■-"--• ■■■« -'""■' "herefrom hadsprungthcse
ili^v>JiIx;V/ V •-^!..V"-"'''^~:"^ '■^' '^'"■^ pyramid vault, *hicb
>'»"■ v^l'v.s "•-..."'-'"" '^^^'■' :.'■■" =^"^ •trench his workmen nwi
l"i«Aia i:;;^%^.V .I!,'* '* '"■"; "i "^ ^""n- One noticed, as one
K->'*^1 wi'w.uvVVV^""^ ^""" '"^'■^^'^ """^^ e>-es against the lintt
■^'""(i-' \Mni\l\,."^'*'. '^^■""^^" 'O expectation, these two outo
' "'«-iav uf n, .''" '^'' ''"^"^ °' "^ degrees clear to the top, bi
lix-su-vv^a '„ ^''^f "^ ^''"•''^'^ °^ masonry above, and ff
^ V --i Vs t«md u. ^ii^iiLt,. of pure pynunidll fomu
A Day at the Meydoum Pyramid. 265
tiKM think Icoul<l ever have realued hoirihcscpyramid-buitders jre within core, and, filling up the terrace angles, got complete lid form, hod I not stood upon the outer casings of this pyramid of pfru. I sm Rure I could not have got an idea of the actual mass
Klding required, had I not realised on the spot that all iliat vast I, vrhcrcfrom the three or four ccnttal cores of the pyiainid that remain intact arise, was nothing in tfac world but tlic remnants Ik two outer Uiins and the debris occasioned by the stripping olT : u[>|)er portions of these slcias, and learned that it was con- ed that within the last three gcncrationsnoleaslhan 100,000 tons Aeiial had been carted away, and that still the work of dcKtruction ting away go^ on. No " rajihir " or local ;;uarJijn has been idinted. Is ^ti 3 year too targe a sum to expect of the Museum ritics towards the care of this inlcresling fotirth-dynasiy Nccro- [I It looks Uke it
now the great son was collecting its fiic into its bosom, and ng up tlio bastion waU of Senefru till it burnt pure gold. AVhile nillc is the Umestonc which Senefru's builders originally piled. Ilov as orange is the limestone to-day that has been visited by ■•c than 5,000 years of rolling suns.
Looking upward to the vault of heaven, one noted that the deep "gc accentuated the blue of the airy pavilion above, and I thought faber's lines " On the Larch in Autumn," whose tresses are much olour as this pyramid wall is to-day : —
There i* no tiec in all Ihc r»Tril ihra*.
That bring* ihe iky to nni nnd makes it wem so blue.
rate. I never saw Egj-ptian sky %a blue as when I looked at ; time up the golden wail of Senefra's pyramid, fwas phin that Mr, iVtric had been digging for ihe |>eribolos and h»d found trace of it on all four sides of the pyramid base. I round the pyramid, on the diibris of the outer casing, towards one turned one's back upon the billowy purple dcscit, and id as fine a view as can be gained in Egj'pl, a view certainly un- 1 as far as a Nile valley scene goes, for though the view from lid of Chufu at Ghizeh is wonderful, one is always by Ihe somewhat keen sense of the neigbbourhood of fity neiffhbourt. Here one looked out from the waist-belt of a bty giant of stone, and nothing dwarfed the details of the scene, ■ie green plain with purple streaks of yellow stretched bound- Sy nonh and south, licked the desert to the west with its gtccn , flooded with tender Qood of comland a kmd of inland bay
2;±enabol
:: t.i:3iof
.■; jood-ane :i;ir socni
■ I. — =::„_ 1 7 -=-T<r.=r-l i—ir^ towt «(
- - -^ ■■:._ ~; -_! :r Titers jT.'i rss; "lithe
""■ . : -". "J :.;^i :j..— ■; :xt ■:: their looli
...-. ..: . : -.-•■-■'r'. - : KT ;-.e=i piSiii^up
■ -■- - -:..: —_'.;_- 7 i— .; r.^-jr.cuven'li
" " "7 - t:. . :r "iii:'^ in frw
"- '. - -~-. ; ::" :5:r.-;5 :or thenJMS
r.icr ;; she
cr-rsr.T. so Uo''
'-■i-.':.i ■- : rkmea sliil P'"*^
CI the rubbish tbtr
> dig a wiy Ihroi^
the remple, and W
'u'.d sen-e for ^^
-.-J.-. ::-i~"::;: ir. :he days when ITicHo*'
;::i -.:: I. wor
e kings.
_ . _" ""-"--■■ --"-ii >.:: '.ib't-^rs for the d.iy, and joined mi- ;; ". " - - ''~~'~- i-.-.'-^ii.-.;ni and a just pride did htshJ*
.y. .' . \,i- _' ; " '■ ■■-^* T iico of datfd masonry in Eijypli*'
L -J ■- -V " ' ""~""i'"^ '" ^^^ I^"<i of Nile.
■-. ...r?, •-r.:ou'-:-.s.i t,y the hand of the spoiler, was a sua" com;j.^-e y roofed in, with Utile forecourt, say roughly nreKt i"!":™I:'."° "^ ^^'^ *>=^ of t^": untouched outer casiDSfll Oti cither side the doorway two milk-'i*''
™s pyramid.
A Day at tlte Mcydoum Pyramid. 267
hs, chipped at ihc base, but in ntu and olheririse intact, heir shining height, 'llicsc stelic stood about ei^ht feet two and a hair by one foot broad, snd between them by a ttone )gs on which men had poured oil and left the fruits of the canh wy ol their king, " The Maker of Good," who, ages after he in his sarcophagus, was looked upon as God. fcscd from the unctuar)* into the chamber through the low h1 ran but describe it ai: n king box, twenty feet long, t)y about , ghl feet bto.id, and live feet high, somewhat like the four' hambers in the inner court of the granite temple near the tsl side trf the Sphinx at Giieh. The chamber was built of Kks of limestone card'ully filled, and showing in p.irts that il in procest of being dressed down or tooled uhcn the n left il ; it sparkled with diamonds of salt that hnd worked tj out 10 the surface. Passing thence by a low doorw.iy at rlh end. one found a siiuibr hollow box of limestone laid Lvitli the first cliamhcr, and at the farther or south end, and feast side, a passage leading cistward—diis, in fact, tlic main le pasi.igf long blocked up, which Mr. I'diic's workmen were, ty in clearing. And here, opposite this passage, and in th« itself, vas centred the interirst of the lind. Kor about graffitit some in the p.ijixage, some on the wcslcrn wall of the e chamber, or so much of it as could be lighted from the : yosngc, were seen as frc^h as when penned, in the wasone written by a scribe in the reign of Thotmcs III. On ibcr wall were others wrincn when Amcnophis III. and re on the throne, especially of the Utter was of interest, for there was a long of fourteen or sixteen lines of clo>e hieraiics, whose date- been inscribed in red, and ihcrtin the word Senefru occurred places, and so a vexed f[iiestion wa.i settled. This temple before the p>'ramid that in Seti I.'s time, at any rate, ■ed upon as the Pyramid of Seneftu. Senefru was the royal Af thtj place as long ago as i j66 years B.C. little drawings, roughly scrawled, adorned the wall— one of of the sun— looking, save the mark, like a watch face, it a seated Osiris figure ; the other picture was an image 3^ a h.iwt, whose legs were long enough to have done duly beneath it a^*^h*of the lime of Amenophis III. very much as if these scribbling scribes came, as I had errand of curiosity, and had not been able to penetrate to cbambcT or to the sanctuary between the statues, Thert,
~-^. -.^r:^-£. ire Mallei cp (^ r:: := 7 lis i.: -^C preanrf
. - ■"-"- T
:■- .; --i r-,;- _-;u:r.: Sile-mo^ .::;>;:_«-■ : .-;'-«.iarKbikb :.- i ::^J7. :•■--. :?-iav. Thehisi* .1 "i-.L.-. .:: T-i:T;:::::-.edelinsofil« "-"iTT^f, lid ■»;;>. remnants of P*
■;^; :l:. l^Tir. ir.ade at the (««« .--.t '-j.i\j11 bare angle nils upM
S.V.C. Tci, the lines of i"-
^-■■'
r ^ - - ■ ; : ; ,
:^-e c;'. :,--.
— - ...lec
:r.-.i:r.;c- :=e Xlastaba builden » ii 3, ^?;d Ioq'h aE ihcse angle "l* i^-i wa5 surprised at the brilli»K rec venical line upon the rt* how accumte thes? pld W)^
Day at the Meydoum Pyramid, 269
n in the matter of line (Iraning. They had with a line Tcd ioe first drawn th«ir rwl vertical eye-giiitlc, and had then
the middle sjxicc of it xo a.t to [ircrsc-rvc in its absolute and accuracy of otitline the stantbrd upright Tor their line
It was not without interest to note the horizontal cioss- :h had Seen drawn at inten'als all the way up from ihi: ground ) of ihe angle wall at the distance of single cubii spaces apart, underneath, at one point, for the guidance of the fDunda< ters, had been written in red letters the note, " Under is the e cubits," which meant that the lock-bcd was five cubits his mark on the wall.
ometimcs talks of the want of care tn foundations that the ■alley builder? were guilty of, but I confew that, after seeing and observing the deep trench from which the outer lining wall sprang, and aflcr lookin); cirefttlly at the depth of jpon which the columns of Amenophis rest in the Temple , one's idea of their want of knowledge of foundations has lidcrably altered, and, when one observes how cleverly the ;cc« used their red paint in the'," construction " line, their
the " working " line, so that the eye mixht never hesiUitc e confused, one asks e^'Cn if our own architects arc wiser men of old.
evening talk in the tent was full of interest ; one learned It ihc best thing 1 lenmed was the kind of friendly relation between Mr. i'ctric and his workmen. I had seen them [ with their palm baskets and adic-shapcd hoes till after . Mr. Pelric had been late in taking observation, and so |[i\-en hii usual .lii-nal lA a nhi.itle to the men to cease work, Jidnolcea*e,an<lIsiion found that there had been cstablishcl tions between cmpluycd :ind employer as made the day's : slaves* labour, liiil the work of men who wish to serve their I love to the ultennost. There was a f:iir at some l-'ajnim icar, and some of the men came up to the tent very sly to ask for their wages and for leave to go. It w;ia a rth seeing, the pnlicnt courtesy with which ihcy squatted, one
the tent pole, and listened to Mr. I'etiic's recital of the imounts due for the various metres' work on the dinTtrcnt hey kept nodding and saying "Eyua," as the v.irious details to ; Ibey were serving a just man, and Ihcy knew that each their work had been measured and recorded. Sometimes
piastre or two had been .igrecd upon for this or that extra . c^re, and the men s::iilcd and mentioned it, and tt>ok
\
•^ *»-- T-
'^cCvd
-:^ izzd It T3i=a
?^-':^u.- I Lot BO
: ^ l-^:c rsc Kinak,
;_T2-. '^'*~ '"^ DM
:.:^-,.r-_=;fr.c.ddfi«
.-; ;r_i".:;.'s iakeillbt _:"_; ~.r".5 zt.c boyf.'li''
'.':-.;."., cr ihe temifc
;. : .-. .■ ■_■;:.-- 1- : z.::':.tt;'.:T. of Luxor, curlwiiii'
- .--;:;■ 1 .1 : . ..: it 7-'-tL "Sii'.t <i a girl, withihOT
:■_:;:- t -■;_■ _-iii:. Li -.-i" -.i/.tl -jp :be steep bant,»i
-_■;-:- -iir-rrT ■.: :rt,r '•.r.m: iutwhcn I complained !*■
!. -_ - ::i -... ■ I: :. ".-.er? r--.;.' " Mafish kourbash, sbog*
- -.-.■- ■ :;-. "i: .::l'-. r: t-it.;." I have seen the men and boj'
- - - v-'.. -^-".:-'L--.:;. -r.ickcct!"-;iyforMr.PetTicatMeydiift ._ - : -■--. -■. r. -iv ■.;'.;■. ''<: ^eis twice as much of aclual*"* ,:._.. , .-, -. : ..- i- -." c ir-'.f who drives his gang of slaves at lo* -_ : t -.^ V -■'■'• I ■>— ■ v.- f:' m seeing them labour at earl v mora M™
-lit- cvtrtiie v.:;':: wr.a: ir.ierest and pleasure, I was gomg to say™ at pride, they work for ■■ Khawaja KiigleeSf," the Englishgunt a It was refreshing to sit there in the shadow of those «» siatffl mounds, at the building of which wc had been brou^iP
e^
A Day at the Mcydoum Pyramid. 271
^eli«re th« land had groaned and the laah had been lifted and the >t (A (he people toiling for its princes had been taken for nought, ft to Gcc how now men laboured with the same tools, dressed in ; same way, having much the unic simple wants to satisfy, and the botncs to come from and return to at mom and cvcniidc ; but i^t was in their faces and a smile upon ihcir hps, for they toiled booest bread at koncat price, and their master was a friend. 1 say this because that evening I heard a boy's voice and saw a y*! band thrust througli the tent, and noticed Mr. Petrie solemnly 1 1 bit of soap in two and give the lad half, uying, " I find there's tiling like noap for sore lieads." ['recently another >-oice pi|>cd in SdarfciKus, and the same kntfc now dived into a t'ot of ointment. d spread some carefully on a sore place near the nose of the |>licant — a dust sore, for which this ointment was a palliative.
I'mctiily, with a low salaam, a dusky man with a dark ache in Bdasky stomach applied for cure. The paraffin lamp was kindled. ' cup of coffee was made, and Ihcicin a spoonful of pepper stirred. he i)0or fellow swallowed it with a gurgle and turned 10 go. " God your goods exceedingly!" (Va Kaitar Allah khcrak. kherak ketir) was the word of thankx ; and the grateful ones to their reed huts and their burnouses and their sandy [br the night.
did not wonder that Mr. Petrie, the wise h.1kin), was beloved mnkmen. Fancy a poor sick or wounded child coming to bully with the kourbash, for emollient or determent ! * change bad come wcz the Labourers' dream here under the i« of the Mcydoum Pyramid! And what a different estimate qualities and character of the Egyptian Fcltah was this that pined by converse with the explorer, from the ordinary guide- idea that prc^■aiIs with Nile travellers ! .\ letter received from &Ir. Petrie is so eonfirmatoiy of what we saw and that I dare to print it.'
'"WiihrrgmllolhelmlRirnt of workers, you may say llinl tli»ventvcr found *^oii to urikc tniin t>t ch]lil iti.tt wat in my pny ilutin); icn yiMiii' wutk. Tliit ^^4faMBAB]r*cnllBwnt>] rrawin (for I henrtily liclicvcln the Kmknh « a penal "^»ll), but UMply thai nn unc Is unnli employing who ncnts puniihini;. My I'y ptmhy B ii>eic>nlil« diimiuAl, wilt.out Hnrnii))*. Somclinie* I Uk« a '*>« hack, where it wu only a tf|uabblc Ui-Iwcch wtirkcct : Imt wm'ir it nfci.-<l to
'• For tbtcf jre»c» now I have hnil no (ivorv«r, or hcail man ; Ihne is no one '%ecn mc zncl Ihcsoikett: an>I I tnuch prefer ii. All ovciKcn txiiect to get '•STj proporliDd of ihe wiie«. mi! dt gel il. I believe tlint of cvtiy /I.OOO tW oa worki^ from ,£>oo la^joogoes into ihcpockeisof men who h^vc nut (he r^l 10 it. When the tsitway wu lately made in the Ir ayum the wages
F
- Id ^r^
Jfjp
■l~--w -^
*"1 V;.Tr -■ S1-: -
- . T
cx ; die gitat IDS Aim i be f^ims c£ Harai, md I =aCT i^=TK -wch the shoQB 'i\ 'zis^z-r :3 as ve gued. i^ T7Tz=-.'i xzd ihe aicbvc
:== r: Trair ::iil. poIm-ba^Hsudl :.^=. 1:^ "crk.^^ his ^oskft handle I jrr ".LiorT^r jC:><iEce from his boMI :. ;::-£. i, J£E r=ie ihan it Ukes ml -:i "-I*. r:i!f=^ h like tobacco I _:i=-5:n^5ai cc?rd. ^i 7 ^ Tr lie =:Tdi ataeoflhel
i=.=-^ei, iii been anon-ercd.
7«-f=r7-5er:Qc liynasty, which raicdi ';:i.r-i ii r «b:)le ^milies had selccail :4 :i i= "^^'g^-^-j as a kindofqauTl L ;-5.^T^i zbt rjTTOw cells for tbea 1 =-ir7-=iT-=ed. and looked, aftet
::>-■=; zv^^-c eanh-buiTOwer. B T.-.i--- z: zrzzT^w linle cells iifca*^j '— "i=-~ L- so=e long anterioi age Ml -r^; ;-i r:f= had sunk their deep «*l
:: ^:*e :he i:de chamber at the bow I
■:-.-..-•»::; ^^ ;hat few men circdlolit] 1..:.: .; . "r^:-; .■= = l.-rg lime for bckofot^l
:. ■ ;-"-"— f-iriii^i Irieatlj ; and I lu«iW|
; - .-. ; -;"■■. ;":.ev »I1 of:eci Jiipuleamco*]
. r.-.-„";T:i;'i j-ili :lv> much in *rror, lltl "I
i: . ;.- - .-;T :. rv;= »ien lEy visitor prtt>**I'l
I ar- -T. :iiT ■-,!^ gdenilj mine and teUncD'l
.- ._■ :.-i:i ■/."z. ^^ I iiiauan this [o ibow^^j
\: ;;-.;•-:» i:ct fiieaper ihu anjoaeebt''*!
--■ : -;.-iiT = i-: ii.^iiact. So it is not metdfo*!
;.".:: " ri>r zr. £\: tiler: iipinion of the Egjpliul'
-■iT,". >:;:^ ;i=i7:^;;n, c*peciaJly long'
-^ :,■ •^:.M ■.i.^Tii'dz:^ in iheiritij-, md 1 W '
contii^*
IPC all
1;%,., .-i
i;-e -.vjv
.-.■.^ ;■; — ;r ■;: »>i';v;; they f=i '^K what 1 expectll«l«"' . ~; .■, -.'.r >-■ ::;> >.;ve r.,- ;tnip;atii>n to conceiU injthi^. - ,■-■ i ■^;h,r; ■-"-ri ;',■■,■ "..iiir.£ii( b^rrible, effete lyilea rf 1^ iftr.-.r: ;i-. :>; hi:; 's .:' i,"n;^: and orerbeuinf rriul, itwl'* I belitix :^: vf^ :cw ^^v.ves ue &i la cseiwa amlnritj.''
A Day at the Meydoum Pyramid.
gh OS at Kom cs Sultan, «> here, it seemed the deeper he wcic the burials, not one of the least remarkable tvcrics Mr. Petric had made was this, that side by side with one Iter, Rfid apparently burled at the %s.n\Q age, there ajijicarcd to |p different races or men, or at any rate men with two diFTc-rcnt Fabout burbL In one gruve nill be found men laid out full h, in another, with equal care, the bodies of men have been led up in a crouching position, knees to chin ; but these lost bways most carefully been laid upon their left side, their heads vnOTthand their facet to the east. A.t to the men laid out length, these were placed scmelimes in rude coffins of wood, acnts of which remained ; the coffins had been covered with ». One mummy had been found modelled as it were in pitch, titch, that is, not poured over and left in a formless mass, but iitly worked so as to cover the limbs in normal human propor- no implemeat, so for as 1 learnt, had been discovered in any of &ves, and such fragments of pottery as appeared, resembled the b little offering vases one finds in such numbers at Abu Roosh. the Abu Roash ])Ois arc, if anything, a trifle rougher in [but they arc of similar Khn]>c to the tiny third- or fourth- ■ vases discovered by Mr, I'elrie at the Mcydoum.
I to examine the Maslabas and tombs to the noith-wcst,
ed, of course, before the door of Kcfcr Mdt's tomb, a tomb
\ siitce the explorer took up bis quarters berc, might be spoken
A tomb conUived a double debt to pay, A bcti by night, a drawiiij^-cooin by d>y.
ere Mr. Petric was able, in the little guest chamber that Nefer plaoned for the mourning of his friends and relatives, to finish ilarn and put the colours to the beautiful drawings he has made c sculpture of the adjacent tombs.
the first thing tliat struck one was that the M.tstaba Nefer M.it feared for his memorial, and for the well chamber wherein h uestcd, had apparently been finished, decorated with false door- knd coaled with limewash or cement, just as the inner wall of ancient Egyptian fortress near Abydos had been coated, and iben an outside or masking wall had been built entirely to cover junol Maxiaba. The limestone tomb-cliamber seemed to excavated in the original Maslaba, and the outer lining may pcriiaps have entirely covered and concealed the occ to the tomb-chamber at some later time. Be that as it I was face to face with the open tomb-chamber of a nobleman
:i -=5-:,.:^z--;.;i:=z =i= *::od — S'qiun-haMl :e^-- '::-^ =iir c~ s-i aSsr ihe nunnet it ■j:- — - :-..-^ r T^ i =-::-: -f-^i'i »-lr is w-^re ; and not aaHl V u; u= -.-.^^.r- •-—■.-:^^j^ ^ J:^ t;L^ m chiracteiiitic rfi»l ^— : 1^—^^- --- -_^-;r7 ii-£ =j^ wz.:, lived before iheCal
:-:: — :r -.^^- l:J, iiiir; zzt izi -ziz =:irxs in the stoncfcilll '..•-- '.z-i L:- s-:=i :: ;:.■;=: i=fl io'.cir^ the red caoait z::^~— t;. :.i t-l; licd ;;c tii decjraaon of his mnl-dol
I z^ :^ i:r !> 7ir£:i:=s z=zi^^cs, seen on a low waD flji^ ^± ^==7:r: r ;t ::-Jr-i j::zir tlit: ;; .^^e-ophis' Hall of cohnoial ", ^■- ;- -.i: : : =jj-iii — -_-.i f-.zi wtIc't. had doubtless beo SU ,::: T--.-. i . ^i ;-ii^il :l: ir.i^ Ih^s ^e pit marking wjsronglft L'. 1 :.:.„■ :-..z^L:^—~^ -JL^ Z "s^ii t-^-^-r -- W2S morc than i,owj<* L^-.;.- ^ i^:i i .: ;: tzj -;: ;.-.'.v ih; manner of enamelling ^ --i.-i::i- ;-i ^ N-;";r Mi;i ;:jir: 0:e beautj- of the stone scnlp* "■^ -:.• : u^- :.n.--; -.-itrr-l. X=:'er Md: had been fatherofA* •■-• -_iz.-: V: ^i.-= -T.;- -.r.e ".=:: hand door soffit— lbceWt«l -...:— - i ;- —-ji-i: - :>;.i. H; 'r.^ hsd a beloi~ed wife, thel^ .-.::: ;:.t -i i:^--.sti :^U-s nail lo the right. Hehadbeenip* :-2ii.: lii i^:"-. irr:;. ~ r.i:V.ctihe dead master, had sent isen* ----- :ir::.7;: ;: 'r..i :;z:b : ;n!0-^t them was seen the noW' M-'.-r:. ■_-.: I-„-:;^-. so I'r.a: ore could turn one's head* ;l.\; -i:- :'-; . ir." f.fi'iis iT.iz Jvncw the lordship of Nefer Matinfc -..-■.: :: ir.: ;r.iri cz fcunh djT.asty. for there in the plain belot« ".: b; iti- :r.s t::^" zr.-d c!us:cr of huls upon its mound thaltf ki; : ::i v:";ce r.^~i; ■;;" Bu'.l-town or Me)doum.
Ar.d N;::'=r M_: h.vi been a lover of sport in the da)'sofK)ng# ;:r hir;. ,:->.;:: ied en :heir several perches, immediately above *< c.:::viy. s a:, i5 :hey had sat in stone miniature for more thin Jj* \t"?. -.he four fivojritc hawks of Erpah Nefer MSt. He had &i i-:-.e r.'.i.;ht suri'^^e, or at any rate had prepared his tomb withOiw^l' I of death bcfoie him, while still in the full vigour ofhisactiveont-d* I life: andhehadhadawifewho must have shared his lore of field ipA ! for on the fai;ade of the Lady Atot's tomb, about go feel to * north, men aic ifc^ic^a^ed as spreading a large net for wild *^
A Day eU the Meydmtn Pyramid. a?5
irce persons, perhaps the three sons who aic sculptured on Jit's tomb, bring the fovfl they have captured to the great datne.
1 txA see the Ladjr Alot's lomb-chatnbcr. The Arabs had so ly cut it about, that Mr. Pctrie had v«r>- jinipcrly fillod it with lilt I ^ed rcvciciUly in the r.i/eli Museum atthcmarvx'llous »f geese thit Mmictic brovight from the interior of I,ady Atot's lamber, with ihe kind of wonder that one gnies at the earliest of the kind in the world ; and as I gazed, I felt that Lady ust not only have been as great a lover of the fowls of the fatm n3 with her husband a lover of ticld-sport, but that she must id an C)-c for natural history that would not allow of the draw- colouring of a single false feather by the artist she employed ^lomb chanabcr's decoration. r Mtist was for all purposes of finish a Japanese. I turned to lefer Mdt's tomb, but not without a wonder at the way in the great man had determined to tell after agc5, that in the ICD Sencfiu was king, men could handle stone in a way tha crely tax nil our mechanical appliances of to-day. lie had that bis tomb-chamber should be roofed with large slabs of ne. The nnc exposed to view measured roughly ao feet in 8 feet in breadth, and w.is 3 feet thick, and weighed probably But what was a weight of 43 tons for a roofing-stone in the (he thiiddynasty?
went up over the back of the Mastaba, and visited two Mas. Es that Mr. Petrie had uncovered, thence to a Mastab.-i farihi^r north, and intermediate between the Mastaba of Nefer Mat Ra Hotep of Giaeh Mtisevim time. Everyone who visited J!tt1ak, ho nofr visits Gizeh Museum, will remember those two almost ■I seated statues of limestone, spoken of as the oldest port rait • Bid Stone that exist tn Eg>'pt, or, for the matter of that, in the L Hotep, with his right hand on his breast, his left hand on his naked but for his waist -cloth, bare-headed, brown of skin, iogle jewel round his neck, side by side with his wife, the ly Nefcrt. She, fair of skin and deiicatcly clad in fine white leni, sits with folded arms. Upon her head a dainty circlet id, a necklace of eight bands, the lower one with large pear- stones, her hair fiiz^ied into a fine wig. and her feel bare. No ho hui once seen Ra Hotep and his wife Ncfert, forgets the I, limpid, life-like eyes, eyes of qu.irlK and rock crystal upon a of silver phte 10 give hght ; and here I stood at the pit
K|6 TJb Gtm&mmis M^mm. '
HKh, y> fact ■ defA, don vUdi lad benloMd,tt^ KdetKaa«id-tnk Mastabo, tte boAci of Ra B«^ Sciai^x. 39 sooK sa? — and lus ivinuss-wife Ndeit
Tk pxac sme iboc aealcd dtt tomb bad been Id don 1
f^KS by tassaa td rapes aded c^gh^ timei lauidiisnail
T^ icpe faiKi pcTSibed, bat die inivcsaaa flC tbc twidcd vd»4'
sx3B^«us:uI&cdt«liciiSIc. Pctrie opened die pit Mo n^
iU H«s «K SaoMt bnt nai oCHe. Pctiie^ unnpaie ^KOOBV^
Bac3ii>& sec ev^ whcBh as in die oae ctf die neigjibonnngm'
««X cf K^ N«Bet. W fiads Atf oAen hne biB^ariantlj a«d
sanb fcoDK beiifiMt; Sid ioBg ago bsnovcd npwaid into die daib
wJT^ tig*- ■wi'm-it w«wt tta^jB^miiAt^ hit way dn»n ttL Bttili
ofr fcy bn^srs of aid taw Oat die eaploRT in SOKfai^ acn
b»^£7 SIT be baSed, ioc sometimes sadi an imlownd erent kq
m coisriai b lAe "p—Jni o^ * ICaaaha pit ndieifiBAai
ai.'RS :33s :se one dt Ka. HctEpt. Tfao^ jns as die wnkoe
faisaal aeia^ cwc a xaab^dL and wqe leady to detccndl
tA^><hi;iic«r. a Jl:^ bLick soike was seen to glide &om tb
4=s>i dscTccLr ^r? ^x diAness, and, of comsc^ dU dot oil
K'jc.'b^ .1^ &£!I^ — ^1 ■T'.vrv ci no little difficulty — no one
ii'jsir^T^; -i;w^ tc Tc^sisci^e :h« vock of enqoirv.
!si: r±c::r^z^; r-.'c: iri± ico ci the Mattahn cme natonlly < v J1.V :S! --■— -w"!—-.— cr shiine iisel^ from which in Jm t$~; V-i^j^'—^ ?<£7 ;^£:=p;T^fd :bie cvo oldest pwtnit sutoa «vT.'d » «-^~^ J. .^i ci^ be xssikaed. And, thanks to Ut 1 wvtk. vo; o.'Cii SK b; V x ^iiCe £:xccoait, with kmg low W «ai 7«v v-'i.K -:r>£!;;c<± tiI-ltj cc sseiz, stood before the fl ;.^ :>.>; c^.i=i~;<; . yjis..r.^ il-jr^i::^ ihis little fbrecooit, uid ( tbt v'-:r.r.-c rsi «.-_'_-r-ric rxrcc one noted at once th f^jirKA^ rres>-<.~fs .-i' Oi'j: c-cu-xirs, and the hieroglyphs tta *v: -.^s iv^_s.:i ntjii ; s3ci haerogihipfas, so deanly caned,
k'i-; --;:'< r.vc;:. cc iziarjcc;. thxt wc entered, qm V-*;: :r,u- ;«v *"^ r-^z: isd l*ii. .snd betveen these was a 1 »ii:-.:»«. tV f^-Tw ;= il-.i Oi;iei M-.:seDni originally stood v''! •,>,» :wi«5. !vi H,-Kr s sc^lrc-L^oi on tbe Wt mB Wcj: $:jLf .r. >.jl^'. ^ ^-Lr£« <ccs bcuce him. His foot Kt ^^v?. JL>I^ cc^ -CkTrii^rT^i 4z: exiz^te bit of sculptoi^ I » ti* »»y ;rL »>jc- ;h; tvC^i cc ^.ri;* of tbe flesh betrcei »»i ti« h# :.■«? »■-» ivrnressi
Tse XjiJiy S«:r. :a see; "-tt-hiired, wiih a ISy in tbe dw b«»ls ccK ^ '^<c ^iK::^i ^^' : be; I fossot aH about 1
'^ Day ai the Meydoum Pyramid, 277
■ W V
■ ^'* Dii ^ ^*fcrl, in ihe children whose pictures and namci were J> "ic jombs of the little innL-rmost recess : Jcddith, Atoti, rj^ '^ Ra, the brothers ; and Neferab, Setiel, and Mcsl, the ife W|^ ^" JcJighl/ut il was 10 Ihink of ihnt ha|>py Tamily life of old, i^ "ic bihei who called oiw; daughter to his side always spoke of *|^ 3» "Sifcclheart," and Sweetheart, if she talked with her sister, ^p named her •■ 'fht Beloved One." l^j.^ 'n \hc iifi[»er registers of the side wings were seen sculptured the *- f^ K own, ilwx ! and in ihc four lower registers of the ri^ththand *^{t, great Ra Hotcp's seal>bcarcr, butcher, cup-bearer, and five •"Vinu bringing offerings were portrayed. The vases of honey *^e covered with lids and scaled down tightly, and beautiful in pe were the jars seen to be ; one as delicate as a Greek vase, evidently hewn out of stone, I suppose they worked with id-drills, and cut the diorile with corundum into whatever it pleased ihcm, when Scncfru was king, and Ra Hotep stood a prince among the people.
In the opposite, or left-hand, wingof the chamber representatives
twelve fariDs, men and women, brought olTerings ; and that
Holep encouraged handicrafts and cared for the life of the
uniry gentleman was evident from the fact thai here, in his lumb-
amber, were seen men working with adie and wedges shaping out
OMJ, boat-buildcis were buay, lishermen fished wiili nets that had
fiosis and sinkers, and a couple of men staggered under the weight
oC a fiih just taught ^ big as a John Doree, Ploughing was going
^Mward, herdsmen drove tlie calf afield, and a man was seen
couing a bull along.
But it was the bird life of Ra Holep's time that charmed me.
Tl* great man's three hawks were there, but these were of small
•ccount when compared with the interest of the wagtails drawn to
*« liic Vat the wagtail befriends every Nile traveller to-day,
^is on (he deck of his dahabeyah, comes iiiiu his cabin, and as
"''y are, in colour and dress, lo-day, so 1 gather from Ka Holep's
*'^ib they were, inlhcdaysof Scnefru; they have not changed a single
''aihei of their dress, and they are the beloved bird of the family of
UiOKwho dwell beside the Nile to-day as they were tliea It is a
Uoj time that separates us from that date. The Pyramids of
Ciah had not been built when these wagtails were sculplurcd and
fainlcd. Men used stone knives and horn-stone hatchets then —
■idiess the sculptures on Ihe w.ills— and yet, as the little figure of
the fluted Doric pillar teUs me, there, on the tomb chamber wall,
VOL CCLI-XI. NO- I9>9. V
:e ^aK. k "^ii iMjn^ aad a&ia turn came "v:?.' ^rr. mr =1: :i:c .z: =*3x. zmt. ^^f*- i.^^ih s dot Ac ^ >— ^^.'?.;r i ^-T^''— -»n'r-.— s X -^.T».r ct T*?^ post ; nd tf I z^ii ;"^i^ ;r.-*-; "■t.aa^iii its^si. jnii. ' "^"ig my back opon ^-~cis : =:^ :r ^ftr-rr:. Tis^i. j-wrr »TWHig the green f"*
lie NCc I did not tbiak ^ li =si=£±d HezTca tSat tlie cxpknm
"-"*«■ -' -- -■;-:-;=; «-,=*.;:= i ii:ii ie;= ~t twj good Inci » 6''
279
JOHN AUBREY OF WILTS.
1 626- 1 697.
lOGRAPHICAL Dktionaries icU us ihat John Aubrey, of ' Kington, in the county of Wilts, was a learned and famous 1Har>-, an intimate friend of Milton, a friend and associate of iny Wood, and of many otht-i equally notable men of his lime ; a i-~€llow of that Kuyal Society whicli hu bcljicd to found. He left l>chind him in the AshmoK-an Museum a number of ciinous weighty manuscripts (mostly incomplete), including a Tlistory of S, a Fcmmbulolion of Surrey, an Apf/aratut for ihe lives ef{sic) kin Mathematical Writetn, a Life of Hobbes, and two vob. «tters and Mijcelbneous Pajjer*, &c,, &c. But the Dictionaries to icU us that he wat about as credulous an old goose as one Id hope to find out of Goihain— an inveterate, good>naiuied dp^ ais fond of a cock and bull stor^', and as ccitoin to adorn it ^ tetigit fitod nan entaiii/) as the very latest editor of Mr. Joseph Icr or Bamum, 1 Ic was ready to believe the t/>se dixit of any one tal man, woman, or child, that fell in his way, on any subject cr ihe sun, from 3 cute for the toothache to a discourse witli the id Gabriel.
All this, hon-c^-eT, one has to find out for oneself, and the task is fasy and amusing one, by simply wandering pleasantly tlirough of his most characteristic books just now republished, and tly named " Miscellanies ujKin various subjects, by John Aubrc)', «S." (Fifth Edition). From ihe brief dedication to the R. nble. James Earl of Abingdon, down to the lane word of the Icndix, it is the same quaint, credulous old book-wurm that talks Is — at he only could talk— rev-caling himself in every page. The ■Vcomprites only no small oct.tvo pages, and may be divided > about sbcteen sections relating to portents, tlrcims, and laiitioRS, and other such topics — "the matter of the whole lection being," as the author tells us, beyond human re.nch ; "we iiig nuMTably in the dark m to the eccnumy of the invisibVc vioM, ■_ us
I ■>: Ger.t.if-lHS
3 ^ijrtiuponourpaiiiopj,
and s«st!:i=w5 is M fci=ti as to afford us a 6 ^^^^^ dothc» Tbede£ci:ioa bens date 1696; bat a Jo ^^^
„.4cni=«. a=d h. Sr^ words a«, .U»F «* ^'"^ Eh*l: ^
TT» EiusT^iIs tor a sketch of his life art bnt linrf anfl"^^
jpK* W-- rwr== c£ ocIt an OQtBne before ^pping ""'*'*SMlf
oiriocs Macfcjnies. which h< regards as of soA ran i»i^^^^'
iai;«t. Totn A-brer. ^cest son of R. Anbrer, Eaq, ct *^«iii
shire, asd BiTai Cbalk. WIIb, was bom at Kingloo, WUU, **
IS. i?^ vibe cni^ hxx and mimite bdi^ do)) wuA *
BWKriicsIy pctac; faocoscope at p. aiiX *n4 "bdi* «*! '*^
U)d JtK » ct«.* was tui'died iha: rayd^. Hefi«dtobe4»
Kvv: asftl SSI : be: as or as can be ^ihend from Us on
Kc:tj£: cf :=« " Accicec£9 cf Joha Aabrer " nems to hneM'
sb.'Te rvta a uir scare of socol ^ ■'«»'-'»« and tmobles, n*
{-c«5)fc:> $««. Afbs a scot: saj a: ifae Gmnmar SAaA (^Yi
K.*-*t:<U S; ■K~ai=ieii jL-c sccae years under tbe strict tnitioBt'i I'''
VAivmit. :>< vreoKTC-c ot Hofafces. and at tbe caily age of s*^
»,is erisr:^ x ».<=;"*ciir: C^-ci3XXCof Trio. CoH. Oaoo,«tet
J-L-; 1^: >."■*;■■: .;:.,•*«;■■« ;o K-iii^. Even then be had 1 1»*
V-^-. sh - -^--v i:>i j^:a;.l.:j«. a=ii tLibbtings in science ; l«t«*i
»7a: M.-^': — .v w"-ii:'t:r re e«= t^i cis debtee — seems dorf*
Hiv. K" <'<• >;•-"-.■=»; i ?, A. \-r--= AzhrcT is the TCiy nan «^
j^. >i*x- .-c;-::tvl :>.:; t--— :-.-.;t :.i y^j z^ame in print, and rf"*'
.■~^;- s "■-■ "i,--. r.j ;-s if ~ nif, afxT four yeaisatOiW
^y^.-- >,e -■*.'-: ">■; i-.-:.:i=:i=cs cf A^.^;cT Wood, of UoW*"]
v-E-;, ;-4N --s -J.=:tf irtx"-!^ ii a ST-sicEi of the Middle T<
^Vj;-;x vicisi.": r-^c-^i:. /^wsvsr. bu wtis sbortlv afu fiiicedV
frv ;b« s^.c-^'i-. i-;!'."-. -r i s ii^er, wr.:-;!! nude him heic W
e*rasrs — ^^ -^^ ~-- ^•^^^■."^"- Hiriis'.-rusiire. and Moomoodi,)*
._. _! iir.;^ -if 'x» sc-.j ;rj.: »-,Tr,«ii ^u:^ "o the end of !■'
■rv^^ •j.n >;.r^ -■- :li'::. s^;=: :r- --^■»« iX-cnrwJ a laige portkBirf'
__.. - -^ -:-■' i---i~5. ;~'i ;-" '■■I'-: '^;«e= 1 ojcsant souroeofto'
KCM — — ■*■ ..-...- J. ."
Bjai.T'..;:^--. i-* * - - ^ "-"■■J- - 1 =^-=^ -^"i ^^-"^ ; tboogh, m fte'
;>e .;=ie^n 'W'^rM He te^cpanii]tiaBCf«id>' ■ ^ BttfS v= Rr:«».i; i=c -eWTS cc" =ia dir, and to dK NQ
T
^
^^''^X John Aubrey of Wills. 2.Sl
^■'^ijvs li^ '^ave been a treasure trove lo find that shrewd gossip
**^\\'5V^'^v ,3^*"sts, Samuel Pepys, or that loftier and more genial
^ "^ ^^^ Xft *' Thomas Browne, of Norwich. The three might
^i, ^^\^v ^** *"d a single chapter of dialogue between such a
t^iy^ ^\^ ^^ been of far greater worth than a ton of Miscellanies.
■ tie ^^'^i ti ^** details of his life, nearly all we know of them is
■> (w"^Vti A °"" curious memoranda, which he calls " Accidents
:[ T*^ .^''^rey,'* and from which we will cull a few flowers in his
J ^t^j, T^eristic words, from his birth in 1635 to his narrow
, *f^ ''•"niheknifeof a drunken reveller in 1680. They fill but
"I. P^ and begin thus :
.- ^Vq 7^ ** £uion Piers, Kington, Maich i6z6, about sun-rising ; very weak and ^ 0 dj^ ind ergo Xlcned that morning. Ague shoitlj' aft« I was bom,
T' •irL^^"'" '^^5 he had grievous ague ; then, for the next few years
f lj^*1e^ vomiting, a coronail sulor of his head, a violent fever, the
p jT*^ dangerous he ever had ; in 1640 "the measills— but that was
^^fiing," though the Monday after Kaster week his uncle's nag ranne
r^^y *ilh him and gave him a dangerous falL All these calamities,
^^'terer, were survived ; and we safely reach :
■642. Mijr 3, entered at Trinity Coll. Oxon.
1643. April and May, the tmall po]c at Oion ; arier, left that ingenious <'**Ce, ind for 3 years a sad life in the counliy.
1646. April, Admitted of the M. Temple, but my father's sickness and **UiaMi nerer permitted me to make any settlement lo my study.
So passed away some five years of which little is known, and in which PCRhance nothing unusual occurred, thotigh fate had in store for him *nolher deadly wound, by an arrow as yet avoided, from that " keene
' ■ndier, Dan Cupid, of whom," saith wise old Burton, "may a man be
: *ell afraide," for his next entry is :
\ 1(51. Aboal the t6or iS of April, I saw that " incompnrablc good conditioned
JJ ^Ulewoman," Mrs. M. Wiseman, with whom aljiTSt sight I was deep in love,
i* "oB his love prospered there is not a word to tell ; but, in spite of a ; ^ 11 Epsom, where he " brake one of his ribbes," and was afraid of
**) "apostumation," things went fairly well with him till September
'655 or
I Ifi5& Septi. when I beganmydiaigoableand tedious lawe suite on iheenlaile •> Monmontbsbiie ; which yeaie and the last was a strange yeare to me; several ^tuullavt iidlts I
\ Whatever John Aubrey may have studied at Oxford, he certainly
(id not mastered the difficult art of spelling, though, like Mr. S?L[nu«\
?b:hv th sacnii ir t'""'"^— nnr '•'^°^^^*' by dowmight fardfwwi ; T^T*:" "^^ — .:- ir ras ass 3 *-jss »t:x=i on ihe iwy nott pap l( ci-'-t ru=ii rrrr7?=.- 'i br'Wit:=-. i* =:» in this re^ica, and wiH ^ :: ■ r-:ei' ■ z.,st ' ire rL^a: is ^tw conxus), "poltesi' fii •>:»:, TTi. -T r " rr^i; t..i.sc^." is ^r* asd tben harrows oriimniii TCT Tj.-i. t-:j::^ f.x .-oi-rrr lifjriri £.r>d myseiT of meaning bert t.»:r" ?; re =u;;-rei. r^-- -Ap»=nai»n," " Metoposcoji,'
1- z - f :. 1-; -:ca- g-i^V— .-r- r^ * mTsserioos entry in this (bni! -r«?r2=rj«- ; r-^.TT.' - izii ii:^t=-T xcsr to November a^, OA r^i S-Liiir ?.'-'•» -rz^ -viiic:. I »2s ta many, to my pe»l Vmb! Tt: "?.;::s ''" :3± -rsi .'i.t zz irsti l:is aeck in Ely Minster (hoi; a; SL-T 3,-c . i^i ;Te^. si!^ ;D3r£ sc^xMeJr, ia ibc not line, wcajne r- - -f T«i.--.t irf r>dru lijsrf :r tbs Minger?) my borse tumbled c»^ i^i -T^:r lai t-K. — ■•'*: 0>d, ao h^rt.'^ '^59-
;x-. >.vi =7 escl;: a Hesiwi ; r:ci l:a£ ^e bcExnr to br deeteJ FtfM
Xie:j *^ = ::iT~!- r." ^e -ry-.l-Ti ■rt trr Ijnme, «ai stmt ia.y Um m taHall, 1*; :; ir-s ie= liZi- ." / -"-i^i" f«iM' .' a^tj 1664.
A; ■.: ^r. ;: tt^, r--5rr7..-_s ;.'^=«s, .: there be some doobt astoitt ina.- ~i-JL-.-z ---i:; --i= r^ -■;.=■; iz iZ ibv>::i the entry in thrnrt Ir.;. T-_:l-. t^ i.^ f_-s: k^t .- i - r-^ .z^ i^if^. He had ese^ • sl;":tt --.-r.- :?; :>^— « jc .-t..; ^t '^^t. «v^ tore the tctriMe «« cc ■Kcj.i.;; ;>T-i;s, r-t ;-.- t- izJ^ ^ f*» jesirs iaier, into the mM -v zz.:-.Ziz. i-\~^ ■■ i:-T. r_; ;j :: >=-::;;^s, ii^ lacre perilous, if wn? :;iif :> r j :c; rr..: ; .i--_^-rc ,-; =as:":rt-j^e. whether henanirf
t .!!1:~ ^'-'"'■''" ■■ ' =^' =?^ -^ xiises! .-=1 u «a boMlptoJ*
W-=r.>.;r ;:^e I^::?*! >!=. iiUe. ;:::ed, so^mcd, dallied *i4,« Ei-. =-i ii=, :: :i =:» —r-rsKr-e ;- «y. In any case— wheths »■ i=:n::= »ts ::: :-i :x-r.C5 cif c-crship cc the shaipertenM^rf ca_ -:r.y— C3 - :ce ci .re £»c-. -;.^d ?«*aWy hare boen the^i :t z^^zz -i very r^:-- c; the =!« t:> chro=ide lus own dnV «
_ .- _ ■ • .^- 1 — iij-iijtae BIS ownowv
5-_tr_-_j5 IS -„-.:i .y^:. sTurrLsh iishioe— ibocjh we mn onto** •f.-z Z-z^z ^:zzs c: r/j :u<:--dir:i ir:s=i. Ai:-.cr.T Wood.' who ■J*''
:^. -^ ^_--"-="-*^ sh--«s per«^ and 'someumes finkW» —ar, crazec
tTJe'^""-TJ^"'""T ^"'-^^^ '^^^ Hnxas his ownhrirfW* i«h>.g took* eff«, a. if I h^ been „„^^ ^ ^*^
yohn Aubrey of Wills. 283
of Joan). "Trescherics nnd cnmilics in abundance; rested in Chancery I jtic at Mrs. Sumner's suiic ; February ''or 9 a.m. Triall witli Iter at Sarum ; ricloty itnd j^6oo cd ; through devilish opposition ."igt. mc." icther this *'triaU''wasa cascof brcasb of promise of mairiage, idon. or slander, or what not. there is no e%'idcnce to show; owcvcr that may be, or louhomwas the "victory," in July,
by Pclcr Gale's malicious contrivance, the poor viaun wa.<; iXTcsted just bcfbrcsetlingouttoWintonfOT his "second iriall," ' detained him two hours, but did not then come off ; not 1 until March, 16691, ^'^icn it bsled but an hour, and the judge, 1 exceedingly made against him by a Ijidy Kungeiford, gave a t for ^300 and a moiety of Sarum, whatever that may mean. icn, for a time, John Aubrey had rest, and for some years rycd a happ)- delitescency"; lying by, n» it were, not only from mt danger of arrest, but from perils of a far worse kind, such being run through with a sword by a young 'I'emplcr at M. ;*9 in the M. Temple ; " or, " being killed by William, Earl of >rokc (then Lord Jlcrbcrt) at the election of Sir W. Salkcld for
Sartini ; " as well as the risk of being drowned twice, and the
peril of being stabbed by % drunken gentleman (unknown to
hi the street of Cray's Inn Cate, in 16S0. *l»is, ihc final entry in his list of " Accidents," clearly proves that gh he had come to " forty year," he was leading rather a rackety
of life ; and that his " dclitcsccncy " had come to nn end. But lays of hot youth gradually cooled ; once more he called himself ently quiet ; and though now in straitened circumstances, which C life hard, he gave himself up once more to his favourite siudies,
%wld in which he said " he knew not how to live." But live he tawil ifi<)7 (chiefly by the generous help of Lady Long, who gave
a room in her housed when, on his w.-iy back to London, he ■ at Oxford, and there, sirangcly enough, was buried in the church t. Mary Magdalene, aa " John .Aubcry, a stranger." 61B as, according to another John (Bunjan) of greater fame, If a down ripe pippins may be of more goodly interest than the 'ted tree lh.it bare them," so are .Aubrey's little " Bokcs " of ter intertrt than the man ; and into one of these wc now propose xp, not in opite of so much as because ol its oddly-mingled con- I—bearing in mind that this F.K.S. deemed "the matter of the fe collection bc>ond human reach." Of the seventeen sections ncqnal lenfph, into which his Miscellanies m.ny be divided, the is " P^ Fatality, Lucky ati^ Unlucky." Begirming with 14th of
The Gtnthmans Magazine.
the first month u )i«Pl>y sikI blessed to the Israeltlcs, 4)b) being exsaly expired on the day of their exodus, &c, he ciuil Horace as cursing the tree that had hkc to have fallen on mefatlottf^smtdie—^fiATAxA on an unlucky day. Having] at Ronton history in passing, he notes on April 6 Ale (treat was born ; on the sanve day con(|ucTcd 1 >aiius, von a litiai ' at sea, and finally died;" JtHx, wc may suptiosc, oppwOa^ mortis. On the s.nme day his father I'bilip took Potidan ; PsmcdB gained a victory, and was victor at the 01yin|>ic games. Afttr i Ic* pages of this kind, he turns to his own birthday (so he ajr) tt November 3 (it being in reality March la^ according to bis «■ horoscope), " on which felt out some remarkable accidents </, Consiantius, Emperor, ' worthy wairiot and good man,' died « No\embcr 3 ; as did Thomas Iktontacutc, Earl of Salisbuiy ; ik) Oirdirul Borromco. of famous SiSnctity ; no less did Sir j.FtnA lA>rd-T)cpuly of Ireland, son lo Hcniy Vlll. and exitcmely like him. in the Tuitfr, slain by the fatality of this day; a rentarkablenu* his lifetime."
Now, as to this remarkable Sir James, how it comes lopassiU not even his name is mentioned by Ilumc, or, as f.iT as 1 knot. I? any Knglish historian ; or how any son of Henry Vlll. conUk named I'errol and die in the Tower fifty years after hb lirtWk death and Ic.ive no record of his falc, is a mystery hard to ihumI But a ni.tn who muddles the date of his own birthday may he citoei for being foggy about the facts of any other hero^ present or p«; and so wc must be content to know that on this same fatal jrdrf November the i'opc of Rome was banished the realm in 1535 ; ll? same day 1640 began the Parliament so fatal 10 England ; WoH^I victory, 1651, being also the day of Oliver Cromwell's death. ^
After some pages of this kind of exposliion on 1 .-icky and I'"" lucky Days, ire conic naltirnlly to such things as the nfOic*' No. iz6o, mentioned twice in Revclaiions (and even morcfiuBSBr wc may add, down lo the days of Dr. Cumming], I'opc Gregory,"'^ the Cilcndar, the Julian year, and the " Old Stile ; ■ and, 10 ro*" ail, that in Sherborne, Dorset, the small-pox breaks out every wvtilili year, and ai Taunton, Somerset, every ninth year! "which ^ physiciait.t c.iunot m.islcr \ "
" Oslcnla or Portents " opens with a sounding note of abrm 6» no less a iihilosojihcr than Nicholas Machi.lvel : " How it co«D«l* pass I know not, but by ancient and modern example it ii end* that no great accident befalls a city or province, but it is prctaget^ divin«tioii, prodigy, or astrology-, or some way or other." In {«•
John Aubrey of Wilts.
2S5
ef «hkh gtave assertion, Aubicy cites four or five slrange circles and bon uf a white colour which appeared round the sun on Sunday and dinn occMioiM, M when pc;tcc was concluded belircen Kobcn of Mtnundyand Kolxirt of Il>cIa:siRc, in 1104 (the said Roboit of Nomjndf hai-inj; died in 1035); or when "at the coming in of King Philip," i«ro juns appc^ircd, and a rainbow reversed ! or when, at C«m« Jo)'oc carried Charles I. prisoner from Holdcoby to the bkof Wight, (here was seen in the sky a re- oubble thing in (his guise, diuinctly seen in 4e churchyard at JJishop's l^vington, Wilts, »bmii three o'thc clock p.m., •' the Isle of Wight Ijing directly from Inroad Chalk at the ten Li'docI |)oint 1 " Of which amaiing wonder, says honcM John, " we I a world of things from these Portents and Prodigines, &c. from which indeed the whole art of divination has been com- pouBdtd."
Kmia " Portents " it i» but a step to " Omens," which indeed fill ome ten |ia{;es «iiH such choice and singular " prodigie* " a.i thut "w c3f,l« fought in the air, lietwccn ihe hosts, at I'liilippi ; Ihat MaL I'ulter, «venli«(h Archbishop of ("anierbiiry, in the seventieth T*^ of his age, feasted Queen Blizabclh on her birthday ; that a fc*tli; tthilo before the death of Oliver, Protector, a whale came up
■^ Thinics, foet long ! and " 'Tis said Oliver was troubled ; "
•lot Charles II. was crowned at the very conjunction of the Sun ■""3 Mercury, and as he was at dinner in W. Hall " it thundered *^^ lighiened extremely ; " ami, more amazing still, " In February, '"''ch, md April, two ravens built ihcir nests on the weathercock "''^ehigh steeple at Bakwcll ;"and that when Major John Morgan, ** "dli, a Ro)-alist, lay sick of a fever, being lodged secretly in a Pt*! at " Broad Chalk " there came a s]iarrow to the window whirh P'^W the lead of one side of a cerlain lozenge therein, and " made ' ** Hnall hole in it ; " but no more ever again after the Major's
Nothing seems too trifling, too incredible, or too absurd for our }^B*A ok) gossip's store-house, to be treasured as fine gold.
Bat) if portents and omens delight him, "dreams" are still fdbier, and afford him even more special objects of a " nimble fancy fond belief." He will not, he says, draw much from Cicero de 'irina/iont, but simply set down (Section VI.) " some remarkable divine dreams of certain excellent persons (his acquaintance) irorlhy of belieC" But, in spite of this admirable icsoluiion, John Anbrey wanders away into the days of the remote past, and praitlQx
286
The Gentietnan's Magazine.
idtf on of Hannibal, and two Arcadians, Kmonidn and Alexkiujet^ Great, all vorthits nhom he could W4>fhave known; andldUii many pages, how a slave of Pericles Tdl headlong from the pioiudt of a lofty tower, was picked up for dead, but cured by the hsb rnngwon (Pantvcnium) rcvvakd to reticles in a dream by Mianni and how the plague in the army of Chartcs V. was, in like [as^ cured by a decoction of titc dwarf thistle, " since called Caroling* and of a certain lewd young fellow of St. Austin's acquaiiuaiK^ who, in danger of arrest for debt, n-:is warned by his faibet's gborttf a certain and swift means of dctivcraRcc. Soon, however, he «t«iM ofelassic grounds, and comes back to his own countrj* aivd lus oa time, where we always have him at hts best. It ts pleasant to ' that "my I^dy Seymour dreamt tltat she found a nest with finches ; and afterwards had nine children by the Earl of W: sea, whose name was " Finch " ; no less comforting that dates admirable against stone disease, timilta similihus, so saith old Tookc of K- — , thus : " Take 6 or i o Date Mones, I>r)-, Pul' and scarce (w) them; take as much as will lie on sixpence ia quarter of white wine fasting, at 4 p.m. ; ride or walk for an in a week's time you shall have Ease ; in a month, Curt* can be more charming than the old Captain? unless it be " gentlewoman who dreamt that a pultcss of blew corants would a sore throat, and it did so ; a pious woman, and allirmed it ! ! ' reads like a bit out of an old cookery book — in the days when ing was an unknown art. "There arc," goes on Aubrey ii innocent way, "millions of such Dreams too little taken notice but they have the truest dreams who^e IX"" house is well dii which mine is not ; but must have some monitory dreams." however, the good old Captain Tooke, and many another of J acquaintance, must have been born under better auspices, and cnj all the keen powera belonging to the House mystical No. IX. ;wl visions fill the next twenty pages. Beyond a doubt, so gifted "Mr. Smith, the Curate of Deplford," who in 1679, being in and sick of an ague, "there came to him a rision of a Maso Arts, with a white wand, and bade him lie on his back for hours, and be rid of his ague." He tried two hours — when the instantly attacked him ; but became more obedient, lay supcM three, and was perfectly cured, "All which did John Evelyn, shew to his fellow members ,it the Royal Society." An appall or vision of a Master of .Xrts must have been .in unusual rarity C in those days when intercourse between the seen and the un* world seems to have been so easy and so frequent, and one
I
yolm Aubrey of WUts. 287
mow in what evict wa^ a spiritual graduate managed to E distiiKtii-o rank. Possibly, he majr tiave TCveaJed his 8S a visitor fiom another vrorld in tlie same happy fashion 1 "apparition at Cirencester in 1670," who, bcini; demanded k good spirit or a bad ? returned no answer, but disappeared irious pcrrumc and mo^ melodious lw.ing " ; to the amaic- the famous astrologer, Mr. W. Lilly, who believed it was a ugh Aubrey himself inclines to a higher raiigc of being, and Hoty with a quotation :
Omnia finirrat ; lentia ucaiit in aarai ; liUniit oier ; faun idrtjmiu Dram,
lo the point that we pardon his crediiHty at once, and for- for his legends of Dr. Jacob, at Canterbury ; T. M., Eii|., a who, after a vision of )iis first spouie, married two wives ind the latter end of his life was uneasy." br the old lame man in Stafford who entertained a stranger Ip of beer, and in return was cured of his malady, " ihc said being in a purple-shag gown"— never before seen or known parts — and vouched for by his Grace, Gilbert Sheldon of irj- ; and even for old Farmer Good, at Ilroad Chalk, who in getting out of bed at eighty-four, and thereof died in*
■mrt^of such a wildcincss of trash, however, it is only fair H^HQood a ghost sloiy, and as well auihenlicaled as any it in the treasury of Mrs, Crowe's " Night Side of Nature," niel Home himself, having about it a singuhr Defoe-like lacity that prevailed to make Dr. Martin Luther's first and ■lator vouch for its truth. !t must be told in Aubrey's own
:d Henry Bell, do herchy dccbrt lo llic pic^nt age, mil tn pwlerity,
•iBploycil twyfind ihc wai, in iinlc alTnlis, iltvcni ycnn tii(;clhrr, biit)i
una, ind *1«i ihc laic K. Cliailci In Gcirnany, I did h«it in all
icnulioni mntlc by' the rleslrojlng o( Iir. Maiiin Lwthcr's bouki, &C.,
h divine warki, iIif Kefonnalion was wonderful ty pronioK'i. Where-
Gregocy XIII. did nu licrccly ilir up. .-ind inslignle ihc Emperor
I III. Vf make an <nlict, lh«l ntl (he nroresiid piiiili'd books should be
id it ihonld he dcAlh for any pcxnn in have oi keep ■ enpy of ihe uiinc ;
b itot not one nf all Ihe laid liaakc, nor one copy of the same coulil l«
WBrd of. Vcl, it plcued Cod thai >'» antia 1626, « German ecntlcmnn,
V*n Spur, with whom I became famihaily known, having occuion to
I an old foundation of a house, and digging deep, one of the said original
I iberc happily found, lying iit a deep hole, wmppcd in a stiong linen
I
' fly, clearly «n aieeitnl of.
The GfNt/cmans Afagasttu.
I
I
elolti, «i«mI kit onr wiih bt«awi> nilbin ontl without, wticicbj IbcMilbaik *M ptetcivcd bir wllhovl tilciniih. Wliotcspon. \\k raieiaiJ ccnllcaM. Iemii for hU vwa ufciy at w«ll » thul of Ibe booh, U)<1 knowing that 1 had the U^ Dnlcfa lonffDc very pcrftct, 'tid «end It unto me % lelalt*! lli« iKusaen oflkpr- MninE ami finding tlie iub^ and caraesil)- moved Bi« to traulrte U la* Eni^iOi.
Whercvpoa I toolt the ukl boaV before me. and manir ilowt btxan la tiT» bie ilw BBic. but alw3i}« wii I biadcrcd ihcrdn, being cillc'l aboat ottutW.-^^' iMonuaeh that by no poaiible oinnt could I remain by thai vrofk. Tba. :' (Ix weeki afler, it felt obI thai Uinf; fa bed willi my wife, one nigbl '■.'■ IwelTC and one o'clock, the bang; taXc'^, but mywlf yet awake, then •{>}<»", «nto me as ancient mao, at my bedside, atrairol In while, h.iving a loot, white bcMd. hancing down lo hi> giidlc Meed, nbo takloe mc by the nfM qak« lhe*e iranki faHowlag : Sirrah, trill ml jmi takt timt la IrvulM A'wt iTMi umtf jvH mil/ Cermatiy t I miti frwUt firr ^u l^A lim* an/ fm^ 4f it ; and then be Tamthed ool ofmyaleht. Whereupon, bcini; mgchalTn^et fell Into an eitrcme iwcat, intomuch that my wife awnkinfi, and linii^ oi«i wet, the asVed what I ailed ; I told bci wlut I hn-l Mrn and hantj tali never did heed nor icgatd vikloiu um drcaou. Aci], ao, the tame ««■ M of my mind- Then, nlviit a fottnlctit after I had tern the viuon, no a S«n>by, t <M Whlivhntl lu Imr il>c termon, after Mhiili rnitvd I tvtuinvd ii> my lii<yi(' Wntininsicr. anrt Mtlin); donn tu dinnv-r with ray witi^ txu iitoHngcn JbI from thi; Cutmcil-Uind, ikiih a waiiani to earry mc to ibu ker|Hr it Am (iH h»Uhe al Will 111 in II i-T, llicic lo b« tardy k<|>t inilil raithef <ird«( (mm llu L^ n( the (.'ouni-il j which wm dmio wiilxnit k!icwlii|: any canae al bB,' uhntbil wa> eommlllci] ; upon which wid warnal I wni ki-pl ih»re ten whole jejod* jirlioner ; where 1 tpenl five ytar» aliout lninilftliii|; i>f the laid book : innoA that 1 found the woidi vriy liuc whick the oU man to llic aforeaid nioitA nnio me, / will i>i»rlly fr^Uf jfou t^k flai* amd Umt la Itatsilatf it.
Then, alter I had fiuidic<l ihc tmniliition, I>r. Laud, ArcfabidiopolCainl^ KnI unio ine in (iiiwri, hy M<. Bray hn chaplain, ten |>ciuodG, and delH * pciUK Ihe book i he ailetward* wnt roe by Hi. H<ay, forly poundi. Thw •• also, addi Aubrey, a CommitiM of llicllottie of Commons f^r the ptintioEt^i*' tianilalion, which wi* in tfijl.
So ends the ime avcrmrnt of worthy Cnptain Henry Bcli. '^ whom il may be noted thai no other tracu Is lo be found by vt • iht; history of thai stormy time, nor indcMl of the precious Iwk ilsi'If, except that made in Ihc inttoduclion to the original edition "l.uihcr's Tabic Talk," by John Aurifnbcr, 1>.D., in wluch whole slory is lold at It-iigth, and Hell's £i>ecial »tatCRicnt& w cnlircl) coiToboraied. 'Ihi^ie .also is found the reix>rt of the aU Commiuee of the Hoiibc, in which ihcy extol the cajiUiin's liaW as " an excellent, divine work," and " give order (Febttuiy 34, i6|i| for the printing thereof," "the said Henry Bell to have the «k • Whosoever was pretended, says AuU<y, yet Ihc true eauaeof (he CiTUla^ commiiincnt, was btcau« he was unient for hU amart, which tW T«Cl^
Mid not pay. and "> ^ f'**^ "^ '''= ^'"™"^ ''•?' ^^ *"** P"*«^
J
ft
yohn Aubrey of Wills.
389
i^Mil and bcncBt arising therefrom, far the space of fouilcen ran "(wiw (»/«)— a bit of dog I_itm which musi have troubled ic nund of Mr. John Aubrey. As \o the " apparition itself, une Lay Etirly say of it, u non verv e itit /iwa/ti, and cornmcnd it to the klemn scrutiny of the Psychical Society, as bein); worthy of a place k their Mrangte farrago of ghostly lore. It is something to know MM the good Ca{>tain Henry liell was, at all events, a real fvna fide enonage, that he was imprisoned, that he translated a certain divine neuiw,and was otit again and at work in the world after his labours. JJay Qiorc, he may jK»sibly have been that "lilllc Captain Henry l«ll,"of whom says I'cpys in his diary, iCififJ, "he did in one of the inihipsat the end of the day fire a Duicli ship of seventy guns. IVhcrcJt,"* he adds, " we were all so overtaken with this good news itiaithc Duke ran off with it Kj the King, who was gone tu chapel, ind there all the Court was in a hubbub, &c."
And here. 1 regret to say, our brief glance through these pleasant pajn must draw to an end at the close of Section VII., for fear of tio[a«ing on our editor's precious space, though not, I trust, on the patience of his readers. We can but say a word as to the remaining dnpMn on "Voices," "Impulses," " Knockings," "Miranda," * IViphedes," " Magtcv" "Transjjortation by an Invisible Power," "Converse with Spirits," "Oracles," and "Ecstasy,'" &c. Through- "W them all breathes the same spirit of gootl-natured, gossiping ^^ity, of the same simple old John Aubrey, who still prattles M in his usual fashion about things mund-ine and things super* *i»dit»c, with a calm satisfaction and untroubled belief that Messrs. '^in and Huxley, F.R.S., of these weary days, would regard severely " so much bottled moonshine. The unscientific reader, as he ""idtis on, win perhaps be moic merciful, and smile cheerily as he ■"itipon an " ainafing impulse," whereby a Commoner of Trinity '^e^, Oxon., once on a time, riding towards the West in 3 stagc- '(tth, did suddenly tell the company, " We shall surely be robbed," •■d they were so ; that a "gcnilcman formerly seemingly pious " fell Otto the sin of drunkenness, and " heard strange knocks at his bed's-
litad ; " that Mr. B , when once tiding in a counir)- lane, had a
HOW giwn bim on his chcuk or head— donor unknown; "that iwe is a house near Covent Garden that has warnings," "the f^apists being full of these stories ; " that the " Prophecies of Nosira- lainut do fotetcl strangely, but not easily understood until fulfilled " lie might have added, and scarcely then) ; that a fit of laughter oce and again seized Oliver Cromwell just before Dunbar and Iftseby fight, of which Cardinal Mazarine did say, " he was a luck^
^
yokn Aubrey of Wilis.
29J
mote bora and unlike our own. He suffered much >Te and lawe suites " ; as well as " treacheries and lance." Bom in affluence, his last days were days 3verty. But thiough it all he battled bravely to Ve should like to know more of him than we do.
B, G. JOHNS.
293 Tki GeiUUman s Magazine.
XOTES OX THE LIAS AND TRIAS CLIFFS OF THE SEf^ERN.
'A'ae; beni* zlti »alkeil ie lo^eiDii riesiosinnu, X>1 tr.x^i '-bee ar^ *^ Rsavc Ichihjosuras, '•Vl^ ~;^ ;£=£ :: L9: iborc :bce &ew and didbl CiKCfJcl r-cenjduirb.
Bbct Haitl
IXIVZR slI -7 :':is rei and blue cliffs of the IxurerSfltH »r.;ri :'-■; tli^iir wi:-.;:rj of the Lias and Trias restii^t* I'.-rm'r"" z:Lxy r-i ftuiti i: Wes:bury-on-S«-eni, Aust, ind <^ vliiTi*. «:-.-:;: :>.:r.i--i ::' >!=—:-> weU-known engraring onill* "Tr.t.'-.Zi :::;-.;>.::=— ^i-riTLi." :;r :here is truth in hisi-iridu^ r;-!^;:; rl.-:;:i. :T.r^r,:ei by :>,e ini^inaiion of a GusUn D* T-e i"-*: >.-* i:. -::=■! ;>.= ;■-':;«; •:; Tigorous style. The crt* I;;'-; :? vii.i-i :r. i;->e -.::i, -^^'r-ic^i r.i3i'.y descend to the surfett" :he ^■-:' r.; :ci;- c-iv;<. The haze rer-:iles are struggling >g»* e-;h i-.l-.;r :- ;"-; sf-i:>.;r; =-i:sr;, ;ejr;r^ e^ch other's throaK in :,::>, i-i l«r r; :>.; »iTes w.;h their fonnidab'e tails. Inthet**" i;r--u~i is i ^^:■xT y.v.. vhere c:r.er winged reptiles are engagfi * ;■-;- v'.;.;i"-^ ;iik -f Tl.-kir.^ :'-s ctcs out from an Ichthyo""* sirjriei cr, :h;> J>..^i. I: is a blood-curdling piaure, appetliif s:r.T,^'y :,- :>.i» ::--.;;■>-; :-, — .i:*;er :he nunner of all the worif^** ] a:::*: *r.,^ 7cr:r;;.i-i "The Er.d c; :he World," and other tei* s--b;ei:rs; i-i >;:. i::;^ ^'.1, the battle c: thesauriansmaybeaEudv r;;Tir>4-r.:i::,-r. c: ;'-e yaj: i?-".--:c:il ages bj- the Severn esfflil- ThiM- :s r---y ^ '.;*>:r. t> r; liirr.ei tVom the study of the nxb- lvr.e*.r.-„-'.wS.v_ ;-.■. :-5i-:; ri—:^:-? c!>:i;nd in the i-arious snbtA e,".ch ,'-!• ^.x-iji^iir; - dc:";~;tc h:!',u~:y cf its own,
0"i' ,t the l,-*c<: :: zhc -ury Tories or subdivisions of theta '.;■". i?j;.'r.c> i"^ cI.;;.'? — i^oh ir.iicjied by lis more or less pecdi* i;-.y.luio,-.r, ^c-eri ir.i *7i^:;e5— is thji! in which Ammoiti/et plaimk er.j.'^e^i ::s hor..-or, ct h:;. Fcr-e^th this ;hin layer we find at AustCfii the I'enanh SnIs, Whit; L::l<. ct Khaitic beds, as they are niiood] oUed, which lorsiiiior. llniii ;he :r^c Lias rocks with the undatjio)
Btfa£, or Sew Red SaDdstone system. Ai ^A'cstbuiy a small s[Kcics
Wf Aficula ttatkx the up|>er byctv of the iramhional section, but at
Ausc fish-bones and inv-ct wing-cases abound in the banlc% vrhich
lleajBvhitein thcMtn from the opiioctitc vide of tlie river, at Itcachtcy,,
A. Imjet not exceeding sin inches in depth has furnished llic fossil
(ctnalns of Elaterida, or beetles of the firc-fly tribc.and the forcmnncn
of the dreaded wiicwomi (larval beetles) of our gardens ; Ephtmtridtt
ihc <IcKcndanU of which are dear lo the heart of fly-fishcmicn
irasahopfieTs, dragonAics, with m:tny wood eating 3,n^ hcrb-dcvourim
inseoi In the mid&t of the marine and cstuarinc dcpo&its this
holalcd lluviatile t>cd ia found not only in England, but to a greater
extent in other paiu of Europe, implying a terrestrial fauna of many
bundrcd fcnera.
la ihc liiDCdoncs of purely marine origin are cndletts fragments of EiKTiKiit or '* Stone Lily " Mem*, and a wealth of Crineidi, which icU o(scas postcssing the tcmfifraiure, clearness, and piiys cal con- dltiom of the Pacific Ocean. The inollusr^an genera emlcddcd in racks way be reckoned by thousands, and cycadaccous pUnLs, bat grow in the West Ittdiex and Ihc tropics, abound tn a ro$.si- sUte. 'ITiC great reptiles, however, emending in j;eolcigicalj from the Chalk to tlic Trias, and perhajM surviving in n single in an amphibious lizard of the (lalapagos Inlands, attained ■ tDfedmum development in tbc Liassic a;;e. Aitbreaihing animals : in !ihalto« estuaries and sc^, the khtkyosaHri and Plishsauri gedfromcighlcento twenty-four feet in length, the structure being lly adapted for rapid and easy movement in the water. It is these : creatures that Martin lias delineated striving with Dimsau- laad Pttroiourians, or winged reptiles, in ceaseless warfare. The nous manner in which the fossil bodies arc often discovered in ! locks, as if " scarcely a single bone or scale had been removed ilhejilace it oceupied during life," is suggestive of a sudden and elming death. Scores of fish and saurians niu.st have perished ircrtatn ateax at the same moment, through some eruption, it may t,iA volcanic mud and poisonous vapours. Sir Charles I.ycll, in the pjnndplctof tieolugy," shows that large (juaniities of similar mud, I the carcases of animals, have within the recent period been swept the sea or river in time of eartlK|uake in Java, about the com- emcnt of the eighteenth century. So it has Iweii in the Lias ch ; the sirala, with mnllusca and other pal.-contological records in r separate zones, accumulating between ihc periods of catastrophe, en LycirsMdimentarian teaching did nut exclude the action of inter- mittent volcanic agencies. \\'ith the exact succession of the Lias strata I voi^ ecLXXi. Ko. igap. «
^oiis on l/ie Lias and Trias Cliffs of the Severn. 293
VitK^SL **|'i II .11111^ II ^T i\^ '3IdB^S, ]
■•-*3iy'irH.7 XL -yrirJ:n s suc^ s ^e: aib ■a^HrititiaBaBicaitte
yaisial — i csaeailT
K. cvcisRicrsrT- a (Joas ==r£>3 rae ri"igf.Mje of a
I'jKTT '.f -^~''^" iciigrrtjco cco Bcc acc^BBdr lead M
niliEL las^taia^iMlw^diel^'-faJocsiriddotnliy WtfhceiitiM
ft^rev cc lATwirifci. A5 :be bene cxa be slaom, togclfaadlta *K7fXil Eftar^T aZinl aninaji, n hnc becB wodififil tfanM^ tt^ KrJirr i^n, ^ep br Rep, foxa a mwmnn anrrwui baring diiiiktf trjci L-isead of the bx< so the whole eridence of palsMtaiaiP^ trnpafen as it is, tends to rereal a like pfoocB thtooghout die uui vegetable kingdoms. Like Wallace^ I am imprflnl to ttat there was a period in naimal devdopment vtioi «u be^trjircd on liring things — even as maocr was originally eudow^ «ith vitality ; and that at a thiid period the special attribute of nw*- kin'l was ;;ranted to a race of beings gmdually modified Qoin a lOMS^ f/^h in the animal kingdom : in other wonls, spiritual and phyncal h.ivc not txrcn (.-volved along the same plane. The reason of man not prcMcribc the ultimate limit or source of the supernatural CmtiiV I'owtr, neither can it distinguish by a hard and fast line the imujw* iicTJcxI in the scale of life when consciousness appeared. MThy the* iihould wc seek to circumscribe the power of the Deity to coi^^H ;m|icrishablc soul or spirit on mankind—already diflerentiatedfio* llie anihto|»oid apes, but proceeding from a common ancestiy in xhe cdiirsc of a natural law of evolution? The changing genenas' NjicdcH of the Oolite and Lias fauna, exhibited in the rocks of ik CdlKwold Hills and by the Lias banks of the Severn, compdwl* repudiate the idea of separate creations. If the chain is incompUl and many links arc inevitably missing, each organism, in coai|aiili with those of other rock formations, has its indelible history eopiM within itself, speaking eloquently of steady and incessant clwig^ Al gpecict flourishing ot dying out according to completeoen or i
/
!
'files Oft the Lias and Trias Cliffs of ike Severn, 295
.-WfiionmenU of life : Ihc testimony is surely there
WK ii. In the TtLis fofmation, besides the ripple-
nurtod flagMones which tell of an ebbing and flowing tide in psiEt
IkWDChi— even ax the lunds today in the Severn estuary arc ridged
^^idbnewed through the action of the waters— the impressions or
fooimirks of vertebrate animals which have waded in ihc mud of
Kchitioiic ages arc found, an<l they i-untain the bones of the most
ntnummalas yet known in geological lime, Mierolates anfigutis.
he deniit affinities and peculiarities in structure lead us to the con -
sion ihu this animal belonged toa pUnt-enting genus of marsupials,
unlike those described by geologists from the I'urbcck strata.
tc i>rt«cncc of a pouched mammal in beds of so remote n period
Kmcvhat suggestive of all quadrupeds being descended from the
UIwv/m/m, an inference which is strangely supported by a visit to
! Antipodes. On the isolated Australian continent almost every
I is a marsupial, and there is evidence that the existing forms
'of« least Secondary age. In the caves of Pleistocene, and
i Pliocene periods, enormous quantities of bones have been
1— encrusted by stalactite formations of anterior marsupial
, ranging from animals as large as elephants and lions to rodents
' Wgger than a rat. The same process of change, development, or
rioration, is illustrated throughout by the record of a past fauna
*nc«r it is found to have existed. Hardly a pouched mammal,
. PJM the opossum, now lingers in the world away from Australia.
^'ig to peculiar physical conditions, the march of progress has in
™* strange country been almost arrested. In many respects
**tm!ia is still i« the Tertiary period. Wallace has supjilied a key
*His insular character of the fauna, proving thatadee]i-sea channel
hu
severed the whole continent from the Asiatic portion of the
^^Kipclago at least since Meso/oic times. On the otlier hand, in
_ I'urbcck age, it i* practically certain that a marsupial fauna
•"f^ilir to that of Au.iirali;i predominated in all suitable parts of the
"^•"Id, proving an ancient land connection for the dispersion of
J***era which have lingeied in nearly iclatcd types through the
'*^an-girt Australian main. The Trias marsupials were thriving
''^Mtitless years before those of the Purbeck strata, and must have
^n the direct precursors of them all. Nothing can be more
iWling from a geological point of view than to stand by Watts River,
Bk Victoria, to waich the platypus glide silently into the stream. You
T(l! confronted with a warm-blooded mammal that lays eggs, has the
linpbibious habits of a leptile, the bill of a biid, a poison gland in
the webbed foot, the fur of a mole, and the pouch of a tnavsw^iaV
{
296
The Gentleman's Afagazine.
I
\
Nature was here ceruinly trying her hand at the production ol nnd I
phases or types of animal life united in one species ; in the ptoeiKtil I
so rcmatkablc a product, telling of a most ancient (aunn, man kM I
of place : geologically he has no right to co-exist with such a pimtW I
beasL But with the pUlypu.1 Hill in existence, the remains of aafri I
reptiles in the lias clays and the evidence of past races of tuni- 1
pials in Pleistocene caverns all linking the most opposite types vk I
families of the reigning animal kingdom, who can affirm that ttpaied I
series of special creations are necessary to account for the tan tis- 1
sitional forms of life slowly developed in the course of cmimhiil
mtUiORS of 3rears that have c'apsed since an aqu<.-ous belt eimlafrfl
our coolins ptanct K-tith sufficiently to support incipient life. I
Beneath Ncvnham Church, where a section of the red Tiiai dfl
rises abruptly from the water's edge, a thin band of g>'|mtm (mljitcel
of lime) i» visible. In the licart of the Midlands valuable depoMM
this mineral arc extracted from rocks of the same age and chmMfl
for the " plaster of Vans " of commerce. By the Severn it u food
only in unproductive quantities, and generally closely inuijii J
with r«cW-ialt or brine-springs. Higher up the Severn, the \wm
with sail pit* have been worked since the time of the Romno VStm
pation. For many centuries a coiutant supply of liquid MaA
literally ran to waste in the Severn from the Worce«crshiic s{mBpl
As in Cheshire, the pumping of the brine from the natural svlui-l
ranean reservoirs in the synclinal trough of the Worcestcrshiie n^
marls is directly responsible for phenomenal changes of the bofl
surface in the vicinity of Droilwith. From year to year, and alwxB
from day to day, the most unexpected changes occur, Tbciinlv
church has split in half more than once, and the interiors of^l
tombs in the churchyard arc not uofrcqucntly exposed. Tw'cniy ««*■
ago water ran down the main street through the town in an oppooM
direction to what it does now. Sometimes the bed of the canaliittfl
a few inches, or the embankment of the railway gives wav ; tbtnil
no stability in the foundations of the houses in the line of diiplwn
meiil, and whole structures often collapse. Many a field is reniwi
useless for agiiculture by the subsidence of the land, and proitttj
is seriously depreciated by the continued pumping of brine from tte
saliferous marls below.
The process of extraction is not without interest. The borH operations are commenced from the surlace where there are iiAO- tions of the salt-bearing strata, a shall being sunk after the mariEO cf an otilinaty well. In the section tliat I mj-self have seen, thei){ip8 layers consisted o( alluvial defosits of the peaiy black
NcUt on the Lias and Trias Cliffs of the Sfi'eiti. 297
mted 00 >bout a hundred fe«t of red mnrts, some bands of trhich btone hard rode, varjring in difrcrcni lajrers from deep red 10 greyof even blue ugilbceous mart& At ihc bo^ of this slralified but unforailifLiuus rock the slcel-rods struck a hard calcareous ma-sK, Kbounding ax ihcy came in contact with the matrix. This was an InHioiion that the gypnjni bands had been readied, intermixed «ith ingular agglomerations of rock-salt. Iteneath this obstruction tJic hollow reservoirs exijt, the rock-salt and gyiMim forming a root u il were, to the caverns betow. Immediately the hard mau I"! been pierced a stream of the strongest brine wells forth with wcha sudden nish thai men have often a dilJirolly in effecting an Bcape to avoid di^-ister. 'I'he bnnc is of such a density that common bble-uli will not dissolve therein, and an egg will roll on tbc surface cJlhc irjier. The cavities at the depth of a hundred feet have been citiKd Iiy the di^olulion of local areas of rock-salt through the noon of percobting water from the higher level of the Bunter sand- Ronc. This accounts for the great force with which the brine rises *h(n the stored stiijpty is lapped, and the Nub!iidcn<:e of land cor- •Rionds very closely with the cMcnt of the cavities from which the <3ll has been evaporated. Droilwieh is situated exactly in this ^^inal trough of (he Trias, and consequently there is hardly a ""sight *all or chimney in the lower town.
The accumulation of extensive beds of rock-salt must be attributed <o !hc natural process of evaporation beneath a torrid sun in the Triadays, when a series of salt lagoons, communicating with the sea, ■*« dried up and cnciusied with salt after the faiihion of many of 'he jo-calleil .Australian lakes of the present age. Tbc borders of 'he Dead Sea are now extensive saltpans, and the water is not so ^ftst as Ihc Droitwieh brine. The few mulliisra that are found ^'ODcipond with the Inackish shells of recent s.-ilt lakes, while the Jtple marks perpctu.itcd in the lower flagstones indiiaie the near "iflucnet: of the sea-tides on an expanse of muddy const adapted foe *iding and estuary-hunting animals.
J have stood by the shores of the South Australian lakes at a teason when innumerable wild-fowl congregated on the shallovr lUerH or b)' the desolate reedy marshes. At the sound of a gun the nak ducks, sheldrake, and teal arose in dense flocks, scared by the nwelcomc shot. An osprey pursued his avocation as a fishing-hawk, ]<I more rarely the great sea eagle soared abovt Pelicans, white- ced herons, Rocks of fat quails, and other birds arrive in due ason ; there it always something to be snared or shot. But gaiing the broad marshes and reedy waters — most of which are salt ot
\
C':!i:.'.::}t.i:i : .}firz-zm.
3
-inr.k.sh— I .'.a-7i :,ei;r. 72mir.<ie(i -.t :he Severn, Trias racks Tx'n^U The ult areaa must have been siagalaily like die *'"'"^— hka utd lagooQS, and the occaaioiial gUmpse u a. cocfc n iffrfij « ■ suggestive of the Jfiu7i»kn!a ax/t^uur of aaoeic iiii;&. ptc^^rciuioa was coouiuhi xa both geneta.
Fdlowing the coarse of the lover Sevan >*>«■■ ^g^ Wi and Glouce^er to the coast of SontiEi Wale^ tboc «e ■ able sections of the red marls and bine ci^s dmM^ river has carved its course, the clx& invatiabty ftx^Mg Ae pictaresqiie parts of the valley. In the pimut waao^ iIk As-wciation holds its annual meeting at CzEtfiff ; and far tereated in geology I cannot imagine a more A^j^irtM visiting Cardiff than by going down the Seven ftom SttMipaft Worcester in a steam launch, with a3ft.6in.oc3ft. ^"■^H, to Welsh nietiopolis. There are many <iiaimiiig little nooks bf Ike rivcT-sidc, most seductive to those who appreciate sodi iffr. A ilAe below Worcester there is a pleasantly sicoatcd inn, known u "Tbe Ketch." From the side windows of a comfortable parioar thoc b n exceedingly fine view of the wrnrfingriwiT^ fianVj^^ hjth^^^/ffi^^jjf^ljiam marl on one side, with wild bits of overhanging woodlands. On Ac opposite side, through tall elms, the rugged Malvern Hilb can be KOt purple in the disunce. Hard by is the junction of the Teme, wtee more than one 40-Ib. salmon has before now been netted. Betvetn Worcester and Stourpon lies Holt, the bean-ideal of a river-adt hamlet. Enticing little inns, indeed, arc doned all along the Sertn banks. At Kempsey and Upton there are fine old dmbcred homes, relics of past centuries. At Tewkesbury, where the Avon ym, besides the grand old Nonnan Abbey, is there not the " Hop Poie,* immortalised by Dickens as the house of refreshment for Sam Welki and Mr. Pickwick? At Wainlode, a few miles above Gloucester ihcrc is again a river-sideinn, near to oneof the finest Liassic sectioa passing into the Trias. Nowhere can sedimentary banks be studied to greater perfection. Passing onwards from Gloucester, viA dte Sharpness canal to I'ramilode lock, we re-enter the Severn rhapfiA In the great horseshoe bend at Newnham is seen the celebrated Guda Cliff at Westbury, with the flagstones at the base. Below the Serat Bridge and Lydncy there are interesting sections on one side or the other until Aust, opposite Beachley, is reached. At the moottd the Wye arc limestone rocks. In the vicinity of Cardiff itidf die Rhaetic Lias is developed to a great extent. Passing throagh 4e vicinity of the Forest of Dean and the Vale of Berkeley, the tidpe of the Oolite stretch away to the left of the Severn valley. Caene
^oUi <« '-^ Lias and Trias Clijfs of the Severn. 299
ia«Is, the rf<-^j/i«ofthehiII-tops,aTCSca«efedlhroughthe vale, inlcr- Btxed w't*^ c^arils, Bclemnicid», casls of TrigonidK, and numcroua i^^ve nioltusca, which tdl of a prolific marine fauna in the Oolitic genod. A' least thirty feet have been worked away from the ridges of the CoBWolds into the valley beneath.
In the full perfection of aiininier foliage it is a very fair
^XM. T^*i ancient ForeM of Dean may be chiefly reclaimed, or
(Jianfed into smiling orchards amid (he undulations of the hilU ; but
there >n bits of real forcK worth viiiting which still remain on thai
iMcli of land between the Severn and Wye, of which the " Speech-
hoQse" is the centre.
Those who with to study the rock formation for themselves will do well to consult the maps of the geological sur%x*y ; for it ix not intended in this artirtc to oflTer an exact summary of the ^-arious t)CU ctposud. An indication is simply given of what may be n. together with some of the inferences gleaned by the writer as sikd or fished upon the silver Severn, The record of the rocks Tootbc easy to decipher, but there bat least abundant material ■occupy the attention of thoughtful minds.
C. PARKINSON
1
300
The GiHilanaiis Magazint.
SOME LONDON ST/^EETS.
i
LKICilSTER SQUARE at midda/ in auiumn: ovehcai * pitiless sky, the pavement reeling like rcd.Iiot coalii m( tb^ merest whilT of wind.
Long ngo — years hare passed since then— men came wt bei* for cool breezes, and sal iindcmcat!) the shndy elms thai nude Ik*' feme of Leicester I-iclds, Thrushes and blackbirds sang among *■* trees ; roses scented the air with perfume, in far-famed gardens, tho** which arc now only read of, such ns surrounded Sarilc House, l^vexs sauntered liitlict and thiihcr, as they now do on Hampstead llcaih ; ladies Ictt their sedan chairs ; coaches, six-wheeled, de]WEUied di£V j burdens,
Johnson sat here, GoldMnith sat here, Sir Joshua, and Hogutlii the latter adorned in his sciilcl loquebute and vrcll known nxkrtf hat. Garrick loved Ihc shade of the trees, to which he rambled ([<a Adclphi Terrace, and from lime to time, wc read, Ro)-al and goigaw^ decorated carriages drove up, to set down at Ixiccstcr Mouses WW memories there once thronged the brain of the Winter Queen, rt she passed gladly out of life ! What burning problems here ponod the Prince of \Volcs, afterwards Ccorge II. ! On one mcmonte occasion, a hackney conch arrived, which came to fclch an Imical guest ; it conducted I'eter the Great hence to Kensington— tti« •» make his bow to the King !
Here too were riots, those notable riots of wliicli Buikc tclk H^^ tale so admirably : in which tumult, by The by, rails torn fromSwJ^^ House were the chief inslruments of the mob, Kdmurul EiWh^' | whose letter may be remembered, grajihically reeoiints his night wl^^ when he with other gilded youths of the jieriod spent the nijii' **" guarding Savile House. A few brief years, and fresh scenes ve enacted, all these " noble tenants " have quitted residence : iknti^ it is Miss Linwood's needlework which here gathers huge aoWi Nightly assemblies lake place again, in front of Uie gorgcM equestrian statue, to inspect the superb head of St. Peter, for ^^ its owner refused three thousand guineas. So ihe tale runs; itboB
Some London Slreels.
^££TS}
ttd-hoi
IKc
^hiA
>a«i
rn T^
lliese <la}i goes mad a\tt art needlework ? " The town
5o sa)9 the record, .ind Miss I.inwuod was voted the thing
crowds did n« come this way for nothing, and (own grew fiM
, my. trees were felled, gardens wciu dcslruyed, (he rnge of bil
I ttortir began. {
Savile House gardens disapiicarcd, and with ihcm the s
pose*; the oJd damask and maiden blush were known no i
LciCMtcrSqiurc. With buildingscamc smoke, with smoke went
[■lir, the town [wcsscd more and more westward : .-md Sir ]
Vpl<i«li!oach was built to carry him into "ihc suborlis." 11
cf tlieOoIdcn Head in those days still flaunted nvcr Hugatlh^
I (he old dark redbrick house, with lose windows, which in o
I tdonu Leicester Square, a« it ni.iy have done (turn to your " Efl
to Ike daj^ of ibe wickeid I^rd Mohun, for thin original hve
by inderTard Houk when tlut duel wan fought with Cirti
On ihu occasion, the chairmen were bidden li> set down the
wetiin Leicester Fields— they were set down, and, moreover, C
ibeold Standard 'l"avcm. 1
Ii •!» Dii<lnii;)>t anil die lown wai »I>«d by ihU lime, and only n tern '
■■c •inloiii of (h« hriiiin ; tiut (lie tiiglit wnt brijjht cnouRh for ihc i
' wlii«k ihc Jbwjiulanit came about ; nnd to ill six «a[irrvd into t)
.IhccbairmflnMinillni; wiiliout the railing, ami koc[)ing thes«le^
nbouU ijiiiiuli the tiicding.
Voa remembur how my Lord Viscoiint was )>ut to bed, i
•wnd looked to by the suiKeon ; and hoiv he bandaged up
"Oiond's hand (who from loss of blood had fainied).
How many unchroniclcd encounters cndod in such a way
^«re men of better blood now that they do not meet at the
_|P*nt? In thb same square, undi:r sunnier skies, another "tr
t*r^ cnsctcd ; we do not need Northcotc to a-uiind us (
['^S'TKJds" pet canary. One day— and he says its *-oice was nev<
' flew away ftom him for ever, vanishing .imong the trees
'^c I^iccster Fields, and was never after brought bad
'm'*'^'"* *'S'^' '"'^'^ '''"* '" ^'^"^^ "^1'*' ''"^ already going (
^•Thcotc tcUs pathetically of the acute sorrow which the
"^* pel occasioned. Was it before, or after, I wonder, the at
1 * Certain sedan chair which set down at the door one A
"^iffmann, at Na 47 of the Square ?
She mtm have walked up the very same oak stairway, wh *0d I may climb if we like, and turned in at the doorwaj octagonal painling-room with its great west light.
Did »hc sec, 1 wonder, Sir Joshua standing there, fl
The Gcntlemafis Magazine.
■■handled" palette all ready? Did his hznd shake a Uoknk . took hers — and left a kiss upon it? \
On a hot summer day, as you gaze into the room, all tluitin ' before )'ou ; but a faint mist interce[Hs the Iktn and mmt. Ttt room, once hung with priccleu studies, has giren way to i bif auction chamber — the Painter's Light has yielded to the reqm- ments of a I«n<lon sale-room. Still, a* you stand on ibe Ink landing—but a ^-cry few steps hence, )'ou can realise yo nw forcibly another scene here enacted.
Outside the door of the little dniwing-room a troubled GfSt stands before yoti, with a light sh.->wl wrapt about it, and a finiif^ serious expression. On that landing Miss Reynolds niitedLosi very memorable occasion, as she watched Angelica emerge ftwllt studio and pass slowly down the Etairs. In " Miss Angel,* I tltiA you will find her described, in the old ni^igi costume ; w» gathered in the good l.idy's eyes when she watched Sir Joshu'tte He worked, you renicmbcr, " prodigiously hard " with from fivt* sixteen sittings a portrait ; his income at that time must hare liH to some ;^6,ooo a year. This at the period of those noted diniKiv held in the oblong room below, where Johnson, Goldsmith, Osnidi and Richardson were wont to foregather.
They always adjourned later on to the Turk's Head, or the Mw Garrick alone, it is suted, would never enter a tavern doorway.
Northward again, passing through Lisle Street, the cekbcUl abode of Bone, the enamel painter— whose prices, in these diysflfS- paid art, are apt to make one's mouth water — we come uponite beginning of narrowed streets, dingier ways, forsaken chui^jirik Gerrard Street lies in murky shadow, its Stone-paved rotdof forsaken and desolate. Soho ! we arc inclined to exclaim, Im i* indeed come down to this 1 Was this the abode of the Turk's Ba4 surrounded by a shady garden? was this indeed the very booNdti where Dryden lived, with his I^dy Eliwbcih Howard ? i
The " front parlour " with windows of "wide light" was ttat I he laved best to sit down ; "one of a thousand such houics'ivi s.ay — but slay, the Plague must remind you.
Rogers once brought Sydney Smith here, to sec this very a* place. " Well, it's exactly like e^-ery other old house I've ever a*' was his reported ejaculation I There they stood together, kioti^ up at It, much as you sec it now. I should say that in vff-t Gerrard Street will look unaltered. Burke lii-cd here too, fix * short space, at a time you wot well of, when ^Var^en
Some London Streeis.
;03
aUK irembled in the babnce, and was the one thought ia oU niads.
But a stonc'sthrow ofTsiandslSt. Anne's, Soho— in comphraent
to the Princess Anne of Denmaik— its old graveyard, desolate as it
lools, » )et fruitful in memories. If you jiass through the some-
vtai poTvderous edifice till you come to the heavy southern door
fOi will find the churchyard confront you, well stored in moral
Itisoos. A certain vn)i>lc unadorned monument niarlcii the lestlng-
pbceofaking; of course you will rememher it was Theodore of
' Cotsica, who, freed from the King's Itench, found here at lenf^th a
kome. Time passes so quickly, one may he forjuivcn for recnlling
> io>||otten memory, or recalling for a moment the memorable oil*
lion m\\n (lajd the funeral ex|)ense of a king,
Huliit, tlie h;tn»h-tongucd cssa>-ift, lies here, who died in Frith
StKtt, hud by ; his son. Lamb, and Co>-entry I'atniore's father were
I Acwitneues ofhis funeral As he lay dying, the story goes. Lamb
' l« down to listen— his l:i»t words, uttered at the i»oin' of death,
We. " Well, Tve had a happy life 1 "
Hiztiit ir35 a brother of the Bath miniature painter (one of ihiKc beautiful little drawings in my youthful days hung over the Biiniclslietf of Fort's, in MiUom Street). He was twice married; first iD^iah Stoddart, Mary Iamb's friend, from whom he was divorced, >adihcn to the widow from whom he was so soun unceremoniously
•tpwtcd.
^ho, of course, is redolent of Macaalay, who has associated it ^ cier with Scdgcmoor. Years after the battle, it is known Sooroctshire children played a game called " \Var." ' The war cry "■ it, as at Scdgcmoor, was the old word " Soho ! " and Soho, as ' "Byonc know^ was the property of the Duke of Monmouth. In "NoUtkens and his Times ' you can read of the pulling down of ■'''nmouth House — " the gate entrance of massive ironwork, *'Bontd by stone piers, surmounted by the crest of the Duke of UotUDouth. The principal room of the first floor was lined with blue •"Jn, superbly decorated with pheasants and other birds in gold."
All thb has given way now to a perfect medley of streets ; it is to w legreued perhaps, but apparently the glorj- has departed from Soho.
Away southward, leaving behind you the foreign (juarters of Soho (iropcr, a grander prospect opens before you, mnrkcd by line streets ind busier traffic. Trafalgar Square comes into sight, with I.andseer's lognificcni lions ; Thoinycrofi's Charles General Gordon, its base
■ MaciuUy's l/ittgry ^ England, i. £14, gives an inteiestLn^ reference ) lliil ■ubjecL
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•-a;^,-_ r ■---'..;•■'_ :" ^.K -.-.::.r.;Tni:H >-ittinc=r. Vlis Bzraw's hook - .-. 1.='.;-.^ ■ T-_ T— .:._-. - ;::;= ssiu: ii:ii3C Eai xiltx i itsw" i« ■iaii'Cl r-.r:i i-.nri :: Vji -=i=r:i ;— ;.— !ii 3ti. T':nJE. y^a lOOorilH, i.-iil 1 -.i.VFr. ■.'' ~ '.T^ -.-.G Z.iner^ " isr X2"»^:ieces." wiiA eiph« -".■jkt it ,r.i-j; .ri 1 j£",:;r;"rr:r ~t; iiirise ▼ii r^ ■■■'■"»'' ^'*' mhr*"**^ j'^,* ;cr^ -;-.r --1^7 i i;c:r 37-. "^?;iIiE= =z=s2 ):r -aiIooriii|!'i -j-.r i -^r» ;i.-L.; v.:.-.! if i.=, ;; ~^-l=:^ Sda^ fbea tmnt), ttiBt ..;=i "'--.li v.i --_--.tr 1<; "irt tints zi=iE nr'»-. as ibesL,iiifa< :v. ...-:■'--'. ■'.- '■:.^ -T- -L.-;, T-,-; _.i±. ~ a =a.-i. 2. lesrrioSt. Muno'^
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:^-. ■.--.:-.■. Mir-..-. •■ - i;-.^-:-.::£;'-.t'-;=i7:=.-.-jLrndoinithescin4
v-i'^ -.; •:-.-; --..•i.-ii.-.i ;,-_== CTr.-i= S-e^-.. cf FrmkUn reKWmti
y..'j.::.--.\. V-.r;c H .;-*.--,: V:r£ K:.;ie r.T:;-, bu: simply 31 Stnoi;
>r-,-.', \i.'-j-A :-/.-. -,--t -v.-JT -.he -ir.:- c: a Lord Chancellor, Homrt
" f..":!-. ly-r-l O.-.r.-';'.:-,: Li-.--. Here, at another page of bistoji
<!.n -ff-rA: -,'^ •»:tr.-, fr^ir. h:::: : and here — ret another W^-
V,.;.';r--. \y.V':'A hvi'.V.Lr.ihani 'Dr.-den's "Zimri") afterwards came tt
r';i(l':. iW. t'r.'; f.'rtf:'i hete sho-.;t out his name and glory. ^*
l.^iv: (;':'.r;": Str'.-ct, Vil'.iers Street, Duke Street, and Buckingta"
'..![':' 1, :ill lyin;r. in tl',-:t- j.roximity.
At the MiuOi end of IJuckingham Street, you will find theiasH"
iiiir old watcrgatcs ; built when the Strand really was the river stnnt
iind Ininti Jones lived to immortalise it, Fidei Cotiaila Cnx.m'
llin iiioltd, and the river front once led down to the water, tlin»(^
wlmr.(: [irrhway streamed, with the tide, watermen in picWtfl*
< iiMnini'. 'I'hc Strand at this time " was full of pittes in which v*t
Iriiicil to (all, so that they ever went by water 'twixt WestminsW •"
ihc Siiviiy." This beautiful old sculptured gateway is entirely fonwd'
I'tntbiid sliine, the last remnant of the grandeur of old York Hon*
IVjiys, it will lie temcnihered, dwelt near to it, "wilhinicoa
' l>i.»y and Lttlrrs, Vol. 1.
' apartmcnl." Next door dwell, for a short 5|»cc, a certain
vid Co|>per(ield I Name aflci name surfjes up, full of pleasant
ninisccncc. Pelcr the Oieat, of ihip-buiMing fame, came here
sclf-instiuctiou. In several of (he old houses still you will come
daint)* vncatltcd ceilings, on fresco paintings, carved slairvsays,
ttcd archway or window.
But grandest of all visias hurcstbout is perhaps the "Grey River," -which endless glimpses may be got from many points of view. >«n e^-eniog deepens and shadows fall, a red glow comes over the % below it a grey mist, shading into blue, through which fairy-like •ers and steeples stand out against the heavens. Above and below E grey wliite bndges, across which the din of iraiTic rolls inret^snnily all boon ; underneath there laps and flows a dull leaden -coloured cr, to which putting red-funncUcd steamers constantly lend con- iSting hues. Now and again barges, heavy laden, toil painfully up e liver, or are ])ulled up by steam-tugs, snorling and labouring, cliing the tide by their motion.
On the south bank, reviving perhaps some of the memories of l*<rorld London, there are still clustered the shot-works, breweries, uefaoiues, limber wharves, and landing steps, then as now densely ronged. The north bank in these days shows what has been done. >ut may some day, perhaps, befall the south side: the Embank- cat,ihc rigid outline bjiped by the tide, the roadways tree- lined, I© hurry of tnUBc. Below, the piers with floating deck^ ; above, iCgudcns, green grassed, from which, towariJ:< nightfall, in "smoky Owlon," comes a scent of flowers on the breejic.
EroiMC Statues, smokc-gtimud, give already an air of antiquity; clo* them play children in red, blue, and yellow, as they played in »ediysofthc "Dandies."
The streets diverijing off here arc indeed "Old I-ondon." From '(•cUagham Street to Adam Street we come perjiclually on old *iDts. The Adelphi, so named from the bmihers Adam, still ^nfues Its old site ; whence it has always looked down on the •wwaioa of the Strand. In the days prior to the Thames Embank- "Wmhc streets of John, Robert, James, William, were probably ' much objects of admiration as the [irescnt buildings of theEm- *ikn»ent proper.
The great dome of St. Paul's, Westminster .^bbey. and l.ambeth, %K too distant to dwarf them by comparison ; and how immcasuiably iperiot they must have fell to the small squalid buildings at their feet.
If jrou turndown Adam Street till you reach Adelphi Ttnace, j^watwhcte about t^6o, yoa will gain an impression, nov «sv\^
Sonu London Streets. 307
, by our present Queen Victoria somewhere about
date the rivci view was fading, and is now quite old days (you ran still iec from paintingti) the
the churchyard, or rather, perhaps, past ihc low fronted the churchyard walls, and have now, with
nts, disappeared for ever. Nevertheless, the Savoy
lit of old I^ndon, and much, to all intents and
It and Canaletii have shown it to us.
the cast end of Somerset House, the great public
plja the record, " diilinguisJied the reign ol
pMl half a million of inone)-," and take the sharp
,t, down the paved pathway of Strand Lane, you
Iciest Roman bath known to exist in London.
Roman bath built about ,\.i). 300, and lost sight
ic Romans left llritain. It was found by accident
Lord Essex of Queen Elizabeth fame, who built
El white marble bnth, dose to it and still exiatit. is fed by a spring which stitl flows from Highgatc 3 the attendant will tell you) at length into the us arched chamber this, formed of dark red tiles, leni and rubble, much as the bailis of Catacalla si)onding exactly with the icmains of our old ere arc no pipes to conduct the spring, which bowels of the earth, clear and unpolluted as 1ft mid-summer ! If you are curious to test the lutiful water you sec before you, stir the layer ot th, and you will see bubbles rise. David Coppcr- ibcr, was a slein believer in the merits of this baih, pont to indulge in " many a cold pliiiigc" Did he, P at a certain St. Clement D;mes, and sit in the nX\\ bis back to the pillar) wherL- Samuel Johnson [•ute, as it lies so near to the neighbourhood of *nutl have done so, though tiis biographer lias *»s in this jianicular !
"h its busy traffic, its dusty rnadways, and crowded
* Street memories, and alas, its somewhat narrowed **ivjntnmcn, it brings back at once mighty visions r^ antiquary dreams of the Round Church, and of
* *a iron coats.
3o8
The Gentleman' s Magazine.
\
\X\tsxcf men, I think, love the Temple, for joys quiie apdit;] for them, at any rate, it is peopled vith a strange and UironSi Entered from Fleet Street by the great lit ick g«tc«y, AM K curioun feeling comes over him who (or the first time pUMss " charmed )iorUt " 1 Hovr sure kt feels, who li\'x:s in these daji, tbtf • everyihing here is unaltered ! At No. a Urick Court, xecond &Da,bt j remembers, Oliver Goldsmith once had rooms : and at the« i unic winduw»,di'^'-'^i"""<^^> '" summer evenings loved In sit. the distant roHltery there would come a i>cr|)ctual sound of . ^rirri' i less object ionalde this, in Blackstone'sopiuion, than the i of his turbulent neighbour's uproar.
Long smce, the old sun-dial has departed with its legend " 1 about your busineis." How changed is the fountain, at whkhj Wcsttock was wont to meet Ruth I'inch. At No. 3 of the : Temple (as it now i*) I^mb, you remember, was born : and 1 sycamore tree close by here, Johnson and (Goldsmith used u 1 Look for it. Alas ! in vain you do to ; time has swept tliis aw^t Within fifty years, report says, that tree grew and flotitishal— B 1 gone the way of the roses— it has gone the way of the rooks. Oonc too, by the way, is the Fleet I'tison. which once hard by ; and which you would have Mumbled on as you from Fleet Street to Famngdon. There still live those viwi remember the glories of the old Fleet Prison, which was i abi>Ii.sh<;d (ir removed in 1I446. Arc there those too who when prisoners came sailing up the river Meet ? ihcy did so^ iff' records, byway of Whitehall. The w.illsof the prisoQaresiSt»t traced under Ludgate Station ; scored by mai4:s — some say rf | soncrs' games, others (less emotional jicrhaps) by can wheels! Arbour Couri, which debouches out of it, has lately earned % 1 fame ; and it is hardly possible to realise that Goldsmith oatij habited it.
"The Fleet was famous," so writes to me an ociogenaritt,*' some of the most jovial Free and liasics ; they took place on ' days of every week, and were said to be delightful cnteriaio The grating where the ptisonets sat was a familiar sight to nieiil youth, I can remember the rattling of the collcctinj box, m* ' voices crying, ' Pity the poor prisoners'! I couM point 001 W J" with the greatest ease, iron bars, marking the chapel windon ; "I farther afield, I remember distinctly ihe days of tltc King'i prison. I could no longer take you to see some of the most ; nent taverns ; I could have doneso readily sixty years ago! is so rapidlj cbansirnj in appearance about here, that my p"
^
Some L^tdoH Sireels, 309
|]uT(]l>- know iheii «a)- about it BoswcU Coan I could have n fou, but it's all pulled down now. Wc used, in ilic days of youth, to talk of Chattcrlon, who was buiicd among the paupen !boc Lane ; I doubt whether I could now take you anywhere near s|X>t, which is of coune covered by Farringdon Market." Nevertheless, with all modern improvement, much still remains e seen, such ai the old-world haunts of Richardson, (iotdf^mJih, toon. There is Itoll Court, where, in Johnson's day, fair garilens Miady Ircei grew ; at No. 8 lie lived for many years, years of elc»s induMry. Before thi*, from 1747-57, he lived, you remem- in Gough Square, and wrote his niciionary, says the record, in rtain top attic. Itosvrcll did not know him till '6j, so could not : visited him here ; Reynolds, (janiek, Kichaidson undoubtedly w. So, too, Coldsmith, from his chambers in \Vinc Office Court ; "Vicar of Wakefield" was written at No. 6 of that row. At time Goldsmith was in such distress Johnson took it from him wid it to Newbery the younger for £(><3. " He was called away Che Th rales," says the slory, "and found Goldsmith weeping nis bills. Johnson gave him a guinea, which he found on his m Goldsmith had spent on a bottle of madeira he was drinking pii landlady." This was at the old tavern still known as the wire Cheese, where you may find, if you like, the chairs ftiich Johnson and Goldsmith sat ; "the room is, or was until r" (I quote from my octoj^narian friend), " sanded as to floor, a most ilwrouRlily comfortable a|ia(tmcnt." ilJohr>«>n*sf,'ouit(Na 7) you would h.ivc found Johnson lill 1 770;
riswcll dined with him on many a noinble occaNion. Mrs. and Mrs. Dcsmoulins were also the welcome guests of ibis i, which Uoswell describes to us as being of very roomy propor-
LHe has told us. loo, how keenly he regretted Johnson's e hence to the Temple ; id his delightful pages you will find ecord of the removal.
"oa will find, moreover, thoughts that will people for you nearly e old Strand byways and passat^es, and will recognise that each Ion street, court, alley, and laveni hereabout j, has its ghosts.
E, K. PEARCE.
. -jS
'.A}' Z:-£ZZA:' ~-l TALE OF i
T
^^. "\~-^3:
rr-
310^:3315 jif^tiiK pta
?jrr:r.(i -r.£ -n^ji^ :'ils i-.t^tttt die At
.'-.-jr -.■.::T-.;-,iirr^ T":ii.-: ";=n liciiaa =iait;-Ji ^-i^^.
"' ' ^~^' ''^ " "^^'^-sr-r-i,'
.■ ,- :■.■-: . v:.; ^jii 3_-;
•.■".•■''- .-".'.-.. -J ■■. z'.-.-i rr,^AiT3 : :i:e2 te saii
V,'',--.;;- ir.c ->..»-:- ;c::::-<tr-ck stood round " W-; r.-.;it ':;-,:.*:7^.^ -7 =..n= — i: must be so.
Ilciti'.dered, not a sound iir'-V': from tV.tir li^'^. ,,
" Back to the thictets— go - ' Ar..l ;,11, li*t swallows fleeing from the blast, ■I i-.k flivliL Jean Chouan stood apart-the last ■n.en :,l.,wly followed, but he turned ^am 'I't lonk behind.
A cry upon the p'ain I
A wfiinan in the centre of that ram
Oil'iUlessbnlls.
'rhefugitivC3aTC»^^^^.^,j^
1«o« Oiouan: a Tali 0/ La Vettdi'e. 311
ds stBI and listens
On the womnn flies, [ard arid pale— hei bare feet torn — she cries ■guish, ■' Help— oh, help 1 " in vain. So dire peril in that steady, ceaseless fire, rtatA that God alone could succour her. in Chouan stands a moment ihou^jhiftil there,
gains a hillock on the rising ground, 11 laoe of the volley, with a bound, shouts,
" Tis I «(ho nm Jean Chouin — I !" lat the Blues there rose exulting cry I he ! it is Jean Chouan I tis the chieC" tMta Dtalh <fiaiig*d its target.
Lilce a leaf e by the wind she speeds in terror «rild.
I nve yourself 1 " said Chouan ; " on, my child ! " e tushes vnwoids to llic wouds, and he, lunc in snow or mast of ship at sea. Is firm : the Blues sec nothing on the heatli lim - he looks as if in love with death. 0, on, roy girl ! good days are still in store :
put the posies in your breast once more."
jll around that grand and dauntless head, less and wide, the furious missiles sped, h his pride of fierce disdain he drew "ra\-ed hb sword : then switl a bullet flew ht to his heart.
"Ave Marial 'tis well," id— stood still a moment — reeled and fell.
C t. MEbTKERKE. Jfitr VteroK Heuo.
\ a
. ..^ ; -; ^^ .— ^ t—ric -_: -^li ImsTiin T^one " *■*
■.-.'.; ■■,r^;.i",n. ■.■. ■.■■^;i:ti " •iTir- -:c lanc. T2i 21a —alesa net ■• .■i-.'i IT- TTirj ^-si ' — ittdipTi -V3: ix iifrmnrie »±3gc<16i
-iTiira, :r.iiifi v-ft ira^s 1= -znt ^r-jiitss-;. cai ir»0 Mi» SllfWiBl
.V -'..vi-jinr.-^ -t 1 =,:ic~ - ■^■~ TT^e 3 -^Tbe Tnnnpei CiB,'
.-i;'*-=:r.v,-, , i,-..i _= :L.-.ri i.— -;:^ ■--■■- =T£r wiO: two such tttnaa
^ :,i '. 1".!; ".:.. r--; -.-li-- i>,ir,:> ii ;r.e Lync under sl^ i,-*r»-. ' .T.-;>.;-,r.':. -i.= ?.[r. Hiy-i-;-. C —. has taken the put cstUd ',-, •?.*: f^.'-.i.itT -.. -.5", ir. --T-e>i:rx" at the Olmpc, iti» (,ri": Hai-T.',rT'.» •.-.r.'.:; a'^.;;=r^:ei who like their Procopius «*
<K.': '.f ifi^ I.'.'/-.: ir.tere^iir.^- of recent dramatic events msll"
j,r'/lu'.t.',n t// Mr. Alexander, on the last night of his seasM
,,( a Um!': ori-r-af.: j.^eic by Mr. Frith, called " Molifett" "^
(,i!iy, -Alii'.li ili;aVi v.iih the tragic circumstances of Moli&te's W
wa , KTJ'.'jfully written and admirably acted. There have b«
[iliiyt fin MdIiItc btrfuic. (Icorges Sand wrote one in fi»e <^
III wliiih '.lie endeavoured to give a picture of Molitie's'*'
!i[(- atid tf) <.Ii;ar the character of .\rmande Bujari. Mr. FA '
li;iil ilii; latter aim. 'i'hal Mr. Frith had not merely no hisW
iiiiihiniiy fur his treatment of the closing hours of MolifeitfstiJii
lliiit hi' ;n tnally set aside the historical certainties conceniifl
(li-mli, i» nut it matter for which he should be reproached.
winhrd III nivi; Mr. Alexander opportunity for some fine actinj
"> "ItaiinHise 11 few pa^es front Louandre or Durand or Despoi
Mfinntd. Kw\ tAvA Xm wished to do he succeeded in dwnfr
I
Pages on Plays. 313
Mkcd more picturesque, never itctcd with subtler m humour and infinUc pathos. From ihc first dying man is brought in in the sedan-chair, his sling with the royal scarkt of his clonk, with ihe upon his failing lips, to the last moment of rcconci- Ting, unhappy uifc, the study was admirable, the he young actor had given his most interesting proof
10 much of acted ]>lays that 1 wish to speak this
unacted pby which is just now attracting con- I dtxnt la haute dromali-jsit. It is called " La
" and it is the work of « young Belgian author — ck. I saw what I bcUcvc was the Eirst cojiy which ome months back ; I glanced al il, did not find it ud it aside. Hut now ccttain leaders of the new ECiilicism — Mr, William Archer and Mr. Walkley i« laid hold of " La Princcsse Maleine " and extol At this moment thetu in a inovcinetit among ictcrlinckists to translate the piece and put it in her upon some Enghsh stage. I do not think the ucccssful. 1 am inclined to share Mr. I.ang's tic geniuses that arc so incessantly being discovcri^d
to admit that, because 1 admire the dramatic must therefore recognise a dramatic genius in tt I must rave over "The Fruits of En- Powers of Darkness," or " I.-i Princesse btedly there is much queer distorted cleverness ^lalelne." It is a nightmare play, the kind of play :am of after an ovcr!,traini;d study of " The Whiio irgraves," or "Death's Jest-Book." There is a f Webster, of Hugo, of Keddoes, in it. It is grim, i absurd ; I do not think it would make a possible s it is lieing talked about so much, I propose to if the last scene of the I'lfih act, which is a most
of the peculiarities, the merits, and the defects of ckcd old king of one part of Holbnd, named ; war upon and killed Marcellus, king of another
Old Hjalmar has a son, young >Ijalmar, who Fas rincessc Maleine, Marcellus's daughter. Whet; hcr «cd, Maleinc. like the BaililT's Daughter of Is- 1 sock Hjalmar in company with a faithful nurse, ncfl Hplnur disguised as a waiting-maid. Young
K
:*
XI ^ The r^ntSerruBt I JiCx^^xczat.
Hi^mat .fi nr.w -Atmihed za Tarane. iaDghts of xQn^ina
T'ltUivt, '«Hr. has nmssi lutazcd ^y lid. g^»i«w^ ani wbo i^
n f^xai .nAxi/siCf!. 'wiz him. VCaxe:iie riefdaies 'ip"^f ta Ae n
H#U<ur. whr, iv^w^ His '.lueacnTi '^x surrvrne t^r^ after kude <U
«fy>inil -n >n ".w: -haunted ::«%. ■'^oeea AnnCr after anf m
fjgfAMj v> ;x-.iv.n VfaiiHne. nnail';. -vit^L die .-iniTJin sbok
ihe /"iA, 'Vjini^, :iLmrjit Unbftr.:Ie Hioimai:; f ■-■f»^fj« 3itaIaDe a
(av.m ^jA I vild ntii(ht r,f acrni ami hea.'^eni? pijiLcuu TIk tee
m al'jrjot tr. <*,urjte 13 the la>c icsne ams- the ^"^r^f is dbaimi
{//jalmar fJ Hit Ifurv ^rt unjier^ — cAt axsim u haiif ra^n^wfc tkrim-fmut iSu a-ow.)
TiiK M':i3IL Help; he'.o '.
tliAI.MA*. W>uit hai happenerl 7 wha: lias Eioppened ? Tmk N':t-.r,. ^h«'ir«'ln:U : My 0>i : my God ! MalaacI lUa* l()AI,ii(*K. E>it h« eyin iXB npen ! . . . .
Ttir M ':«-«■. Sh« hu t.««n rfnngtcl : Ket imcIe : faei iwk ! S«: \\]k\MKt. Vti, Y'n. Yw, tiir. N'»4r, f IMI '. rjill : C»1I 'ajt :
HlAi.MAa. Vci ! ya; j<-i! Oh : '>h ; (OH/nl^.) Hdp! Up! Stn ■tii'wl'''1 1 MalitinK ■ Maieine : Malcine '. Strangled : itnn^ed ! S" ( ih ! '•(• '- ''t> ! SmnKle<1 '. stnnfjlerl : itiangled '.
{II' '< hraril rtinninj; doiuH Iht corridtr and bamgiHg a^iut lit *' vail:. )
A SrirvA-n fin Ihe retriihr). What U the matter? What UtheW tl|j(i.viAK (ill the farriihr). Stranf-lcl \ strangled ! . . . . TttK Ni'D^K (t'n Ihf r<nim\ Miluine ! Malcine I Here t heie'- Tim. SKkVAS 1 Uulcrin/:), It U tlic fool ! He has been Uiati "
'I'liv, Niik'iK. Tlu'f')'.!?
TiiK KrdVANT. Yet! yew! lie U in the ditch ! HeUdesl! Ttir- Nim^K. Till: win'low in ••{•en 1 \'\ 'lUf. Srmvant. Ohl the i>oor little princess 1
(Ki'lf /)"*■'". luril', la'iits, •laiiirHUi, u'oilingVDBitn, and HtUfO
\\ ;\,,,, WhalUthemaltet? What has happened ?
Til* 1 'i>M''-^Tii'. The liiile piinccsK has been Itilled ! . , . •
lll'livlf. Mulcini:?
Til" IHiMKSVii-. Yes. I think it is the fool?
A, lAiHl' 1 ««"1 »"n"'t>inp unlowaiJ would happen
Till; Ni'»sR. Makini: I Malcine ! My poor little Malwnel . . • A ti*-iviN».. Vhere is "MhlnR to be done !
■i\\ Movii""f'-'''^'-^'V""',
nll*f«VisK. CU^sehetcye
,i.i ,^
I
;j",; ;;,..Knl 1».^«V.SK. CU^se her ej^ ■ v,.Tii llfo-tuNE. Tliey ate twed I
Pa^es on P/ays.
SIS
t BfcuiNt. It it loo lale I {faimlin^ Oh ! oh ! oh I Jitus. Hdpn>e«>lili Malein« I Help ! tnr God. wy God, help me t Sekvuit. She ilotc otA ocigh mote than a bitil !
{J.gtul triel Art itani in lie ftrri-Ci)'.} IXlxn {in tAf ttrriJtr). Ah ! >h I at) ! *h ! ah ! Thcf hat-e uca her I
! Mvn h<T ! I co«nc t I come ! I cnme ! in (/■ /Ar ftrriJet). Stop t Hop I Vou are niAil : IKlKO. Come : cotne ! trilli me ! »iln me : Murder I mutder ! murdn \^ ^^M^, J'agsingiA* QiMtit Anac.) ^hennJ I ! 1 prefer louy it ix\ n'cdidit loscihn: ^ lU I* iiM<l ! Help I
tKlMO. Noh t m not mail I She killeil MilcEne ! . Ht it ouhI t Tiike Iiim away! He li huitlnj; me! Somclhlng IvUD hkppen !
jKixa. She did! die did! And I ! I ! 1 ! I hod • hjmd in it
*
btAK. What ? wtai ?
\ KiSO. She ilrangled her ! So ! so ! See ! ice ! ice '. Tbrie mat
Lit the window I Afa ! ah I Rh I oh ! «h I I tec hct ted mantle thetc , iac : Set : Me ! see ! Ikui. How don ihai ml mantle oome there i fe. BbI wtut hu hapjiened? [ma*. How U that ret) mnnlle here? B. Bat j'oa lec he ii mail ! . . , . tMAa. Aniwtr me 1 ll'jw itiT here? .... k. Ii it mine t
tsiASu Ye«, ytiun 1 jouri '. yuuri ! yourl ■ ■ • • • K. Let n>e SCI ! Vou hurl mc !
UMAt. How tk It here? here? licie? — You have? . . . • W~ And after > . . . ,
t-tuji. Oh ! ihe wanton .' wanlan ! wttitton ! monitrout wnnlon I . . . , tticre < thcic ! there ! ihere 1 {hi ildh htr stttrai limei -Mill tit doggf'^ <«. Oh ! oh r oh ! {Ut dUs). k- He hail tialibcil ihc queen ! *»i. AtTCTt htm !
^At. Von will poiion the crowt and the womu I > She is dead : . . . . f*. Hjalmai! Hjalmar ■
•***«, Beeonel There! there! ihere! [tiitBh himie//viitkhiiJtigstr'\. 1 Malciae ! Maleinc I— Oh ! my father ! my father ! . . . , (Ac/alti). KiKO. Ah! all ! aht
^AK. Maleine I Maleine ! Give me. give me bei Utile hand !— oh ! ■ the window t yea 1 jci ! oh ! oh ! (A<- dia). P'^VKs.t. A handkerchief : a handkerchien He in going lo die I PK He I* dead!
'Ncuc Life him up ! the blood is choking him 1 I^Kd. He i» dead !
J KlXC. Oh I oh ! oh ! I have not cried sinee ihe deluge '. But now I •do! Inlo hell to my very eye» !— But look at iheii eyes I Thry arc going p m lae liJkc frag* 1
r
Pages on Plays.
31;
toy nr> I lean hMvil)-. _
)e mua not l>c angrr wlih me, muil one? I, khn un ilisl
t die . . , . Tlicre : thn« ! now it it liniibtil ! I im glml it'
t1 all the nixl'l I'll my lieait . . . •
Come, tny pixx Scigncuf !
ly Cod t my Gol 1 itic U now walliae on ibe 'imj% of hell I
Come, come !
I tiMte onjooc berc wrho it afrild of the malediciion of ihe
Eire; t
Veil, ilcHc ibcir eyes ihm, And lel tl« £0 1 Yet, jrts ; come, <omc !
[ BUI Cuming ! 1 am niiniuf; I Oh t ah I how nlone I ftm tfnn^ Bid no up lo mjr can in uiUfunune l—M tevcnlj-'Bcvcn ytan
TOO?
Here, here. Vouartnoi angry with me?— vre will hove brcAkfo*!. Will iheie ■Iihi^tilUlicnlililculnrt ....
Vn, j^t ■ i)ic-rc will lie itome,
I don't know why. I am n hiilc uul to-ihy. My Goi ! my God t W dead look! .... (ffigti ml tiit.i lit ttnrii.) thcr nich nifilit nnd we ihall ivll be while ! ( Thty at! gt ml, '^ *//*« itwi Uiuinti, Kk4 inSMt tht Miunrt uviitst flating
' M. Tht Mb naif. NitkliiifaJu art itarJ ffutiidt. A <9tJt ' toimfyfu-iitl enu/ffint'/.)
Tut Esi>,
In from ihis cxnmpli: ihji Mnoierlinck's mtHhod is a
frht-ft is, indfcO, a kind of iiorrot in iiis slylc, a
ih.tfTcctcd Mmpli<:ily, in itswcarisoinr rq)clilions,
•Kglc after contrast and cfTect But it is not an
mticii as I am in syin|Hithy with the new
Icriticistn, 1 cannot share a profound adniiration
IXIalcine."
^ihc study ofcxolicccccntiicilics suchastlm that
□ur (Iraina in England is to be accomplished Mr.
[rnk.s ibat the desired end is lo be assisted by the
lils of Enlightenment," to the English translation
It supi>licd a preface. Mr. Henry <\rthur Jones
[ done t>y the author -manager as opposed to the
lias set to wiirk lu put liIs conviction to the
his theatre, engaged his company, wiitten his
■weeks London will be asked lo witness the
new departure. In the meantime Mr. Jones's
^omiy contto?eray. Mr. E. S. Willard, who
pocinted with iwo of Mr. Jones's most suc-
Mr. Jones very vigorously in the columns
I
■^I.E TALK.
"""^ MORTE PaRTIIUB."
" ^■ion of ihe tliird volume, containing hts
, ^**fly Arlhuiian lomanceit, Dr. Summer com*
L *-c Mortc D.irihur."' Another sert-ioe to
ff ^lius rendered us by a derman. Not only
'^•^lUh ihe place in ihe Arthurian cycle of
lus insjilrcd Milton nnd Tennyson and
*^»ous condcmnniion of Roger Ascham, and
^ehly trustworthy text ; he shows also that
"^ matter not to be found in the well knov^n
*'ristan, lancdot, and %o forth. While owning
• oommer fitr a IkjoI; which I h.ivu periwed with
**ch it is a pleasure to possess, I ask — Where arc
'^eps such as Malory and Gower must be intro-
Sneis? Gin it be that scholarship is deficient in
'^'Oast men such as Murray, Skcat, Fumivall, and
Ihis, as in other respects, (rcrmans can live in
^glishmen, with more ambitious notiona, would
■ H£]HE ON Englishmen.
iCc of a translation of the entire works of Heine, at has yet hccn seen in England, translated by ns Breitmann), and pul>lished appropriately enough i in many respects of interest. Englishmen will exs, and unfortunately with disappointment, to [aidens and Women," now first, so far as I am hin their r&ich. Kssjiys by Heine ut>on Rosalind, 1, Desdemona 1 How much is not promised 1 iceining these creations Heine, in what is a piece
scarcely a word that is new to say. For this e consoled by the edifying comment that is passed y and themselves. Nowhere in Heine is more
" than in the opening pages of this work. After
' Oin'J A'ulf,
,:_——.:t.l -~ "-- :~ -" : -~ ■! Hj.:niu~ iThr-Lniift %iiO canno
-: .=-■—- r.-... :-= j.^- i-^i :';r f-i-rr-:!^- L= i Tew of kin to th
- -—^.'-^ -._ - -; . =^". tt t:-: ^; -1^:;^:=^ ir»;t;t the streets scTJn
-. -■.-.:' -^ ' ^r-^ 7:-r-:. " r- : ;(;-=.:;iis. - IS :j this excelkniso
; n.^-- •■ — -' ^ --^^n^ciiT: ;-. -=.1^, I; :u±j ie heart oun
- ^ ~- - - ~— - »~. : >: i - H.S T-irh erer created," I w : . r:.- .-~ ...-'..: — ■=:■ ~j^--." ;:t;i_— .^'is :t ;!-:d sort, though tJieie ...:-:-=.- : -i: : -c_^r% I-.;- I-.-"j.-..i — i- virichinJrous styl
'''-■^'
.J.
N
- ^-"i -r.-.^-z T.j^r..- -,: ^l-i^T^ tr.e French, and th
:- --TT -.-^ir::;-i :_i ;^i^;ra. I: does us ^
- - - -L-s r,: -— _ "- J ^ '^liirtiTy t* have been dislib -: ^-.- ^ ■"' ■^^i^ ;"-■'. :::l1 r: lii^trr. iha: whi'iom in li --::^ VI V— i i^~.^-L il .JLii :£ bea-::t;f^:andwortl
" _- :■_ ;^s^2c-; - z£ -Jt-i; *:. rt:-; -coal-Stinking (i/«
"■^ '-^ :-^- —-*.ii Lr. taea'-ricil circ!
-- :i^^i;- :u^i_=i- ictor-minage
■■-'i~ ■-—'■: i-* 1 7r:ri;'.y trcm a ^
- :.-- -.; - - - :: --_i.-.:L;;:aent. Oct
i- ■-; i .--...--. " 1— :"<, F.-rte. and Boa
~ ~- 1- i . ,-i ir.th tha dnmit
• ■ ■ ■ - - -. - - Ti5 -rt a'.so an ac
- - "- " -. :- . i -c -,"- i>.i: • w,i men uti
: -^ - — - ^— - -^-_ of Piiriuni!
-V- - — ;re draau;ii;s «1
■ ■ --^ " i~ "t;r;. ■~;'*ever, the 1 ;-T-- -;.- vTz-.-.j-itobebesto
■■ -- -,; ,-ii tj :-.:-?uT. They'
"- t : ■ ~— -ir.i ct tbe sa^'
■ ■ ■ -- :.■■;- - ir.i Hin,and,in
-- ■ •.--■ - r^r-j ^T; -,"-e tr.wt succi
■- ■ V .:.^.Lt>.e iz-'.ymaa
i --■-?-:; "r-:-e- trusted wit
'-*■ V. ;; :;< CUriiieiithep
■ - -; -'■-;-r^-y ras seen the c .,— j '- -■■-.-:. 1^1 themuch-nu
."■^ - ■•- ■."-iirres ill Bergen
|
".■>. , |
||
|
V- |
THE
feNTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE.
October 1S91. NAMELESS.
"Sui NtmJnii Umb«a.' Bv J. Lawson.
^HE Uroc of summer was now al hand — mm-ement of some
MHl was absolutely needful. ^ man does not knock about this world fur twenty years to rest ;«Dt pent up in any special nook, however snug and comfort-
^or long flights the times were inop|)ortune and out of joint — » opponunity itself was Inciting. Moreover, the year was young :
••insect youth "still weak on wing, the "ciirly-wailinu" swallow
juu arrived, the horsc-chcsnuts barely in bloom, the "rufiian *ts"of our boisterous coast not ycl stowed (for good and all) in ic summer cave.
•• I will hie mc to the Highlands," said I, " It is but a small vcn- fc ; and there will I revisit those scenes that, in days when life was log and pleasures crowded thick, did use to charm me most."
O nin and foolish thought ! Of all the dismal failures in this Md of Eulures, that revisiting old haunts after lon^ absence is «ly the disroallest. Henceforth do I utterly renounce and abjure ^ fond and fatal folly.
O IDT coetals, tcmnuitt of your*clve* 1
t paihitic wail that breaks from most of us as wc near our ends. ■d yet there is a certain dignity about it that is quite wanting to IT middleageJ man's version.
His exceeding bitter cry is : "0 my coevals, dumfliii^t of your* , ccucxi. so. Vfjp. J
JVameless. 393
difficult hill — one of Scotland's inost notable liills — tbe tafiU d'Mtt.
\ nigbt was close and sutlry ; nil day there Jiad licen Khifting id fine drilling rain. Ahd now, at eventide, the breeze had WD 10 a flat calm, while the drinlc had turned it«cl( into a nrthu fosbade further going abroad. tide tbe house was a roomy porch with jiillan ; and there, il done, we sat or lounged about, and smoked, and did a liitlc ilk. But everything and everybody seemed weighed down ItprtMing gloom and stillneas, and we lapsed into a dreary
It nlence was broken by a (xk.^\ of pre&ce from behind ; ibng round, we beheld standing in the doomsy a gaunt and iJlMule, Her eyes were hard ami dry. her fi^turei lacked jforiiind all she said was this: " Would any vf you geHllemm Ibir tt lixiii hf/ort tkt My is urmied d<rwH I " i look of horror— not to say ictior — that came into the officers' ^1 never forget.
ttie>' sat nearest the speaker, one on either hand the door, on Hy naturally ihc onus of reply ; but they were past powet of uwd stared, with stony eyeti, at the woman looming on the Knc It who sat farther oflT, kept awed silence, while the il callous, doctor said briefly, " is a man dead in the
woman, seeing us thus hang back from the profTercd boon, >n her heel with nc\-cr a word, and vanished in the dark If passage within.
[ «ck doctor sought to cheer us with profcssion.il yams, bid ghoulish enough, in all conscience, many of his stories |Bt,ao«nehow or other, ihey fell flat, and on unitching cars. b Death so near, we didn't seem much to care for him far
lUie doctor carried his little boy to bed ; the officers slunk
fce bare, firelcts sitting-room, and I followed quickly in their
I There was little or no Inlk between us.
jig, wc felt inslinaivcly. was the properesl support we could
^derihc shock.
1 it cenainly/f a shock, when in a spirit of holiday- making, to
pd if one would like to sec a feilow holiday-maker tcrc-.vfd dm.cn.
isn't sorry when, cic long, the two strangers took themselves
ipeak with ibcir ghiihe, on the way upstairs, and left me to
I devices.
za
— :_^::; — .^:=- .ii -: 355 '"aoj Tas:, ud the Dor
. —j:. ^ -^ '-^^ i-pizsi Hi =a:: '^i^^rar alt As ja ■
xzaaded lis hood 10 tii '. T^'' Tieiot - •=--— ~~!ii T: :i:= ;i:r —is: :r >tr H:r:chrj50ii, trfGlap*,
_;:. : ^ii — r»-i ~ ■•- KiTC ;-zr o«ti fazic, ciu^i«
T-: 1 r — . :z. > rr izii 'SK~-. L-rcd ?•' would send Bi
_^r: ■ ■^.=..-. Ttti-re-r:; i:i.i tiisd Csr^st) to cheo«
i^-. :; -;=:; t=si--:_ N;>» tai t.^~. lotx did vemaken^at L^ - . : — y-.. -~.z^. ~ :•— — j=^ pi^ ;c 5;cas barque weaihef-boond I ::----:u^- .ou S : i:o.=s=;ti wij asirer hxnd ihan Inrcnm « It— T — i-i...: :. ;:■:>! r iniirri =J!Js« ri£ Kioc^r ndghbouni u ik ;z .. -...- ■ .=i-.-.;^ -T^ irr* ;-;*T. TiiiLc sead out waiy scwUsbI* ::■: :i:r-^ :.- .. :..- r: - -4, :.t 1 T-.ih ^r^a Chrtidan donty bio* fc :.— .V vi.-:,i^ T.-z. h.'-i :ri.zz} r.e^r; :7 j'ianade of rod. '•— i :"..:: .,: ^ 1 ?_- i-ti^ Tr^i, wber. :r.e bray of ihu b»
■--_"" i--:!^"!— ~« :■: :i:-;ri^"i :n=r-do2S ircre shephenW . , ^ : _■. ii : ,;;. v :_ = 'Kj-Mi i->-.Trer= vei juyment of such jnn*- re- ^. ■.- 7-.;: ; - :^ K-:-K ;:..:=. see=:ed a reasonable alloraffi ■.! :—. , _:. i . -->;=-;= ir.i =ii^ passed for ner anf! ■^; ^ ; ■;■- 1:-=. -,.■: -.::t "-:ir;-.^;:y ;hey were— whal inW"
:-^Tji .: ;;.'i , -f :r~ --b-.l; .-r^t-r^.iV'TV— what high hope-*** . .-.-iiT.-; - :■; ;:;.i = ... ::' nir.fcir.i — whai boundless liijfa*-
-.?: :-^i: .l" :-; I r.;j:i: ^-;sj i::hi: :'.:ne was M .anolddw"
;:?:-.;.:. :.:.;-;.:■}: i ;>.; ::". r^:>r dear M IsinceW
-.:.i.::t.--: i.:.i -. i-ti r..z'. — i-y a 5C'.:r\-y irirlc, CorapeUedW*" -:--:t -.Ti. -.z:\..-yi.:- ,t" >.:> ch^.cs, he had lapsed into evil coWBi ^.d 7.1. ei, -.rir/ti ;>-: >.i- :: JTici- of herediiarj- madness lurking'' ■.r.ir.-. ':it -^-i -:» ',=-i:-^ i '.Lr.iiris life of exile, ashamedaads(Ay< r.vA.r.; J-. Tit^ ir.L reve-:u::es .' about equal quantities.
A c,-'>c-::;v.:Ti.-i s;-'. a; ever brcaihed, a boon and cheoy cM' "jr.ior. : :■■.:•. i>j--ii'y r.e ^as born under an unlucky star.
Viir.l:j",i were >.: ? jcray cs. and dire the accidents that beWllii*
One time "v Trend V and I, sitting smoking by an open**"
dow, and '..vikin.: on the loch beneath, spied a man shove off frooil* PPOsito shore and make in our direction. The loch was alive «il!i hales ai the time— w^ had killed one with our rifles butthedaybcfox* y-and-by a s^m\« i^*^ tumpei the fresh-tarred dingey and ovwrt
Name/ess. 325
pf course, wc pullfd instantly ofT to the rescue, and found tt was ■, silting astride the uneven keel of his aaft And an awkward ic poor fellow liad of it : the swamped boat wobbliiifj atwut >arTeI, with every inclination to rid herself of her rider. We nanyeflbfts to accompli^i his AcVwctanoe dry -shod ; t>ut, af^er : passage from his lopsy-iutvy dingey to our gig wax only d hf means of a header.
other tiDK a friend from Oxford swooped down upon ui, and H iKeds show him Ihc lions. Driving tandem home from a
Ely's ovtii^, M , who was of our party, and in 1 he back seat,
tnc by fatigue and whisky, fell sound asleep, toppled out in a it of steep inrlinc. and broke his arm.
iise still, wc had gone (three of us) for two days' rabbit-shoot^ I &r-a«-ay hut, under stupendous cliffs. A room or two super- made our place of occupation, and the shepherd's daughter — It-handed Phyllis "—cooked and did for us. Our stay there e were packing up to be off. Men with ponies would meet us at id of a balloch. the way up to which, from our side, u-as too
stony to he done except afoot. M rattled a canister
d. ".■\11 hilt empty ; no use bothering to takeil with us," it on the fire, then ! " He took out the plug, a trickling stream der fdl down upon the flame, the flame leapt up the trickling of powder, the canister burst, and so frightfully was poor ■'» hand shattered thai there was nothing for it but ampmaiion nb and forc(ingcT, and all that hand remained an indigo blue end of his days.
course of time, the days of our island sojourn were accom- tbc pleasant party broke up, and we were scattered abroad to
Is of the earth, V going to \cw Zealand, I to Canada,
to hunt beasts in Katal. He and I were the last to part. u rcvoir ! ~ he cried gaily, as his train moved on out of Vorlt . " Wc meet again t " ever more," said I; "ah! never more!" and moved sadly away.
^ihus dreaming the hour away in sad remembrance, a shabby
awn up at the door, and three men had enlered the inn.
no particular attention. " Men for their Sabbath night-
^oddy, maybe."
ly runlet from moors above hurried past the open window
! sat, to join a bigger stream below; and I think 1 found more
^nmcnt in watching the antics of some absurd ducklings who
I have been abed lung since.
3a6
The Gentlemafi$ Magazine.
\
The sUeam, now 5«-oUen by rains, ran strong ; and in rsin HA these u;;ly ducklings, to the anguish of their reputed mother, unn to make Iwadway OfiainM it. Over and over they rolled ; asd stilf, Kith perxe^'erance worthy ofa belter cause, stucic to lh«it Mlf-intporf task, returning gallnnily to the charge after eacli capsize, with tempoi Etnd plumo^ onimpaired. By the brook-edge lay a callow lirvtbcr, tlat as a pancake ; perhaps (who knows ?) tib to him " that Suoud Johnion trod on."
I was wondering what possible motire they oould have for gvoi by water, whoii they might, so much more speedily and pleaaMly, have mode their way home by land, when there came a shuffling d feet on the staini, the pop of soda-water, silence for the space ofi long [itill, a strong pull, and n pull altogether," and then the tlitte men, issuing from the front door, Mepped into their shabby trap, tbe stable-boy flicked the rug off ihe steaming hack, and they woe gone.
Each ofihcm had in his hand one of those ugly UackbogiwtikK' I know not why, ha« Mr. Gladstone for godfather.
It must hare been eleven by this, but still light enough to see with ease.
No sooner were Ihe men gone than a glass door, which gm access to our room from ihe dark passage without, was opened, and that awful woman stood in the gap.
Two awkward steps led down from |)assage to room, and the woman a.toj) towered higher than ever.
M sight of me she made a halt, and seemed uncertaiD wtoi way to go.
Feeling it incumbent on mc to break the ice of silence, 1 ufad "if all were done?"
" No ; a post-mortem had been ordered by the sheriff— tie doctors were just gone— the corpse laid afresh in its coffin— the H not yet affixed. Again she said, " IVould^-mi like totaJtt al^titfm the body is sertu'td down I "
The spell of her influence was uponme, like mesmeric finctnatna. She beckoned with the hand. I rose and went.
Steering a devious course through many a niaxe of winding paaogt — a step up here, another dowfn there — we came to the chamber rf \ death : a miserable bare closet to die in, I thought, as c^-cr was IMS- Scarce a bit of furniture but the bed of death, and the trestle <a frhich the dead lay in his 0]>en colVin.
No flowers, no candles, no crucifix ; not a note of bopeor fiutb— all still blank and a[)athy of death I
Name/£ss.
327
The Cice «Bs covered with a napkin ; the woman, cjres Hxcd on DC. withdrew k ; and I gaied, with that awe which death begets, on
unknown.
The body was covered with a sheet ; no maik of llic doctor's srrid lask offended the shtinking eye.
The hands by cbsped upon the breast, also covered with a apkin.
The woman, eyes still fixed on me, withdrew it.
My krvees gave way for fear of wliat I saw ; and staggeting to the iljr chair, I sat upon the dead man's clothes.
" Good God ! " I go^ed ; " who is he ? " and could say no more.
Untruly was at hand for those t)iat did their ofiic«K .ilwut the lead, and I drank without Mint of what the wumaii poiired me out.
Then I drew near and );a/«d a^jaiti. .Again I l7i«iI, " (^od Ood ! rho is be ? "
The woman, un|>cilurl>cd by my a^il.ition (I Ihink, ignoring it), ytold, in harsh dry voice, what little she knew.
' He had come by coach from some \>\i*x south — Invcramy or
pi-^lchgilphead^was K^'nj^ iionh, he said — a luCal stranger —no iluu
> identity-^- no letters, nci iiocket-hook, no name on linen- -a decent
. of mone)-, fifteen pounds ur so, in gold— to be buried carlf in
kirkyard yonder— lliat was ;ill."
But, Ciod of heaven ! »<i7j // al/t Whose was that blue mutUattd hand I
Greatly agitated, 1 begged a day's duby.
Al midnight, [ rode ()ff to the nearest office, and by eight next
morning had dcsjiaKihcd a ti:)fi;r3ni lo I»rd . [ waited eagerly
U my ()o»t for the answer ; it came at noon :
" We know nothing— we wish to know nothing— of the man. Let him rest"
It was five in the aflcmoon when I got back to the house of death. The Sister of Mercy and the pretty girl of eighteen were gone ; so were the college don and his ward. The Indians were out fishing ; the doctor and his boy on an excursion. Only that hard dry woman and I were there ; with bearers, pipe in mouth, lounging in the porch, hungering for their load.
" Vou are late, sir ! " says the woman; " does the burial go on ? "
I bowed asieni, and she summoned the minister. He came in quickly, and, while he made his funeral oration by the coDin side, I stood afar off, and, with bowed head, recited, sub li/entio, my Pafer- naiUr, my Miitrere and De J'roJuH^ii.
Then, away with him lo the graveyard, and so to rest without
I
328
The Genilemafis Magazine.
more ado ; eanh shovelled briskly in to the lune of " Tullochgonn,* and lammed down oo the Kamclcs§ by hobnailed soles of Hnngm' feet.
'ITiat ver)' hour I went my onward way. Men nwred mc^ in tte gloaming, many milci to tlte head or a loch. The watches of te night vcrc spent a Toot in Scotland's wildest glen. Next aficmooi found mc knocking at the gate of a great monastic pile. Tk bicthren teceive<l me with joy ; but the errand that had brought oe there was without accoin|)li!thnieni.
In one of hii many fits of gloomy remorse, M had gow
with mystcT)-, to the mainland over against u«. In those br-bad days there dwelt at tluit spot an old jiricst, who ministered to Ik wants of a Catholic clan, and acted as chapbin at the big house tf , ihc neighbourhood.
By this priest I had it from his own lips — M had
received into the fold. But the good father was, long since, to his rest ; and the brethren could tell me absolutely nothio];.
Next day Itoolt a patcfullcavcof my hoMs,and went a grein off, that I might {if it were possible) leave sadness far behind.
My excursion w:is meant as quite a steady-going, tniic affair, with nothing loud or young-mannish aliout it ; and yd I was I, o( five night* out, spending but two in l>ed !
Of Ihc rest, one had been passed in a Uain, another to the { the third on foot.
And now my sixth, spent at a decent road.tidc inn, wi* liKlf more to the purpose than its fellows in the way of rcsL
That Nominii Umbra had murdered sleep. To ihb very diy,
When the huuA*r iloih high and WMp, .\nil ihc woild i> i)[<rwii(r<l in ilcep, Vft mine eye* tlie watch do Vctji,
For what they watch I cannot tell. It may be that he ■bw] saw laid to rest was a stranger to me. It may be thai M- prophccy. " We meet again ! " remains to this day unftilfilkd.
Bui I shall never sliake myself free of tlie corwrtion that hi!) words had ilieir fulfilment when I looked on the blue, muB hand of the Namtlas.
329
:USTOMS OF AUSTRALIAN ABORIGINES.
I Inferior races arc being impto«d off ihc face of the canh. ^1 is so evcijrttherc. The old givclh place to the new. The "Advance, Australia :" has sounded the death-kncU of jinw of the coun[r>- which is fast making local histor)-. K passing away. Tliis must be. The foothills have lo be MDwn, and left behind, if the tnouniain top is to be reached; emeu always trodden so lighily hs they might have done? kiire race* must perish, we need not be iii hasle to kill them (utc will do her work, if only !»Iie is left alone, (iood people ^ (hat these aboiigincs have not been duly Chrisiianised ; ^oanitarians thai ihe>' have not been preserved, after the bf ancient monuments. Such persons never pause lo inquire tone or ihc other could have been done,
race was a decaying one when it was discovered. Nature is hie ; lier processes may be rtiardcd. bul she wilt win in the [he aborigines have been well treated, with exceptions, but iditiom of life are not theirs. The vices and diseases of Ion have been loo much for us and for them. |n Europeans first settled in New South Wales, the native |oa scarcely averaged one hundred persons lo an area of Iwo ^ square miles, Tlic country could not support a large popu- Tlverewere no animals which could he domesticated, to raise |the i>asioral condition. Protracted droughts rendered food ^r more than scarce. Now the few are almost gone. Some have become exiinct. In districts where tribes once dwelt, not \ natire exist*. Other tribes, which formerly numbered two
i souls, have dwindled down lo three or four, or, it may be, a solitary representative. This decline has been largely the practice of infanticide, loss of native rights, subversion I order, and the introduction of European vices. These i of nature have sufTcred, Formerly they possessed no , now drunkenness is their bane. One imported disease,
The Gentleman's Magazine.
which muBl be nameless, has desolated ihe tribes. Soon th thU ]>eo]>le will know them no mort: ; " they will be clean M a dead man out of mind."
This being so, ii will be wise to bestow a thought upo4 of ihcse beings, who arc, in some respects, so near to a apes, and whose attisiic powers arc inferior to those of ei world tribes wliich have left us rude delineations of Something i« known about them : of iheir neapons, inn< previous to contact with Kun>)>eanx; of their ha biiai ions, baik shcaling ; of their cookery, which ct>nKisis chiclly gsime, in ii.i skin, upon the I'lre, or the emptoymi;nt of red of their doihing, or rather no clothing, for, as a witty Fl informed a lady, " one could clothe six men with a pair ol These are familiar topics, but the natires are more than t| they may be diBtnitscd with few vrords. There is a racial 9 all, aUhoiigh there are tribal diRcrcnces, which when seen aj remembered. All have thick li|>s, overhanging brows, tf extended noslritik They usually postess wellformed handq are weakly in appearance, having little muscular de^elopmei and legs, liabcs when bom are oeatly white ; the colour ol in youth is chocolate, darkening with age until it verges The hair is always black. The bodies of old men are hairy. Women, after they have lefi off child-bearing, gem whiskers, which they recognise as a sign that they will children. Taken as a whole, these natives -ire a di(t>-, un race. Some writers describe ihcm as being treacherous, bloodthirsty. If 5o, who has been to blame ? Experience fari that, naturally, they arc kind, gentle, and not immoral. j
The first Europeans who visited Australia were tho« " Gurani," or, in the language of the ivamilaroi. " Wundat^ and the natives sought to kill them. Knowing nothing of tbt gunpowder, the poor creatures had no fear of guns, but woi up to the mu/.ilcs to stop the siuoke from coming out. manner many were shot at Murribi. After this they waichi white men to kill them. The first one whom they slewth while he was milking, artd stuck up his body on three
In common with all savage races, these pco[^e regard the acme of perfLCiion, and courage is the most highly prized virtues. It is amidst im|insing ceremonies that the boy becoia^ and is loosed from the tutelage of the women of his fiaiiljr i|
Amongst the natires of Encounter Bay, the tribe being aol candidates for munhood arc placed between two fires maA
The Customs of Austraiian Aborigines. 331
All hair upon the body, except that or lh<; head and face, carefulty sin);od off or plucked oul, and the part* o[«:Tated upon C rubbed over with grease and ochre. The novice i* not peiniillcd > skep during that night, nor to eat until sunset on the foHovcing *)r. During ihc whole o( the ensuing year these young men singe SmI pluck out one another's hair, and apply the prescribed unguent Bid ochre, 'riie year follou-ing they ]>luck nut each other's hair and beard ind anoint the Tace. When the beard has again grown it isplitcked WK a second time, after which the men are eligible for marriage.
A boy of the l>ieyeric tribe undergoes during youth several 'teipoitani ntei. The first of these, which is performed shortly after bt It vcjuicd, is called mooditnoillpa, nnd consists in the perforation ' of th« nnihtgie of the nose. This is followed, a year or so later, h) the (fiirrinc^irrie, <x Icioih extraction, which is performed as Mav\. 'ITic two front incisors of the upper jaw, having been loosened bjr ihe insertion of two sharp wedges of irood, arc covered with folds of skin, upon which a third piece of wood is phced. This is struck •ilh i stone, after which the loosened teeth arc drawn out with the fcjm. In the boy's fourteenth year he undt-rgoes the rite of circum- oa/m,miitmrutffte«vn/taiina. .-\ssoonas he has attained to virility kt « wbjeaed to the most solemn rite of all, i\\e wi/fyarca. During 1*nighl he « removed from the camp, to which he returns at sun- I"*. Ution his arriiTil he is surrounded by all the men of his tribe, **tqH hit immediate relatives. His eyes having been closed, he is "fiched with blood drawn from the veins of all the old men who ■** rrcseni. This being over, deep incisions are made with a sharp ' *•" in hb neck, breast and shoulders, to infuse courage into him.
Among the Kamilaroi the admission of youths to the rank of
'Dmhood is termed boorrah. Meetings for this are summoned as
•Biergcncics arise. The neophytes arc instructed in the mysteries of
flw supcmatiirat IwJngs, and religious codes arc enumerated with
■Wch solemnity. SJ^nbols are used, rites practised, and fastings
I (Qforced. Turrumiilan, the deily, is represented by an old man who
'il learned in att laws, traditions, and ceremonies common to the
IWbe, and assumes to be invested with siipernaiural powers. Those
who have passed through the boorrah, as a rule, religiously observe
Ibc moralities and spiritualities there enforced. It is here that
instruction is given in the law of consanguinity and marriage. The
nlraction of these is punished by severe penalties. It is called
\o&rrah bccairte the neophyte is solemnly invested with the belt of
Danhood. It is unlawful to mention this rite, or the name of
TYirrumulan, in the presence of women, lest evil should befall.
I
i
tf Customs of Australian Aborigines. 333
^ sleep, from which they will awaken inio ntanhood. 1 now withdraw, fot whni follows is too sacred for them in. They are (old that Tundun himself comes down u:
boys inio men, and thai he would shy any female who ess his acts. To awaken the youths from steep, which
be hypnotic, Ihc services of the medicineman are ■A. They are then invented wiih llie belt of manhood, t, forehead bind, nose-peg, necklace— in short, the male er this they are, in the language of the old men, "tthown [father." For ihia the tuttiurring are taken for a walk. e that they must be tired. Suddenly their eye* arc ih their blankets. The old men, led hy the head-man,
"bull-roarers" into the air, amid shouts; the blankets 1 ftom the eyes of the boys, who are bidden to look into a lower, and finally to the lundun men. I'liey are then ever to speak of what tliey have seen to women, or anyone Jtratif. .^fier ihi.s they are carefully instructed in the incc&tral beliefs. Next they arc bidden to sound the tundun vood, paddtC'Shapcd, to which a string is attached), which 1 awe. To relieve ihc proceedings the old men play the junc," a vestige nitotaii worship. The boys may now move less lestnction, and seek for the .animals which they may ise as food. Among the rules of conduct laid down for iKrve arc : (i) to heat and obey (he old men ; (3) not to or married women ; (3) to live orderly with the tribe ; 100 numerous to mention. The next step in the initiatory d *' Giving the tutnurring frogs." It means giving a food grows abundantly in the swamps. By the ensuing ceie- ieeing the ghost," in which an "old man Kangaroo"
after oenaio obscene ceremonies, the neophytes are free 1100 flesh. This is an important proceeding ; if it were le youths would never, lawfully, be able to cat the flesh e kangaroo. The final act, which is designated the eroony," is public. The mothers of the newly made each have a vessel of water, from which they stoop to
their sons, with a stick, spl.ish the water over them. The eeming anger, fill their moulh.t with water and squirt it es and heads of their respective sons, after which the ■e to ilie young men's camp and the wonien to their own. lis closes the ceremonial, the probation is not ended, men must spend a considerable time in the bush, away riends. While this is a more elaborate form of procedure
334 '^^^ GcHtUmatii Mctgasine.
ihan is adopted by Komc Inbei, in alt there is an initiatory williout which the boys cannot be " made young men."
It is supposed that the various tribes arc ofl'shotXs of one stoclc. Tbis opinion is supponcd by ihc &« that, no ntat ler ho* giadi the languages may differ, metnbcrs of one tribe canjaftciafcwweeb' re&idcncc, understand und make themselves understood b; IhMCH any other tribe. 'I'he view is strengthened by the "class sydm.' There is no authenticated iitstance of any tribe being witlMWt *■ class system." Where this has been thought to be absent, it been owing to error on the pan of obseiwrs, not to its non-exi Class rules arc sacred. AVhilc supcrlicial onlookers have su] that sexual intcicoutse has been promiscuous, natives have marriage as family, or even tribal, but within defined limits. To , class lulcs regulate conduct. Marriaj^e niay be contracted in tribe, but not in the same family, or special clas-i, in or oiit of tribe. No man may marry into his own class. The strictness nhieh class laws are obser\'ed is surprisir^ Although tbe of the race has rendered observance of ancient cttstoms difBcuk, infringement of the class system is punished with death. Ereo casual amours the law is adhered ta This is true of all Thus, among the Kamilaroi, a man of class kuNH can only manj woni.-in of class ippnta. According to the theory of the every kHbbi is husband to every ippata, having an admitted right treat as his wife any woman of that class. Among tbe Wailwm man may not take to nifc a woman with a name correspondinf H his own. Probably the prohibition of certain loum and sainc war relatives to intermarry indicates an intention, at some bygoiw nK to prevent consanguineous marriages. Clas.-i righLt exist itresptom of tribal locality. A man capturing a womati in war, or stealing kl from another tribe, cannot have her to wife if she belongs toain- hibited class. Marriage is strictly forbidden in the line of uttn* descent, or what, by the totem, appears to be such.
It will be undeiMood from such singular customs that the Wti woman is an unenviable one. She is a slave. Marriage by captiR is common. A young man will secretly follow a uibe to which ^ maiden on whom he has set his eyes belongs, until a fitiiiq offtf* tunity offers, when he will strike her to his feet, and bearlverscDsd:* form away to his tribe. Being thus unceremoniously introduced » her new home, the girl is left to pine and fret until she becemo reconciled to her husband, l-'rcqucntly, when a man seeks a »«, he will go to a camp where there arc men and women, and throw * a boomerang. If it is not thrown back, he enters and selects a
The Customs of Australian Aborigines. 335
the boomerang is returned, the wife-scckcr has to fighl the orcerers," This is a contest in which he has to prove himself Nthy of the bride. He, armed only vriih a hetimait, or shield, has defend himself froin speais nhich aic hurled at him with force d vengeful precision. If he succeeds in this, he must tight x lected o|>ix)neni with a waddtt, or club. This is less a trial of tfeiKc than of endurance. When the coinba[ant has satisfied the lawiuk upon hi« warlike powem, he obtains his brides Among the nBnn it ix the custom when agirl ix born to give her to nome man to itbh wife in due time. It is not uncommon for old men to get young nnncn as wivc%, arul for old women to become the wives of yoimg IMn. I'hcinarriageccreinonyissimpie, ifitexists. Ulicnayoungtniui tllBowed to manr he asks the parenu of the girl who was betrothed 10 hiiR in hfx infancy for his intended bride. 'Iliey, pleased thai At! early wishes are to tic realised, .11 once arrange for the union. in* bridcgToom is told by the principal old man in [he camp that htoo take th<r girl he desires ; at (he same tin^c a piece of string, ■■iftaknot tied in it, is given him. The molhcr of either the bride or Atbtidegroom makes u camp for the young couple, and tells the Jfaridegroom to occupy it. When the brtde-ekct conies into ihc camp ikis bidden to go to her husband ; should she refuse, her relatives Vcfcnc to compel her, and the two are regarded as married. Men W allowed to liavc several wives ; two or three are commotL The *i4»(rf a deceased brother may be inherited. Some of the women, when young, arc comely in Torm and feature, with graceful carriage ndtmaU shapely hands and feet. The poor creatures lend a hard '^md are subject to constant abuse and ill-treatment at the hands ■"f ^m husbands. Blows on the head with a stick are a common "odtof corrcctiofu They arc sometimes speared for a slight fault, "k Idniag of a gin not being regarded as a grave olTcncc.
Dsring those periods when nature suggests a cessation of marital "itcrtourae women carefully seclude themselves, sleeping at separate »'«,arda*'oidtng every kind of association with others. In 1870, iftirTownsville, a gin was put to death for having gone into her lUsband's mi-mial such a time and slept in his blanket. The man !id not know until the next day that the girl had used his bed. Fpon making the discovery he slew the woman, dying himself a few qrf later, solely from a dread of evil consequences resulting from le poHution. -As children are an encumbrance to wandering races, le women frequently procure abortion, heavy blows upon the ab- Hnen accomplishing their purpose. When this is not desired, 3nien, prerious to cliild-biith, leave the camp in company with a
336
The GmtUttiatis Magastne.
female corapanion, and the two form a temponry MitletncBt i fr* score yards distant. This » done lest there should bea deiihinlh camp, as aiter a death an encanipnienl b broken u]). Indiukide s a common crinve. The murder of a newl)r>bora in£uit is not loabi upon as a thing of any moment. Whether a child shall be IcAdfl not is generally decided by the mother's brother, if she lias oix^ttl he happenslo be present. If his decision t> for death the linkiit dm is despatched b/ a blow on the back of the head, by tttaa{R%] or by betni; choked with sand. It b then buried ta»$ flrimttic. is sin);ubr t)i3i, while life is so little valued at birth, if thechildi live for a few days and then die it would be bmentcd as if it been an adult. Thattliis apparent indifference is not caused br| lack of natural affection is shown bytlie aiuchment which evince for their olfspring. These are not spoiled by kindnat,] rt;spcct and obey the authors of their being. A curious custom | vails among the natives of l.eichard River, Caq)entaria. The! child is tieatcil with much affection until the younger attains ifai of manhood. When this hapjiens the father quarrels with hii I bom son, beats him, and drives him from the home. A montbl the outcast rejoins his tribe, but he remains a Granger to hii I
Among alt the tribes sickness is met by kindly attention,! charms, surgical ajipliances, and medicated bailis. A large of plants are employed for drinks and for external applicalioo. 1 broken limb is bound* with bark splints ; snake-bite is treUed (f scarifying -ind wetting the wound, and then applying a pooltioe midci' bruised and w.irmed box-bark. A common method of ailciiis^ |jain is by bleeding. This is effected by minute cuts made with ft* ( or mussel-shells. Natives on Darling River believe that sickntnil^ caused by an enemy who makes use of charms. Oi»e of thai*] younloo, is composed of a. small hone from the leg of a deccM' friend, wrapped in a piece of the sun-dried flesh of a second, n* j bound with hair from a third. It is placed in the hot ashes of 4( ' destined victim's fire, while a small splinter of the bone is oil H him as he sleeps. At the end of five weeks it is buried I lire ; and, as it consumes, the victim sickens and dies, unless thei sucks out the piece of bone which is supposed to h.ive entered 1 body. The meolee consists of an obtong piece of iiuart/, with a pcX of string made from opossum fur, fastened thereto with i^aii,9 black gum. The quartz, having been pointed at the person to kt killed, is supposed to have entered his body; while the string b<ti( been warmed, placed in human fat, and bound with a dead ««rt hair, is placed in a fire, where it is left to consume slowly. h\
k
The Customs of Auslralian Aborigines. 337
umK and bums awzjr lh« (k>omed man sieVeni and (]i«K. Both or icse charms resemble those once common in European countries. . disease called Tarree is common, and usually fotal. It attacks w middle-aged and old ; s hard lump fonns in the stomach, while tic Kst of the body wastes ; the growth dx-ntually causes death by ufTocation.
While the medicine-men, " black-fellow doctors," claim the povcr 10 heal diseases and remove spelts, they arc also prepared to inflict enl for a conuderatton. They arc not only doctors {maytttia). but *nrdi, and adepts in magical aits. To enumerate their practices vogkl fill a volume. A brief notice must suffice. Undoubtedly they tudcrsund, and make use of^ the hypnotic art. Throwing thir sub- iecit into a deep sleep, they will compel ihcm to see visions, reveal Wnts, and even pine and die. The possession of some part of the WMgings of the subject expedites the magician's plan. This is less VtMktful than it appears. The imagination has greater [wwcr than • Rfposed, especially over undisciplined minds. Some bl.ick seers •Wpopclaily supposed 10 be able 10 command the elemental spirits, *tdi badt departed spirits, and rt-ndcr ghosts visible ai camp (irca. %pxitkm renders this explicable. Of the practices attributed to ftwemen, thai of "taking kidney fat" from their victims is most MKd Belief in their power to accomplish this prevails through ft* tntite continent. In innumerable instances persons have died, "•eiing themselves victims of this art. So real does it seem, that ^Ipnosis is clearly at the basis of the practice. Thus, among the *nrnai, the b/rifiit, or wizards, arc thought to cast the viciims into ^ep by [x>inting at them vrith the yertung, a bone instrument made r** the fibula of a kangaroa Among the Woijobaluk the victim, l^cr being half suanglcd, is laid upon his back ; then the bangal^ or ^•Wd, gets astride of his chest, oiicns the right side, and extracts •* fax. fcom the kidneys. He then joins the cuts, and, after singing ■ q>dt, bites them to render the opening scarless. After this he l^res, and sings a magical melody which awakens the victim, causing ••fc to stagger, irondering how he came to be " slce])ing out there." [ *8 believed that by partaking of a man's fat the eater .icquires his *tiai's xtieitgth. So also it is thought that human fat brings good ■•nting, causes spean to fly true to their inark, or the waddie lo deal 'isiless blows.
For men who can accomplish wonders upon the human form Vine, " rain-making " mutt indeed be a commonplace undertaking, is, therefore, not jur|irising to find that, throughout Australia, lards arc credited with the possession of this power, wWc\\ xVvcv
roi. ccLXxi. NO. rpja ^^ ^
338
The Gentleman's Magazine.
k
exercise in i-arious ways — not always, it must be admitted, widi tUk- factoiy cesults. In the Ta-ia-thi tribe the rain-roaker tues a piecccf tntRsiMient white quartz, which be wraps in emu feathen, bninj fintt broken olT a small piece, which he spits up towards the ik): The (]uart£ and feathers arc then soaked in water, and afiemnk careTully hidden. Among the Myappc the entrails of an ofiona are steetied in water for some days ; when decomposing ihey are tikti out. This, it is believed, will always cause rain. Or a nattveottt skinned and hung on n tree Tor the purpose.
It has been stated that the Australian tiibcs are wholly wilbM telif^on. This is an error. They believe that the god who oeMj down at the hoorrah is good and powerful ; that be arcs thai his strengil) ; tliat he is very ancient, but never grows oldei^ Mjrcoolon uibc believe in life, after death, in Yalaicy— the i which is the Milky \Vay. Here a spirit will loolc aftertheni, andt the>- will find trees, water, game, dogs, and their women and chittA The practice of knocking out the two front teeth is a rdigimu <*t Those who have been so mntilalcd will hare clear water to <hink,rift \ others will only have muddy water. The /ump-up-uiHt-felhsriOi , or reappearance after death as a white man, is likewise indkaswi'] religious faith, and belief in a life after deaili. The Waihi-V^ I believe that traps are set for the spirits of bad men ; if thcyoo^l these they fall into hell-fire- The Ta-ta.thi say that a "dooor"! once ascended into the sky, and saw a place where wicked men burnt Tharamulun is believed in as the Supreme Bdng.ktt<j name is secret, and is only imparted at the initiation ceremoitf- tl«J women only know that a great spirit lives beyond the sky ; ihef*! him Papang, or father. These are ancient belief, althou^ * **] less observer might deem that they bad been borrowed from die < men.
The funeral rites of the tribes further indicate the cxisttMt i belief that men die, not as a dog dieth. The tribes on dn I and the Ims, when about to bury their dead, dig a roimd ' hole, in which they kindle a firc- When it is burnt, they collect the ashes on a piece of bark, and throw them out- then inter the dead in a sitting posture. It may be Uiis is W ' logous custom to that of some r.ices which bury their dead the hearthstone. Whatever belongs to the deceased— weiponSiB and valuables— are buried with him. Then logs arepbicedi the grave level with the ground, and roofed over with bsA, ' which a mound of earth is raised. Serpentine lines ore carted i
The Customs of Australian Aborigines.
jecs to lh« iwrth-wesi of ihe grave. They aay the " black will up white fellow." Among the Encounter Bny tribes ail the tures of a coTjne aie sewn upi. The person who perfbrms this cc runs some ruk If he does not provide hiniKcIf with a good g; as, if the siting should break, it i« atlhbuied to the displca- of the deceased, who is supposed to make known in this manner be has been charmed t>)' him. In the same manner, if the I quill used as a needk failx to penetrate the flesh easily, the ■test movcmeni. amwd by prewing the hhmi iwim into ihc flesh, apposed to be spontaneous motion on the {larl of the corpse, 10 indicate that the sewer had caused the death. The Wailvrun legteai wailing over the dead, lliey xoraetimcs keep up (he Ulf lamenntion for a year or longer, hi a sign of mourning both Et plaster their heads over with mud or pi|>e'<:1ay, and then gash BMlves with hatchets. At th«- funeral the>- dress thcnisclves in bntuyles, some wearing hcad-dreK3,es. When a fat man dies splice his body in a forked tree, and anoint themselves with the aoe which drops from him. They suppose that this makes them RikeTs of hi.* healili, luength, and virtue. They eat the heart and trof the d(.-ad for the ^ame reason. Tliis trilte buncs its dead Daily in round or oblong grates. Tlie Kamiluioi cut frgures on c trees which grow round the graves, as maiks of respect to the •d. Amo(% the Dieyerie tribe cannibal practices of a disgusting n^on ajc common as parts of funeral rites, 'ihe reason oa- [Ud is that the nearest relatives may soon forget the departed, and tbc contioually crying. It is to be observed that these people do *■ «u their enemies, but their fricnijs, and that they do this ac- rtfiiij to a prescribed rule. This is the order in which they nie of their relatives. The mother cats of her children, the Sfan of their mother. Hrothcrs-in-law and sisters-in-law eat of dioilier. Uncles, nephews, aunts, nieces, grandpaienis, and grand- iWien do the same. Itui the father does not cat of his offspring, Vibe offspring of their father. In Wide Bay the bodies to be eaten ftfoa skinned, and the skin is wrapped round a bundle of spears His telic is carried about with the tribe. In the native wars, in lie parts of the country, the men who aa- killed ate eaten by their nds. If they die from wounds during the night they are eaten in momtDg. A large hole is dug, and the body is cooked therein in piece. The inside is not caicn, but buried. The bones are er buried or placed in a holiow tree. Children, too, arc eaten o they die.
A Al
340
TAt GentUntatis Magazine.
This strange race is fast disappearing. It may be that the dnU is even now born who shaU hear the last abori^ne cban^
" Shield of Buiree, ipeu ud chibi Throwing itick of Beiu bring; The broad boomcnuig of WoniU, Waist-belts mnd penduiti, apron of Boodon. JlUDp ! jomp 1 me jonr ctcs. With the dnight enm spear."
C N. BABHiM.
K diew dij-s of street orators, mass meetings, Socialist liactt, and
what not) we may take for granted ttiat our readers know well
ough who Koulon and Berthier were. " I'he magistrate who sud
it the i>eoplc might eat grass, and whose severed head, with the
ih Muffed with gra^s, the peoj>!e bore on a, pike through Paris : " —
t have met him in the correspondence of (irovincial newspapers,
ij, eren in a setmon preadied by a ^ung clergynun in an English
RbcdraL Toulon's head, with the grass-blades sticking out from
eOMxo the teeth, and that of Berthier, with the eye knocked out —
set '.he r\idc woodcut reproduced by M. d'HtiricauU— are, so to
^Him, again brought forth, to be paraded as a warning to this
at tyrants, as to those of France a hundred years aga
a it easy to make reply. We cannot, as with many victims —
baker Francois, and the poor InvaJide who had saved the
r magaiine — urge that these at least were innocent, tliat they
tbe blame rightly due to those in higher plat^es. No. " They
the unjustest judges, but the sentence upon [hem was the
that lias been passed these two hundred year^" must be
only apology for Foulon and Berthier. But that this apology
made, and has )>een made by every decent Revolutionist of
tme. we trust to be able to show. And we irust, too, to show
carrying out of thai sentence presents details so revolting, so
to every tradition of Englishmen, that even a Socialist may
wice before holding It up for imitation on this side of the
Icl.
C. Foulon, or Foullon, successive Iniendant of the army, y, and the finances, aged seveniy-four in 1789, had been for ^'cars the man of all others hated by the Parifiians. ^Miere* fhc causes arc far to seek. " He possessed," writes one of the rics of the KewSutiom dt Paris, "riches uitheardof tHcsHcttv- \tifS" " That is not a hanging matter," retorts MoMjoie, lu
54*
The Gentleman s Magazine.
V
the rival journal Ami iu Jtoi, which, moreover, combats Ow dtt- ment. And indeed the manuscript note given by Foulon's bail to the hixiori.-tn l^uis Blanc avers that Foulon's capital, itt daHi, wai actually le^.t than would have been, at compound interest, Ik fortune inherited from his 6iiher. He had not been a ssrie courtier. In post years he had been exiled to his esute foe 9f- posing the ]iolicy of Calonne. Marie-Antoinette's beloved Minina Amon^ the general charges of avarice, harshness, and pecalaiA we lind the special ones of having dishonoured France b; his end counsels during the Sc%-cii Years' War, of being enrtcbed tif monopoly and by tlie Famine Pad, and of having advised lutHdl bankruptcy. Bui Louis Blanc himself has to admit none of thtc accusations have been proved, and that even the too celebrated of ■ng,*'Lct the people eat grass," is disavowed by Mont}oie,iBdir , given only as an oh dit by the most savage of pamphleteers, ever these things may be, Foulon was pojiularly sumnmed Ca ^nnur, and each change of Ministry renewed the dread of seeing I amon(; the newly appointed. " Kever fear," said a young En man at the Qsdi: do Fm, during one of these periodic panics, "itttj not M. Foulon's turn."
" How so?" asked Iiis eager neighbours.
" Because French finance is like the ^ue, there is a good and t ] bad fit by turns, and now it is time there should l>e a good one.'
Calculations were made, the Englistiinan was declared tobeintki I right ; and, in bughing at the notion of a financial ague, it* bu i vanished for a while. But it revived again, and with tcniijid ftmi i during the agitations of the first months of the Siates-GcncraL FdoIb had been named as the adjunct of Broglie, CommandcT-in-ckxf rf ] the troops which were supposed to be threatening Carts. He haA indeed, declined the a|>|>ointmeni, pleading his age; bat beMsJ believed still to be aiming ai a place in the .Ministry, and to te I secretly counselling anii-populnr measures. Two memoirs, of WF I different purport, were prcsentfd by him to the King. The M I suggested that Ivouis should himself lead the Revolution, outridig.l the Duke of Orleans, and winning the people's hearts byhi»«*] cessions to the National Assembly ; the other, that be sboold of ) I in the bud, am;st the leading Democrats, and proclaim mirtiii 1" j until order was re-established. Mad the people got wind of U*' | We shall ntver know. But Marie- Antoinette confided, in abffl. •* her lady-in-waiting, that Mndamc Adelaide had the impnidciKeBI have these memoirs read aloud before an audieivce whicii m* f^ j posed to be iruslv, vVvw a-mon^ these was her illegitimate brolhOt'
The True History of Fouton and Bertkier. 345
Coant of Naibonnc, known to be on intimate lermx vith ^{me. de Siacl, and, through him, ibe secret may easily have worked rotind to flw Nccker household.
Fiacre -Nicolas Bcrthier de Sauvigny, son-in-bw of Koulon, owed |us place as Intcndant of Paris to the 4vour, not of hLs faiher-in-Uw, |)Bt of his own father, the late Intcndant, and President of the Paris patUament Bcnhier senior had been a good-naturtnl Kimj>lc man, pho made no enemies, and who was only laughed Rt for his nick- Rme of Preaidem The Same, txxausc, unskilled in pronotincing luc^ents, he bade hi« lecTctary uhispL-r to him the tight thing to py ; and once, when the same judgment was to be pronounced on (wo cases, the secretar)- whispered "The same," and "good M. Bfthicr" repeated nniwly, "The same."
Berthicr fils did not get off so well. Uitier complaints were
it of his liarshneis towards poor suitors, of his remissness in ending to them, of his haughtiness even towards his equals. It U his tpologist Montjoie who tells, professedly from an eyewitness, tbe Story of the old peassni, poorly but decently dressied, who in the Kuly months of 1 789 entered Ucrthicr's cabinet to ask & favour. I " Gr>nt this, monseigncur, and it will be the joy of my old ag& kestotc mc my son, who has been drawn for the militia."
Bcrthier replied dryly, "That cannot be."
" MonsetgiKur, I bring you his ransom," drawing out some Bwn-picces-
• That cannot be," reiterated Itcnhicr, with a forbidding gesture.
''It is very Utile, 1 know; but, on my honour, it is all 1 can
I" Tliat cannot be." ' Monseigneur, I have seven children ; l^te has been very hard
me, it hjts struck the best and strongest, the stay of his family ; Restore him to us, I pray you."
•' I cannot,"
Then (hot lliis part of the story has a suspicious look of being pude aOer date) the old man drew himself up, and with an accent trf suppreMed fury, jironouiiced, " Well I my son must go ; but ^oa, ruthless man, heart of stL-el, soul of bronze, you, a father fOQitcIf, receive the curse of a fitther. tlod's hand is on you, tour end shall l>c terrible, you shall die in the Place de Gr^ve, and bat at no distant season."
'I'hut, all minds were ready to take alarm at the news that JerthicT was named Intendant of the "Counicr-revolntionary "army; tnd every wild tale ^inst him received a ready credence. He had
i
Th4 G*mUtwmat Magasau, iiwmmiA,mm»
t'
-bkn^oTdM PcafJe,' be tad dbtriboted povdo asd Aot u th cmp at Sant'OcM. It mameA fonfai—tino of thoe nspdoo that, at thevoy CMnott bcface opeaiag fire oo ibeBastiBc^acnBiB ■M capiwed irilh de^Mfcfcei fat Bothin, aad with aoe abo far M gmciaor of the B—tBe. De l-aaottj. The btto ■*> opend; it oooaacUed xnatxatx. The bniqto* jtu^cd thai Bcnhio'i kes woidil be to the tame cffea ; m tfadircfei, the men wen aU in «t plot, and doened todk togcAn
Al KTcn o'dock that tane cvenmg — the very time that De iMuaft bead wax being earned thioa^ dw »treetc oo a (ite- BenhicT cbeafiiU; cntcnd ibc Kio^ apBtmcnt " WcO, 31 Ss- thier,~ said the Kia^ wMi his usual i/uMta'ana, " what pcvs ? ^'U b doing at Paris? how about the troables ? "
Bcnhtcr, either really blind, or with that " ostnch'poiiqr * vbicK nt to be the bane of all paitiea in twa, repUcd, " Why. Sire, all jacs fatrtjr wcD i some i&ght moranaiis h^Tc been promptly rtpnacd, and nothing has cook of them." Othcn, however, were isoie ta* seeiag. The dau^itcrs of tbc two doomed men had kng bea itrgfaig their respcctire fathcn to quit the Coon. Oo tbc ni^ of the 15th, Bctthier found it convenient to be sommoned on oqttt business to Mantes. And the next day bells were rung and ouB was sung for Foulon, and a fuoetal was conducted with all 6t splendour Ijefitting an Intendant. "We have fhj^htcned hint* death," wrute exultantly Camille Desnioulins to his father ; asd Ae people, at the Palais- Ro)'al, blessed its enemy for having fei oece shovm tact, and remm'ed htmself fioni the world so conveuoeadf- But had the)' had among them the wise kinsman of Glcnara to'drOA of the shroud," they would have known that " empty that shroadind that coffin did seem." Or, at least, that the contents were a k^ oi according to another version, the body of a valct of FoolonVi*^ had died ^'ety opportunely, and who, so said the newspapers idien ihc tricic was discovered, would have marvelled mtKh to see iheponqiaf his burial
Meanwhile, the living Foulon lay hidden at the cMleau ofliii friend M. de Sartines at Viry, near Fontaincbleau ; while Berthio, slill nominally busied on State afTaits, went on to Meaux, (hen todK house of his married daughter at SojssonK, and finally, oct the tattt ing of Saturday, July 18, to Compiegne, As his cabriolet eiil«n! the town, he was recognised by two masons at work on a hoosc-froat Descending from their scaffolding, they anested him then and that
The True History of Fouion atid Berlkier. 345
H BcnhicT submitted at once, without even demandii^ their unnt. Fatal docility I Umcnied his friends ; but probably the rent woold have been the s.tmc in any case. In a moment the ooin <ras nnging, the guard had turned out, the Municipality had Ikn its seats at the Hotel dc Villc,and Bcithicrwas brought before h- He vas put under waid, vrilh twenty-four men in his chambcri Rkilc the Municipal Council despatched a letter " not to the Court « ihc Farltaincnt. which would liave condenincd this iTregularity," but lo a body in itself irregular, the Assembly of the Elcctore of Paris lining at the Hdtcl dc Villc, informing; them that the inhabitants of Cmnpitgne had arrested Bcrlhicr, " sur It bruit ^ut la atpUali It
' Atrthtr^' and asking for further orders. I Tic Parisian Electors, much perplexed, probably each man
ng, with the Mayor Bailly, that " there was danger for Bcrthier nnging him lo Pari», dan^^er for ux in releasing him," listened in ^ lo the report of the irritation at Compibgne, recapitulated the pwodt of complaint, and finally decreed to send a troop of four I from each district " to place the prisoner in safety." Two ! AikIr; dc ta Presle and EtJenne dc la Rivitrc— the latter by ilonijoie as "an obscure lawyer, overwhelmed with
' and (this certainly unjustly) "with the bearing and Ihc soul of olice a^nt "—accompanied the band to give a show of legality, ^e three others went to Berthier's hotel in Paris, to place seals on "* pipeis. The troop, 140 in all— too large, as men afterwards "wjnised, lo get the prisoner away quietly, too small really to pro- tet him— "marched as if to victory." At every stage there was *" Wne question, "Whither go you?"— "To fetch the ex-Iolen- oiflL"— " We will come with you," and soon the number of the wlnniecrs equalled, nay, overpowered, the original force. The ""OiMndant, d'Ermigny, judged it wise to make his troop hall some fttt leagues short of Compi&^ne, but he could not get rid of the Muilecrs ; and it was at the head of these men, ,ill incensed against wthier, that the Electors, at two in the morning, entered ilie Hotel le Villc at Compiigne, and were introduced to the room where the IMdied Bcrthier was lying awake on his bed, in the midst of dice- ^ing, smoking, drinking, and all the riot of a guard -chamber. He le and dressed, and got into d'Erroigny's cabriolet, the Compitgne
taccompanying them for the lirst stage ; and the Iroop retraced ch, the volunteers flowing in as before. Almost simultaneously, a tike scene was being enacted at Viry. That same day, July 11, M. de Sartines' valet tan lo Grappe, the le syndic, displaying triumphantly a letter which had just been
i346
The GemtUnuut's Magaxitu.
\ huxkd ia to the address of \L FoukiB. Grtppe strughtmy scnmdcd d>e tocsid, aikd havtag gaihernl togclbcr some Nauonttl Uuutii, be cDtered M. de Sartincs' pork, and found ther« an ddcriy gcntlesiu Oktng an evdUDS walk.
** Wku do yoa bere?" deraaiided Gnppc
** I am talLiii{[ the air."
*• VouJ name ? "
** I am aaraed Foulon."
" Vow are indeed he whom we seek." Straightway the old NU sciMd, struck at, spat upon, his hands were bound, and he bstened to the tail o^a can. A garland of nclttcs was fliu^ his neck, with a truss of hay behind and a bunch of thistles bcfoMh while his captors, laughing, thrust grass-blades into his inoulh, bidding him taste and see how he liked it. " How he sweats ! " they ctied« I as the heat of the July night toM on him ; and they rubbed his bo^ with twttles. In this wise they dta]i:|[ed him on foot all ihe long fir^ leagues to Paris, and at four in the morning of July 33 deposited hit^^ at tbc house of the Electm Acloque, in the Faubourg Saint-Maia^ His bilhfol servant had followed him all the way, and had recdMrfM some of the blows that were meant for his nustcr. ^H
About the same hour, LaUy-Tollendal, at Versailles, was staidfli ftotn sleep by the sound of sobs and wailing. He opened h-^ curtains, and beheld a young man, death-pale, who, throwing hiiLiiu-rl 00 the bed, faltered through his tears, "Ah, Monueur, youba^^ spent fifteen years in defending the memory of your &iher. Save tfc" life of mine t " It was Benhier's son. Lally's filial heart w^»s touched ; and as soon as possible he presented the youth to Cb* Duke of IJancourt, Frcstdent of the National Assembly. But iiii~ luckily that day tlteie was no siamt. Application was then made the King, who dictated a letter of indemnity for Bcithier. "ViiB inter\-eniion ! Louis XVI. hod already ceased to be king."
The Parisian Electors, already erabarrast^d, and dreadil^ arrival of Berihier, were doubly perturbed ai having I-'ouloo on their hands befoie five in the morning. Iltey procnstimKi deferred matters tu the sitting of the General .Assembly at nioe ;^ when that hour came, they hurriedly decreed to send all pollBtd prisoners lotheAbbaycSaint-tlermain to;iwnit triaL The Mayor BaSf was for transferring Foulon thither at once, but others, unwisely, *J- vised wailing for the shades of night. I'oulon was therefore deoiMd first in the public hall of the Hotel dc Villc, and was afierwanJs— on account of a woman's coming in and uttering threats and cuno against him— secretly removed to a priwtc chamber, and ^aiA
"Vmb I ii«llfl
'3
The True Hisioty oj Fouion and Bertkier. 347
er gusrdof four sentrieii. Hix lervant remained with him, and IcewiM his son, who had hastened thilher on hearing of his irrival. vtcutwlule Larayetie and Bnilly, more than cveralanncd for Bcrthier, . orden to his conductors to halt foi the night at Bourgct, and to
their entiy into Paris in the calm of the morning. At noondajr Bailly was called from his coramittee-room by the :of the people coii^K '^or Fouton. Standing on the terrace-steps, V ihc head of all the priests among the electors, he delivered a ■Wanguc in fat-our of moderation, of respecting the law, the safeguard ''Mtnoccuce ; he expressed certainty that Fouion would be proved ' WJty, but said that until that was so, neither he, ihe Mayor, nor they, "^ people, had tlie right to be his executioners. 'I'hts seemed to ppeasc those withm hearing, but from the distance there still came ® cty, " He is judged ! Hnnghim! Hang him!" Uifayttto had ]p4d]r been sent for. But he was going his rounds, and could not ^CHUid immediately. Meanwhile, a ^csh deputation went down, returned in terror. " We shall all be massacred ! They think >vc let M. Fouion escape ! \^'hcTC is he ? We must show him 36 people." ' "Vrx Electors ruthed to the h.ill where they had last seen Fouion. *wasnot there. "Where is he?" they cried, and, likr men distraught, *^ ran here and there, opened this door and that, and at last found ^ room where he had been consigned with his son and servant. ■Ling Fouion, thinking the end was come, burst out crying and ^ftping, while the scr%-ant, his long-sustained courage- all ai once ^**kiDg him, ftU on his knees, and with clasped hands faltered, ^"oT God's sake, gentlemen, spare a poor serving.man I I am ^locent, I swear I am innocent. For mercy, get mc out of this, ^IfcOTe tne from my master." Then, emptying his pockets, " Here, ftWiemen, there are four louis, a crown-piece, and my gold watch. [ I must die, I pwy that these may be conveyed to my wife." The trembling servant was got awaj', and Fouton was forced to ' himself at the window overlooking the Place, h cry of savage ' arose, arid next moment the barriers were lurccd, the sentries repelled, and a furious multitude filled court, :itairs, and hall, each man crying "Give us M. Fouion !" An Elector, l-i Poixe, ie himself heard : '* Gentlemen, every criminal ought to be judged I condemned by justice. I trust I sec here no executioner." " Ves I let him be judged on the spot, and hanged 1 " Another Elector, Os-iiclin, sprang on the bureau : " Gentlemen, no one can be judged without judges. Let us send M. Fouion I the tribunal.*."
each
\
b
34S Tht GtmSUmtmn's Afagatine,
"Nt^aol Jwltpil jmltiiiil III! 1I11 ]iii[, iniTliiim, 1I "
-Ibcn yM aott Mac ^d^f."
** We Imc BO ri^ to da soi Do joa nunc the judges."
" b sH a linaM Jpecttd^* wfott BMtljr oflcmanls, "oandiS cuduog at CTOT fRten to pan lame, tnd thb oianhdniiH ■"■'■■■■^ doing d it coald 10 hasten mattm." Two un>i!line prion heard their fmaes oBed ool " But thoM are not eoou^fi,'' aid Owritii ; - there sboaU be at lease seven judges." Five mate names «cie added. * Nov yoa aant a recocder." " Thai stutl be jroii : " ** And aa axuxaef 10 pnaounce the accusation." " X> Duvefiiei £
The Elector Puwyiier rase obedtentli-, and asked, in due (una* of what cni&e thej acctaed H. Fotdoa.
** He has opfRSted ti>K people, be has said it might eat gn», la« has tried to make a bankniptcj-, be b tn the Court plot, he has bougjlit up vfaeat !"
Sdl) another dcliy was anerapted. Tl>e two priests ftnx lumed demutted, pieadiog ther office. " They are right," cried some voices. " No, no ! " cried otbcrs, " ibey dally with us I The prisoner a escaping we must jcc him ! " And they rashcd forward, bnmdisUqg their bore arms, shaking thdr fists, nuking the gesture of cuUiDga. threat, and thundering at the door of Fouioo's chamber.
" For mercy, gentlemen.a word, oaly one word \ " cried an Efeeur- " Name four men among yourselves lo guaid M. Foulon, and mt^^ them swear they will do him no harm."
Ever)-one volunteered. The four nearest the bureau «e(^=^ accepted. The door was opened, and they rushed into Fcsko^^ chamber. The rest kept up the crj-, "Well \ why do you debji^ pronounce )-our judgment ! " and the Electors, fearing for tht^^^ lives, awrailii^ L^a)-etle "as a becalmed sliip awaits the wA, gained a ininuie or two by proposing to choose two more judgei the place of the defauhing ctii^.
« MM. Bailly and de Ufayctte ! '
Bailly blessed himself ever afterwards that he was abscnL -^ substitute was found for him : the Electors refuKcd to accept an; b' Laiayette — the only man who might ponibly curb this fury. TIB cries redoubled—" Bring forth M. Foulon I "
" But jou will maltreat him ! "
" So, no ; you shall see wc will not ! " .\nd the ringleadfls. intertwining their arms cleared a space. Foulon, with his son byhit side and his guards around him, walked forth with firm step^ ud dimbed to the low cVia.ii ilvu had been set for him on the borcaa
i
kg True History of Fouion and Berlkier. 349
leein verj- calm, monitieur ? " remarkad an Elector. " Calm 1 " Foulon. " Guilt alone, momieur, can trouble the counietuince." midst or cries, "Hnng him ! Hang him !" of ofTcn, unheeded, indi)- Elcctora, to stand as hostage, the welcome sound was " Room Tor l^fayttte I " At the sight of the great num. th« ank BS by- a spell, I^faycttc was able to speak for half an I wordcthat have been commended or censured .is conciliatory x>ntrar)'. " I have never respected this man, I consider him •at scoundrel. But he has accomplices: he must reveal them. x>ui to send him to the Abbayc, there to undergo judgment, idcmnation to the infamous death which he has merited." ' indcrs of applause followed. " M. dc 1 Jtfaycttc siwaks well I " iro of Foulon's sclf-choscn guards, leaping on the bureau. lisDn with him ! " I'oulon, thinking himself «avcd. joined. ti( to one vcriion, in the applause ; others say he himself tried k and move the people. Whatever it was, it had a contrary > what he intended. " They understand each other ! " so rose rmur. "Tlicre is treachery '. " A well-dressed man advanced bureau — " What need is there to judge a man who has been these thirty years ? " Then, with a new crj*. " Here comes the Royal I the Faubourg Saint- .Antoine ! " a new crowd rushed eping before it the old crowd, the Electors, and everything, ig Foulon's chair and dragging him away, just as Lafayette e unheeded order, " Take him to prison." ||UDUoi«Yd, historians have shrunk from telling, The old man Bato the lamp-iron al the comer of the Place de Grtrve, there x> kneel and beg pardon of God and the King, to kiss the r one of his captors ; and then, while mud and stones laincd lim, a noose was slipped over his neck. An unskilled ocier, fumbling with the cord, kept him swinging some minutes be could even get his feet off the ground. At last it was L Tlie cord broke, and Foulon fell on his knees. Remaining e taised his tear-stained eves, and uttered his Inst appeal for J have but a few years to live: let me spend them in a n." No use ; the cord was hastily siiliccd, and the victim was up a^in. Again the splicing gave way— ".'Vh! it is loo " cried an asaisUnt, drawing his sabre. " Put him out of his
Ot no i Tc must fetch a new cord." This was done, and the
tolMiBRcc til |}.c himncuc as icporlcit in Ihe newspapers. A publi^hctl by Ih« Kleclo» a yru Inter, liui wan su^pecieiJ of ptuducliun.
Tn~x nsc m ISC p— *^^ "ITic ■ .iir x-flsc coBi^ Jn'wtdiFaiihD^gDldi
: of iuB^BwdMdllKScwfliiticniMaj
nwiiii itngp-Txwur tc ms in Ac 0Knii^ Sid ^l■n^^ btf tfccW nvr TT mlnw. 1^ ^taoor la Piafe, ^k of thoK (tegdl H
■ '■■"■"" fe— ^*^ aaHemnasadnenAfaglDiHaMnoeAMillii ^Kcc qont muwmBmc it obcr Ae odEr i» deep at BcMqpt lb vuiuuuer cuu^ la£ umujiuI ite tfumaiid ; and Bodus^ cnMl fcn- xc rvsrwitemunc a:Mra.«is m his «aiy, and m^^ be o^edds
TbK inii~vT 'tmr ^iccsi s iznf siow xgoBy far aH coocenied iiil
A£ '^ v^ :^ Tan;: -vk ^aed «i& T^aaitts, men, ^naoi, ■
dnioea- crys^ - Hxa^ imn : ' Has vae daken, di^i bmdUtf
asd 1»TC5 re ixikck bnAd vere ^atnm into die ciiii^^ wtdi oiB
-'There, wrr:^ sk wbai :bin noikest at eai !* WeaiyasBCSM
bona vcre. oo h>h nsyncDcaUe before airirii^ at Lnnie^ibtf
tvo in the afteraooa. And scaioe had Besthia been ujuvtfcd t>
priTSie <iiaiiiber. vben he vas dragged down again bj a ftuiouw'
ciyii^ " Quick, to Paiis : I.et os get dioe by dayhgbt ! " He at
forced into the cabriolet, bota vfaich die hood bftd been InkB
lyEnmgny mounted, and -'let himself be led,' iriiile La Rinti
"devotinghimselfoD one altar vith the Ticttm," took hisseitind
carriage beside the prisoner. The cries and the insults conliifJ
and in the midst of it all, Bailly's letter amved, with the onta to U
at Bourget. La Riviere read it aloud to the prisoner, who took m*
comfort from it, and begged him to thank M. Bailly and ^
KIcctors for the pains they took for his safety.
A ruffian, with " eyes starting from his head, hair standSng t end," pressed through the throng, and crying, " Let me drink I hlodd ! " aimed a sabre cut at the prisoner. La Rivi^ tfaiewhinai Iteforu hiin. "Down! get down. Elector!" cried the crowd, « Mvcrul inUHkcls were levelled at the cabriolet. Beithier jewed t
The True Hiitory of Fouion and Berthier. 35 (
voice to those or hn enemies. " U'h/ shoul<l there be two murders?
&ve youredf. monsieur ; let mc perish alone." " I think," he added
iMcr on, " they are irritated to see me without a cockade. Pray lend
tnc yours." The Klccior did so, but as Ucrihicr fixed ii to hi&hat, it
'mtomfrom him and trampled under Toot. Another was handed
to La Kivij:rc, with orders not to part with it. *' Then let us take our
tuts off," »td BcrthicT ; and they remained bareheaded in a
^noliog rain. By six o'clock they reached Bourget, and the {jo.ttilion
vu turning into the inn yard,, but the escort forced him to keep the
laaighi load. and pointed bayonets at him when he tried to dismount.
"Nc^ no; lioK presses, thou must go to Pans !" Hereabouts, it
Kcmi, an attempt was made in the prisoner's favour. A man in the
AK|ucbu»ers' uniform, u-iih a fairly numerous following, tried to
lireak through the crowd ; but he was recognised as an enemy and
"« driven back.
At La Villelie, Berthier was dragged from the carriage by two
"^ i&c original escort, and flung backwaid.t and forward; between
'•"n like a shuttlecock, white others cut and broke the roof of the
'"'iage till little remained but the scat The prisoner was then
"""Wed to get back. The rain increased, " Hat on ! " cried the
f*Plc to La Rivitrc, but he obeyed them not— Berthier's life was
*'^ So ion^ as he could not be distinguislied from his companion.
•^ they drew near Paris, the cries changed. " Here he comes, the
""ch, ihe aristocrat, the aeeapareur, the (lour -merchant ! Hang
"** Scoundrel! A la lanitrne!" " I swear to j-ou," said Berthier,
I"tling on hij most touching ait, " tliat I have never bought or sold
' KT^n of wheal." "Oh t the wretch!" cried his adversaries;
"k>ok at him, he can still smile ! "
Al the Barriire Saint-Martin was, perhaps, the worst humiliation '^ ilL The gateway was blocked by a cart loaded with staves ""(Jely iosciibcii: "He has robbkd France and the Kinc." 'Hi iias devoured t«k svbstanck ot the Peopi-k." "Hk
"Ai mass THE SLAVE OK THE RICH AND THE TYRANT OF THE
^OOB." " He has drunk the ulood ok the widow and the
Orphak." "He has cheated the Kinc." He has betrayed
*!)s coirNTBV." The people yelled for Berthier to get in. The
Elector pleaded for hts own sake : lie was bound to remain by the
prisoner, "and truly, I should not care to be seen entering Paris in
thai vile cart." The assistants therefore contented themselves with
Carrying the staves along:;ide of the carriage, and keejiing two
bayonets pointed at the prisoner's breast. When the barrier was
opened, there came forth a procession. First, a troop of women.
IT. T |t-i*tTr
cr.!-nwT-- irvs limm
C_ — -TTM ttarr-. ■■Tjnjnr- E 1
. —.-^ . . . .- - r.m 1 'oar. •w3iar»Wi baiaiii
The
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'/■-*.■•:■. f-.'-'. V ■• ■.:■.:■..--'.!. l-^r-i-.-ir. es.r^r:si by a se!* • ■..:^. vi^ ■.-.■.,;-: -..v'v^ v.t .L:E.t~::T Ht «r::ered »^:h
._,_,,,^.. ,-.. ; , ..... ,..; :. ; ^ z-^:^^.. i.~± ris left ia his j/y»'- ■]■■; !.:;.,- i-lt-eistl -.1 z^i~ z. feir -■::esdons f
'■ II.-..- \', . :. ,i;"-r ■., ^iv in y'j-.:r defence?" " I i.i.vi. I,',*, ■,';'. *r.':i:'i 'A irha; I am accused." " V,l,i |.; 1, :;■.': ■;■'.': V;';r. Since the izth instant ? " I'.' iilii- 1 ri-' ;i|iiM)bV;<i his movements. " \Vl.:it l,;i- ^,i:iijiii<; (,f your i>apers?" " I liavi- duly ;i kiml nf address on me," and he drew i limVii, "'Ihi- jinjicrH rdalivc to my administration ougl I'ly liuii'iHix ; iny jiiiittolio is in my servant's hands, and I will II' |,(. |„.j^ n^, j5jj^ ,n^y J observe that I have passei
*■■ «-i. ..!.., K. :„i„ti.iiy .1,- i'.trii (hostile lo Berthict), which p' ' "" I .-.Ml.,,.
TVwtf History of Fouion and Bertkier. 353
ts vrilhout sleep, having a gtiaid day and night in my I beg you to allow mc lo take sonic rej.t." ly <lared not tct him out of his «i^hL A few inoic minutes en »p wiih the residing of the procfes-verbal of the munici- if ComiHigne. Hut th<;n carat the >^me L-ries as those of the The FatilMurg Saim-Antoinc I the Palais- Roynt ! " The crowd burst in, forcing the guard, prcMiiig every one towards eau. Bailty saw the prisoner turn |>.-ilc. For himself, hcfsltcrcd, curS'— the result — our dchbcrations oftiic morning— U'c must him to th*: Abbayc." ts, yes 1 " cried the Electors.
Uy gave the order, adding, "The guard is answerable for his to the nation and to the town of Paris." Ucnhicr walked un- x] towards the door. On the threshold be turned to La Riviere: ^ing to prison, and I have no money." The Elector handed Buis to him -with a sigh, for too well he foresaw that the 1 victim would never more need money. And perhaps by e Benhicr knew it too. At the sight of the sea of furious faces ilcd. " Man Di<ti, meti Dim.'" he said, "this people is strange t) with its cries ! "
be spoke, he was seized and dragged to the lantern. Wrenching :et from one of his guards, he struck wildly right and left vrilh ti end. It was in vain : he was disarmed, thrown, trampled on, rd was passed round his neck. The bystanders heard his last for life, for a legal trial " Save mc, my friends; I promise you a Soldiers of the Royal-cravate rcgimcnl held him down by wad , arms and legs, while one of them, with his cutlass, sLishcd Jng body asunder, and then, with (he aid of a comrade, off the head. A man in civilian dress, thrusting his arm into wound, tore fonh the still-beating heart, and throwing it to her man wearing a dragoon's helmet, nho in the scuffle had fallen I the body, said to him : " Dragoon, justice is done. Carry them tvL" The helmet-wearer set off at full speed and, followed hundred accomplices, burst into the hall where the Electors till iweinhled, and held out to them his ghastly trophy. " Behold eart of Bertliier ! " At the sight, one Elector fainted ; others, ibg, averted their heads, or remained as if paralysed. " Deliver cried I^ayeite, " from a charge where I am forced to be the B of such honors ! "
Kh i» the history of the " Justice of the People," as recorded by lost calm and moderate of writers. \Vc have left out twenty jes, as insufficiently authenticated, tliotigh they come 10 us less l_ ccLxxi. »a 1930. V. w
35*
The Gentleman s Afagasine.
k
from the \ait,y which fthuddered at the deed than from that gloried in it. One abominaiion, however, is attested on the aul of thifty witnesses— that the mflfian who carried Berihier's heait, with his priie from the Hotel dc \'illc to the CafL- de Foy, where squeezed it into a tumbler of brandy, tossed off the infemi! mi: and then, with f^ory lips, trolled out the popular air, " Non, il oy > At bonne ffte oh le cieur n'entre pas ! "
Chateaubriand has recorded, in his florid style, the rcvuUicol feeling produced in him— an enthusiastic youth, hitherto orden! the new ideas— by the sight of the two pale heads bome oo Berthicr's body was dragged in the street by the light of torches, the cry, " Here comes M. Benhier I Here comes the i-x-IntcndiH' and it was thus seen, and his decease solemnly certified, b; i mintoner summoned for the purpose by a creditor of Beithi NcM nraming, when the deed was made known in the N« Assembly, there was one thrill of horror, real or affected. TolleiKlal renewed and obtained his proposal for a solemn Ad< from the .\stembly to all good citizens, inviting (hem to peace order, and to the insuring of a legal trial to all accused pcnoti- Mirabcau despatched hb celebrated "Nineteenth Letter lohisO stituenia," dei>lo«ng the excesses, and urging that steps shoDld '* taken lo roscrain them, but at the «aine time advancing the <]ang&no plea that there had been a " Court iilot," and thai, if it had ixiumf*t4 greater slaughter would have been mode than had now been noiic in repressing it. " Is the Uood which has been shed so very puit?' asked the eager young I'rotestant, Bamave, from CrcnoMe— «':tii* which gained him the surname of "Tiger Barnave" forthcrti!'' his life, and many a uuni and bitter allusion which may punU ri- ders who know him only from I^martine, where he appears a; jJiv inste to the little Dauphin on the return from Varennes. iMJif^ duly sent in his resignation of " a command in which I am pdwolBf to enforce obedience" But, since he con5ded to Bailly— and Bill has naively recorded it — that he had not the least expectation of tid^ taken at his word, there seems some ground for MoatjcMe's sveiffi about the "solemn farce," the circular letter sent to the districBH* him to them to reply with jietitions, the President of the ElwMB priraiely called out of the hall to rush back and horrify his ralksfin with the dreadful news that their protector was goit^ to leave ibiA and then the kneeling at the Commandant's feci, the teats, the » braces, the promises from (he districts to behave better in fittn and the final yielding of the eulogised Commandant to "ijeirtfei*- lencc. ' — " Well played," coninienis the bitt« narrator, " but
True History of Foulon mtd Berthtcr. 355
Witt h do to two bereaved fimilies ? " In truth, little was done icm. The suggestjon of some newsiupcr, that the nation should >pit Bcnhicr's eight children, seems to have {usxed unheeded, ulc pamphlets swarm«d, each more vile th:in another— " The Truss Bay, or the Tragic Death of a new-made Minister;" "TlieLast SI and Testament of Judas-KavaillacCartouchc dc Foulon;" pK Tom Papers" (an allu&ion to some documents whidi Fuulon alleged to have torn up with hts teeth when arrested); ion. Requiem, and Burial of the High and Mighty Seigneurs and Benhier, suddenly dead in the Place de Gr&ve;" "The Destroyed," an appeal to the eumple of Samuel and Agag; Enr3gi!s aux Enfers," a dialogue, Lucan-foshion, of Foulon and thier with the victims of the taking of the Bastille— while the Ke in the Palais-Royal, alreidy placarded with "TheOimet of I'ou- sn and Benhier," now displayed the " new and impromptu " epitaph :
I
Ci-e(t Foulon, ci'git Brrthlet, III Kint nioRt Mn» b^niliet —
ile in the print-shops the " Patriot Calculator," in National ^rt's uniform, contemplated with pleature five severed heads ■"■grf on his desV, and calmly noted down, " From so take 5 > '^z remain 15"'— while Revolutionist journals bade all accom- I'licfs of Foulon and Bcrthier "find legs to escape the lantern," and ^•sillc Dcsmoulins portrayed the " Traitor Marquis " ferried to ^ to meet on the brink Desnies, the noted poisoner, with the rope ""Wd his neck, and Foulon, Benhier, and others, carrying their "•'Is on pikes, Saint Denis fashion — while the milliners' shops ■"fOMd with ribands (■<?w/'wrjo»4'if<r i^w/tj/r— a few sober historians, ^^baut Saint- fetiennc, Molcvillc, and the " Two Friends of Liberty," '•Plored '• a deed worthy of South Sea Islanders," and urged, in I'^'^aies borrowed from Mirabeau, that "society tvill be dissolved \i "'"b-law is allowed to continue," for " in the midst of anarchy even jjjs despot appears as a saviour." Respectability, when it is allied Hi ruffianism, must prove that it is respectability by lifting up its TO and its hands in honor, but it dares not elTectively rebuke or Cnrain its ally, and it mrcly cares to put itself to expense beyond the Ifresaid hand and eye-lifting, which comes cheap, i In one pamphlet, gravely satirical, the " E:(ccuteur des Hauies- Pttrres " solemnly resigns his function in favour of five hundred oateurs, and rejoices that the illiberal prejudices against his trade iving way, and that an " Act of I .iberty," or of the Lantern, will The Ubeh of the put month had devoted twenty h«tkdi to ihc populnr
I
,,-, Toe ■.jrrKz2i~mnx' s Ma^asxm^.
- r-i-— r Trt m ii.Tn::''.m-r' ifsieemer bf bb siii»-^B^ in Spain. J
,, -TTTr.;. ■:!««. "^"^ ^^=^- ^^""''i^i^'ni maac izicold blood. &s nnh
•K i-.nt T:r ^;sT-a-ir«i5- >- "^I'rEnict nsfcefl faow The dxylad i
-B*s;!^ *-^^-''-4-- "■* Va-i 5t Cv-ev- tffiraLine tiHed to liie s^ vjr.- Tisr-iis '-t"S i^i^'.-r-rrT:, ;=- "■•■ ng t:- & balf-^ocied. half-»in j..j-;,rtw.^. '■?-.'- ~-->f f sutt rr-.Tic me h= 2risiDc™i. rminil
s'Tvsr. try; ■=trr7-.Ti£ :^r: pt'^s -^t ":Mai5s re rwT? f*-^ -wluci. be jo ':3T'i ^^- -'"- *■ ^Ji";^*^ ii^iz::: : tzii j: irxs ^leAmps isidcrhisiiift -;-£:■*« C^.-^i".-*; ::V .="i-£.- :=issr:ei ^ie ;xle ctf tIk linle giH vfjK=£ ^-^^ * "^"^^ -5=7.?= lb; ~^.i^-iird. TIE Bcreaming 10 Pap v-^ TOV^-i i.rj.--i "r— Mirm, Ili-crr TOBsblc eascnse w»s hm -.:-< ?e^>- Os.-n:i-C7<:;::-^ tf -i.- kl-ecoral AsbkdV.v. did hi •r, iKSTT-f^T--.^ -.i^-. -.i^iTT =a.d "r.is=. a pj^t a^d «, find proof i
,_--, --A
'^jt I',i=^ ie=i-i; i=l :— d-cs fr- picnrder and bii3 thai con
•ht *k:'c cf •>* eyIr.-.-l;jrr« ^^rr^esT-oeeence : and a 5\^gcsrii
:,--. f-;r«s^ —'-'■- '-•i -■;■:>- t: — tais-l bv :he Royajst jounalj
•.r-t azi-^-ior. 15-^-^- —t rw-^ t_ r-i- 5 --^s really 501 up bv tht
V/Tav>. a-rcrn:.'.:-:-??. drdlir.z -J-.e reveU'icKis which might bi
in '.h^ e%tr.r, of a ■.:;Zi'. rrLil. Eri^rli: horror *as fe-t for tht
r.iba'. dra-^o-.r^ ar.d, :o ^.lia-.e hU conduct, it was areiTed 1
bad hi'i fa-.h*:r '.o sv=:r.;e. s'.iin by Benhier .\\'hen? and boi
the i'jurr-.a! Impartialu H:? comrades i- ''as added, eager !
the ^tain from '.heir regimen-., drew lots to challenge an
him in turn, and they slew him the same lughL Bnt all
''. mylhi'"-al- The man wa.s captured six months Uter, and tui
1 to Vjc no dragrxjn a^. all, but a professional cook, whose skill ia
^ had brought him into request at popular executions, and '
, if Irtckcd ui. a helmet dropped by one of the Prince of L
' A dratf/xjns in the 'I'uileries gardens. When arrested, he e
'. mu'li surprise. " Why, gentlemen," he said, "I am a ti
citi/cn ; it v.-as I who cut off De Launay's head, and wh(
Hi;rthier's heart on a sabre," and he added that he had »
several National Deputies retiuesling a medal for his se
TiddinK the world of a monster. Interrogated, he said noth
the hlood- drinking, but owned that he had carried Berth!
ihrounh the streets, that be had remarked " that this actio
universally a\>\)rovcd," and that, finally, after supping with
railcs at a restaurant, with the heart on the table before the
thrown it from the window to the populace, who were cal
'V^e manvtho »c.U\aU^ struck the deaih-blow was never
■'I,
~he True History of Foul<m and Serthier. 357
in Coupe-l£te claimed the honour, and, in his turn, demanded il ; bui he was do( one who would scruple to accept a Inurct nwrc tli^n were rightly due to him.
considering tliis, as almost ever)- other crime or the Revolution,
1 divided between wonder at the fury of the Uiv!cs» side, and
utter weakness and intlKdency ul the law-abiding. It Is ilic
ttory as that of tlie September nijj^cres j while unamiod
Bfs are being slaughtered in the street-s, a batch of Municipals
dy walk out to remonstrate with the (laugh ttrers, and in a
I or two as solemnly retire, " having found their own lives in
'." Bailly, almost before he has time to be shocked at the
be news " of Foulon's munlcr, fceU his ht-att leap at Ihc
It, " Anyhow / was not there " (/c mapplaudU dt nt m'y itre
trvf^ and, c\%n while taking such steps as he can with safety
protection of Bctthicr, his attitude is that of a Pilate, anxious
ftll to wash the stain of blood from hts osvn hands. " All that
I power could do was done to save l-'oulon and Bertliier,"
■ome memoirist, as if human power ever could avail aught
super human ftcniy. Super human devotion in man or
I— it is more utual in woman— may prevail, and effect the
of an Abb^ Kcard, or of the father of a Mile. Cnzottc or a
le Sorabreuit ; and, at the least, it wins the admiration even of
grcts, and jHiwably softens their hearts for another occasion.
be philanthropic and learned Uailly liliuwn half the vigour of
jolhcr-MayoT of Versailles, who, on the day of the massartcs,
and guarded with his body the cait that carried the prisoners ;
Elector of all that assembly but said plamly ihiit he would
a vile deed done, that for love, not of those who deserved
nishmcnt, but of the law which ivas violated in punishing
illegally, and of the people which dishonoured itself by
the law, he would defend with his life the cause of justice,
bly, the tide of fury might have been turned, and two
might have gone to their graves with the execration Ihcy
I, and would not have been transformed into almost martyrs,
■ of an inexcusable frenzy. And the defenders of the law
\ have reaped the benefit in the end. Bailly, Ossclin, and
less many anotlier in that Asscn^bly, if we had Ihc patience to
lout their names in the records bf the Revolutionary Tribunal,
Etim* in their turn to " the vengeance of ilie people." As for
h Barnavc," he wept when Fouton's son sought him out and
B 10 him one— the conciliatory one — of the memoirs offered
father for the guidance of the King. But remote ca,me
358
The Gentleman's Ms^azine.
too late. The time was drawing near when Bamave was Kimseli W be condemned as an aristocrat. As the cart conveyed him to tk icalTold, two middle-aged, respectably-dressed men barred '•& passage. " Bamave," said tbey, in low distinct tones ttiat vtR heard through all the shouts of the crowd, "is the blood that will be shed to-day so very pure ? "
E. PERROKET TUOUPSON.
559
THE GRINDSTONE THEORY OF THE MILKY WAY.
*T~*HEotiginaI conception of ihc " grindstone " or "disc theory"
\. of the Milky Way, although uitually stiributrd to Sir V\'illian]
ilerschel, is certainly due to Thomas Wright of Durham, who first
publishcil the theory in the year 1750 in a work entitled "An
Original Theory or New Hypothesis of the Universe, founded upon
the Ij«n of N'ature, and solving l)y Mathematical I'rinciplcs the
General Pluenomena of the Visible Creation ; and particularly The
Via Laciea. ComprisVl in Nine Familiar Letters from the Author to
hts l-'riend." This work is very rare. Even the great library of the
Poulkova Observatory, Russia, docs not possess a copy, and t
appears from the writings of Kant, Struve, and Arago that neither of
thera had seen an original copy of Wright's work. On the title jiage
of the copy belonging to the Library of the Royal Astronomical
'Society (from which the eiitracts in the following pages are quoted)
ihere is a manuscript note by Professor De Morgan (author of " The
Budj^t oj* Paradoxes "), in which he says that he had only seen three
copies of the work, oTie of which " had an ingenious attempt to alter
MDCCL into Miiccc, which could only be detected by looking
Ikrough the back of the page "—an attempt probably made b)- some
WiSCTupuIous person to try and prove that Wright's views were not
(nUisbed till 1800, or a d.ite subsetjuent to the appearance of Sir
W, Herschel's earlier papers.
Thoroan Wright was born on September 2?, 171 1, at Byer's
(Jrien, itear Durham, and died at the same place on February 15,
'7S6. He seems to have been an observer especially of eoniets,
••m a computer of their orbits. He pubhshed some other works,
"Hi acquired such a reputation by his writings un navigation that in
'?^j he was offered the professorship of navigation in the Imperial
|^<^ademy of St. PctcrHburg,
I In the seventh letter of the work referred to Wright saj-s : " Let
^ imagincava&i infinite Gulpb, or Medium, everj- W'av cxtentVeiWWp
k
360 The GcfiiUman's Magazine.
ft Plane, and inclosed bclwcen two SurfocOi nearly «ven 00 M Sides, but of such a Depth or 'I'hickncss xs to occupy 3. Space eqaln the double Radius, or Diamctci of the visible Ci»tion, thu ntotA in one of Ihc sniallcst Stars each way, from the middle Saun pcqtcndiculai to Ihc Plane's Direction, and, as nc^r ax pouiii'ti according to our Idea of their Injc Distance j " and again, " If j«« Opticlcs fnil you before you arrive at these external Regions, i4 imagine huw in6nitcly greater the Number of Stars vould be b Adt rcDioie Parts, arising thus from Ihcir continual crowding behind <■ another, as all other Objects do ton-ards the Horizon Point of ildt Perspective, which ends but with Infinity. 1'hus, all their KifiH least su near uniting, must meeting in the eye appear, as almM, ■ Contact, and form a perfect Zotte of I -ight ; this I take to be the Ml Case, and the true Nature oT our .Vr/tj' Wt^." HercirehtKtke " disc theory* " clearly propounded.
Hcrschel was, however, the lirst to put this theory to the us observation. l.et us consider the principle on which his obui iiUktM were based. If we supjtose the stars to be uniformly ttttmciM through a .space extt^ndmg to tlic same distance in all directioi^' with the observer'^ eye placed nearly in the centre, it is cridcal d the number of stars visible in the licM of the tclocoi>e diiteted different portions of the stellar vault would be nearly the sane every position ofthc telescope. Hut let us suppose that the «»n equally distributed, not in a sphere, but in the form of a cylioAic^ disc — like a grindstone — of s small thickness in compaiison witli £0 diameter. In thiscase—Ifthcstars near the borders of ihcdiiea'* within the range of our telescope — ihcic will be seen in the direaic* of the diameter of the disc a very large numbcrof stars, and in tirf of the thickness, or axis of the disc, a comparativdy small munbtt In other directions the number visible will be propottioital M Ik ' length of the visual ray. It follows, therefore, that an entimenti* of the stars visible in various directions would enable us to detemJit the exact form of the stellar stratum, and also the posiiioa d'it observer in the interior of the disc. For, as the volumes of spboo vary as the cubes of their radii, the number of stars visible in Mf two directions would be proportional to the cubes of the HasafB,' to which the stratum extended in the two directions. For emol't if in the field of view of the observing tcicscoi>c ten stars are con^ in one direction and eighty in another, the length of the vbual «« will be as one to two {or as the cube roots of one to eight> Fn» the obsened numbers, and a comparison between the area of lit field of the obseiNwiK id^^cA^c atid the total area of the star ipixn
The Grindstone Theory of the Milky Way. 361
he length of the visual ray, compared with the mciui distance of of the first magnitude, may also be computed. In punuance of thb method Sir W. Henchel undenook a series 'gftuges," orcounu of stars, risible in difTerent portions of the with a reflecting telescope of 18-8 inches aperture. 'I'he gnifying power used wiis 157, and the diameter of "the field of about fifteen minutes four seconds of arc, or about half the a's apparent diameter. It may be shown that the area of this Beld of view is c<)ual to that of the whole celestial ^iihere divided by |^33iO0o. It would, therefore, be necessary to count this immense yumbeT of fields in order to "gauge" the whole visible heavens. I*! gauges number about 3,400, so that in reality he examined ^ndj a small fraction of the celestial vault. The number of stars [ tiiiblc in tlicse gauges range from o to 5S8. This latter number, hrgc as it is for so smalt a field of view, would give for the whole [Ittfent — if equally rich^a total of 489,804,000 stars, a number I akhough abooluiely large, must be considered as comparatively FmH if »t consider space as infinite in cwent.
Hcrfchel's gauges were made along .1 great circle of the celestial spfittt ai right angles to the course of the Milky Way. This section "u inclined at an angle of 35 degrees to the celestial Eijuator. It ■"ItTtKXS the Milky Way at right angles, and passes close to the C*laciic poles. Ononesideof the star sphere it cuts the Milky Way in we 1*0 tnandics in AquJla, and al the opposite side in the southern pwtion of Monoccros near Canis Major. Herschel found the greatest "iimeter of his stellar stratum to have an extension of 850 times the distance of stars of the first niagniiude ; the thickness at bl angles to the diameter of the disc — or in the direction of the of the Milky Way— being 155 of 'he same units. In this Dtbeiical disc the sun is not quite ceniially pbced either in the ction of the thickness, or in that of the diameter of the disc In he direction of the thickness he found an extension of 75 units ids Coma Berenices, or Northern tialactic jwle, and So units irarda Cetus, or ilie Southern pole. In the direction of the diameter maximum extension is in the direction of Aquila, where we have toces of 497 and 4Z0 units. Between these two branches lies a I galf, of which the nearest pouit to the sun is at a distance of units. In the opposite direction the extreme distance of tlie ders of the disc is at 352 of the same units, in that portion of Milky \Vay above Canis Major. Herschel estimates the average distance of stars of the sixth Bgnitudc—about the limit of ordinary eyesight— to be twelve times
Tki G^KtldmaKS JMagaziiu.
:r:LLlAM SH.4KESPEARE, XATLRALIST.
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■ • -•- >-.:..- li is:
WUiiatn SAakespeare, Naturalist. 365
. tune tot historical sludiet of this character. And we carry it blithely, often us the sole teinnani of our blithene-sx, into the Kgton of middle hfe, where it helps mercifully to beguile the rI of that jiartictilar mill-round to which detliny or dcspeia- ichained us. There is, too, n special vitality attaching to the c of naiural hi.^tory. Humes and Gibbons have their little give place lo other!, but we nc%-er grow lired of such books litc's Selbome " (of which last jxar was the cenUnary), or lamckccpcr at Home."
e apolog)', then, is needed for drawing attention lo the nrcan treatment of so favourite a study. Such attention has in some mwsure been drawn by the publication of Mr. !s work on " The Omitholog>- of Shakespeare," which renders essary in these pages to devote any specific consideration to But fur, scales, and other integuments remain to us. ned though we be to think and boast of our great dramatist's ndic genius, we cannot without close sun-ey adequately ke meaning of our own words. To "tell a hawk from a iw " were perhaps no great feat even for an amateur natural- lizabclban days ; but to have something to say about almost British birds at that time identified is a little remarkable in Be allusions to ornithology were meant to be merely paren- That the same lay mind should also have been able to C shrewd comments on the great majority of quadrupeds to exist in this and other countries, together with frequent fishes, insects, ie|)tiles, and crustaceans, is enough lo kU save the most loyal believer in the unity of Shnkespearean ip.
at) our so-called domestic animals should be mentioned ; only what we might reasonably expect. The faithful ilton, however, of all, or nearly all, the varielits is worth Under the head of cattle, for instance, we find not the hull, (WK-, ox, and ealf, with the metaphorical msonealf CW," ii. I, and iii- i), but also hint, sletr, fieifer, and neat rent tn SuFTolk and perhaps in other counties). "Neat's U more than once employed as a term of abuse, as, e^. by in "Henry IV^" I'art I. ii. 4; and the .same word is oaccount in one of Shakespeare's many freaks of paronomasia. «gys(" Winter's Tale," i. 2) :
Come, capltin,
We miut he neat ; not ncal, but cleanly, caplaio ; And yet the Iteir, the hcifct, and llie calf AresH nllM iicnt.
I
366 Th£ GentUmafis Magasine.
" Neat's leather,' again, is twice used in a quasi-prov li«t by Stcphaoo (" Tempest," 11. 3), who describes Caliban x present for any emperor that ever nod on neat's leather," and leot by a cobbler in the opening scene of "Julius Cxsar," Kba essaying to satisfy the angry Tribune Marulius on the score 1 character and means of decent livelihood, he protests -. " Ai p men as ever trod upon neat's leather hare gone upon my handy* It wM, no doubt, a common idiom in Slukespcaie's day. "SI (sometimes also " shecps ") as a generic term occurs fretiuentlf 1 we need not be very close students to mark here and ilierc tbti panicutar "wether,"' "ewe," and "ram." as well as, of co "Iamb" and"Unibliin." "Bell-wether," in n tropical sense. ve road in one of FalstaETs extravaganzas <" Merry \\1ve« of Wind
iii. 5)-
When first, and why, the eminently sagacious ass was sclecti a type of doUishitess it were doubtless no easy mailer nuw to d mine; but the choice was a singularly bad one. Orpatieniendur its really distinguishing characteristic, it would hat-e furnished liappier illustration, for, depend upon It, maugre the seeming pin the ass is no fool. The popular prejudice, howerer, three ce« ago, decided otherwise, or perhaps was inherited from j«t 1 remote generations, and has been tiithfully handed down wi change to our own times. Pom asimorum is prohaUy ite widely known shtcd of Anglo-Latin tliai British BchoIar(hip,ifin it be of our o«n devising, has yet accomplished — and the nioit ii The only ass spoken handsomely of or to in Shakopcarc't pb Rully Bottom in ihat guise; while, on theother hand, theoj^roh jipplicnion of the nanje meets us at every turn. " What an « thou !■' heartily ejaculates Speed to Launcc ("Two Gemlcma Verona," ii- s) ; " I'repostetous ass ! " cries Luccntio, seeking n4 Honcnsio's music ; even Caliban thus reproaches himself ("
'• ') ■ ^^'hnl a ihriw-ikxible t»
\Vu 1, Id lake ih» drunkknl for a god. And wutthi]> ihii dull fool !
Igloa
Antipholus of Ephcsus says blandly 10 Dmmio, " I think liiH an ass," which provokes the retort (" Comedy of Emm,* iit i)r
k
Mitry, » it doth appMt, By the wrongs I mffcc, and the blowt I t,taf.
I should kick, being kicli'd ; and bcic^ lu that pou, Vou would keep from my heetx, and beware of aa an.
The mule is mentioned less often, some eight times
4
Wiliiam Shakespeare, Naiuralist.
Henry VI. " (Part IT. iv. i) Suffolk objects thai " the honourable loodcj I^n<:aiter"slMJit1d be shed by one who had kissed hts hand, leld hix stirTU(>, and " bareheaded plodded by my foot -cloth mule." Iliylock, again, argues tliat ihe Jew's pound of Hcsh is as much his ywn ax the " aMes, dogs, and mules " which Christians buy and count ^Mir own property. But tt has never been a prevalent beast of bur- .en in these realms. En rtiHmche, the horse is abundantly recog- Everyone remembers Richard's despairing cry, " A horse ! hotse ! my kingdom for a horse ! " ("Richard III.," v. 4), but a fine in "Measure for Measure," 1. 3, is possibly not quite so Claudio, lamcintinK the severity of " the new deputy now the Duke," wonders whethei the strictness of the new tigiuu be
tttieto
^^^ the bull »nd glimtue of ncwnot,
^^b Or whether thai th« body public be
^^1 A hone whereon the governor dotli uAe,
^^B Wlio, newly m ihc icsl, (hat it miy knuw
^^V He csn tominanit, tinjgbl l«tt it feci Iho spur.
Hire read, loo, of "unbaclt'd colts" ("Tempest," iv. i), of the ^Bh-horse," a term applied contemptuously to a dullard ("Comedy of Eors." iii. i). o( "hobbylior&cs"("Mucli .\do .Mioui Nothing," lii. a^ "hackneys" (" l.ovc's Labour Lost," iii. i), and the Uukc says of f oiKhsionc, " He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the vRstnution of that, he shoots his wit." We may even trace a few of AKeipres.iu>ns which we alill use to distinguish the colour of the •nimaL A groom in " Richard IL," v. 5. speaks of the day " when wlktgbroke rodeon roan Barliary," and Edgar, in"King Lear.-iii, fiCompUiru of the foul fiend, who made him " proud of heart, to ■We on a bay trotting-hor>e over four-itich'd bridges."
But of all animals employed in the service of man none is noticed '*Ofe frequently than the dog. The mere enumeration of the various !l>ecics is remarkable from its fulness. Tliere are two passages, one ** "Macbeth," iii. 1, the other in "King Lear," iii. 6, in which \ ^aloguc of breeds iti given. The two togeth(.T probably exhaust, ^ nearly so, the list of dwellers in Klirabeihan kennels :
((I) A« houti'lti »nct gicybcjunjs, mongtels, tpaniels, euij, Sh<iuf;hii. water. rue*, anil tIemi-woWes, ftre elepl All by the name of dogs. ' (s) Hanltr, peyhounil. tnongiel, grlin, Hconi), or »)miiel, biach, ur Ijm, Oi bob.tail tike, or Itundlt^-lail. e few of these are still extant, notably the mongrel and the cur, the names of others, now obsolete or oiherwise designated,
1
368
714^ Gentleman s Magazine.
\
explain ihcnuelve*. Brath Professor Skeai defines to be "a kinltf hunting-dog," which nn doubt is tnie, as far as i( goes — ttvough -iut, after sll, is nogreat distance. The word occurs again in "7hcTi» ingof the Shrew," I. t. where we have "brach Merriman,' ind tk huntsman it cliarged to " couple Clowder vrttli the deep-mooikli brach"; and also in "Henry IV.," Part I. iii. i, where Kodps would rather heat " l.ady, my brach, howl in Irish," titan the ladf Mi in Welsh. " Udy, tht brach.'' is lo be found, too, in " King Un' i. 4, on which passage Kir. Aldis Wright has a note to the eflea | " a brach was a bitch bound "—but how docs this agree with McninMw?— "Cotgravc(FT. Ilict) ' VJnryw. a kind of short' setting-dog; ordinarily spotted, or putic-coloured.'" Tbc identity is a matter for "the fancy" to determine. A Jjri lyaii) was a bloodhound, said to have been so called from the "kn' or leash with which he was held -, but the derivation soondiilttk feeble, for at that tale all dogs held in teajth would be "Im' and the bloodhound is certainly mentioned in his own name^iiii " Hent>- tV.," Part 11. v. 4. The tpantti, or Si>ani*h dog, and li cringing ways were c^-idcntly well known. "I am your spanKl'iqt Helena ("Midsummer Night's I>rcam,"ii. i),
and, Oemtttini,
The more you b«t me, I will fawn <m fou !
Vk: mc but D.t youi !ipiLiii«], cpuni me, mike me,
NcSlcci me, lose me ; only give mc leave,
VnH'oithy u I xm, to follow job.
"Where's my spaniel Troilus ?" cries Petnichio ("Taming rf* Shrew," iv. I), while Proteus, speaking of Silvia (" Two Genai«»| of Verona," iv. *), declares that
notwithitandin[ nil her suildea qnipt. The leisl » hereof would quell a lover** bope^ Yel, Epmiel-like, the moir die spumt mjr love. The mote it fiiows, and fawnclh on her ttUl-
Falconry has long censed to be reckoned among our po^ pastimes ; though not actually extinct il has become to liroiied i" exceptional that perhaps not one sportsman in a thousand hit nB seen it in operation. But coursing survives, and in sook IikwJ districts is practised as ardently as cwr it was. The many in Shakespeare to the grtykound prove conclusively that in his the sport of liare-and-hounds was well patronised. "1 i« stand," says the king (" Henry V.." iii. i), "like greyhouudi u slips, Straininj; upon the start." Edward and Richard a« ("Henry VI.," Part III. li. 5) to "a brace of greyhounds Hanng fearful flying hare in sight." Fwn in " Coriolanus " (i. 6) ibe
IViiitam Shakespeare. Natufalist.
369
r " a fawDing gTcjrbound in the leash *' is iniroduced, and ihc " two race of Kreybounds" &ent lo Tiinun of Athens (1. :), though a imarkable present in the circumstances, may be noted as another luance ui' Itritish s|)»rts uniufencd by a ucukc uf the dramatist's pen t daaaical soil, for coiirsiiiv, as vrc understand ii, can scarcely have een ktujwn to either Greek or Ronian. " How does your fnllow grcy- Dund,.sir?"a-t1c$SIe»dcr(" Merry Wi»-Ci of Windsor," i. i); "1 heard tyhe waioutrun <mCutull;'*and Benedick declares that Maigaiet's mis "as ({Uick as the greyhound's moulh~il catches*' ("Much Ado MMUt Nothing." t, a), Wc may further otjservc that tiienty fox- iauiteTS seldom describe what they elegantly style "a real good thing" Mtbcmt (|)crhai>s unwittingly) drawing upon Shakespeare for one of Adr commonest phrases. '■The music of my hounds," and "the 1 confusion Of hounds and echo in conjunction" are both from nmer Night's Dream," iv, 1. Even the humble beagle fmds
t phoe in the list. Sir Toby Belch, in his cups, it is true, pays Maria CtoiBplinientof compdtring her to "a lieagle, true-bred/' I Uiunce's " Crab, my dog," though he be, as his master thought,
the sou rest -nat 11 red dog that lives, " a grievous disappointment to W who had " brought him up of a puppy," having " saved him from ^Fooning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went 'o il," will never be forgotten. His pedigree is not given, but |>er- *•!» wc shall be doing him no great injustice if we range him among fce " curs," or " cunals " ("Comedy of Errors," iii. 1). We may hope. Oo, that Launce himself was never called upon to undergo either of l»e trials suggested in the lines (/i/. v. ij : I Th« vcnuni cUniour) of a jraJouK wuinaii
I Vvium iiioic ilcftdly than 1 muil ■lo^'s looih.
Finally, lei us note the figurative value of the animal in the three aninc uKUphont, " let slip the dogs of war" ("Julius Ctcsar," iii. 'X"dog-weary" ("Taming of the Shrew," iv. i), and .Sir Andicw AgUC'Cheek's " I am dog at a catch " (" Twelfth Night," ii. 3 ). Allien m is said and sung we shall probably not quarrel with I'lslol's dictum Ibt "Hold-fast is the only dog " (" Henry V.,'* ii. 3) worth owning. ( From the dog the transition is natural and easy to the " harmless, leccMaiy cat "(" Merchant of Venice," iv. 1), to which there are iretal allusions of a more or less compromising character. It is dl known that "Care killed a cat " (" Much Ado About Nothing," i); but even that unhappy end sounds preferable to the method Jitnaicd by Benedick, who, when Don Pedro predicts that he will w day abandon his celibate principles, incontinently aies, " If I do, ing me iaabotllcUkeacat, andshootatme "(/f/. L ■). There is an
vol- CCtXXL XO. 1930. e C
{
rw
;aB^tDahnBBiitanrsdBebaiMa Atf fac'raoUtlT ■.
EidtB tatcty. or a pafi to Sdr s eac m, u nuke aB tpbt * (' Midn» I.
nr aRtftaTk Pium.' i t). WtaE cacflr was tbe prcdcnn s V
«tkh*Acp>MreK^AeaA^''faaadhaaelf«ecambatCDniBaB. I
■dtdK wym^'aKni^BKakscac «d siol cream '{"HcanHV I
fiiu L tt. (X pOHnly iBOMV MBK csie K> the »aiioui nnO £ l>
whKli Ubm eaiveaBe bas cancaniy been T**rfWwiii 'Aiti^ I.
hps ob * rTcatpeK,* S. t) » anoAer ShikkcspcsRU idm u I
fadkaiK eiacme bf^rr- Oa ibcwftalcwe Eaa^ &tt(f uoMlk^
"itxaatfiatatTHearylV^'' Pst L m. i)^ vtKther'*gii)iiid»'S
<- Koebtsh.- L iX or -(A'CHimkt,* m. 4) hu c*cr had-iiAJFm
ceantir, at kast— a uuuMdw rwLi, and even the /mf-xMS
bonom accocded to the race have tMvcr been oa a par witliAw H
voced to dceoKd ubbies by tbc onEat Egrpdanft. ■
WUi the pm and the pig Ae atriogDe of domcMic uJiaaM I
jMUMWic UMiliiHiili, at aa; raie — raeoe* to an cad. Fik^fl
dcnooacesEvaxw as a - Wcfeb goat " ( » McTTT Wiircs of M-tDdsoi.' < -V ■
••IwOI fetch op yoor goaca, Aadrcy,' say^ Touchstone (" As Vot '. -' J
It,' iii. 3); and ** g»ll of goat * is ooc of the ingredicDis <fl^H
mtichaf caoldroa (■' Macbeth," ir. i). The line "Some meaWH
tfetovenot apptngpig'CMcTchaiuof Vemce,'*iv. i)comei«dfl
tpecial Ibrce from Shylock's lips, and contains one of the imm
refeiences to the betit under that title. The alterruth-c sraon;«J
hoKCTCT, are to be met with pcetty often. Queen Margaret, ia Afl
courve of a corionsly inthering diatribe, applies to doner the Htl
too Aattering sobriquet of " thou elviah-maik'd, abortive, tooCD| |
hog," and the expression " a hog in sloth " occurs in " Kii^ Lor,"
iii. 4. Again, " how like » swine he lies '. " is said, with much tsv!\
of the intoxicated Uilor, Christopher Sly ("Taming of the Shtt*,*
Induction), while " pearl enough for a swine," maybe read in" I jw'i
Labour Ixisl," iv. J.
It must be admitted, then, that Shakespeare has dealt on ibe whole ver>- handsomely by the tenants of stall, stable, kermd, ud siy. Not only arc they all mentioned by name, but of sevetd d( ihcm the salient fcatutes arc noticed in a manner which marb *e careful observer. Wc have now to examine his attitude with itgiri 10 animals firx nature. Here, too, shaU wc discover a breaihh rf view and a shrewdness of perception which cannot but aioute <m respectful astonishment and admiration. We can i>oint to scare* oneHriliHh<)uadrupcd-those species, of cour8e,being excepted whidi have been distinguished and classified since his era— of which he ha not'somclhinft to say and something worth saying. Nor is his range
IViliiam S/taicspeare, Nafuraiisl. 371
ly either "British" or "nuadruped" Thi" enlirc animal rW, ai knoun in his rime, is his " ojTHcr."* To begin, huwever, with our indigenous rarictics, nnd taking them the order a<}op{ed ■>)' l*rofe$sor Dell in his st<tndard work on the »ject, we come first to the chciropteroiis bat. The most superficial ider of Shakespeare mtist needs be familiar with Ami's song, and : line, "On the bat's back I do fly." The same play mentions tsu " among the " charms of Sycorax " (i. 1), and also furnishes us ilian allusion to the still extant spott of " bat -fowling " (ii. i). le witches in " Macbeth " included " wool of bat " in their phar- teqxdK, among other mote or less nauseous in^cdicnts. l-'or a Eturesque image of the night-watch we have, " Ere the bat hath mm His cloistered flight" {Id. iii. 3). and the old English xnenclatuic is picser^'cd in Titanla's words, " Some war witli rene- Ke for their leathern winjjs. To make my Mnall elves coats." XeienouK " is said to survive lu this day in some of the western niBties. The " thorny hed;^ehog," with his synonyms of " hcdgepig " Bd "urchin," was evidently nyfavouiilcat the time when these plays we written. Lady Anne uses the word as a lemi of abuse in her iolent altercation with Closter (" Richard III.," i. a); Caliban com- bine of being "frighted with urchin shows," and of the spirits which, I all manner of shapes, never leave pursuing him, sometimes in the |Kof a|>es. sometimes ("Tempest," ii. i) H lik« lictgvltogi, whicli
^k Lie liimtrlinc ill my 1i*icfi>ot wuf, nnd iiiuunt
^P Thi II piicks xt my (>r>l(*l1.
Few even of profes-sed naturalists have ever heard the voie« of tt little animal : hut it did not escape the car of the all-observing lywiighl. who in the sentence " and thrice the hedge-pig whin'd " Macbeth," iv. 1), is held by competent judges to have expressed as ailyasmaybe the mixture of j;runt ands^iueak which constitutes the ■enoineiKin. His notes on the mole, or mold-warp (" Htnry IV.," lit I. iii. ■), are e>|ually suggestive of careful observation. No one 10 has hved at the distance of half a doien miles from Charing IMS can have failed tn notice that " the blind mole casts copp'd lis towards heaven " (" Pericles," i, 1), but the pen of none but a niralisf could have written, " I'ray you, tread softly, that the blind dIc may not hear a footfall " (" Tempest," iv. 1), for its remarkable ■ring powers arc to this d.ny unknown to the vulgar. Hamlet's IVell said, old mole \ can'st work i' the earth so fast ? a worthy aneer," may also be fairly cited as the words of one who had ittenlly seen with his own eyes something of that marvellous
(
fir TiRF 3ec3 dtUMm ^e niL afe if :
VCn. *■ XxCV XBnE '^— T»nr» ' ■''"X^
** Hear; 7"''.' ?bc 1 e. 5> ^ie i
SQC no. i-fesC -:€ gii^ » «iie sk aB'd «^* iqs Ljdr I V 3cr xECKoraf 3l - Qaaj-j IT.' ?1K L 1. 3. * A> a
2=. uxjoif - latiaacicCT cut zz x
jtwi, »^«, 3c "■ K-=rT V^* i z, *e read :
J-.E -.era -iie OTA Eaj^ac, !
Kaji^ -^ £i:ti3e s i.-<rMf :f ^ic cm, T'. Mai i=»; bn-sc 1
AnMhcT inemi>^ of 'Lie Muiteiada bmi}]-, the fitcbcv, mora 0* ; v^arAf known u the polecu, b mentiaaed b^ ooe oc other of Aff
namoftomcfivetimes. "Polecats! there are &irer things tbuip'B- cat», iurc : " »ays Mrs. Quickly, and " you ptJecai : " in an objuipwi •etuw appears in ihe next scene of the aamecomedy ("MenyW'n* (rf Wind»or," iv. ^^ The word does not occur in any othetpl^ "Kitchew," however, we find in " TroHos and Cressida," v. 1, «<)» •' King \/a.i" iv. 6 ; from the lips of Cassio, too, proceed the wfiK " "I'iii Huch another fitchew ! many, a perfumed one ! " which rcmffl* UN of a third name- that of fouman— in which this aninud rqoios The wild cat was certainly much commoner three centuries ago in ** country than it is now. It is the only species of the Fdida v^ i/cnouH to Britain, and is on the high-road to extinction. In it* {UnHC woods of VViirwickshire, however, Shakespeare may well hwt Nccii il. 'I'l": expression " your cat 0' mounwin looks " seems K» Hg* Hint he wBM no stranger to its physiognomy. This is to be letdiB " Mcny Wives of Windsor," ii. 2, and Shylock's remark, "hesleqi
Wiliiam SAakespt-arc, Naturalist. 373
f more than the wilt) cat," also bctmys scinc knowledge of its Kaih«rinc the Shicw is compared to a wild cat (i. >), and
irioiis jJinwc "more pinch-spottcd ihan pnrd or cat o' moun- is pu[ into the mouth of I'rosjxrro ("Tcmix^I," iv. i), 10 be
RtA perhaps no one precisely knows bjr wliai ingenious
hc&ts.
woe who are curious in such matters can no doubt discover the ftlw first fox-hunt, as that sport is now understood, in this \. We read in Shakcs|>oare of falconi}', i:our%iii;:, and the of ihe stag, but the brave tod-hunter wu as yet uncreated, or iloiis ucTC not glorious enough to lend the poet so much as a lor. The fox b mentioned, it is trut, many times, but never object of pursuiL Helena M)'3 of Hcrmia (" Midsummer k Orean)," iii. 3) that "she was a vi\en when she went to ," and the epithet is still occauonally applied to womankind, lurer's ko*" was "furred with fox and lamb skins" ("Meofiirc nsure," iii. t\ Most of the allusions, howewr, bear reference line craft and cunning. Thus tlloittr says ("Henry VI.," IL iv. 7) :
Hut when (he f»i hnili odm c>it ia liU none lldl UMM find means li> make tbe boily follow.
riidcscnbcd a« "this holy fox"C' Henry VIII.," i. i); the m "fox in sleallh " is used in "King I^ar," iii. ^; and wnms his hearers that "an old Italian fox is not so kind " the Shrew." ii. 1 ). Tlitse are only a sample of many such ligations of Reynard's widely recognised idiosyncrasies, lecn Mab's chariot was "an empty haicl nut, made by the ►luirrcl," and " tht squirrcrs hoard " was offered by 'I'itania to D, who, in hUthcn condition, had a preference for "n bottle of iy"ot "a handful or twoof dried peas." We find the name ^dow-tail's little cousin, ihe dormouse, only once in the Shakespearean ranj^e, and ihcn not in a literal scn^c. " To your dormouse valour ° (" Twelfth Night," iii. aj is, neverthc- I idiom which clearly |>roves that the writer was well aware of Uual hisior}' of Myifxui aitllanarius.
"mice and rats and such small deer " there is no lack of Cfc "Not a mouse stirring," is the soldier's reply to his ; inquiry- whether he has had a "iiuietgu.ird" (" Hamlet," 1. 1). Sr kilted a mmi»e nor hurt a fly," declares Marina in " Pericles." id a few scenes abo\'e arc the lines^
Thecal, ttiih tyneoriiimine coal, Now cnucheii 'fore ihe iiiouie't hole.
r\
374 TA€ GenlUmans Magashu.
"The very n» instinctively have quit it," Is ssid of a ratien like to link (" Tcatpett," C 3)1 A timc-bonoured, tbou^h crnd, method of getting rid of sapcrfluous rodents or this spedcs FcfeiTcd to in *' McaMire for Measure." i. z, wheie we read—
like taU, ihat lavia dow« their pnprt banst A iliinl]t evil j oad when we diliik wc dk^
"There be Und-rus and water-rats," argues Shylock (** McrduB t(
Venice," t. 3); "Take these rats thither to giww tbdr gmicn*
( " CorioUntis," L 1), says Marcius ; "I have seen the tinK," boisa
Shallow, "with my long sword 1 wotild have made yon lour til
rdlows skip Ukc rats" (" Mciry Wives of Windsor," ii. 1). "HkIuk
asasymbol of timidity is mentioned more than once, the counlnEpft-
pensities of the age making it no doubt one of the bcHt known of Ae
British fauna. Other peculiarities are noted by Portia, who nft
" Such a hare is madness, the youth, to skip o'er the meshes oT^
counsd, the cripple " (" Merchant of Venice," L 3), and by Ed(8
{*• King Lear," iii. 4), who attributes to " the foul fiend (Bhii
gibbet " the power of making, among other mischief " the harfr^*
The rabbit comes in for some htilc notice, and chiefly undo )■
aliemative title of cony. " Cony-catching " is spoken of as a bwH'
last resource for the destitute, much as kc in these days sptak i
"sweepii^ a cnMsing." " I must cony-catch, I mu« shift,* «?
Falstaff at a time or spccinl impvcuniosity. " Cony-catching W^
too, is a phrase which even now may be heard in some cotfliA
where the time of the rural Rench is mainly occupied ia M^
ing condign i>en3lt»cs 10 those who have rashly iresptM^i
pursuit of poor Itunny. He was evidently cCHisidered a «tri|
deniien of the brcler, for Moth speaks of "a rabbit on a spdt*B'
familial spectacle (" Ixjvc's Labour Lost," iii, i), and in "Tai'^
of the Shrew," iv. 4, we read of one to whom a strange cxptns**
befcl " as she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbiL*
The three spcnes of the genus Cerrut which occur withia ih*
realms are all represented in this wonderful encyclopa»)ia. Wc !■)
take it thai the red deer was in Shakespeare's mind'& eye wl»enhe««*
the Tyrlaean lines uttered by Talbot (" Henry VI,," Port L it. *);
If wc be English deer, be tlicn ia blood :
Nol imical-likc, lo fkU down wilh > jiinch ;
But rather iDood<r-niBd. and dctpcraic lUgs,
Turn un the bloody hounds with he>d» oT ated.
And niikc ihe cowaids itunil alool M bay.
On Ihe other hand, the " poor setjueslcr'd stag," which so mov heart of Jacques, the " sobbing deer" to whidi we owe one of
i
WiUiatn Sliakespfart; Naturalist. 375
(wthetk pictures in all ]>oetry, clearly l>c)ongcd to a herd of <lcer, dncnbed in the same [xissage lu " poor daffiett fools." .«t," the technical Ictm for a Iwo-ycarold buck of this s|>ccies, in " I.o>-c's Labour Lost," iv. 2. where also (y. 2) we read, ip to our tents, as rocs run over Utnd" This third and least s is rdcrT<:(l \<3 oocc again in the phrase " fleeter than the roc" iming of the Shrew," i. 2). It is scarcely necessary to add that emu bttct, doe, harl, hind, arc found too often to need any ll mention of chajXcr and ?crsc.
hen wc turn from native to exotic zoolog>- the same catholicity ns. Wld-bcast shows were no doubt to be seen in England tine to lime in tlie reign of Queen Bess, and Shalccspcare hare studied them with extraordinary diligence, or his many y dMcriptions and criticisms would never have occurred to him. irumaMa he deaU with by name of ape, monkey, and haboOin, rst title being by far the most fretjuenL " Apes tlial mow and at me and after bite nie," says Caliban, and again (" Tempest," "apes with foreheads villanous low." In "Merry Wives" K« both "John apc"(iii. i) and " Jack-an-apcs" (iv. 4), and Cymbelinc," ii. 2, the well-known "O sleep, thou ape of An excellent simile, too, is FalstafTs "Or else you had through the grate, like a geminy of baboons." A curious *rsc of tlie Darwinian theory is suggested by .'Vpeniantus ; strain of man's bred out," he says, " into baboon and monkey." Mding in alphabetical order we arc next met by the bear. 1 is one of Shakespeare'-s favourites — for literary pur[ioses, at any -and appears in various situations, though almost always with a character. The ftetiuent " bailing " to which he was subjected to OUT notice in many passages, in none, perhaps, more ly than " Henry V!.," Part U. v. i :
Call hllber lo the Make my two brave bcilt8, Th»l wilh ihe very ihnkinj; of iheir chains They may aiioniiii iheie fell lurking curi.
'orthy and suggestive idioms are also the "cub-drawn bear," head-Iugg'd bear" ("King ],ear," iii. i and iv. 2), "as ugly ear " (" Midsummer Night's Dream," ii. 2). " lieai-herd " and ^wa^d " pleasantly remind us that in one respect at least we !M bearish than our forebears; "the rugged Russian bear" icbeth," iii. 4) is likewise of some interest to us in this age. uit we take our leave of Bruin without referring to the obscure "Julius Casar," ii. i, where, inter alia tnirahilia, we are 1 bears "may be bi:trayed with glasses." There is reason
\
- it£ 'Ji'T.-.VwJJcV JfiM^aziiu.
■s
:- 1 .T=r — ::- ■:_== iir-'^T ii ~e horrCbTe practice of bliiuliii|
.~^= -is-^:— i-i ::- -ri:sc-:-e=:T "faa;=n£5-" Thcboarisanochtt
"^i ?:-r^:-:-:. z=--rrz-.r^ x fzzTrzv »ea, says that he swi
,!;; ;:; -T.jr:- i-:^- i!ri:Vi «-::h fweat" (•■ Tamii^ of fie
■ . : - - ."-;::•:;-■;." :i. =. Iicfiimo is compared to "i . :r-^ : :■: — : .T^rni-: :zi; ' : wbZi :a - Anionyand Cletquoi,'
T: -^i :f ■ z-^.- -v.-i -.'lars r:i5:<id whole at bml&SL* : - :- :- T; r^- n ■= *.:ar^s;7 ;- v c:r>ect mention froo Ac - ^ ■■ -- :f — 'IT ;-■: :;j ujse is s-^!r.<r:er.:!y indicated in "Al ■_.!i.- '.-. l:. :. -?*-■.- : .■;:rT:ers hiz-.is are perfumed with d«i' T : : :_-- r-; : i-Tir- ~-: j-t^t -a^.l:-^L:z^ as to the sourcewhwt -.—.~i ~ i± — ;■:. H;~:2i=;cr.cries:gna:ion of theaninijl,Bi -i ■:.- " --.;■; " ;_ T":^: E=-i? Wei:,- t. 2\ "Thouowestlbt ■:--.. ~i.' i-— '.i^z _i 4 . ir.d a^in (iv. 6), " Gi« me an : .-. -.-^r. ;■:■;■; i-.iir.e-^ar:.-. ::? sweeten my imaginatJoo.' : ■.:; :-,: :: -.rt -^^.t'. :s a rar cry, but not loo &i fa ;-—;.-.-. -f- T^i-:: ':lits ;-i7ressed \he raison dftrtd^
- • . ■ 1^;— =: :-i ^i; ■.--'=-!■■ -■ ~--re s--ccinctly than he does . V -li. - z. iri-T^T-i '-izztT. J. very camel " ("Troilus am! ■ .._ . ; . - -_;■ . '^"''-nicrz :r.e Bible text more neadr
■ ; z^ ; -r.i ihcs again, -
: - :, IS ■':: 1 ^~~I ■■ !~ -"' i -—ill r-is-ilt-'s eve,'
' •-:.- ■■:.: ^- i-s—.i'^ii :'-e elc-,hant as "a sijiui*
■ ""- ■ ■ ■- -^ _: --:- .ir-.y ar.c a lail at both ends'; > • -.s:,- ^-- ^; ■; :^ . , :::..;- :r-cr. re:aark is that of L'ljsses
. ■. -^ ■_ .■-.-- .:-'. ;.■■ T'.-.i; cle-.r.an; hath joints, bai now
■ .- ■ r ..- _-. .->- ::■ -sc«*j;:y, ro: for flexure.'* Ht
- . ■-• - -•- .':.■■-■-., 1 :- --"u'-i-s C.Vsar," ii. i, somi.-tiws
"":.?. ^ ; '.r-?i ■.■,■'-.:,■■- the comnieniatori e\[jliiif?
. - ' \^ .■.-^.-,,- .-. j'.-.v s,r.:v-h ce,\U with the moihodf^
.■ . ■- .,J, - :-.:■. :c. ■■ I'r.i Elirhar.t." as the sign of an iw
- :.-,. ^ ---...-di .7. "J-::-.:? Cxs;iT,'"i. a, in thecoor« . ■ -.: ■ --.,,■ -.-■.z.T-. .-..'...y.c^ to the greatest of Rob*
Ar =. C::cro • - -.-■. '. :'-- 'l.rz,\ 17. ; SMch liery ejres, ..! ■- .?..-.■-,.■■.;- ihe Cipisol, . . ■; -■ .-- '. -. ;.'r.:';:ir.:e i-y &.11UC ^nalois.
\"..; ,"•.,",-;•: :.t. v.-.:.'. »>,:*; tsnijer is commonly supposed lo I*
Wiiiiam Shahsjtearc, Naturalist.
377
of the sweetest, despite his alTecution of minh, sen'ea Rosalind
>)eaiant siinile in one of her ninaiiuns with Orlanda " I will
I," she sij-s, " like a hfen, and ttiat when thou an inclined to ■I
L wutdd ha\'e l>e«n a sad hlot on Shakespeare's scuKheon hitd rcaicd our patron hcast with srant ceremony. Happily the ons to ihc " King of Beasts " (" Richard 11.," v. i) are ploniiful nilogistic enough lo satisfy the cravings of the mosl ardent lism. What can he more grntrfyin;; than Ilottoiii'« dictum, there is not a more fcirful wild-fowl than your lion living"? ), "this grisly beast, which lion hight by name," is held forth to I one which, c\cu when weakened by our common enemy, is ) manner of nvcans to be trifled with ("Henry VI.," Patt II.
' Of SalUIiuty, who cin >c|H>n of him f
Thnt uintci lion, who in nge foigcU Aged coiituiioni, and all btuib of lime, And. like a Enllnnl in the hiow of youth, KqKiir^ him with occision.
BO, in "Richard II.," v. i:
The lion, dying, thrmltth forth hi* p»w,
And wounds the ennh. if nothing else, wUh rage
To he o'cipower'd.
"^Sjjccd, obserring a change in his mnstcr's demeanour, rallies him ttiimany smart quips, teminding him how he was wont, when he alkrf, "to walk like one of the lions " (" Two Gent letnen of Verona," no dotibt shaking as he went " the dewdrop from his mane " ilus and Cressida," iii. j), d ta Kenealy. I,et us notice also phrases as "the kingly lion," "as valiant ns the lion," and IWiyothci sentiments- flattering to leonine pride, while we matlc *sfcc of him who "once did sell the lion's skin, while the beast I'd" ("Henry V,," iv, 3), The leopard, with its aliases of pard •d panther, was evidently no stranger, menagerie- wise, in Britain, " Shakespeare is drawing the long bow when he represents it, as ^oes in "Titus Andronicus." ii. 2, as haunting the neighbour- H of the Tiber; Marcus was certainly exaggerating the capabili- ^Of his hunt when he said, "I ha^■c dogs, my lord, will rouse the ''idcsi panther in the chase." " Bearded like the pard " is femiliar 'hose who have never read a line of any drama, for, like so much Shakespeare, it ha« passed into the idioms of the language, '^ert thou a leopard," says 'l"inion to the churlish philosopher, lou wcrt german to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were on thy life."
\
Tkt Grmiitwttns Mmgtuime.
Ins an AiBenan amaiMA\
[,' but tiitea OiSaa <i^ m dx art of c^mraig tej K» l«ilaUr dnkiac of die '■KtnK" bd not yet begim Ul Otwna, CB dtt fidia hand, is „ Ac-onDcc'vludilndlongl __ __^'kBliBb«DsngicsUd,itber
r 3K tcie : IQeb tas km' PwJdBc LcMt," ir. 344-
■•■Bsirt VIJ'PKrILn. >. a ik^^c not qaite so bacioeM *^
jtT.f JlSxv -x^ 3e 'w^£ s ^ ofp^Mia^ soik in addi»ai>C ^
TOC I^icrst-s - T^-mm ita& C\t.»'^t^ £. i). The
^unxsirs * »e -^m' ~n.-r,rrrr ia ^otx, and *en in the was ■
^!ti TW -^Httze: 3!I!(="^ -^ 3£ar±cd^.' in. 4)- TliB, ho«»^ |
na."' :nM rt -niixi t-ektshzih ^ ^le izcc~ *ar vtudi a P*"^*—?
3B»sr srviKsi. Hs ttt-:!1.-^-i> -=»■■-*■ h fieqaenlly oat in Ks t»
y.-l^: siis ."rjinras. -rth. 'us -^riiSeE tcoek." cooW " nake ti(B
-jTTf • - Tt; 0>53E:tf3ns=. rcT— jxa.' ^ =\ and Tioaos, *h«'
■«snjs -,■ i=-P5ss HI mncssfcie — "--r. an. ~ Wben *t vow to ■"
«as. rn: n ir^ =ic t.-cse^ ==« Tioas'' i-'Tioflns andCnsri*
■*r3,Tir ; n i *-:maB ; iiis' 1 Harr- uUiuaJug !bs fcioids n* "lia-fcir. ir«-a» :^i«3t :;-- jsasne ix =>e ocacc the diaractti*>" -iK rt-itK -^V-SB sStf -ce ::: rur »7ti -ickp senns to Be b hii"
>f Dui^esc ^olmss one "himiiTi'; ;
T>«i ina=in -ae a=a« t£-±tt 3B*^ **^
>iH\! .-Mr^-^ if-; s;.c. Bi » »-"ji=*K. acvaaDf *e liiA w
>.* i^v Mtt i »v"« i*.*"^ i-wtawTefw* OU& him asleep ("I
X\ ■ ■Jst^ X - - - ■>* * r's?^' " S.115 \iaa^ io. 4) ; u«d
-■Sw^n^ '••..' T-^s-- • ?. invl3riaKc:.e«tapraiidhe,^
\si!<-;>, tot vwvicRir^ XT^- .-t inir-axooi beass bxTC «
William ^kakesfieare, Naturalisl.
379
Ark itself can scared)' have presented a belter or fuller,
Nor do birtU and qundiupedx atone represent the muieua
e^arean natURtl histor)-. We must explore the regions of
logy and entomology, and enumerate the dcni;:ens of brook
before we can be foirly said to have exhausted the bill of
Idi is spread before us. All our Diitish reptiles, for example^
pfully iia'ued in review. Our one poisonous snake i» mcn-
Iliearly a score of times by one or other of its wcil-known "Sometime," says Caliban {" Tempest," ii. a), "am I all with adders, who with cloven tongues do hi&s mc into 1 " ; Timon of Athens speaks of "Ihc black load and adder " It is the bright day," Brutus tells us (" Julius Osar," ii. t), nngs forth the adder, and that craves wary walking " ; " I am |r,' runs the riddle in " Pericles," i. t, alluding lo an ancient ilion. "yet I feed on mother's flesh which did me breed." :hes use "toe of frog" in their vile concoction, and "the frog, the load, the tadpole, .and tlic wall-newt " all played " poor 'i'om's " daily menu. To the glow-wotm there arc four highly iiiietical references. Tiiania coiiiiiun<is her b) steal ihc honey-b.igs of the humble-bees for t.ipers "and Km at the fiery glow-wornvs eyes." '■ Fare tliec well at once," K Ghos: in " Hamlet " (i. 5) ; ^^^ The jfTow-wotin tlluwi Iho mxllii t'l be near,
^^fc And 'eitik 10 pale his unolTcclu*! lire.
ftowever, there are two slight errors, according to the views of lodcrn naturalists ; it is only I'hs/emoU that exhibits Ihc light, pbeit White observes that "these little creatures put out [mps between eleven and twelve, and shine no more for the Hhc nighl." In " Pericles, " ii. 3, we read. " like a glowworm lliight, 'llie which hath fire in darkness, none in light." We I wonder that Shakespeare is guilty of entertaining a super- , still current in mosl courtrj- districts ; ihe "cyc-Iess U worm " mentioned in "Timon of Athens," iv. 3, and lindironn's sling" (" Macbeth," i»'. i), are, of course, libelson p»ly harmless ri^|)tile. Eijoally libellous is the expression fi dreadful stingi " ("Henry VI."l'art III. ii. 2), as applied to Umber of the Laetrtaia family that can have come under his The phrase "gilded newt" ("Timon of Athcnn," iv. 3), an obsenant eye, for the animal thus designated is no e with the vulgar, and by the majority of those who arc aware ^tence is probably regarded wiih downright aversion. In passages in which mention is made of the toad this
38o
The GetUlentans Magazine.
\
luitdly-uscd crcnturc b invarwWy siwlsen of in lermi of urn loathing. His very ruinc U rrc>|ucnlly usvd b) Shit kcs|)t.-3 re's tCTsas a lemi of nbusc. " 'I'hou toad, thou toad ! " rriei the I of York (" Richard III.," iv. 4), nddrc^tng the rrairidd«, ibo another place also appropriately styled " this poisonous back'd load" (i. 3). In fact, the only words not I'ontumeliouf arc uttered concerning him arc those in which he is credited despite his ugliness and venom, the ownership of " a precioas ji in his head" ("As Vou Like It," ii. i). Mr. Wright, in his note' tliis line, gives, as far as it is known, the history of tlic so-called stone {batrachitti), and the curious confusion of ideas which for centuries identified it with a supposed substance in the brain, whereas it owes its name uicrcly to a simiUiiiy ta or colour. 'I'hc Scandinavian equivalent of toad, as the diminutive "paddock," is found in "Macbeth," i t, " Hamlet," iii. 4-
If we cxcc[>t Cleopatra's '• aspic " (" Antony and Cleopatra," r. i\ tliere is no nienlion of any other particular species of 0^£^ ^ the adder or viper, already noted. But there arc many buf memoranda on snakes and serpents in general. EsjMcialiy nti* K cite the three fine lines in " Henry VI.," Pari II. iii. i:
Or u the inskc, rolleil !n i flowering Ixink, AVith thininc ebcckcrM dough, dolh tling 1 child, Thai lqr the bcnuty thinks il excel IcnI.
The lines immediately preceding these are interesting as for us an ancient myUi : they tell of the " mournful crocodile" * " with sorrow snares relenting passengers." It is again alluded wii " Othello," iv. I, where the Moor protests tlial " if the earth ca*! teem with woman's (cars, Kach drop she falls would (>ro%-e a <saaJ9^- It is a liitic remarkable that " an alligator siufiTd " formed pan cf * stock-in-trade of the apothecary in " Roir.co and Juliet," v. i. U ii possible that Shakespeare may have seen one in the same conditit* but we know that the first /<W«a' specimen brou([hi tothbconnirjO exhibited in the year 1751. So, at least, says the Gattltnab Magadne of that date, but whether referring to the Americaa « • the Old ^V'o^ld %-ariety we cannot now determine. The «•* "alligator " (S|)anish, <! lagarto, the lizard far tx<elitnfe) canaot i the Elizabethan age have been long given to the cayman by Araenao voyagers.
I'he eccentricities, real and supposed, of the chameleon arc ddi recorded. " Ay, but hearken, sir," say* Speed (" Two Ocmleinni ci Verona," il 1), " though the t:hainelcon Love can feed on ait, I in
Wii/iam S/iahs/fare. Nttiuralist.
38 »
■K thai am nouri.'thtid by ray vicluaU, and would fain have meat." ad tn Ihv same pby (ii- 4). in answer to Silvia's question, " I>o you ungc colour?" Valentine breaks in with "Give him leave, madam, e b a kind of chameleon." It is a boast of Glostet's (" Henry VL," art ! 1 1, iii. 3) that he " can add coloun to tlie chameleon," and the nuceof Denmark replies to the King's "kind inquiries" that he uet " excellent, i' faith of the chfttncleon's di.sb : I eat the air, iromise-crammed '* (" Hamlet," iii. 2).
Of frcUi'waicr fishes vre find the pike, also called luce (" Merry Wbcsof Windsor," i. 1); minnow ("this Triton of the minnows," "CorioUnus," iii. i) ; trout (" the trout that must be caught with litUing," " Tvfclfth Night," ii. 5); iendi{" Henry IV.," Part I. ii. 1); ktdi (IHJ.y, dace (" If the young dace be a bait for the old pike," A Put II. iii. a); carp ('■ All's Well That Ends Well," v. 2) ; and ifidieon ("Merchant of Venice,' L i, "fool-gudgeon"). We 'Mia also the Cud and salmon ("to change the cod's head for the ■hnon's tail," "Othello," ii. 1); mackerel ("Henry IV.," Part I. (l *>; dolphin ("Midsummer Night's Dream," il i)( dogfish ("Henry VL." Fart I. i. 4): stockfish ('-Measure for Measure," ■ii- 1) ; eel (" Peridcs," iv. a) ; herring (" King Lear," iii. s) ; whale f'lMiat tempest. I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in hit belly, ashore at Windsor?" "Merry Wives of Windsor," iL i), mdjiilchard (■'Twelfth Night," iii. i). Nor is it necessary to read ^inlhout coming upon the oyster, shrimp, prawn, mussel, cockle, w tub. All. indeed, is fish that comes to his net. Not even the •Wmblc liarnacle is overlooked. "We shall lose our time," says CaliW (" Tempeit," iv. i), " and all be lum'd to ham.-jcleE." , CntomuliJgy is a very modern science, and we caimot expect piiktspcare to show acciuaintance save with broad genera. These, *'*ci'er, he faithfully enumerates, and sometimes gives us a species '''booi. Apiculture may proliably have bten practised in some of "le H'lrwickshire villages ; at any rate, his ))ee-similes are ss precise "s they arc poetical. Two passages of this nature arc specially Joublcin "Henry I V.," Part II. iv. 4, and "Henry V.," i. 3-.
(■} When, like the htr, tolling ftom every flower Tbe viiluou* m-cot*.
Out Uiiglu pockM with wax, ant moulhs with honey. We bring it in the hive, and, like the beet. Arc murder'd for our pains.
(») For so work the hotuy bees,
Cmtuiet Ihiil by 1 rule in naimc le.-ich TTse •« of order 10 a reoplcil kinciloin :
{
J.fjz:i"«'-
_ . ^-.^i;-
. JUS sue ^^^
Ti ^fie «ac *t?» i' ■ "Via. ^i^ad "a im ■
Tie * T^-acK-i smroiie-boe "^ also oomes in far a bir duct i iDSSXiu K at - Tracts Kid OcsBda,* t. 5, ** fiill menilj fc Imiiiiie-M: 3n± su.'' Tix gropumi of tfbe ant has been Idt b Sr 'zoo. Ijcocck " rrt-Tftnc. and Sbakicspean knew aboot tt m££ zirois ^T ""^^i^ ^ =^ jcana Ij^ Ids own obsemtiao ti ^tLnaiati. -"»"«T sc :*ae to sdwot to an ant," sap ihe Frf '^ !;js£ ^jse-.^ X. ^^ -^ s> aead tbee dxie^s DoUboDiii^ i' die wintK* Cjcs-rilas sa£ :^ie^ Toiscaoas propenssdes are sevenl tiM 3ni;^CI.^a^i. icu. c=33= r;^ ^Touiius are ercn styled figontiid) -;t« ^aziTTt-ar? ,x rM c:xK:3cc:w«xhfa " (« RidiaTd 11^" 1 3). * is* CKcrnss liT-- i»ers »«:« probably mme varieties of Bt^ itxrirScfiTir Ti :xz. rji=: = these davs, and peiiiaps bo^ trotil zxan. "^ T3;c; »-tv^T !.:«= xm^ eow. Some incident must ta* s:^^S«?i. ^i^i "r<:?--r.;.:T :£ -Jiii crad liii>: boy, the son of Cano]im :c »b.-c: Vi:«-i sLT^ - 1 s;» T-n r^-i aft^ » ^ed butterfly ; a* ^-^■z ^J ri;^: r^ Tn'ofir: s:^ %^s^ ; and after it again ; and <W i-vl :"ir b! r:c=sk i=ii -=7 i^if- : h catched agun ; orwbetherli it: ir--*»i K— . :c brw "^wxs- hff divi so set his teeth, and tear *; O ; ir*rTi.--_ 'S:* V>i T=i=ira>ried it : "" Of moths mentJMi is i»»* ; - -,v T^i^Tt'.-irj.-i: -=.--«:-- ci peare " in '*Otheno,''L s.andlhe'di; T>.-c'M- saci:*/ - - Ti^T^ oc The Shrew," iiL 3, and thrice or *• ;.-•■» besa5f. TSe cr^r'tet*., moreover, which "ang at Ihem^ -■sx:™ ' "" ?i:rj,-;«.' -.. 1 ^ *re onen {H^essed into drainatic sort*' s." i-c - -.T.-^r!-.^ * wis^ -wesT-lng ~ spideis, " shaid-bome ° btd* AT*^ ntr-y ochir Tw-=.^3e« of the insect kingdom, indodiag * "v^iwiV, iiTcy-ociitei {7-^:.' md. once or trice, the scorpJooandliK* V-.itt^Jc. u this iccii irray of g^atiine aniTrm^■; and animrio'* '' not Ici^f «iv>sj:^_ *e inav. with a little patience, pwdoo' ^:^**^ "is; ^ caccaawa 12 which £vei:s mydikal nioaiW *
ttm Shakespeare, Naturalist.
383
jtoint, for instance, to *' the dcatli-cUrting e)-e of leoand Juliet," iiL a); "Ihcy grew like hydraf f.," Part I. Y. a) i "a cnp-mn^dgrt^i*" {Id. iii. 1); (" Two Gentlemen of Verona," iii. 2) ; " eome not rand his wrath" (" King Lear," L i); "now I «iH ire umatnti" (" Tenijiett," iii. 3). B or Makers have been, and must ever be, ense that ihey draw from Nature'i inexhaustible t tlicir truest riniilcs, metaphors, and imagery of taturalistx, in the narrower sense that we have here , they have also, for ihc most part, exer been — intc, Chaucer, A\'ordsworth. But for nuiuljer of d shrewd adaptation of their several characters ifadle prituepi among his kind. Shakespeare the oralist, the liistorian, the antrquarj-, the wit — wc CSC r6lu, and excellent he is in each one of them, Mtholic, wiser, or more true than when he pU)-8 rt of Shakespeare the Naturalist.
ASTIIUK (SAVE,
384 The GettlieittaHs Magazine,
JEROME CARDAN.
FOR some Kuan or other, Jerome Oudnn's luinc hu nw gained the notoriety vrtiich, for good or evil, has been gmut to Raymorul Liilly or Nontradaiuus, to Paracelsus or Conte Agrippa, and to other dealers in what we rate as, uncanny kanai Many readers know Paracelsus and Agrippo, at least by rqx)n,te not one in ten lus ever heard of the great Milanese doctor id matheinalici.-in, in n certain way (he most interesting figure in the ir" of learning before the true dawn of science. It is possiUc that ^ whim of the romancer has much to answer for in this. In )Witl it have must of u« been fascinated b)* some tales of wonder io 1^ I'aracclsiis, wiih hia elixir of life, and Agrippa, with his ma^c now have worked their spells ; but no story-teller has ever chosen C"^ as his theme, and yet there is no lack of romantic iniercsl dtber ia the annals of his life or in the character of his work. In hi) 6? astronomy was closely inteiwovcn with anrolo^ty, and cheiuimr fill itlchemy, so his striving oiler true science was \%ry naturally maiA- a romancer might say adorned- -by the fanciful incrustaiioot i^ false ; but with all ihi^ his writings show less of the rank tiucunuet^ expression which was the fashion of the age, than those of tticmtfKS above named. Ctrlain of the beliefs he held were as foolish w** favoured by contemporary thcosophists, and many of his pRK>^ lions as a physician are as marvellous as any to be found In Plil^K " The Anatomy of Melancholy " ; nevertheless, one has alwyi 4* senses in considering his work, that one is in the company of 1 ■■ who was feeling his way towurd [he goal and the clear heans i positive science, baffled though be was by mists and false Ughti itih have no terror for the more fortunate investigators of our omi liiK Cardan was bom in 1501, and, like several other distinguished no of his age, was of illegitimate birth. His mother, the miittta i one Fazio Cardano, a jurist of Milan, fled from that citj, tto ravaged by the plague, to Pavia, and there her child was bom. Ha fcthcr, who was then nearly sixty years of age. recognised his «oo« once, and, as soon as he was old enough, crapIo)-ed him to eai\ his books and papers about the city. Sicknesses much ptTcr llm
k
Jerome Cardan.
'• nuladiea of childhood tomicnlcd him all thtougli liU early %r^ and oiKo he fell from a high ladder and almost cracked his ull. Fuin, though he kcids lo have been 3 sclftsh old [)rolligate, id not neglea the bo>-'s teaching. He grounded him thoroughly I ariibnKiic and geometry, and the eagerness with which tlie pupil \acK himself into his work showed that the master had specialised n the right direction, Defore he was eighteen Jerome wrote a MaUK on calculating the distances of the stars one from another, a iMnioner of the great work which his mature brain afccni-ards tjndiKCd, and which has handed down his name to tlie practical ■Annaticians of our own time.
h his restless youth, while chafing under the shame of his birth,
Hid the feeling that lie iraii treated as the servant rather than as the
M of Ficio, Jer»me unhappily turned his mathematical talents
bother uses than the compilation of astronomical treatises. He
■ocght the gaming table, and calculated to a nicety the chances of
Ibecards and dice. His fate was the usual one of those who play
b)iit}«em. and the taste for gamblinR, thus foi^tered, proved a bane
'Ifthio through life. At home the temper of Faeio, never of the
fetl,had become almost insupportable through the weight of age
Vif> infttmiiies, and quarrels, frequent and violent, arose between
& ifit! Clara, the boy's mother. The house became a hell lo the
Wwiive and discontented youth ; and at last, largely from the
ptnnaiion of .^goslino Uiniiario. a friend who had spoken in high
•wai of Jerome'it youthful ircaiisc. l"azio consented that the boy
•kould go as a student 10 Pavia. Under his father's tuition,
Joome's time had been so fully occupied with mathematics that his
laim studirii had gone to the wall, and it was only after he had been
•Odjc time at Pavia that he was able to write the learned language
*iili ^cility. There is nothing to show that he ever thought of
blbiring mathematics as a profession, in spile of his great pro-
icicncy. At the end of his first year at I'avia he determined to
ake up medicine, and the ne\t year he went to Padua, where he
udied under Cartius, ihc most famous physician of the time,
aining his doctor's degree in his Iwcniy-fiflh year. This honour
as not conferred upon him without opposition, advanced partly on
:count of his illegitimate birth and partly from his gambling habits
id contentious tem|>er. His life at Padua was wild and dissolute,
III the affection and self-denial of his mother — I-'azio died in rsi4
-kept him supplied with funds. After he had gained his docior'a
;gree he settled as a practising physician at Sacco, a small country
iiTD, aiMl for five ycar» he managed to subsist on the miserable
COJUCl. Ko. 1930. B D
K
Jerome Cardan,
3S7
BL pastime, and Cardan had already done some jackal's
Axchinto now came to the icscuc. There hajipcncd
I t»c vacant jn Mibn a lecture&hip in geometry and
nd *-(> ''''^ Caidan, l>y his palron's JnHuence, was ap-
the stipend attached to this post va-t a very meagre if was at least driven from the door, and Cardan was throw himself into his work witli a will. Since the lAd not g><^ him a licence, he determined to brave it, and icdicine without one. He seems to have worked some ttes, ^ Ta*^' 'n tiielf sufficient to give fresh olTcnc-e to the
(acuity ', but the interloper was not content with first md then worsting his enemies on their own ground, for Mt to work to write a treatise in which he showed that lag practice of physic was entirely wrong and noxious. k lold rapidly. It naturally kindled against him a hatred
the orthodox ptuctilioners more bitter than ever, but by compense il brought his name as a physician prominently B public notice. In these troublesome days he employed * time in writing his treatise on " Consolation," the only ' Horkt which has ever been translated into English ; and "ne of his irregular practice in medicine he came under
of Francesco Sfondrato, a noble of Cremona, and a man 1^0 mfluencc Sfondrato's son had been in a piteous state »t) body ever since his birth, and had grown worse rather »■ under the treatment of two of tlie recognised Milanese
TTie report of Cardan's skill came to the father's ears, isud that (his man, in spite of his uimuthoHsed position died world of Milan, should be called in. The physicians
but the father was firm. Cardan came, followed his ^ cured the child, and secured Sfondralo's friendship and from that hour. Very soon afterwards, by his patron's I Ik was duly admitted to the college. His practice as Ml grew rapidly and he seemed at last on the road to nc and fortune.
M next five years Cardan, though his patients came in Ucctcd the study of medicine for that of mathematics, and i to be feared, for his pet vice of gambling. But he worked
in 1545 he published the book upon which his modem 1 rests, " The Book of the Great Art," a treatise on alpebra Kicc placed him at the head of contemporary mathemati- main intercut of the book lies in the fact that in it he
Ti Da
Jeronu Cardan.
389
tnagement and c<luc3lion than l-'ozio had u«cd with regard to
His icpuic was now spread abroad, far beyond the limits
t, or even of Italy. At ^fondrnto's suggestion Pope I'aul III.
■dm to settle in Rome, .ind, shonly after, Christian III.. King
hurk, wrote ofTering him the post of court physician, but
proposals he declined. lie was hard at work on his
ik •* De SubUlitate," which, ukcn with his " Dc Varielatc,"
regarded a* a complete conipcndimn of conlcmjiorary
Igc. It is indeed a sort of sixtccnih-ccmury "Enquire
Speculations on the Cosmos and the management of
en both fall within its survey. It tells how to cure
chimneys, how lo raise sunken vessels, and how to make
ifiL He pMct a complete history of palmistry, .ind explains
thai Hints give out sparks when struck, why the earth is
Autn the ita, and how it is that mountains are formed.
\ cbtcurer patlis of knowledge he tells how the e)e of a black
it!d in a man's hand, will keep all the other dogs of the
Ouihood from barking, and gives charms for the cure of
ine, and directions for exordsing all sorts of demons. He
olto how a certain presbyter, Kestilutus by name, was able to
'■ as one dead whenever he liked. Whether he could project
yf along an " astral current " is not stated. Cardan also
for himself the power of passing beyond sense into ecstasy
Of lecing what he wished to sec with his eyes, and of knowing
Uc ^m his dreams and from the marks on his finger nails.
chijitcr he breaks out into praise of the wool and sheep of
id tells his readers that the sheep in England drink only
of heaven, because other water is hurtful to them. In
of England shepherds are still of Cardan's opinion, and
T Hocks upon the waterless uplands all the summer,
ling that sheep thrive best with no other moisture than the
the juices of the grass. Another statement of his, that the
of the English pastures is full of worms, and therefore
, may point 10 some early epidemic of liver fluke, like that
wrought such havoc during the last decade. The air,
is full of crows which feed upon the worms, and there are
lis on account of the bitter cold.
dan na* destined to see in hts lifetime this land of snakeless,
pastures, and rigorous sky. In 1551 a letter came to him
.nanti, the Italian body phj-sician of Hamilton, .\rchbishop
requesting him to travel as far as Lyons, where the
lOp would meet him and consult him as to his failing health.
390 Tic GtmUemuuis Mmgannt.
Cbqu X con act oH^ fan oBiadhiiig I^oBi itdie time I
I..2
^|i 'h|^Afi^ He **"***^ OOWCVCi^ UUWtU OE '
iaaa£. xc- J
;^ce£ a |Eil5eB konet of fces. At btt CiMiiiiiililiiiiiiilfi i^Eaac iBsn' iQakgics and eaqdmatkni from hit patron, lAo^ I -^ :kcs cc S^send wcakbaJd^ had frHmd hintadf oncqiall 'am^ X viuue-i- Cnmnnti begged the iHmiioaaplipidu to i wf^ Vti* ;> c--«-^«»M» >]a Caidan, m qiite of the ;2e??^ assscei 3> ^™<'»*"** this voyage ** in nltimos '. \i ttsi. be fjaseicag aad sa as widi Caasananti far Parii.
Arrmsz :^ec be w ontfaDr wdconied bj the leading I zc ae srr. jcif lejueaed fay King Hemy IL to nnuun it « Tft^mras; ~»E9=i^:sol'dBliDd«asnottohictaste,aiidbe{ jn 3." 5o.-ciKa5. aiiesg he i^aoiBed SMiie ten wccfa in HsDuti^G s ^Kc T-** 40 «c9 dd Ui wgi"w« soGcecd that hei 1 .-.niDTuss .f^rs. SioA desab of tiranBew as moderate &^1 ^■01 x-na vnrrc Scih ak, piennr of de^ and eaeicii^ od I ~?tti^s. 31.- 3^lcc bj^ef de paisesa on towaids lecofo; ; botitl be Ji.~>ii:7?i vS^^MT be trxjA. have been much idiered bf 1 -rflw-'iiTj 2s - IE :i-;:-.:if!;c a> be aifibed Ofw the shaien ■ .---(T.-v-Sfi :i .V?ii THci. ii^i ai. '^uTe mQ5taid,eapbottiimi ^.•<h^ .r" •.•:xi:ir::s : t; be shir^wncd, if need be, byUHtdl V-c .-.-« «i ' ,c i3i.-cwr Cirii= rzieA. his paucnt ; 10 smill jw?*! ti ; r.--^»;'i; ,-i,:l sr?:^ br »is jfrarwiidt hailed in fijB aiioiiia'i*| >Sr-::r:^ '.f i .t^^i rirrx-irar^rc ^ ie R^ent Monaj^ moriii
v."^ -. i- ■^.-nrtrvi.-i vcrswCxrdii: anied several weda in I jcc"rat ,-i.<-i z ^- 7^ss:Tt'^e ir^eyocng king, Edward VI,i »trit r^LT^i -J!" TiK S:«: «:«■> rwd fay an attack of 1 xc "V --.xr^c^ !«=: r:- ii« Seen more anxioas to bw v'i.-.^J.T ;^c js^~.i'.-e«- Vjii t.- sit ibcc ibe probable duratioii ( S"* ic-^* "^i" J-~^ ->f ^-7::^:; c;i:rje cc po'idcs, than whatCi^l rW •^■■■sv-.i'; ,-.x.c J,- -r 'r>ri ±e rjral invalid. Sir John Chd%| im "!>-■*; TX-wi :.-r'^-;sc=a= re =ie i^ was Cardan's host, indW rs-'a^i.'L-:' -t f ■<; 7«-.- s.-~>Sli:s jeesx r,-* hxT« beoi most gndan •! ritfitNi.'^c- ^~i~iLi i;xxis --c rM ii=a asamamdloDS boy, dwnnVJ ot «;«<e 'a.-^i\:a!«s. jzvi well *xfl>i a dtalectks and graeeW*] ,'.--ttt;.'i:siTH^'s?*. '"hi; r.-yal b.-c-sc-cE* vbSch he diev was a* I- o.st«.-i0.i.i. s *i,i,-,-s<s. js i-e xCcw^ fi'i-ies wiH show : ■ At fteif ^.x ;-«ecw-i"'r--^w 7tri.-5 rii^x. :rxms? osii Cwentr-two di^larigBiK* atBC i^ S-vy ■%-Z. rSii.-^ !™. A: rw «$e of dm^-faor yean *• 3K«c» -^^ Tweon ia;*"^ !'» wul sud^ ±«a skin dwif^«^i md a d^ Bf w«- Ai^ -Jw a« -V iCT-2Te tbuis t£ree "^t*^^w and leW** ^vs varied} si;»f&!>» ■w\l itll ^} s:s Icc* Pctfaafa Oidaa, ia fixe
Jerome Cardan. 391
iring such leogth of tUys to the young king, may have borne ia d the untoward fates of the soothsayers who predicted sfKcdy |h to Diocletian and Caleaxxo Sl'oixa, and deteniiined not to nen his own term hy th<: character of his vaticinations. It was scarcely likely that an observer, ax acute and induslrioua i^Mdan, should enter and leave a stmngc countt)-, even then ic- jcd with a ccTlnin horror-stricken curiosity by the polished Italians, Bbt fornting and recording his impresiions of the land and its leitanU. He wntes: " The Iviigtii^h arc much like Italians in face Ibuild. They arc Urge-cho-tcd, but |>aler in colour than wc are. 1 are of great height The>-are{)olite3ndhoipilablctQ foreigners; eyarc to be dreaded inilieir anger, «hith is very easily aroused. |arc good hghtcn;, but too rash in battle \ greedy also in tlie rof food and drink, but suit, far leM greedy than the Germans. Eve pfonc rather than prompt to lust, and there arc many great amongst thcin, as Duns Scotus and Sui&cth. In their cr of dress they imitate the Italians, and they boast that they
EX (wariy allied lo us than lo any other foreign nation, though aspect they rather resemble the Germans, the French, or the ds. Ccrtiin It is that all the barbarians of Europe loi-c the ^uu more than :uiy race amongst them3>elve«. ^Ve were all nearly llrtin IMgium beciiusc I hod with imr a youth who looked like a Btiiard. But these strangers |>erhaps do not know our wickedness, te English are faithful, libet^l, .ind ambitious. liut as for fortitude. Bikings done by the Highland Stotsare the most wondi-rful. They, MsilMyarc led to execution, take a pijierwith them, and he, who is a himself one of the condemned, plays them up dancing to their Bh. I wondered much, especially whi-n I was in England, and le about on horseback in the neighbourhood of tendon, for I nxd to bcin Italy. When 1 looked among the groups of English ing together 1 completely thought myself to be amongst Italians. By were like, as 1 said, in figure, manners, dress, gesture, but ;n ihey opened their mouths I coutd not understand so much as ord, and wondered at them as if they had been my countrymen e road and raving. For they inflect the tongue upon the pabte, a words in the mouth, and maintain a sort of gnashing with the h."
Before Cardan crossed the Alps on his homeward journey another r canic to him from the King of France, and Charles \'., who ihcn engaged in the disastrous siege of Metz, alio courted his ices ; but, swayed iierhajis by a love of independence, jierbaps ■1) oa by home-sickness, he steadily refused all overtures and set
392 The Gentientan s Magazine.
\\\% face souihwartL On his rclum to Milan in 1553 be self at the summit of his fame, the recognised heailolhis the man wSo could afford to decline the patronage o( all iSe headx of Europe. His income was large, and he gave full » his love of ptexture and surrounded himself with all the objwa luxur>- that money could buy ; but be lived as buay a life u
• uill kept adding to the literature of his craft; he maintained cocrespondence with men of science in all ports ; and he tii two or more pupils under his care. A safe and bonounUc ^^'^ seemed to be in atore for him ; but his wor»t siruke of evil foniM
I was yet to fait. The calamity which blighted and ruined the residue of he took its otigin from his own neglected hearth. The home life of whc give themselves up entirely to the outer world, or to tbc suit of literary or scientific fame, is often unsatisfactory. CaidAii soon a« he put aside his books, sotight his reUxaiion xn^^ home, and threw himself into feverish pleasures, of which airabiiM perhaps was the Icasi reprehensible, giving but little hctd loii ""I drcn's training. After his wife's death the household seems w '"'' gone its own way, and Ciianballista, the eldest boy, though iwd'M' and of good imns, fell into bad courses, and ultimately mw'it" ' woman of infamous character. By way of atoning foe his UM " the m.iltcr of personal cate. Cardan wrote a long string of miD™ for his children's guidance, persuading hitnself that these wouW so" as well as that parental sjmjwthy and wholesome coircciion «*io he found no time to give. He was terribly shocked when iht • effect of his neglect was broiJght home to him in Gi*nbH™i marriage, and cut off all intercourse with htm. The match lO" out worse even than Cnrdan's wot>.t fears had reached. Afl«»lW or two of misery the wretched Gianbsttisla determined to get iJd' his wife by poison, and lie did his work so clumsily that suijiicioB 1 once fell upon him and his brother .\1 do. They were brought to m and convicted. Aldo was pardoned, but Gianbattista died a tw death in prison.
Cardan, in spite of his birarre character, was capable of A* affection, and beseems to have been warmly .ilt.vhed to his tmwl son. Gnef for the loss of his child, and sh;ime for his crime, ^ him a blow from which he never recovered. He was at this tt again a professor at Pavia. His foes, who had been abashed bfl biilVtant success, had ceased their assaults, but now that caU k and disgrace had fallen upon him they returned to the attack. <
scandals vitte lakcd up, and charges of an infamous
Jerome Cardan.
393
hl3 present life. So bitter and persistent was their ' that hU position at I'avla became intolerable, and he > Cardinal Borromco lo use his influence to procure hiin a be University of Bologna. But his enemies would not even I to depart in peace, and they intrigued so successfully that lul's influence, powerful as it was, was for a time unavail- last, in 1563, the affair was setded, and Cardan escaped living torture of his life at Pavia.
>logna, under the protection of such men as Bonomeo^ and Aldal, Cardinals and cultured Ulllrateiirs, the toad of misfortune was lightened, but the mtmoty of disgrace still ma. His life was marred by continual wranglings with his 'oJessors, wrangltngs probably caused by his own contentious n, now aggravated tenfold by the bitterness of his loU son who hud escaped the gailows, was a perpetual trouble rough ill conduct. In 1570 another stroke of evil fortime 1. (Ic was suddenly arrested and cast into prison on some charge, and, after some months' detention, vras released 3ndilton thai he would publish no more books and resign
' b some obscurity* as to the cause of this imprisonment, he last of the canonised popes, was then ruling. He was f austere character, and had given strict orders that no
should attend n patient who had not confessed to a priest, robably, willingly or unwillingly, had disregarded this com- d, in consequence, was made lo feel the correcting hand of :h. There was also a story that he had offended piety by « horoscope of Jrsus Christ. Pius, though a severe dis- n in discharging what he deemed to be the bounden duty ead of the Church, was by no means merciless when the had made due submission. He gave a sufficient pension to an, now beggared, broken in health, and almost maddened nunc and petty annoyances, and the last five years of
life as the pensioner of ihe Pope in Rome were at least I outward troubles. He oci-upied [hem chiefly in writing liography, "Dc Vita Propria," a work which is surpassed ac incomparable sclf-piclure of Cellini, and died in 1576, Ivors. His body lies buried in the church of San Marco at
le whole course of literary history there have been few > prolilic as Cardan. In his last years he burnt no fewer lundred and seventy manuscripts, leaving e^en then at his
i
F
,94 The GentUttian's Magazine.
death n lituidfed and eleven, besidos a hundred and tliiit)-<« printed hooks, behind him. So versatile and so industrious a bu was only possible In such an age and environment as the one te )iv«d in. In the prcscni day, when specialism is lamponl, udfl investigation conu-tctcd into the narrowest of channels, it is tcutdf likely that wc ihall c%'cr sec, combined in one personality, the pOT* taathcmntict&n and ihc greatest physician of the age : to say veim. of the possessor of such vut stores of knowledge as wc find onUcfld in the " Dc Varictaic" and the "Dc Subtiliiatc." Viercd lA the eye of utilitarianism, Cardan is simply the author of a iotf' otmoletc works of a pseudo-scientific character — 9 descriptwa «tok may ))erhaps in the future be applied to certain of our iltumiw^<i to day 1 but to the historian of IcAtning he must alllraysbcuinttRl^ ing n ii);ure as the early Sicnese tnasten xk to the historian o( lA In the confused jumble of " l^e Varictatc " and " Oc SabuliaK' one may detect the working of ft powerful mind stretching after, ml at limes almoM rairching, a conception of those scientific priccsJa the fonouUtion of which, in our own time, has coDferred worW-«iiIe bmc on the men whose names arc associated therewith. Hil writings are full of strange guesses about the sympathy between lit hca^-cnly bodies and the physical fiamc of roan, not only gawiL but disiributiTC. The suo, according to his contentioo, was to lM> mo«y with the heart, the moon with the animal juices, and the >t)de mass ruled by the propenics of numbers. But he gets on fina ground when he lays down that all creation is in a slate of pfogrtJBtt devekii>incnt, and that all animals were originally worms. Thit k believed in astrology, and wrote treatises on it, is iw> proof of «*k* DOS or supcmition. lie cast numerous horoscopes, and held M meo ought read the future in dreams ; and Kcpkr and MeJancMMi kept him company in this respect. Rdigion probably had Ulde h<di ova him ; but there was in his nature a strong craving afiei Dk supernatural. .Ml through his long life evidences of it appear. Jb a child his nights were fiiU of waking dreams. He tells bow stnnsi shapes, knights in armour, bdies on horseback, careered round bit bed, and of a red cock which crowed at him with a human nice- Mysterious rappings and knockings disturbed him while he «» ■ student at Pavia, and he subsequently learned that, at the sum hour, \a% friend Galeauo RoMO died. -A ixirtent of the ame knd heralded the death of hii mother in 1537- Once he dreamt that be was in Paradise, the companion of a lovdy girl, and a few diyt
B afterwards he saw her standii^ at her tuthcr's door at Sacco. Ii ^^ the same Luda Bandarini who aAcrwards became his wife. Aooibs L
Jerome Cardan.
cnen thit he records is one whirli marked the baptism of his ill-
fued »on. Ai ihc vi-ty moment when the name " (Sianbattisia "
*•* giren to the iDfant « huge irasp flew into the room aiid, after
b^uiing about with a great noise for a few seconds, disappeared
ioysicriously in Ihc cuitains— a wamiog, as all present agreed, that the
i life would be short, and cut off by violence. At the ver>' same
in which <iianbattista was strangled in prison, a red mark,
had shortly before appeared on the Other's finger, glowed with
■■Md and fire and then rani.ihcd. Perhaps the strangest of all his
Dpcrnatutal beliefs was that he was attended by a Camiliar spirit, tike
Ucmon of Socrates. It was not till afVer (^i an ha it Libia's death
I He became thoroughly pQjtses.sed by this infatuation ; ko perhaps
be attributed in some measure lo the overthrow of his mental
in the shame and sorraw of those terrible days. No doubt
> chimera liad its origin in a Mmibr belief which his father Fftxio
olesscd to hold. In " l)e Sublihialc," Bock XIX^ Cardan gives
account of the raising by his father of seven demons in Greek
E) who gave him some interesting information as to the nature of
They themselves were spirits of the air, and excelled men as
I OS men cxccUed horses, as ihcy spoke of lives of sijt or seven
[Inwhtd >-care' duration. At the time he wrote this Cardan evidently
1'^ Moi regard a familiar spirit as a belonging of much use, for he
LJtaarica that his father was no wiser or happier than men who
|*taiabout the world without one.
Cheiromancy had as great a charm for him as it seems to have r certain contemporary seekers after new sensations. He held the 1 to be the instrument of ihc body, as the tongue is that of the nind, and in " Dc Variclatc " he gives a long description of its parts ad of their significance. He shows by the terms he employs how cly, in form at least, the old mythology was mixed up with the I science of the time. The thumb is given lo Mars, and in its : we read of battles, lires, and amatory desires. The index is i l> Jove, and tells of priesthood and honour. The middle finger I Saturn, and on it is written the record of pain, disease, toil and Rptivity. The ring finger is the Sun's, and Venus rules over the and marks upon it the soft pleasant things which suit her god- Thc bypothenar, the [lart between the little finger and the is ruled by the moon and refers to peril.i by water, and the ir, at the base of the forefinger, to tho.'^e by fire. The hne run- bcsidc the stethos or ball of the thumb is the line of life, and across the middle are the lines of the brain and of Venus. Another ninning from the base of the middle linger towards the
4
: Ar'* sppodedtola^mdiaBiB- raC' vaeotific ^TiA familarWnlifc ■od nkeos, xt ftxth in a Ajle "TTiT-it witli tint ofhiicin- TFfT^i' y *!*! " ■'■* Tim 3cci^v w^fc ^Bu^ vfao bad DO daim to be
Hevas, in bet, not uo bi orathc
^ 215 ^ncinc. ami dtn icad vidi tJgiLiiim ind sympathy die
«=iia^ 3£ isas-w^ was tbe US pfanician fif the age, and at Ac
Bobf run: x beinn^ s rajae &9ciDaKiiig mysteries of heaien ud
ar~: — :ii :c;:^£:: aae-nrv » we oS d>an — towliichthey tbemsdiS
fxw: in! — ~^— ■— A=t csdztasc of his rfcarartiT drawn from bii
wrrks :r;-:s >; '-^^pi^j -.zCTec^zai. The chief characteiistic of " D*
Vn r-rrnra. * is =3 ozrar::* Ksoerity : but the wiiter, as pctuKd bf
kts -"w^ "*=- s ior" 1 xarr cLa^«Ieon tha^ one is punled to s^
x=Ci= wzjzb. senbLizsce :b; real roxn is to be found. At the eod(*
tiK "ZKci ITS Ose ^s:::*! cthuiry paiagraphs in praise of the author—
g^^^-rne cca ^;^ his great ana^onist Julias Caesar Scaliger— urtoa
!= t£r=a »^ch ■±.-£ "r:o?rir>er should no more trust than the i^O-
a;^ cc his i«s whiJe Uving.
Tbe s=iKer i^i-eaces which ruled his birth, and the unsconlj «icc«sdc ccrsfhioas cncer which his life was passed, might well to* proicctd erects tren more oblique and whimsical than any ^ aj-pcai ;a h-^ "ife and character. It is certain that he was ap»* of strong s=d deep afiection. In spite of the hard usage he !■* from Faiio, it b cirficult to find a haish word in any of his wtiti* gainst his father. At the end of his time at Pavia and during * life at Bologna he is constantly chiding at the wicked men uA '^ cruel fate which robbed him of his sweetest son. That be «» "immoderate incominens " in any vice there is nothing lo ^■ He *as a gambler all his life, and loved good wine and the coffll*^ of his fellows ; but in the record of his choicest pleasures lho« ' '"Sh V ^"""^ "**** °^ cynicism, the cry of a man for wiwo** _rVr "°*'ng wonh having, one who had turned aside ae*^ ■a *« «^ feax «>-caUed delight, and detect and demon*»» ^
Jerome Caraan.
397
sness. It is fortunate that he lived in an age when men more of the legacy of work which a writer left to posterity his likes and dislikes, his foibles and fancies, and did not selves, as they do in modem times, to fashion motives of n for every recorded action and to blacken or whitewash his cording to the brief they may hold ; otherwise the monument oversial biography which would have been piled around his >uld possibly have exceeded in bulk that which has been, eing, poured forth in respect to poets and historians whose might very well be preserved to us in their undying work.
W. G, WATERS
^qS The Gentlcmaiis Mc^azine.
THE ENGLISH SPARROW.
!.—A SKETCH. By John Watson, F.L.S.
\UTOCKAT of the tiles and lord of the thatch, the spamw, in r.:i '10::^ intercourse with man, has derelofwd the la^ brair. ;:-. b::iI-.:.-rE- For reckless audacity and presumptive impudence, -,>.c i"::::?>. ^r^irrow h-i* on'.y a single compeer — the British boj- V>,-Tc ■-:;'"■• «:.; j"0:v'.L:-r., :he sparrow is a democrat among birdi \\, •.:'•'. :^i r.:ir. ar.i his a!:endan: weeds to the uttermost partiof ;'■; ei::>. . ;~.' -"- i"'-' ^iver. p,-r:ion of the habitable globe, within leu -■ -._:«--• :re -r.:'jr:r.^ jf :r.e Briii'h flag, perches amhorimtirely ,". \r^ -.ii.i\-7.. F.T h jri-'r.t-ded shrewdness, practically illiistraioi ,•-.: f,.".i>:st'-.. c,""..:~er.i ■::* to :he sparrow. His keen perception ■.-;.- -■-- --i :r. ~^s— '-:5 5c:er.::nc dia^osis of the genus horns— vi ,•-■■-.■-; !• j r^' 7; ■'■--.-'.v. M-.:!:-: '.y:-^ inordinately, the sparro" is k ■-.-.■. .",> -r;'. f..-. VKicr.iLL'.ly a creature of circumstance, he is K ,■ -:: . .' >" w :."-> :.~-t ':<T.:T^~.iis. Flaying, as some say, aquesiioo- :.-, V—" - ".'~; iv':r..'~y :f -^r.:re. he plays a verj- certain pan in ;■,■;■■,-.■-,■■■ .;' :-T jT'.-uii- Rearing his ci'.low brood he is ictireiy -v.--,-: .,■-:.!, i-i.-:-:;-^:-c:.'.:-'ab'.ei>e-e^; upton the agricultutist: - . :.- -::-..>: --:::-.;ii. 'r.s. re,-;--.;? rs,:ilessly gramnivorous, mi ■ -. -. : - T-, ,"..■;" ;r".j ::."-. ;• ,-:T.r,iv,-ro-5 as mankind itselt ^Viili , -,-v : .-,;-? :>; ,v.-.,;.:r- ;: which may well be eniied, lbs >.-,-. , >,,;»-.-?:,■; .: ■'.■.■i i--.."^r.:in^ to a twentieifi pjrt« -.V ... .-.-,■ ..-.-■^.-i -1-:; '.iiii roliiablei'jxur)-. Thesraell , - \v .■ -:•;;• -.:>.-"-: :hi' a.v^— .rar.imeni of shot, is ,,■,-.. ■ ■- , — "c '.'." -\-~Ci"-"-Jv ;:^i7<rl;-d:cal explosions an . * :— -V, — -;;;*::-";•-;::-? :7..Tr. an empty stoot i; ... ■. \ . . -\. :-: ~—::-iT. The moral of "JUmi -.•-,. ^ -. -■.; '.-; -i-ir. :i T-o:r.:less joke imo^-, %. , -.-"-? r.-.;:'., cTViys is an unpleasan
^-v . - . ■ I - - ".-." .". '■'■ .'.h in ever-aciiv.: iiuai
The English Sparrow.
399
I Eurviving as th« Tittesl, no cunning engine has yet been devised ich was greatly dcstruriive to sparrows, and the variotis machina- IS of these, as handed down by inherited instinct, are probably tor known lo the orthodox sparrow than to man himself. The iable personation of Hobbs, intended to act as a scarecrow, is only ogniscd by the sjiarrow as affording a happv- huminKgiound for eels; and having ser%ed this end is ripped up and disembowelled,
tntenul economy being torn out to make way for a brood of Ung spairows, thereby adding insult to injury in the basest and Mt fraudulent fashion. The sparrow is tn short, to paraphrase lewi, "awisc thing for itself, but a shrewd thing for everybody le." Bold, active, and vivacious, its distribution is as wide as that
tiie Englishman. Patronising art, science, and law, the sparrow Ms and broods in the temjitcs dedicated to their shrines, and in W European capital has unwillingly attempted to destroy the balance 'Jnttice by construcling her nest in one of the pans held by the Ud ecnbleni of that inestimable virtue. In other instances, the mnovhas shut out the sight of an emperor, buili her nest in the Itstietchcd palm of a great warrior, and, radical a» the bird is, ■iinipf beneath and occupies the thatch of the lowliest peasant aabandman.
t/.—FOR THE PXOSECUTIOy.
By Charlbs Whitehead, F.L.S., F.G.S.
»«»i!i, in hi* "Animals and Plants Under Domestication," has
SLparn^: "From a remote period, in all parts of the world, Ehw subjected many animals and plants to domestication ^cnUoFe- Man has no power of altering the absolute conditions Sfe, he cannot change the climate of any country, he adds ** new element to the soil ; but he can remove an animal or plant '*3'0 one climate or soil to another, and give it food on which did not subsist in its natural slate." Man has consciously and 'tentioiully improved many species of animals, with enormous iifanugc to himself. Unconsciously, and without iniention, he has, I'aeiion or inaction, increased the numbers of certain species, and 'ininishcd the amount of others. For example, the wholesale kB^tn of hawks, owls, jays, magpies, stoats, and weasels has Bdcd to produce alarming quantities of rats and mice, the balance '■ Ittture having been deranged by the volition of gamekeepers, lits wcic introduced into Australasian countries whose climatic
— - . . _ ■-_■_. .-jj
.iJ: ":::.-;:. H: lj-- ""■-■" --.:- ::: XiT Z=ali::Ci=i=«^'
;i;=^ —.-- iT-i-: r*- -_:■: i.:r:7ea:: "-':i:jfi-f7, iri ii: ii-^:^
■.:.- '••.T^t :.-:-:e; ^ •— -^ :■-- - --■- ■=— i" g-r'r-s rjdwt*
!■: v.c T^-:=.:i- i:^^!.^^ rr: :r ii^i- srecis :■: iialesw i:-. LT-: ^ Z::r:">;. -i:!iiu.~ _:■; -■r.:^:^ii -iii-e-'hii-ebiecKiaS*
~..^::,i z -x.'- :-: ,.-i izi.i^ izi '.r:-^-:^ H.;=i-e6 of »li>ffl -, :.- . -.1; :^- ::" 1^ ?_:::. It "■i.'ilj:; jiTs. i.-e ■•:;>'«"<''* v.- rv; .-'j:-^ --iry--.-; ::' l,T:-.-i-.-:-l^-±. z-ir-zi-l-^a^^ : ■--.--. :-.-- -^-v- --.:.-. - -\i —-.:-£ z . ^z;-is oi -s.^'-i^ :-. ■-■■:-- -.'.::-c - ;.:: ---i :r -i<:; -;■--! J verj-j-^JJnla'* -...- : ■-; iZzLLz.-.. T-; ::-~:z i:i-:>,:=:Ii lui spraJ «* NtT ,.;j^-i .- ; -:--i.-ci;'- ;:-.;r:::-i.:--i-.":-.-bee:i:nMd[:Kdfi4
V—: .. ;-.-..7 -.-ii :-^ i Si-,r. ':.-:_;>.: fr.ni Europe :o Amoi"
7-.; -:-;.;;^:; :t:-.-1-j ^ir;:;! :f wei-i hi5 beenauseJ If :>,: .-.::rj-; :.^ ^;: .:' —2^-. ^^r.i ^:;>.;-: his special inwrfew* := "i f^--.- ^i;- ---;■ :r.;-r::uj ;~scc:s have been distriifflJ ■.:-.7— ;-:_: ::-= ^.r'.i. ::> :-; ^irjiz rr.cjnvenience and loss erf''' r -:•..: l::ts z: :;-e ;::;. D^: a-i:h rej^rd to the inCroducaM" rii..:: :-.:: A.:i*.T-:::iiia- ci'.T.ie*. this was done consdouslj"* ;■'«. I- :r.e sa=-.e vray ihe sparrow was introduw
■-:: A~t.-;:2 =-i ir.e AuirriUiu:'. countries, though ihe f»C^ c*
■^■-er.ctj :f ih:; color. isaiior. were not in any degree expertw'i!
r who iho-j^h; i: wo.;'.d be ve^ pleasant to hear the M"
cf the i:vc:y bird in the homes of the United State »^
ra.as:a.
n Grea". Britain the action of man, both conscious and ui"* IS, has occasioned an undue development of sparrows in tl<*
The English Sparrow, 401
10 the great injur>' of faim and garden produce. Our were wiser in ihcir generation, and kept »imrrows by neans of parochial b)-c-laws, nbosc canying out was id imparti^ly to the accounts of parish rales, and in many to ibe church rate^ In old churchwardens' books at the ling of this ccntur]- entries of this kind are commonly : "To joe WlUeil for 4 Doien & 4 Sparrows, i*. jrf." Both : (lie cg^ and killing the young of siiarruws were religiously fed upon the youths of former days, and these birds were kept hder. Churchwardens no longer have rates to spend, and wing docs not occ;ipy the minds and hands of boys in these hue or degenerate days of School Boards. After the cooi- ' payment of church rates was abolished, sparrow clubs were in tlie principal corn-growing parishes ; but most of these have niQ desuetude, and sparrows now increase without let or hind-
Tlic conscfjucnce of this is that they arc so abundant as Mrccs of infmiic injury to cultivators of all kinds. In the last three seasons sparrows have visited corn-fields in some dis- ram the end of July to December in flocks of thousands, * always congregate for a period at the end of a breeding
and have cleared the ears of grain. S[uirTows propagate eiiccedingly rapid ratio, so that checks of some kind are ely necessary in order to keep them in proper bounds, and to
the injury to corn crops of all, kinds, which becomes more year by year. \Vhilc collecting information, lately, concerning ssian fly and its action upon corn crops, wc were in many cases Ji the following response: "Yes, there are some pupw of the 1 fly to be found, but the harm done by this insect is far less u caused by those confounded sparrows." As a good deal of IS much laid this season by the heavy rains, the sparrows were
get the grain easily, although, as is well known by observers, « a way of getting it out from the ears of upstanding crops. I farmer, living near a large town, slated lately that they seem B out from the towns for the summer. " I see them in flocks y thousands just when the corn is filling, and they keep at it as I there is any left m the fields." 1 have seen fields of wheat, and oats, with scarcely a corn left in the ear for twenty yards Ae field. Two or three small farmers this year liave had men [ the fields. True, the cost of men and gunpowder is nearly :h as the damage, as they had to fire ofl^ every ten minutes, e sparrows get so used to it that they (juictly go into the
of the fields. One man, who had thirty acres of com, put the . octxxi. NO. 1930. ^^
{
: jQia. *■■■!■*■ and they had I m ^ q|^-«ie fidd. Vumoil m cbd upon the
at d>e coimng wiotet^ tiK and of TW/oM]
nr^ss :=. snc £ g-iimLiy -pa. ki IwMdrJM and meicly n^ed ts.i
TT.T -mn-T ^ ^k; xx£. B ^— x*""*^ Aad no one can eatiinate 'it\
occiKit^ amamv :f Jtt.Jg;:; o.aed hf ^manm% in lading out lilj
nas ic niE =as j^jrrng web^ bok oolf in ^lAin and i
IKC asr n n[C pMBXCssjcs svxr &c^ *MHim snd boildii^
mx. ^Ksersia^ ioni ;x isie ^ods c£ gooucbuiki ud ied-<
iiiK»:&. oni X =»■? lai par aeo. ^ndi tna also sufier i
3(sr jspfanatA. ^ ^ ocbc fix dis mwHi^rf, it is afl^ I
X £ a:a: u «£ jc iosBcs a Ac bods. Spmows faxve Ixen
'«aa:ae£. k ^ts «3^ "vi^ ^e icnk of pmof tfau there verei
asKs ■j^'.-iu.'H. , 3e cdbkb ^avng be^ done; is it aj^waiai ^
*.iiBB --jses. ?.T Ecre ^iz-ie deatroction, and m others fott
sati .-V :^; ^rfSE. ?»!!£!; bo=i as itejsani food. In hani win
♦■^iKi .-ciiT- 3.-VV. s s.-3r=i. rr=: r«s and other trees 5nffcr eK«4-]
nsr*' T-.in zx crara? :£ srarraw^ When peach blossoms*
irr.vxv.-: r^ tc;:.— .-^w* xii; ;d2= be Dodced r*^"g off the flowO I
iitii r*. ,S> i. ..■iL-.-^T i:c i=r=s«=en:. This is frequently aaitaai^
!-■ ;>r ^=.--- .c -t i-.-sa ;=s: js eie beds of bla*±-<nimM 1
■*-~ -i- -j-.-j^s;, icj.T^'^Tr rrer^s=;2T auack diem and pull the bk»]
»:a)s -■-• ..c.-^iSi ilrx'i::^ raere aie ao signs of insects within. Bj
*t>x-i.-^ ^.- r< t:^:=^ =^-i:Jei 1= :be United States the dearofli«j
-"* ?*^ ^'^ >.css.-(=s re r^r: x=ii. ether trees is recx^nised as i
KTVi^i-c *ia-=S'i*-es,-c:r5=inenie*«nby theqnrrowtfftieB*]
trVw i-,- 5^:: i ir» TTv.- ":^i«rTe rsK the bird, in desroying bad^^l
>?■-( » ij*.- ii^u^ by jcarnjws. Ripenii^ figs and pb*I s«te s^W-a:-. frs.-ri: r.- =«r :»». Apples, too, snffcr fttm t ' NVm»i :xc4s. ?»».-iws is^-. ia>i peais on walk, are often i ^^ h4»< ^-ies a -ieta.. hire ire sKdjwn to mke or insects. Ift w »i^rb<c .c -H-:! S: r:?-cui* focad ±at spaxuxws cause Ae h«»|
^T8etti«r ^.troecers t=o» K« tbetr cost what temHe »t««v«s vw-teicc to 7«s :=rrcsbot:t the season, fttwn the time otol it» BTK .cAv« Oi-t^fA.- X- ^ .as: picking of pods. Young I«W* ( ^w-'-.> cibitt^c* 1.-S rA»,i^,^i. :l-e si.jg5 being often falsely aowd wrtKx-i .cdsw -Si ei-iv Ka;« i:^ ttipred off. Spinach is denm^
**wo -.S: \.^v«
i-Ti «^,><=¥ i.~o :eHcer. In short, unless the hi**
The English Sparrow.
403
ways of these biids nre carefully noted, no one can MKcption of the losses they ciusc in kitchen nnd niaikct u well 9& in flower gardens, in t^kin^ Ecctl^ o.nA in picking rst lc3«-cs of young pbncs. l-"or exjimpic, it is diOicult to lonelte where spanows abound. Many other flowers arc in their early stage by these ubiquitous and almost M3 depredators. "ITic almost unmixed evil wrought by urows has been clearly biouglu before cultivators by the late KuKsel of Romford, 1>>' Mr. Champion Russcl, and ofitimcs baracteristicolly vigorous terms by Miss E. Onnerod, who in Benih report on Injurious Insects, says: "The observations Arrow nuisance, as it i.s well dencribed, continue to show the ants which are observed year by ysar, namely, Ion from ioos of this bird on fruit trees, buds, &&, to fruit farmers ; crops orvegetibles, a.i peas, &c., in gardens ; and dejilorabic
the birds Hock to the corn in autumn."
« oAences of the huu^e-sjiarTOw cited above are fully and
ly recognised by Ajnorican, Canadian, and Ausiralasian cul-
Thc United Stales ornithologist, Dr. Merriman, in a long
Ic report to the Minister of Agriculture, i83S, formubtes
indictment against the " En^ish sparrow," as it is styled,
first settled in the country in 1853. At this time it has
r thirty-seven state* and six territories, having first invaded
cities, then the smalltrr cities and towns, ihen the villages
ilcts, and Itnally the populous farming districts. As the towns
gcs become filicd to repletion the overflow moves olT into
try, and the sparrow's range is thus gradually extended.
1y, however, it is suddenly transported to considerable
by going to roost in empty box-cars and travelling hundreds
. When let out again ii is quite as much at home as in its
jwiL In this way it reached St. John, New Brunswick, in
\ board the railway trains from the west. In like m.-inncr
colony arrived March i, 1884, in grain cars from Montreal
pr it has anivcd at a number of towns in the United States.
Iculatcd that in fifteen ycais from 1870 the new territory in
Acd States invaded by the English sparrow amounted to
I square miles, and that the tcital area now occupied there is
■r 885,000 square niilc.'^
:da it occupies considerably over 160,000 scjuare miles.
pread and increase create consternation In agricultural and
iral circles. At the armual meeting of the Entomological
Ontario, the well-known president, Mr J. Htl'-.^ci,
St a
1 - -a.
'.J :eri
-- --"':: :^^:-ii'^
ipf.:-. -
ITT- -
rr.T*
- -■ ■ -^: jii^rK I - - - ---: ::" mZyi
_ ■■-■: '-K r.
. ■--.-■; .-". S«i
'_"_ .. -,-.■.. -■:;-.■;:::. The
'--.... j^-;; cccreaw is a
-■ ■: --i :■: -3 "<:«■ ""^ ^ -.^V^J--«<:uiw.ce of hq'l''^
The Engluh Sparron:
elast ten years is attributable to the coiniiaratirescatdty as aphides migrate in the winged form Uan\ trees of tbe especially damsons, to the hop plants, and from the hop to the damsons. There are twu distinct intgraiionx of Ics through the air, to accomplish thix giving >ircat oppor- lUoirs. With regard to other birds useful to cultivators, atchers, trater-wagtails, and othcn, they arc all driven Mrs, which do not tolerate other birds near their iiomes. 1 re^>ect to apliidcx, it may be said here in looking on side of sparrows, that they arc exceedingly fond of the Cocci nellidx, whicJi are the great dcvourcrs of n|>hidcs The same complnint is made of the sparrow in the s and Canada -thai ii drives an-ay insectivorous injects, to eat ihcm itself. No less than seventy kinds uf birds le molested by the sparrow in the United States, the vhich arc species which nest about houses, farmi, and arc decidedly beneficial to the Tarraers and gardeners. cing upon the other side of the piirlure, in what way do fit ;inything or anybody? Do they benefit thost- who
land by reducing the number of insects injurious to y undoubtedly take some insects to their young ones ; it UU litis is because other suitable Toud fur the lirooJ is i>ig. Several who have watched these birds hold that Urs and lirvx aio given, among many other things, to ids in their early stages. Small beetles, red spiders, * are also found in the maws of young sjjarrows. li has that the caierfill.irs arc always smooth; hairy caterpillars by sparrows at any time. Colonel Russel slates ilwt he d in Essex the stomachs of forty-seven nestling a^iar- r found the remains of si.\ small insects in the entire ' in most cases being filled with green peas and giei:ns. s have no appreciable effect upon aphides is jiroved again, by the fact that these insecu have swarmed upon 1 and other trees close to where hundreds of sparrows 'h And bred. Aphides upon roses in gardens near the
of many sparrows are never touched by these birds ; cm visitations of caterpillars upon fruit trees of various ick has been as virulent in g.irdcns, orchards, and fruit rd by the breeding and too sting -places of hundreds of
localities tax from their usual haunts. Si»arroM.s may Ke floclts in corn-fields after the harvest, and tlose tu 'd with aphides, but they utterly disregard this kind c^
1
I of Ajrici' jcfoa upon Ik ■idcanfiil
in ccoclu^
anr insects ; bnl 1 1"
fiom ojtBi
id dm in cases *M
. i9aB ■ H MC br Tinne of anjiia^
1=1. ^«c r^ laut acodcnt. Di. IJiM
r= s:r_=3r-.;rsc n" ^re N^r* Yacx -''»'*. faxs aimed at praena^
_y gmniuTonMU or
.-^cr.---- T"t= 3s-3i= ^' occtfr iiie ecoaatnk entomolop** >"^-."ri-. ,-\ Jrr:;;-:. ^ ~'^ ij^cc^ c:si3g ihe bRcding season ^- .--ST.- =;^ j^.1- :o^K-i jsec^ssSx>dfc« their young, this p» -ir».^ > r\ iLT .-..^rT^i^^i^i 17 ^ ii^m dwy do in driTing aw»j t ::»w','j- ■jT'.-ts ;.^i=a. i^-i >"^ i:t= iiEr»r: mvagcs npoo grain cri^
T'l^ra s ; =i:r^ ''^^pv i^^^ — ^^^■' itainsi ibe Dsefutnea rf" s,-ir-,»- .srii. ^rMj.TL. itf=a:es-ar-^ 35 destnictivaicss^ in tlcP ZT^ ■r^.iK ,-£ '^x ^»^ rc ne vaSz'cs seniles of .\merica, &»» ..~.:;i>r- smt-.-t^ Tan: :*=i rii^dled. and le^lations of dnO :^ s^rc iic-- riTs tc^— oi^Iy be>:^XIxd£ad letters. BoantJesW rvT.: :Ci^r\-- rv- sLoas :,'«r=s !=>; ccosdes in the United SaMfc ^ Mc^ii jciri -o; ~'"~--"--y pet bead is paid for "EngliJUQ r.-^-s. It Tben ^^ca i=y ?^»^ "^ these turds it is quite <«!«■■ s:a.~i ■.r4,r3--jl r^ccie js lijx Aracncuis wtmld not set thdr ttl^ sCMcly iri;:s: ±iin. izc :iie SJ^rh active steps by means of JBP ;T3^t:i=:^ -<!:;:z:^ j=.i icocCE^ to decrease their numben.
^'■-.f.-'-.— I "-^vt; ilso oe::sed to protect spanows, and nW'
««ap*ssi=^ tirfir o;sc-jc::oc in every possible way. Aiistnliia I
^iet wexjc^.c iin:;ets icd gardeneis are offering rewards and pd
■ tK-we «ho iu- lae larjes: number of sparrows, and pnidDce
s»^Kt «\caRat\- <jt their e-^s, as tital experience has taught fi
The English Sparrow.
407
wy have been compelled, moreover, to poison ihcm by whole- "'I'heir motl tuccessrul method U ihat of placing poisoned in a bag with chulT, and allowing it :o leak over a tail of a cut the road." The sparrows are destroyed by ihc bushel.
ritish cultivators have waged war in a half-hcnitcd way against enemies for a long while. They say now that the time has when prompt and drastic measures must be taken to reduce
umber of ^narrows, and that thcj- intend to avail themselves of al means to accomplish this. Seeing there is such a consensus
kiion on the part of the agriculturists and honiculturisis of at
half the inhabited world with re^atd to the mischievous and
ictive nature of spanows, the feeble voices of bird-Ioveis
lumanitaiians, who uigo that they should be allowed to io-
and multiply al iheir will and pleasure, will hardly be
ed to.
^^Mbof
m.-FOX THE DEFENCE.
By Rev. Theoix>be Wood. oC'OuiBira Alliii," "Qui Initct Allict," &c. Inc.
long the feathered inhabitants of our islands there be a bird bad character, that bird is most undoubtedly the common >p>rro«r. From all quarters there rises up a chorus of execration iL Fanners and gardeners unite in .ibusing it. They accuse
numberleis crimes. 'I'hcy regard it as a monster of iniquity.
fteely advocate its partial or even complete extermination. And ied as well as by individual efforts that policy has been largely
d into e/fea. \Ve hear of " Sparrow Clubs " which pay so much id for the birds themselves, and so much per dozen for their We read of farmers who scatter poisoned grain in severe r — a sort of refinement of cruelty — with the resuh of destroying
parrows alone, but numbers of other smal! birds with them.
D know the fruit-grower who cannot believe thai his garden or
chard IS in safety unless it is incessantly promenaded by a man
, pin. And still the cry is for further slaughter. Is this slaughter
«y? order to answer that question, wc must glance for a moment
various counts upon which the sparrow is arraigned.
It ii accused of stealing corn, alike from the field, the rick,
<e pouUiy-yaid ; and a well-known Cheshire agricuU-imV.— »Lx.
1
MS*
IIL
^■^■f ^SIH
■ ■
is
.Mr-B*
-_, T''.a.- Vj; ■-.'.—- : -..* — ■a.-ni^ ".ar:™
".i^.T.i_ ':j^ n^Ti** tr.iti -,t ■■t^ar 1; j^-. pec qtaner,
5;/*rf'/«%. I- -,->jk -M-^-Li. tiest bbca dispose of neaih ooe-siift''
»;, •;-*': »:.«a: %t',-^t, -..-, Er^zr'tnd. Pri^ci^ota t The italenwlt''
iU-.d '.n -.h': '.vj: v. i-„ P::,bab".y Mr. Bell, like many fmaW
M'ltK him, Ksl-. Ia"-;-! r.ir calculaaorj upon the amoont ol dioi{
mt'1'iv.^it in 'jr.': [jaiti'.'^iii' iiet<i— a damage which is often very gn
ari'l »Wi tfi'rtt 'le'.eptive. For spoirovs are by no means Vpi
(Intritiiitci't 'ivtT all {larts of our coTn-growing ^stricts. Tbeya
ffi:y.nU: near irccs or houses, or in such other spots as may
( (iiivi:iiicnt for ncKlin^ and shelter, and never tra%'el fat afield in sen
ol loo'l ; HO that their mischief is concentrated upon a compai^
Kiiiall nrea of ground. Thus certain fields in the neighbomb
lit trr<:H or tniildinRK may be systematically robbed of a large 1
|iorliiin of ihcir jiroducc, while others, at a little distance, as invan
rn<ii|<c. ('Iviirly, thun, it is misleading and unfair to takeapaitk
liclil UN II Hitiitiilc, and to build up a startling airay of figures upoi
tmr\rti(iti«l \)nHiH vfhich it affords.
Mu«-\\ u[ >.\\t^ em&i^TicA %^\'c«!i. >\a «}aiTOv on thit paitk
The English Sparroiu. 409
count, again, has been furnished by the examination of the crops of
slaughtered specimens. This evidence, at first sight, raay seem
uoexceptionible ; but it is weak and deficient in tliis respect, that
although it xaxf e^ublish the fact that ttparrows feed largely upon
com, it altogether fails to show where that corn comes from. Now,
a sparrow may frequently obtain a hearty meal of com without
robbing the farmer or the poultry-keeper at all. At harvest time, for
instance, and during the gleaning season which succeeds 11, a large
nuaniiiy of grain lies scattered upon the groiinil, perfectly useless to
ibe £jnner, quite beyond the power even of the gleaners to gather
ip. In devouring this grain the bird is jwrforming not a mischie^-ous
•^iit ipoiiiively beneficial act, since if nllowcd to remain it would
shonly s])rout, and lend lo exhaust the land. Vet, if a sparrow,
•**vin| feasted upon such grain, be shot and opened, the contents of
"W imp are brought forward as undeniable evidence that he has been
''^bing the farmer !
SfvTowfi extract a considerable amount of grain, too, from hoisc- ^'Oppmgs ; and they also devour no small <niantity which has been ***<lught out from the ricks, not by the birds themselves, but by rats. "** that even though sparrow after sp.irrow may be examined, and ^Und to contain grain, it by no means follows that that ^rain has ^en ttoten from the farmer.
On the count of destroying garden flowers, the sparrow must W«ad guilty. It is a crime of comiMirativcIy modern development, ^d jeems to have originated in tlie desire to obtain certain small '•itects which tenant the flowers in question.
I'he accusation of stealing pe.is and de3lrO)-ing the planus may be ■Del by a flat denial.
Farmers and gardeners commonly attribute the chipped leaves of jwing bean and pea plants to the beak of ihe sparrow. In reality, howcTCT, the injury is due, not to the bird at all, but to the small SilcMs weevils, which are so terribly destructive to many leguminous plants. This may readily be proved by experiment. On a warm Spfing crcning, let the investigator examine a few rows of young peas or beans by the aid of a bull's-eye lanicm. He will find the edges of the leaves thronged by these little beetles, all busily feeding upon them. Now let him remove the insects from a leaf or two, and he will see tliat the margins are chipped away, even down to the midrib, in exactly the manner attributed to the beak of the sparrow.
But it wilt be objected that sparrows visit pea and bean fields in mtiltitudcs. No doubt they do ; but they go for the sake, not of the plants tliemselves, but of the weevils which ate attacking and
4
1
4IO Tk$ GentUmans Magasitu.
destroying them. So Ihai their errand, in reality, far frooa beil| a in»chiei,-ous character, is a highly t>enericia] one.
Some five years snce I had a remailtable illustration of ihiilia In my own garden, near liroadstairs, were several \oa% ronif " tdephonc " peas. Of all the garden owners of the neighboathoed. I atone look no pains to prevent the \'uM of sjurrows, which >cn allowed free and UDdisturbcd itcccsf to e\'ery part of the garden, Md took the fullest advantai;e of their opportunities. On vt^tiag ibc roivs, indeed, I frequently disturbed a flock of twenty or tbiq spanoVi'S from among llicm, Yet 1 lost neither a (olant nor a fsd, vhile none of my neighbount succeeded in growing a crop of e>a average yield. 11ie bet was Ibat the Sitones weevils were unusnlr obandant in that season, and that the sjarrows bod remoftd (ton from my rows, while in those of my neighbours, from which Ite birds were excluded, the insects were able to carry on tbeii laii- chie>ous operations tmcheckcd.
In order to put this matter quite bej-ond disiniie, I killed hit a. dozen of the buds and opened them. In live out of the vi crop contained a number of the dead weevils, while in the giua/d ^-csiigcs of othcn. In none ofthcsc was there anything of a wjcmU^S' character. In the crop of the sixth, which had .ipparcntiy bol jos*^ arrived, was a single grain of com, probably extracted — tbc dwi^w being May-from some horse-droppings in the neighbourhood
Against the great amount of misciiief which is ur»3oubtcdly «■» "^ mittcd by the sparrow, must be set the very great sen-ices «iiidi i*"^ renders by the destruction of mischievous insects.
This is notably the case during the breeding season, which eotnd* over a period of some ten weeks, The young sparrows ate quil^ unable to digest a vegetable diet, and are fed entirely upon intects- Actual experiment has shown that these — consisting for the owtf part of highly injurious giubs— are brought to the nest ai the rate of 40 per hour. Assuming that the sparrow works for only tn-elvehoufl in the day — an estimate far below the mark — we still have a total flf 480 insects per day, i,^^o per week, and ^3,600 in the course of tk breeding season destroyed by each \ia\r uf birds ! And this ol- culalion does not take into account those which are devoured by Ac parent birds themselves, Of the value of tlie sparrow asagnit destroyer I have again had practical e\|)eriencc. There b a largt kitchen and fruii g.irden in North Kent in which sparrows are M only tolerated, but encouraged. The walls of the house and stablinj are covered with iv)' and creepers, in which they nest in hundreds The garden, howevM, vs bovdered on two sides by an extcnaTt
Ths English Sparrow.
411
hard, d«voie(] partly to upple trees and partly to gooseberries uid curranLi, whidi are also grown largely in the kitchen- garden. And throughout the spring and summer that orchard is patrolled by gunners, with instruaiont to shoot every sparrow that they see.
Now on the doctrine accepted by farmers, the orchard ought to
bear plentifully, while the kite hen. garden should be stripped of its
produce. But, as a nutter of fact, the exact opposite is rcgul.nily the
Case. The gooseberry and currant bushes nic stripped of their foliage
saw fly and currant moth grubs and caterpillars, while the apple
ate similarly damaged by the larvae of the lackey moth, and
fruit rettun is hardly ever sufficient to cover working expenses.
But in the kilchcn-gaiden matters are very dilTerent. The goose*
and currant bu&hes are literally laden with fiuiL More than
1 ton oflom i.s annually made from the produce of the latter
puddings, &c, for a school of thirty boys arc manufactured
or four times a week, a large (luanlity of fruit is given away,
yet at the end of the season a tonsideiable amount invariably
ins ungalhcrcd. So, loo, with the goosebenies, while the lackey
*'^'T>illar is almost unknown upon the apples. Surely this may be
^S*«"dcd as a practical commentary upon the value of the sparrow
* ^'^ insect destroyer. I may further refer to the fact that in Maine
*"" -^uxene, some fivc-and-thirty years since, sparrows were wholly
*^*"«»inated in accordance with Government edict. !n the following
*****^« ct-en the foliage of the trtes was almost wholly destroyed by
****^IIara, Perhajio, too, I may be permitted to ([uoie the follow-
"•8' ^fhich appeared two years since in the Kentish newsjiapers, and
C^^^fts witli it gre.-it wtight owing to the source from which the main
•*^tuent emanates. ! looked for some weeks for a contradiction,
^**'^<:li, bowerar, never appeared :
"Ad almost unprecedented attack of maggot has taken place in KcotiiJi fruit plantations, and nut and apple crops have been in mny instances grievously damaged if not destroyed. Planters are vigorous elforls to fight the pest ; but the grubs are 3o imerous that hitherto they have defeated all attempts to get nd of ■m. The mctease of msects is said ly the farmers to be due to scarcity of sparrows, owing to the wholesale slaughter of the birds jch has been carried on in llic district" The terrible havoc wrought by sparrows in Australia and North America, often brought forward as an argument forthe extermination of the bird, has no bearing upun the " Siiarrow question " in Great Briuun. The bird in those countries has been introduced by man, and change of climate implies a corresponding ch.-tngeof food- The
<
\
^
413 The GiHtUman'i Magazine.
sparrow as a Britbh bird, on cv<:r)' principle of justice, must be judged by iu doings in Great Britain alone. And weighing iUscnktsn a whote ai^^nst its mischief, similartir considered, the unprqa^ctd obcerrer can hardl)' deny that the fotmer largely predominate.
IV.-IN AMERICA. By C. W. Murdoch, latt Editor of "^ 71tt Fanntr."
ExACitv forty ycare ago what is properly tcrnud tbc *' EhkW iparrow " {^Paster Jomtttitui) was introduced into the United Siua of America as an orritthologicat cxpciinicnt. From the Picific » the Atlantic the great problem noui is how to eKtcrmtnatc thi Inri. Under what circumstances and through the agency of what councs has iuch a revolution in public opinion taken place with regard totle habits of one of the most familial* birds in existence ? ^^'e loc the word familiar .idviscdly, for wherever man congregate) in faniilJes» tribes, or communities, there will be found the sparrow living im3 thriving, impudently audacious and quite familur to nn altmst irritating degree. The spanow has never been a much valued tod. It is not of handsome plumage. He has no compensating attnOiM as a musician, and there is not much in him as a bird for the pie^litk In Scriptural days of old it was asked, "Arc not five sparrow «M for two farthings?" thereby implying that the bird was of triffisj money value. It is true thai we find the Psalmist saying, " I wjldi and am as a sparrow that sitteth alone upon the housetop," bul Ac bird to which the repentant king comiiiired him.telf was not out familiar Paatr domtsticm, but a thrush or Pasttr soiilariui, a vcrj different kind of bird. But even before 1850, when the first cotnmon sparrow was transported or rather c.irried to America, the character of the bird as a friend or foe of the farmer and ihc! gardener was in question. The verdict against him was of tlie Scotch judicial tarder, "not proven," and a good many are still of opinion that the verdict should remain standing, while a few regard the bird as a pest, and ca the other hand not a few as a blessing.
Let us glance for a moment at the eKperi<:ncc of the United Slates during the forty years the birds have bred and extended ihem- selves. The story has been admirably told in a rcpoti just iauei from the Ornithological Section of the ;\gricultural Depaitmeot K Washington. It consists of over four hundred closely - printed p4£Bi and relates to an etvotmous mass of direct evidence as to the habtb
The English Sparrow.
413
of the birds, and is therefore an invaluable, and, as far as it goest valuable basis for inductive generalisation. In the first place wc notice the remarkable adaptability of the sparrow to all conditions 01 htu»an life. ^Vherever man migrated and settled, Clieii: went the tpaiTow and ihiived. The bird is at home in the scorching southern ritates, and he can make himself quite comfortable in the ex(rt:mc lltmtb-iresl.
"The manellous rapidity," says Mr, Merriman, the eminent
American omithologiii, "of the sparrow's multiplication, the surpris-
ieg nrillncss of its exiension, and the prodigious siie of the area it
Wtnprcsds, arc without panillcl in the hisloiy of any bird." The
^ in support of this statement are overwhelming, and need not be
Rci^tulaicd. Just a few words here about the phenomenal fecundity
of the sparrow. " It is not unusual," adds Mr. Merriman, "foraMngle
jair in the biitudc of New York, or further south, to rear between
t»«tj'and thirty young in the course of a year," Assuming the annual
produce of a pair to be twenty-four young, of which half are females
"id half males, and assuming further for the sake of compilation
'W all live together with iheir offspring, it will be seen that in ten
iJltitbc progeny of a single pair would be 275,716,983,698. But
l^piactical purposes if we allow three years as the maximum of a
ijaiTOw's life, and allowing twenty as a maximum of annual births
fcf each pair, the fecundity is enormous. Now it has been stoutly
Jxigucd by the "friends of sparrows" that at hast during breeding
(inne they feed their young on insects, in most cases on injurious insects,
Bd as a consequence they do incalculably more good in that way
I eril by the destruction of ripening or ripe grain. Of course
bere are useful and in fact beneficent insects, and the aforesaid
ncnds of the S]>arrow have not at all times differentiated between the
ro cLtwo in their induction.*. Important evidence on the subject
i taken by the Wild Birds Protection Committee of the British
louse of Commons in 1873. Some of the facts therein, even in
detaD, arc certainly of a most important character as bearing on the
good character of the sparrow.
For instance, Mr. Henry Myers, one of the largest market gardeners in the neighbourhood of London, was examined with the following te&ult :
" I believe you were led at one time of your life to reconsider your opinions about birds ? — I suppose I have been in my time one of the (,TC3tcst of sparrow destroyers. You have the blood of a great many sparrows on your head ? — I had a sparrow ctub at one time ; I thought they were injurious birds. We killed them until scarcely
4
i
-= — " — -— ' _'ji t;c iisin visit -9«i - m. =n: <»ani'j»«. «e vac eun ^
■mr -^^ i^Hujail — Ateti
as dame k» ok sBte. !■ zc ""^ "^ TOira :-:npMfM widt ib bo* ; 4i
^3V *-i^|^^'T nil' Tl" ;tf9B fr^TW ^HCC^^ 1^^ ^9
IS -«aisx "sie- iD£ 3E vQcr f -»■*■■'? — To nj W
-^ -^iiTT-Tw ^ ■=; =^ne -wmnii. K -«crx^ bos tbae ii no diA 3IZ =^--- — - -irrsT -I'luuiEUUE it £3cc. asm tEicT do ham.*
Vr. ..==£ ax=^ L-CTTTi-i.— - xt ^e Ltiks of W«I&igtaB, It SUk-
r -Sir = ^rnrcw- jp« -wuL jxrr t=otthfc ? — Tbe vij drag *■
I ^.'* ::,:^^si^ "i:^ sxxrr'iw 5 '^ac jAe tSe p*'™* oomein about A
aa».-= -^=?' -n -t=~ a=Ern=!^ 1: ras fttxa pas; thej-pei^
■5»a- ~^ rssr-rr ta; ■Tta& Xiw ; wj. pta the same qnolicB
tr- —-:. : -^^ ~i: =:vc3t=- ^-cte-a. t: tcc »«e a maiket gaidoi
ss.'^TJz^j. V- -™- ;-^-iiTjK»i nt ±e CTrwr~L. c£ iie femt, should ]
r^-Tsj: :-^ :.T-:> — T^c - — I ■"—""'"7- ■— T-'i', betanse I vonld m
^T^ ■^-'"-- "..: xr,::: r.r^ ^re Trpiie zc'±£ cr^os ciestToyed by ins
:!■:%; ^—■-■~- — r^ ". .-i :u;iiit -rx r-^n-tr .fi-fv- is on the side of
rw^-.-: -.-.-r ;:.; :^; ~ — "^i,;^ imirc-caCy- Tber come in she
•j.-'i -..- r.-.r,;^; -^.; nir«s:Ts ji i tstt q— :i~ r^"T^'". bat you cai
rair-^ :-~- :: :n i:r^ rr 7*: :c ~i: nees. Il is vithin
iv.-".'--- -i ■'— t-tjei :.ris irs i=c:n=ai»d f^^ects are kept do
- - i."*-" "S v.-rv: rrjc «-i T»ri^^ 'hrra risects tj m extent to dai
-^ -~"-"j^ s.r-c\iii.— v-;t;r~; tw^ iri Tus^zv ct' birds.''
"■t- "n if— :r..i,T. ~ :.s Ti^xrt^ h:s 3;c scripted to quote la sv»n IX iA-»\-. iis Kiii ^C(tf~ rie=5 :; jk it '■the bottom fi
^it-'ir,; ",• z'ry ^^ ^i::^ .-t jCiizr:^^ Sc •■'ng ;:p the vast amoui
<»xS^'v-; ;.i\-r ■__ ^-v-r ^ Vziiftl 5rjT<-s> the foUowiug an
Jt*^^ -'-•i^^iisarcs. ~ct rsctri r^ ^r=^ *^ bads, blossoms,
"'•'^'■^"'^^ '^"^ ietrv; c . ^ ±peie re? alle;^ed positive damaj
*«■ *■ '^- -t-"^ -TPCris. :; »s=* isittcimiBaie. and the rema
«v 3».v,-,_-j^ -,^. ^, ^ ,.j_.^ Trie c-c=:pilcr, however, point
« *-~-t^K -j.:^ ^- :3; iLT;:=iiie reports (294) have
The English Sparrow.
415
being brief inonoKj-llabic negatives written in reply to the
(juestioos, vrittiout anyihing to indicate the extent or close-
thc irriierii' obften-ation. Almost oil repoits agree that
lUc injury is done l>y the fitlliy habiu of siiarrows about
and where there are ornamental trees. Grapes are grown
ly in the o|>i;n in America, and the evidence is clear that
ate beginning tolindotit the value of this (hiit, andconsuinc
lily. It is also credited with much damage to apples
kinds of fruit, the young seeds of many kinds of green
plants, fi:c The most valuable portion of the report,
refers to the elaborate facts lo be found in the tables of
shown by dissections of stomachs. In all and from every
the country, and at all seasons of the year, 636 stomachs of
Sirs were examined minutely, many of them within an hour and
Faflcr death. The net result was that wheal was found in 33
idis ; oats in 317 ; com (maize) in 71 ; fruit seeds in 57 ; grass
in loa ; weed seeds in 85 ; undetermined vegetable matter in
bread, rice, &c., 19 ; noxious insects, 47 ; beneficial insects, 50 j
,of no economic imjiortance in 51. Having these hard facts
tJie general verdict against the sparrow must be rather
and that too without taking into account its impudent and
disastrous interference with the breeding of other and un-
ly beneficent birds, such as martins, Stc
\
4rt
THE BAIMAD OF THE HULK.
BY 3>e be ^Mo^ £■ ID thcvamngU^ Ctc ADO-lodbed wMei^ bf a «**f «t doe
"—jci-ase.Ba^volkz bo Imgs wioged far flight, 3bz ans. maBMKd, ne'er u Band more.
Tb£ I if I I < U llln, f.lMl I !■! dseduB «'"■■',
'Vuu: one ssc gmos paldT m the bine ;
?.-MC ^e loi^ vnsp &a oBoe so ilmji^y fle*. T^uT mss an TTgng m ^e mers bee,
.-.:c. ai.-*rH err** 3ie sibadow of tbe lugfat ; '. c-i:^£js C'-vms mcai oe meiuxjxily plice ;
7^ zvxc zxa. ■liscl. b^i&s lo fade froci ligfaL .'•:. T*:: i .-iacw; =»? 3r» ftslanL sapiDe^
V Tvxier =ndi iae i>wg icled the sea ; Sr« r-s-i )--tn; i-tirs ^cc the migii^ brine,
>.-u nir"?i a: iKaiCT — aobie. stranjE, ind&ec-
Sh, -:•:=» TCL ; -reic wioesTcnd wateiy gnve ; Tv -^r^.-rs r.-u,-n£ b^. scirnfti br lempexs* breath,
V ^^: s..:r«r:nn£s hii" j.ra»3 e'en seunen biwre. ■■•.-■ .-.-i -Srrcis iai^.ta'ag beseaih her ked !
,\vj r i ^-r^: riiur ra5» xvjnl seotts dnai : ; ; .- •%-.-.v^ i.T<£ mr* B»— iiie msj- feel
*"V-r r— ~i s:rra=a5ai iy a hxciitii^ frr, V'.i:-- -V » Tti iccpi KriZ Tsc — law muy dad !
X- V siTii-i -w^sirzKd S^-^rh ihe mighty nain ; X,- ;.^r. ^r ,-.=1 cci nbgg ;im=s acres sfnad,
i^^l v: :>« iff* i<r ofii si*:: yield again jv^ ^•*'vs ;,-v «ac w i=y sc^oe xa made,
*, ,v v^■.^-It^ KT T^^.:c,: ^ci^v tooab: ■^\,'. ,vft.- .--,1.- -Vi^ct ire.- shadows dufc.
The Ballad of the Hulk.
Tbrougti day and night, 'nealh tropic stars and suns, Through many a yc», through many a fearful gale»
A precious freight of twice a thousand tons The great ship carried 'ncaih her lowering sail.
Bravely for years and years, through strife sublime^ The comjucnng hark pursued her wilil cniccr ;
But e'en her strong frami; must succumb to time, And its last TCstiges must disappear.
Dxmonic slrcoglh, transcending human force, Resides in mountain billow and mad wind.
Which leap and rush upon their reckless course, And pity not — insensate, ruihlest, blind.
Among the noblest shows on all the earth
A fairer sight, indeed, there scarce could be Than, fleetly sailing in her stately mirth,
That royal vessel on the tossing se.i. la splendour her proud lla^ triumphant Ry,
Ftult'ring and streaming in the joyous bieexe ; Or one in sadness drooping lialf-mast-htgh.
To tell that death can strike upon the seas. Day after day, week after week, they roam,
Tlie wanderers o'er that changeful ocean plain ; The far wide fields of furrow and of foam
Spread ceaselessly upon the lonely main. Her tall trucks reel against the sky of noon,
When blight the sun or fresh the lively breere ; Or sway beneath great stars and wading moon,
When tempests vex the fierce unfeeling seas.
In tropic calms the high black gleaming side
Rests on its shadow on the water's gleam, Rocks gently on the softly heaving tide.
Till ship and ocean blend into a dream. Then, tall sails stretching to her topmost spires.
While argent moonshine blanches each sail white, Round the dark bull Itash phosphorescent tires,
Till night is jicace, and loveliness, and lighL High on the swaying yards the sailors swing,
When the broad swelling sails are reefed or furled. As growing winds begin to hiss and sing.
And rising billows with wild rage are curled. ou ccLxxi- xo. 1930. f f
\
The Ballad of the Hulk.
nbers strained, her worn sides wan and diai, lit showing jret the beauty of her lines. cr did statelier ship on ocean swim, Dd still ber record bright in memory shines.
glorjr and her dangers both are past, nd odI/ silence sounds hei parting knelL Qany fancies full, wc look our last : Ubctic b our sad, our proud — farewell I
419
H. SCUblZ WILSOH.
T T a
K
therm
ortbeaj
■» tfae Soanl Ttall ptajins the I* - A Night ( This fine the d be tnoratpll' nro j^ais later, i with thll 4 ■pby. -TheRrf It sbtnred me wnh I M iiwasi cf die Tittv, pRtq by Hss Rehan with a)
^^Ued evquisile. But suddenly, in the midst of ^ne bright, delicate humour, there csmc a love *^mous door scene — which was played with an
K>^tw\ ^^^*' *"'* '^ living jioetry liiat made it one of the sntica^ - "'>^gs [ had ever seen on the stage. And when td«\^u "owed by another, in which an episode of farce was J of .V l^asaion and fire and pathos that elevated it to the ,^^ 1 .. i^'Khett ait, I iccognised at once that in Miss Rehan fhat ht'^ °''^ '•'^ *''* gfsat actresses of our age. hia ,r^^ Railroad of Love" revealed and suggested "The l^ A ^^^* " confirmed. The play is not a wholly pleasing (loes not stand high on the list of the Shakespearean plays ; it U ^'y looked upon and generally played as if it were a mere j^ l^ice. But Miss Ada Kchan's Knthcrine was a great crea* r*' might ntmosi be called a great tr.igic crcatioa Who that
* *iil forget her first appearance in the comedy, that fierce rush ' the stage, that splendid pause of baited fury? Everything
* ter, [he fiame-coloured hair, the fi am e- colon red garments, tScd passion ; here at this moment the |>assion of a wrath that llnost animal in its ferocity, and yet a passion capable of heroic wion, capable of being developed into the noble passion of love. Ipccialor sees from the first moment that ihe meiaraori>hosi8 of is no grotesque impossibility, no result of barbarous subjuga>
That splendid flame-coloured creature, who might have come ibe mi»t brilliant canvas of the brilliant Veronese, had 3ome> En her of the divine Italian Juliet — something of the imperial ian Cko|)aira. J saw it again and again, learning with every Kcation some new lesson in the power and beauty and magic nutticart interpreted by a true artist: it was a lesson. of the t kind, it was an artistic pleasure not to be surpassed. tTie Taming of the Shrew" was Miss Rehan's triumph of that i; two years later, in 1890, she returned again to London further triumph in"AsVoti Like It." 1 had seen quite a fi of Rosalinds, but here I saw the nearest approach to my of the Witch of Ardi:n VVood. In that book of Th^ophile it's which Mr. Swinburne has called "the golden book of spirit snsc, the holy writ of beauty," there is an exquisite description ideal performance of " As You Like II." The play seems to nchanied Gauticr, and he wrote about it with all the impas-
enthusiasm which he gave to everything that appealed to his n 9en*e of beauty. The performance which the poet had de- J Mist Reban helped me to realise. This tadianl d&uft^isx qI a^
\
? at Sa\npaiA
ISC iCB
T — ~
be pennhted to M : j: 3 sly M. BmH put, tut ■ ;^xr:=£r3peiieaJon— iheprt ii± Lsz^iLe'i gncioosliideoBt :>±. I '■u prinkgtdit : = Ir--= "-■-' — = Xw YoA it At r::i r- -■-'^'- ■= irr =b a be in Ke» Yo4 r~^ "^T""-^ sfii^ ^ 3« where iTnipm*** =::; : 3-^1=72 :: Mss K^^an as Xantijpft -=■-— 7^^^:^ ;: i=r zcricg giren by th =-z -. I ^ — ^~:=:er. Ini reiy nt
-■ - ■ — - ^ ' - r .-^^ir ;i C:=isidy,~ of «bich onlj*
------ ■ -~--=* ■' .= ~~ — i-.i^i^rt. i":>.-okprivatelyp«iM*i
= ■ - - — ^ =:- 1^ =^;=-i ;z= rTiefandbriUunireari ' ^^^~: ::i--i-sr. Z 1^ i ie :M;wing pages, »hidil
..-.i ■ .^_; v.^ - - j^ -;- -;;i;- y-/^ and jiej nobleao -— - :--_ T,; — T-t-: -c-\- :^ iure-ile cf red hair. Xantiff ' ~-' ~ ■-- --- — .-, r; — ;;i.:r= ;: Sjcni:es, scolds and sKO
-■- ■- = -:;« .: :^r ;^j::=, jhs is suddenly thrown inW - '"'-----:• 5-:i = ih.-.;^; -- re dead. But while ^ '- - ^~ ~:~ -^-i rr-:-:T. sii I-.i.:^s ;he sorrowful, affecnoc '" -" — '- " :~-''~-i --;r^i ry her husband, andjpeicw
-y ' ^-:i^r- 1;-;-_;t, ^.i iTiiir.ess, and her own unKin
— *■= ------ ^^- ;~=-"T ;: zt—7<::, she changes from ail
:- 1 -r:; — 2 ..-.-^ T;r.i^ M:5i Kehan acted this part inisl
." -■—"-■—;; j^-:%:i:-i ~ Lr.i .\: -.imes with fine sarcasuL
-------;r. vtj .^_-.-._.._-^ iwse:. Her action was markec
'~V.t*^'' ^"- l-"^^" i"-^--"->"- She flashed from one moo
**J^~* ^^- r'i--i ~i^y fhjses of the feminine nature in '
"t"'^" ^"-e embodinier.t was one of sumptuous personal be
*fi ' "-*! the siomi oS Avtc^iAv liitfe ojmI turbulent jealous;
Pages OH Plays.
i force, thb portrayal closed wiih the suggestion of a lovely
^f nobility and gcnileness. When there is a dose corrcspond-
^Mtwccn the temperament of the actor and ihc ti.'mpcramcni'
\ (un that is represented a greater freedom of expression is
reached. That conespondence t^xi.sted in the culminaiing
of this play between Miss Rehan and the conquered ppt^ and her succcm was triumphant In dealing with thfi , action of the pan she obeyed the same subtle impulse that wisely foIIowiKl in her treatment of Shaktspt;ire's Knihcrine. ^es was made to harmoniKe with the spirit of its wcaicr : her niied-haired, high coloured, aiid like a scorching flnmc" It if MJis K«han i» the chief attraction of the 1 >aly Company, ■admirably supponedL In Mrs. Gilbert the stage possesses one I ino6t charming old ladies vbo have ever trod the boards. In I whimsical pans she plays she shom sujih a subtle blend of Or and of tenderness as is not surpassed by any otha actress. frhat Mrs. Gilbert is amongst old ladies, Mr. James Lewis is ^t old men. I am speaking, of course, of both of them in the they play, which are always old parts : personally lht:y are both ptally young. For a grotesque humour, which while farcical is p human, Mr. Lewis is not to be surpassed. As for Mr. John ^ he is one of the best of living young actors. He is to the Scan stage what Noblel is to the French stage ; but he can do ^ that, as far as I know, Noblet cannot do. For, while John ^canptay the dashing young gentleman of farcical comedy to ■jgD, he can also perform such parts as Orlando and Petruchlo Pnt power and vitality. Ada Rehan and John Ihcw, Mrs. ]n and James Lewis, these indeed form a quadrilateral of which answer might be proud, even that greatest of all managers who
the Tb^trc lUustre and who wrote " Tartuffc" London amcd to love this quadrilateral as fondly as New York loves , and welcomes them every year with, if possible, a warmer than tst welcome.
fhai must be regarded as an important dramatic event is the eatioQ of the fiist volume of the plays of Mr. Hcniy Arthur L England has long been reproached for the decadence of her Ittic literature. Authors who have striven to improve the literature k drama have tieen reproached for not giving tlieir productions ^der public than the play-going public, to the reading-public tnswer has always come pat. While an English dramatic author mlar, he naturally looks to the United States for a share of his
That share he could only obtain, until laleij, 5o\Qtv^asVifc
Ontheodier!
otihe
in U-""^^ •'^ "•*«** >*• But this «> l4k« CM make himself familial wilh
Paf^s on Plays,
umas fiU, with the majority of the pUfs of Sardou, with the I of Lemallre, of Becque, of Bcrgerat, of all the dmmatic writers, tasful or utuuccessfiil. In Denmark cver^'onc can buy the plays bsen, of Jonas Lie, of Bjornion, of Heiber^, and (he rcit. lish plays axd sold in Spain; Italian plays In Italy ; every En ropeia Itty pulilishes its new plays, except England. t urould abnoic ajipear as if then: were something in the modern ttsh mind hostile to the reading of pUys ; for it does not (luite Do say that most of our acting plays are not good enough to print, bwre existed a puNic eager to read plays, as such a public exists rstis, in Berlin, in Madrid, in Rome, plays would soon lie written were worth their reading. I'lays are published in Paris almost iTgcIy as novels, and the effect of this great publicity has been to K the French drama a very skilful drama. It has to run the Btlet of so much criticism that it must, perforce, be careful— matt Is do its best. But in England fuw people care lo read plays ; people, except professional or amateur actors, buy Lacy 's theatrical wy ; even Shskesiiearc and Sheridan arc not »o intimate 8 part lOpuUr reading as Moli&re and Corneille are in France. It may that this will change. Perhaps Mr. Henry Arthur Jones is the Beer of a new movemtnt which will multiply the production of fbooksL Personally I hope so ; there are few pleasures more i^tful to my mind than the reading of playbooks. Here again ' debt to Ibsen must be recognised. The increase of public vest in the drama during the Inst year or two has largely been used by the controversy over Ibsen and Ibsen's method. Uhce I wrote these lines a new play has been added to the ^^Bi repertory of the Daly Company. This new play is "The EtWord," one of those bright, humane, living adaptations from ( German of which Mr. Daly possesses the secret — adaptations ich have all the freshness and all the charm of brilliant original ncdies. "The !jst Word" is a comedy of the school of be Railroad of Loxe," that is to say, it is a comedy which, while it irides with humour, has at the same time a serious note and touches VCi chords than the mere siring of mirth. Like " The Railroad Love," which I consider one of the most charming comedies I e ever seen, "The Last Word" affords to Miss Rehan op- ttmilics for displaying the extraordinarily wide and varied power her genius. Cousin Val of " The Railroad of Love " was one of se enchanting creations, like Diana Vernon and Bathsheba Bold- od in ficiton, whom the appreciative observer must, whether he will lO, fall helplessly in love with, and the Baroness Vera in " The
\
TALK,
Sir Walter Scott.
rHE publicalion of" The Journal of Sir Walter Scott. i8a5-3J," " dr;iKS fresh attention to a figure always pleasant to con- Bnplate. That Sooti'scomments, outspoken though never unataiable, pon his acquaintance or neighbours should have dcbjrcd the ffcannce of these revelations until those with whom they dealt Id (Mused be)'on<l the reach of censure is of course natural. It is a Uter upon which the presetit generation is to be congratulated, hile, moreover, another work of the same daas, the revelations of ileyiand, to which the world has looked forward with eager aniici- tioii, has produced little except disappointment, Scott's Journal, Uh stole into existence with no preliminary fanfare, h^ been bed with general deligliL Curious proof how keen interest Moused is supplied in the fact, for such it is, that the " Life of >tt,' by Lockhart, in ten volumes uniform with the favourite edition the Waverlej- novels, though previously one of the commonest of *fci has sprung into demand and is now not easily obtainable. As ■otural, the perusal of these delightful experiences and comments given the reader a taste for more pabulum of the same class. ' easily does one tire of such a record as is supplied of a life of Crous self-abnegation and heroic self-sacrifice.
|p Scott as seek m his Jodrnal.
IANY men have sought to give their fellows or their successors an insight into their lives, to paint themselves for posterity as, fcirown conceit, they should beseen, Jean-Jacques was of course U^ to determine upon showing himself to the world in his true •■rs, with all his faults, infirmities, and crimes upon his head. How 1^ vanity, self-esteem, and desire for approba*-on underlies Sscau's exposure of meanness and baseness 1 will leave others Ccidc, Rousseau's successors went beyond him, and some ^CDlljr nauseating exhibitions of moral disease saw the light 'e eighteenth century, A world, the taste of which is healthy he main, quits these unpleasant revelations, and prefers an ysis of something less revolting. Pepys is confidential enough. Opens out some queer comers of his personality. Everybody Ions, however, if he does not love, the confiding gentleman whose Edioburgh : David Dougbt,
I
i-Snr— - Loddian, I n^ be a good aiia-)ii
cxu," sqn tbt "KotMv* l3»«er. IcooU Ad «eald accept aadappoft
EuusiBKzncs or Bou&kT-iiAcnto.
NOW dm «&■ fen been oBed the ft'rinVini: of the i> ia pwgww, a^ « ride across a ooatineni may be i complMbed oa a Hejtit, peofiie aake resotote cflbm to ^j «*»»«*« to botidajr (ntsnits. One pleasastl): ncn-cl cxpctieottl cfcrookfedin "TwoGiriionaBai^-by V.CedlCotei.' TtoJ the Roord o( a tiow, mediutirc holidar low from Londoa Binninglufn bjr two jromg girls who had fined up a barge fori deotiAl purposes. Wiih shon trips of the kind I am (amiliar, haii? §gftnl timet, on a fpeciatljr chartered baiEc, descended the ThunO or a»ccnded the Medwaj. A quiel indecent pnogress through Ibe lockvofacanalandby pritnitice villages is an unknown (andhiifacm I »tii)i>o»c, unrecorded) experience. With its imiumctablc and dW doiigni and ita pknsant style of narrative, this record of docnesWi but not wholly unadvcnturous, travel is to be commended as dcli(*l- fUl reading. svlvasits urws-
THE
INTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE. November 1891. I
A SPIRITUAL FAILURE.
Bv T. Sparrow. Chapter I,
LADV LISL.\ DRUMMOND was an enigma. SIic was young, good-looking, and lucl plenty of money; ^forc she was courted .-ind worshipped as a goddess by mammon. '^ Worship she accepted indifferently, the courtship she coldly rc- '^d. She did not eschew society, she was always mindful of its '^»; yet many wondered why she went so assiduously to bails, *^«t1s, and theatres, when the only cfTcci they had on her was to ^Pcn the look of proud languor that luaned the classic siilbcss of ' face.
She was by no means a blue -stocking, and took but a vague '^Tcst in politics. Art she tolerated in her boudoir, in the shape **ndraped deities of either sex, snnling at her from panel picturL-s KWefully posed on antique pedestal. To ihc muse of poetry she O*ionally succumbed, and tight hterature she skimmed in the ^nar>- orthodox way ; but that which she added to her store of *0*ledge may have benefited herself, it certainly did not benefit "lyone else. Converaation she had little, originality she had none f^ilie had liecn » "nobody" she would have been voted "com- lOnpkice" in spite of her firecian head and perfect hands. As she 'B a "somebody," she was called an "anomaly," which is a very Kful sort of word. It may mean so much, and it may mean Dliiing at all.
But the living statue woke into life at last, and in this wise, idy lisla was present one afternoon at a literary "At Home," terc a lair Socialist, to prove her Democratic principles, collected
VOL. ccuxi. V.0. 1931. Q Q
I
^^^-
j Jfiq^tteoK.
r jn^ :iir J. =1^ :=isuiz:xis sb£ knev. or ccmld 0a ia took 10
:■?::.. >*^ tr^rr ^ £uhin iQoniilisi or iwd, ad a "^f^ o( Af
p:r- it::, w^jit T.wrt!::^!! nzn-ddiised as *■ cantrifantaiK to
. L-ri: ::-i w:n::=- ^ tvkc: it. ne .AaiA'.2&EnuSB^ tiic oths
L-:i'. li'fTt ::t: -inc'-uir imi::i. Trprri-ri in dtc ladiB* pqiets bla ■
l^u^ "..isa iuL gflgte '»-^"»' c iras so nuich taeaa to aj "jf^ ::ur "u. ~ ti to: inynrnf soUdsmaiB of jmOj BlaDcbe D» ni.<ni i^u: cznn:: cantc she tfaonghi Im do^ ended vidiks
-■:if orxT^nioc vai- xttsbcc hr s vnice md k ■ijy pecnlisT vnot.
N ,iir v± cs^ aL do: imk idicvvuBaaics, however we miy |dde our>ii:x^si 'it' iiK c>Tn:;]ir\. Same ^ vQd afier pnitiTrn^ some Ei>^c:£i:;c in lytsh evis, aatat bv i wimu&g mjDiQcr, and some bf • f^itihinc drvs&. La:it LisJa was snscspdfale cm ixie paint, and wai ^^-.nx:t, lli'^rr ituzc pfijsnftd her fdeasantly or mmleasndf — Ki:'!i.}y ::k :::r.-J^ ^.>eic 7ieople she could like wben&eywenBklti ■.■.; u-jTi:-r-'.:':\ sri: ;irJi eacured from the moinem they btlpa M ¥;*r:.k. S:i: nai i. i s-i- ncT-oiis crrpmisadon. thoQ|^ bang pcfftd^. i.'jL/.r.y, >:,c w-: ri.'; r^rort C'f h : and ihis higblj'- strung senadtCBa f_':";:m:t i lt. :j: cyrrenis sensibiliir of ibe amal or^ns. Itt r.-.Tic-L?t-.-u.:: ;> r.ti: i i^rr ; onunan. ihant heaven, for it is the cane tj{ :::-c': su5cr.r.^. ;.nd irjc remedr has t« to be found.
The owr.er ti the vwce which had roused Lady Lisla fioni hff 8;;t"-hy nut a ir.;^, cf abci::: fifry. wii a commanding presence Viii well cevtl'jj^d Ltoit. His lones were singularly calm and tesoiuDl,S if he were accu^icmed lo hold an audience in attentive thialL Ttt self-restraint in them, also the quiet force, appealed irresistiHT " I.ady Lisia, and motioning to her hostess she asked to be iuCrndiia' to him.
I'oor Mrs. Desmond looked horribly perplexed. •''J'he truth is," she began in a hesitating sort of way, "hcbBOt one of us— he h a Roman Catholic priest."
"Does that maltcr?" asked Lady Lisla indifTcrendy. Mrs. 1 )csmond's brow cleared when she saw how the awful ne<* was rereivcd.
"NiH bul tli.il iiu is a very cievcr man," she rattled on nerv<jplli - " (Jiiite a gentleman, and so polished He was at Cambridge, * tla-ti went abroad, and while at Rome got captured I belicK. © family move in very high circles, or you may be sure I wwiW 1*^ hiive nsVe:l him here."
'I'his was talhct strong from an advanced Socialist, but ftHs^
^V A Spiritual Failure. 431
with them as with others condones litil« van'itioDS from
I you TeaU]r wish to Itnow him? He will be Mattered, I am
fliy Lula merely bowed her liead, and Mrs, Desmond fluttered Kecute her guest's wish. In a few moments she returned with tleman, whom she iniroduced as Father St. Aubyn. If the deiic were Mattered there was nothing in hi^t manner to show Ih jierfect ease he uttered the ordinary nothings in anything ordinary way.
y Lisia was attracted. Her cool languor gave way to interest, ed tu heat the clear, incisive voice, the trenchant, crisp liltio M, the meaning of which went further than the car, and [o pierce the mind with a pleasant sting. Father St. Aubyn ex man, and not only was he clever himself, but he had the of making his hslenei feel that he was clever also. This is lest kiud of cleverness, and was the cause of Father St. popularity. Lady U:i!a felt she had never lived till now. <d her, and took fur granted that she could understand. :n he said at parting, " I hope thai we ^hall meet again some was not the smile which accompanied ihe words that made like a very schoolgirl, it was not the keen steadfast look upon her from the depth of his clear dark eyes, it was the CSS in her own heart that she wanted to sec this man she bad never wanted to see man before, the moment ihcy played at amateur Socialism in a London room, life became a different thing for l.ady Lisla. Her livity was at an end. She was capable of thinking, he lied it ; so she dared to reason, dared to read. t deal of women's intellectual torpor ari!>es from a want of i their own powers ; they are timid from heredity, from circum- fron) fear of ridicule.
iCTto I^dy Lisla had dragged through life a smiling automaton,
more. Now all hir pulses were (juickencd into being, and
ital intoxication which resulted was almost delirium at
let him constantly in society, and intuitively yielded more
to his subtle influence. ITiough he never attempted to
and never addressed mote than a few sentences specially to
the chance word here and there that guided her awakening
that told her what books to read, what views to adoj)!, what
,c on a social question. And wfien, later, he wouliV (^uicvl-j
I
45«
Th^ GemilemMms Magaiimt,
a^fnl tafacT ofstnon belbte a anmtier of peoil^ nd )be ndl fiis ucLiiAailT, sod tbcn vidi idoie confidaice fiwi™** laite sbc vss <rlffi icvuuco pf sn ■ » ■* ji ■>» h^^wi^ usi nou aMC fr scn^^uee^pa wtoc^ madebes tm^all over with die )af oCbcHf ■adcsttDOd.
la ^le *^ skflt cold »onu« t***™* % txiOiaiit ^)C31lS, i\ coac3K •!«;, xnd a wobui wbo imacaled dem men b^ ite - oryrnftyrfber rtwn^xw asd die gcnile intense ii«t ^ bi^^: — ^■■— ^ iSes. The giol fatne cjrs -woohl spaiUe, the comilai cottXiraiBe and go, b« bemiifiil hands clasp and imc!as[^ » 1^ I lov earaes ^skx **''^'^— < ifaiougli die nfaiest mcmbs «f )o'
Ani te. tic ocK at a alL smDed to himcpiif^ wdl pleased. ^ liK Kioen- bcx3= so a&. as societT ahajs wilL Wbr wnldUlr I \isa -xns raiTT ? And sby £d she alvajrs ootsbine hesdf ^ I
Ir. est :=3£ Ladt- Li^ faeaud, as die \ktiin alwajn doe bM rrnarts »r.ii zr« ?ce=»a bet not pleasant. The result w"*! wii: n »Tcii \xvt be€= x tclt «ot Then, she would hi«faw' '
r- s.-.-irT.-:=: i-puit. birilT gras7iig tbe agnificance of the ram* X.-«. i v.^i; — i=s:ci =j;=-Jed her deOicaie (±eek:s, though ibe ail | dji^Tsrri'i be "4s ciTcesKrty. But she thought and ihoogb •
Ht «»5 /^> bsr --jELerms; friend : there was oji/r between ll« ; X .-.ciw-^flr- - K sjcr,; w^ch g^ished bcr brain with TipwtwJ KL--"it;i'i Sir r=a&:c;r^ isrzlies. She was grateful, onlj pi^] »rvi w£5iit ?--cT!£ r:- tt.^- hrm because trf a wwied whisper?
N-- : t::i Oi; 1:3.-^=^ b=ad w»s thrown badt, and the gW ;,-r::r >Triri :r :s :>;^ r^rrcr^:^ ia every nerve— with gntitude.
:•.; >Jii -x^ts i<«^ Tv' Tic bei ; she Ured alone with a t*j nK-!.-<-- i.rc >Jii =ii'. >-:= so fTipr=eii'Jy at friends' houses, thai K"* 'I >.,r.-. r.' .-il^ V^- ^-"C ezLzerec be: he»c.
■J^; s.vj?r<- i^T-s =it^_T prccie 10 de^ieration, and is d* «"*] ia-CSi .-c T^.^-!^ * —.^t. I
1 j!,^ 1 -^^ ■=■-" « " wbsre Faibo- St. Anbyn lived, and jfwt «*| s.". .riv.:«' ■-:rr»-';w w :"- >.:=:. c=n=i: wiich he was cool and ca ' ■v!-jl", w -.TSiii- i=i «« w-a* c^rireaiiT foshed and esdted, she 1 ^-■o; tV. '--Ci -'-t» .c =vha:i:a to a lai^ dinner she wH [ *•> i.AT. A.^-cv""'-"^ >-CT?c ir, and as Lady Lisla read ^i'fX *««N\S s. .V:;^ >^ i '-c* K>irt>d nusciueTOudT, almost as if she <*]
A Spiritual Failure.
433
ifight come, and with it the guests.
hostcssTcccivcdthcm, looking the personification of loveliness, ^cst of pale pink silk, and & stiange lus»e in the feverishly yes. Father Si. Aubyii look her in to dinner, and, as in duty Was by her eidc most of the evening.
delicate witchery was at its height. The statue that men (n Mcitstomed to adiuirc and ignore was a thrilling, throbbing novr. And they hung around it spell-bound. ras a triumph from first to bst, but like every other triumph
be pxid for dearly.
ty had all gone ; the last smile had been smiled, the lost hand* |d been given, and Lady LUta was alone, amongst that blaze ^nd that wcalih of flowers
! was pale now, pate to the very lips. The soft sad eyes gazed t before her, looking at truth steadily, and with self-scorn. Ecntly, she crouched down on the ground in front of the fire, aking her hair over her like a veil, buried her (ace in her Long-drawn .sobs came from thai prostrate form : at limes ■ hands were clenched and raised, at times they beat help* gliunst the floor. Her anguish was voiceless save for one ry: y God, I thought I knew everything, and I did not even know
1 the same night, at the same hour, Leslie St. Aubyn was bitter commune with himself. His strong smooth face was 1, md the usually calm eyes had a pU22led expression in them, n, half bcwikierment.
stood at his ojien window, and let the sharp night-wind play iTow. Stars, like brilliants shaken from God's linger, glittered broad blue sky, and the gentle rustle of the trees in the soothed the watcher's perturbed thoughts. His stern serenity ly returned, and the fathomless eyes lost that wavering ex- ISO unusual in them.
>d, I can do it," was his unspoken thought, as he gently he window ; •' for a moment only was my heart afraid. My I is stayed on Thee."
^p Chapter W.
ly LiSLA was going to be married "at last."
all ki)oiT which sex added th? two final worda ; but whctv 9-
y
4M
Tht Genilemaft's Magyujtte.
i
pretty woman gets to lie thirty and Kmnim unwedded, ihe Buiit expect icinarks to be critical if not kind.
'* It was ibe result of that dinner party," said a dowaget si^. " Anyone could see, she laid herself out to captivate thai night'
" \ks, it voi tlie result of that dinner-party," repeated Lady liiit, when the pithy Judgment w*3 echoed back to her; and then tht cittspcd her hand* together on her knees and gated itrai^ bdbn her, as she had a h-ibit of doing now.
Her JSaitff was Sir Evcrard Evcrlcigh, a heavy bniliih soft U roan, not young, not good-looking, and niofc plentifully tndowtd vHth money than with wit.
" liVhat made you choose him ? " asked outspoken Floss Rivers, id- justing her pince-nez to survey the slim mcam^tion of cream laceod blue ribbons reclining before her in an attitude of extreme Inngoet
" He docs as well as an)-onc else," was the listless reply. "Ate all, a husband is only an adjunct nowadayt to a woman's life, udu adjunct which need not interfere much with the ordinary tenor of iL*
Jolly Floss Rivers was vulgar enough to wbisile.
Lady Lisla had evidently developed, and developed to tcm purpose. Hut Floss was wise enough not to enter into an argVDtat. She herself was burdened with a partner who had marred her litt happiness at every stepi. Only her animal spirits, and only be animal love for her children, preser\-ed her within the pale if respectability. She was a woman who could hate and taugh, ite could appreciate humour while her heart wa.t breaking, aad vto would say carelessly and wickedly, as she trimmed her cigarctie«U a penknife, "There is one c[ualily which theologians have fbcpono^ to attribute to the Almighty, and that is sarcasm. He it ti sarcastic; once grasp that, and you get the clue to much tbxl hitherto been put down to his Satanic Majesty." She saw no* there were hidden depths in her friend's character, dqxlii meant to be fathomed by the world at large ; she saw, and held ber tongue.
To no one did Lady Lisla reveal her second visit to FaltW St Aubyn— this time at night, and this time on foot.
Is it not Madame de S^vign£ who say:^ " It Is a terribly iM^ thing to have a soul."
Lady Lisla was awaking to the consciousness that sbcwas'' only an animate thing, she was an intelligent being — sbe ooald ili* and because she could think, the whole range of thou^i w* <?• to her. Tlie magnilicence and loneliness of this idea appancdtl. Its potenliaViues wwe sQvm.mcvac. ^nd it was this sharpened pcM
1
A Spiritual Failure. 435
oniifg vhich made tlic (luVKtion of marriage so complex to possibilities were cnotnioiis ; ihcy madu her colour and rer frora head to foot, yet she must not shrink if tho general fare requiieid it of her.
When Sir Everard proposed, her perplexities increased. Whnl I been tneccty an intiicuie prubleiii viewed at a distance, suddenly ini« of lulpiUling immediate intercsi.
In her trouble «he thought of Father St. Aubyn ; surcl)' he would isCt he would know what was strong am) senMble and direct. 5 very sound of hi* wonderful voice, in her over-wrought stale, iM be soothing; and I^dy Linb, acting on the impube which acted her magnciically towards the man of htillijni intellect and ^Hsive heait, crept from her own houijc like a guilty thing, glided ough the bach streets and was usherei] into his presence trcmb' bu her boldness.
HO give biith to 3 human being is an awful responsibility, but to >e biiih to a soul is more solemn still, unless one can foster it niih
Ecaic. and guide it from adolescence inin maturity. ict St. Aubyn had deliberately quickened I^dy Lisla's intellect — lg ; but to guide her further would be to break his vows, un- B she believed as he believed. Klaiion at tlicir spiritual conquests ''•eone laudable pleasure of a celibate clergy, but Father St. Aubyn * *icJeT riews than most of his brethren. He never urged or "od or coerced apparently. Could he help those eyes which '' SO penetrating because so passionless? Could he help those
''enchant tones which, without the words sometimes, carried "ction to the most incredulous ? Where personal influence and I'^Ual supremacy merge into one harmonious whole is a point that "^Cvcr be defined.
P^hei St Aubyn pitied — almost pitied — the beautiful, tremulous !^re who stood before him under the one gas-burner in that **» unfurnished room, telling with cjuivering lijis and tearful eyes ' <]oubls, her feats, her love-trouble, ending plaintively, with quite "Sgic gestuic : ' "Father, tell me what I ought to do."
Was thi* the calm Lady 1-isla who spoke so eloquently on qucs- Dspojitical and social? After all, he thought critically, she was t a woman in embryo ; in mind she had begun to live, in heart she I yet a child. Stnug up as she was to the very height of nervous tension, his
few cold words were like ice to her fevered heart. M I'm honoured, deeply honoured, Lady Lisla, that ^o\i fea\e
\
A Spiritual Failure.
437
•Yes." "He is rich?"
■Yes."
' A good reputation ? " Tbc fuU red Itps curled. " As good .IS his fellows."
I The qucsUoner he&itsted a moment "You care for him?" A mutinous quiver of the lips— that was all. He he&ilatcd again. '• You care for no one etsc ?" Two soft shy c>'cs were ruscd to his, then the tryclids hid their ttCBUtj*. Tlicrc was silence deep as ihc grave, brukcn by r'ather St. Vubyn at len;tth.
" As ]rou have asked me," he began abstractedly, " I should say narry, by alt means. You will probably be happier, and feel life nore full, .\ficr all, employment is what «e each require, whether icb or poor : the thing is to find cmptoymcnl of a congenial kind. l/'es, roatry," bis manner getting more authoritative; "it is the best Jiing for you,"
" I will," came from bcr lips almost as a vow, and then she took ber leave.
"She is lost to us," was Father St. Aubyn's comment as he Kwrtcously put her into a hansom, " but at least ! did my duly. What weak fools most women are ; it is not creed they want, it is gu$b," and wiib a satirical smile he went indoors.
So there was a gtard wedding : and the society papers were full of ibe beauty of the bride and the wealth of the bridegroom. Faiber 5t Aubyn was invited to the breakfast, but was unexpectedly called oat of town.
A prolonged honeymoon was succeeded by a round of visits, and
EQ the newly married pair settled down in Eaton Square. Dinner succeeded dinner, fete followed fete, people shook their ds, and said "Such extravagance could not last. Had Lady UsU tost her bead?"
She s|»olte no more at public meetings, she headed no longer public charities, she read no more rational books ; her character seemed changed wholly and entirely. She lived only for present enjoyment, and cared not what she did so long as she drowned thoughL Father St. Aubyn she sometimes saw, but her set was not his set now. Her husband she openly scomed, and treated wi undisguised contempt,
it^^H
ftrefaing wdb MS
sss: ■=^^-. ^Tii n^ Tdme banc vxs E^rm^ &K one mnl i'
* >i^.^ t ; -IT- ;i,T " n; =jir -rni—- "t fi3 frTnnly ; "die wtaJt" Tnie ^"ttr r^" - n--- t T~ngt ttit hit ram, jaar (wn leasoo »5
■ V : TT?, sis. " It -ciL 3KttL7 Tiffi ttnihc. itac never fcbnng &»•■ .r.s r.-.^ -^sisnr.a:; : :tx. in say*^ be b»r dx cwed it » maoBT— T. s.-^-:wr. ir.i - rtr :t ieSo^sjttc: t; en&Ee die iaeriubl^ "**
--.n; iM^ra.- »:s; lana^^ia vr same cHcanespect.soBiec'*'"^ JWiJK'^ IT. jami E r'^rr »-3Ti. imc pramiaod H> obey.
* ^ mf' .-.zmu zn:. sfs 77c agsjs?^ ^x asked haaJir,si
•Z iEE«: Tjiciani -.--mxTir^iar 3i>i=TTeij\''herejiUed,»itJ" ■TifiKEtoi n: TcsTs: ir i^ T;n2i ; be fi>d scboded hir*Tf^ too 1
■"^ ftl ■<3.n«i IE .-c«?.SK3»r; I? bJE Oiunii tits Fadia St Aiibf ^ ^"J^ 1 hs V-b:: ^as cr :3aatii»j«rledced «id that he had «* <^* »3.i»OEjd; :aK *■>•«, ■»i)ri ii:7w "ay pKcic in his handk
*«.V Vfn» »,•'«-'■ bt swc--wr3i a dsade more fiEdinft "■ad bdiB^
A Spiritual Faiiure,
439
Icr e>'cs were diy, l>ul her heart was licavj-, as she once more wccndcd the staircase of her home. She was met by (righteDcd •errants, who told her Sir Ewrard liad died in a fit of apoplexy soon •fter she had left the house.
" He told me (o endure, to bravely endure," was the one tliought vividly present to her mind during the trying day* whicli followed and the early |)eiiod of her widowhood ; and it was (he .same thought which made her force herself to take up a^in literature, pliilanthropy, ud the fine arts, till she was spoken of everywhere lu one of Ihe women of the period, liU slie was run after by the best and the jCRatest, and was honoured by the public with a distinction rteldom wMemed on her sex— a memorial statue while living. Yet, would lie who was the immediate cau-^e of setting that splendid brain lo ■ock, would he have been satisfied with the result ? 1 fancy not ; because ;ihc was a spiritual failure, if a social success.
'M?
7%t Gmtbmuuts MagamM,
Ie^i^ lam'
«o:"JC-.v,-fz.
THE
OF RICHARD BERE}
1
jtdrdiBeteBt duncttritofl^ I have bem ■bleb
- dbnoK. invtt.^ xutissc:^^ vtedi so fcr is . ^
aa«*ff iai w-cr ^« ieot descrihed ia l«mt or ««™? "
».-««« cw*- jr ii« Sir«ae bmdmt coottiniDg two hamW « vt^-,vvr r«» .-s" --i--«l-v-crx=r«d and oroirfed litfle wiMg*
TKWs. .-( z rri- '.,-r iltf^^ Twirs. com the ist of ]»noiiy. i6^" :^; :i..^v.c ,-i A.-r:. -,- ' I: s wrlaen in Spmi*, En^-hmrt <«o.s.-. ■-.- -i ^-;ec--s=s i=d Er^lish idioiBs, but bir »* «■ CMci^ir •-.- i^ -.i-u. iT«i :>e iiu-jt. -linking no dwAt '^"T
iis CXI si; s,a«.-r.cr. ilcci;. i=d ctien m words that '""""Taj -c:c:=$ ■* --^.c Tvr^i^r f ; Ic riibUi^iiL^L the d^ly Me ot «* * iasc.u:v ::?er^ A^xri;; ~rw^. »hc rutswred and ruffled in "*^ bcuses ij^j. =),'.i;rTS -c 1 .nccc i: the end of the *"™'*^^^ ftfw xer; -.-.-t.c >cL-e r,- ^cssess the i<«n observjuon vA^ T^ iwie .-i iiai-ei Vsv'--iw ,t -.ac scber ■■-•^menc and ftw'*^ __^ John Kvei-.:;. i=c ■.':::* Us; cccKi^pcrary (^aiist of dKB* jT*
He raidj ««'*v^
caacct ^y >::A:=i f,- inv su\::i cua^ses.
b*4>
impres&ica ■jc 4:1 cvtruon. iai as a role confines tdooetf to » ^-j staiementof biscwTtmovecntccsir-d the people he meets dq^v^ but sail, oen siich as :: b, the diaiy is fiill of qount anl ^^^/^
X
sugg^ioti* "' ^« ini-.aiite life of a London wide^ ^fibot ■'C^ ours. The ftimiliar cam<;s of the streets, nay the TVtf spe d jf' taverns, are the same now as then, but in e^tir line of the iB^ brown ink may be gathered hints of the vast chasm that seputts the busy crowded life of to-day from the toitenog ddibcntna «i^ which these beaiLx in swords and hlgfa-pOed penw^ aniABCi
Ssthe
The Journal of Richard Bere. 441
their tavein-haunting existence It strikes the imagination, k> think that the man who thus sets down so coarsely and frankly •ts of his life must hav-e listened, with however tittle apprccia- |)o t])c luminous talk of wondrous John Dryden at Will's coffee \ most certainly knew the rising Mi. Addison, and probably K^attiietr Prior at his old home at the " Rummet " tavern, which fcrist frequented.
Arc is nothing in the manuscript directly to identify the and probably the indirect clues furnished by references to his Ss have never before been followed up to prove exactly who **or was. The task has not been an easy one, and iias started I^Orc than one false scent ending in a check, but at last 1 ^B on evidence that not only absolutely identified the diarist,
* explained many obscure passages in the manuscript.
F*> the first page to the last the writer refers to l>anes Court, cat, as the home of his brother, and he himself passes the Is of his dissolute life in London in visits to his Kentish ►*. Now Danes Court had been for ceniurjts in the pc'ssession h^ncient family of I'ogge, and I at once concluded that the *f my diary wa% a younger member of the house. Indeed, *^Ked therein by Hasted, the great authority on Kentish history, BO far as to establish to my own entire saiisfaclion that the '**-as a certain Captain Christopher Fogge, R.N., who died in ^Hd was buried in Rochester Cathedral, and I was confirmed belief by the fact that the wind and weather of each day is ^y Tccoided as in a sailor's log-book. But somehow it did not Constant reference is made to a brother Francis, and no ^* of patient investigation in county genealogies and baptismal ^tes could unL-arlh anyone named Francis Fogge. So I had
* back and trj- another clue. Brolhcr Francis was evidently a '"'^n and a graduate of King's College, Cambridge, and towards I of tile diary the author visits iiini at the village of Prescot, MvcipooL
•^ enough the rich living of Prescot was in the gift of King's
l^' ^mbridgc, and further inquiry soon showed that a certain
■ ■Sere, M.A., was rector from 1700 until his death in 1711.
Mself, was not much, but it led to furtherclues, which proved
p**'nc[iia! Ha^fted (" History of Kent ") to be hopelessly wrong
Fogge pedigree and the ownership of Danes Court, and
^'e question was settled more completely than I could
'^Ped by the discovtij*, in the "Transactions of the Kent
'^gical Society for 1863," of a copy of the copious
I
5
try. Al
gh the pa
Ztioys, of ]
c 13o>-», a
■ewry,"whi
larist is not
church of
go, diucind
_— ^^^^^lertain John
f- '^^s^^^^^nj^ecords the fsw
i^^^^^O-^ of the maw
^^ \%^/,at they did
^^^Ys* houses. Or
,e aged Lady]
est at Waldcra
in "po" by i
^ assizes at
^^^ loses, and
tlefesi**^'' biothe j-^cords that ^ds instancing tb
oxintry. i' is CO'
^t^ilst I was digi
-- ^-»orsehark." j
is manied, and
^,1 at Sandwich,
- ^^f r^ancs Court,
j-jfill see later on,
A" " ^"^-r^*^ oJ<J 'amily, of ■ />:^ »* ^ire*^f line. Ti t^^^g- £tri<J^t..\. of S
444
The GentUfnatCs Magazine.
had muter of the Saodwkfa Free School and broUitftol ncior of Sl Pwl and Sc Uarr, Saodwidu He seems to hue id«^ RMljr lor A catDOse at the bostelty of the *' Three Klngi'' 3Md«kfa or ebewbete, mh the btber or unde of his pnpft. On tbe >8ih of April "the fleet entered the Downs, the -mvcA Ykmrn^ a pk « the time. A ihjp calkd the Windter vas lost I to Deal u 9W ifae ahipi, 30d saw five ensigns." Small dctaibof nagb thejr seem nowadays — bcd-wanniag lad fiar trifling ailments sound qtiecrly eaonih to OS coniDg biuljaaoa the gloom of two centuries, but la ihc mUk of the Hwwniric of this smaU beer of visits paid and recemd. «f Ae tmniTfi lAe and ao on. brother John recdvcs a writ, and «t fed tfM «c are naesse« of the process by which all this feastinf; isd ■ndiT te coMtifclim dw nun of the i^rand old rnmily that ewe owned broad bads aad hi. manors alt over Kent, which fouaM Iwnauh and coUegn and wa» ctascty allied to the regal PlaMagencat bol whoK paacnoas bad even now shrunken to one poor tnaiaioa ofllnes Coort and the few farms around it. John Fofge^ Kkftad, wboae pOMpoaa Latin epiuph is still in Ttlnuium Owc^ wnnen by his elden son Edward, and scofTcd at in ibe baSy BiUe by the dcccBctate John, had been true to the Kiaf^ iMe dsag the cnfl war. His near nei^bour, Sir John Bojicf had hnated and harried the caralicr and sacked In after die mad Kentish riso^ of i&iS, and had frightciitd la boMMiritt chM ID d«fa ; aad tor die wbole of the CootmooaalA penod poQc Itkiafd bad been pbmdercd and wdl-nigh mined. Hii son Edsard md Jobs had been o^rcd at sea by the Dutch, ud Chrtnofpher bad faeotahcapnoocr by the Turks, and all three bd had to be boHtfat off widi anom. Stout oM Rkhard Fogge Ibo^ fere htd left l>iaes Coort sad^ embatiaaaed at his death in lib Ha eidctt son Edward <ficd soon after, and John Fota;e, the bnxto- ia-law of oar dtanst, was ta|)idly coniinuing the ruin at the diu<' dMdiaiy. Bf the jodi of May RicfaatdBcrch;id had enough of I>u» Coort, and stmed to Cautubmj " with my brother^ horse ak ttrtaait. and so to Konhflect wfaa« 1 visited my kinsman O^ H« mo«nted hs bocsc at fin o'docfc in the morning, and arrind < Kowhfcct at five in the cvaun^ staymg oo Ibe way only a it**' time at Cantabniy toiet aad didt with faeeA Best, at whose bMK he always alibis when he panes through the ancient dty. Tbt fey road » a good fif^-fivc tniles, so Richard no doutt he Imd caned his nigfeieit icst at trade OiiUs' bdot as be did nest day, by tiBtoai to Loodoo.
Tla Journal of Richard Bere.
he did when he arrived was to " drink with Higgs," and send for enson lo meet him at Phillips' mug-house. Dcnson appears to have >ecn a humble friend or foster-brother, as Becc calls Benson's father " my father Benwn," who went on all his errands, pawned his nluables, and faced his creditors, ^^'hen Benson came ihcy started nit together and look a room, where they both slept, "at the sign of be 'Crown,' nn inn in Holborne," and the record thereafter for &ome imc consiKS mainly of such entries as " Dined with Sindry at he ' Crown,' and drank with hi tn all the afternoon and evening at Phillips'. Slept at Mrs. Ward's." "Dined with Dr. Stockton, Haddock, and Simpson at the ' Tindar of Wakefield.' " " Dined at the nga of the 'Castic,' a la\'em in \V'ood Street, with many friends from the North ; drank there all the afternoon, and all night drinking with usual friends at Phillips',*' only that these daily entries usually wind up with the record of a debauch which need not be described, but which Richard docs not hesitate to set down in such cold blood B his orgie has left him.
He appears to have had as a friend one VVeslmacoit, who was a
priion official, and a iitanding amusement was apparently to go and
•e* Ihc prisoners, who sometimes fall foul of Weslmacolt and his
"lend and abuse them, Richard also has a quaint way of drawing a
""Wiature gallows in the margin of his manuscripl on the days that he
''^oids the execution of malefactors. Onthe ijthof June, for instance,
'fter giving his usual list of friends and taverns, he writes : "Seven
fen hanged today ; fine and warm. Drinking at Philipps' at night;
^iitraacoit there again," A day or two afterwards the bailiffs walk
' •during his dinner at the tavern and hale his boon companion,
*^*.Tec, off to jail ; but Richard thinks little of it, for lie goes off to
"^■^k straightway with Colonel Legge, and then passes a merry
«iing with Dr. Stockton and Mr. Rolfc at the sign of the "Ship,"
■^^i Charing Cross.
On the atfth of June, " a new sword-bell, some woollen hose, and
* *"scllc for my hat," were bought ; and soon after he leaves his
^gmgs at Mrs. \Vard's, and thenceforward seems to sleep in lavema
*»inns for some time, wry often winding up the entries in the diary
bj confessing that he was " drunk." or " very drunk."
On the 1 8ih of July he visits "the house of the Princess of Denmark
•ilh Mr. Wooton," and thence goes lo see a fashionable friend of his
called Captain Orfeur, who had a fine house at Spring Gardens,
where he meets his brother, and they all make a night of it at the
*' Ship." By the beginning of August it is not surprising that he is
i)|, and decides to visit his brother Francis in the country. On the
rot. CCLXXI. NO. I9jl, 'VI YV
\
i
lMk.1
BjCMVd hMCBpHd Ac
cteKftr
V opcoqId QQf vd
to Osadi^be fan
■■■ afijtrwxrds cut-
M>C hswnci^ bong
of Load TbooKKufB, «lKfc
T1>eDeril<
aad to tfai* be adds sercnl liule reaiKEes wltich some trar cocopooioa MOM to bavc told him on th« road. He tcnipalo tecofds the bet th« the dijr is hb binhdajr on each woceediag tSte o( AugUft, and ibe oeaaoa appean to be an excase for a bant o'^ (leepCT drinking than e*-er ; but 00 this first birthday mcmioocd it» (be diary, 1693. he is e*-idently getting hard upt He kniges nt'Ji * nan named NcUon, who ceaselewJy duns him for his rent, and ■« won Icam that the faithful Benson has panned his two rings tar eighteen shillings. On the a?'^ September his friend Dr. Slodw iclU him "thai Mr. Addison told him that I lost my place beciMRfj was against the Oovcmmeni, and was foolish enough 10 talk abom i which," »ay» indignant Richard, " U a lie."
It sounds curious nowadays to read that he and his frienit' Westmacoil and others, sometimes walk out in the fields to ifaoct with Ijows and arrows, and usually return thence to the " Hok-ii ' lhe-\V»\\" 10 pm the evening.
The Journal of Rkhard Bere.
447
As i specimen of the entries at ihis period, I trantcribc that for the 3olh of September, 1693, at least so much of it as can well be published. " ^\'iih Atelham and Stourton to the City, and dined at the 'Shii> ' in Hirchm T-ane. Vickers there, and wc went logeibcc to the Exdungeand met Mr. Howard; with him to the ' I-ouniain,' Mr. Cosum there. Al five o'clock went to Sir James Edwards', and drank there two tlatltK of wine. Tlientothe ' King's Head,' where 1 left them utd went to &Ir. Pcarcc't houNe, and received ten pounds. Found StourtoD vcr>' drunk. Went and paid Jackson and Squires. Slq>t at I'earce's — drunk myself."
With the ten pounds received from Mr. I'carcc Richard seems to have set about renewing his wardrobe, and duly records the days upon which his various new garments arc worn. On the i6ih of October " Aspin, the tailor, brought my new white breeches in the morning, and we went out to drink al the ' Bull's He^d ' in Matt l.ane." On the snd of November he recites the names of six tavcrnsat »Wch he drank during the day, namely the "Bull's Head," the "Red Cow," tiic "Ship," the "Horns," the "Clieshire Cheese," and ihc "Ctovn," and on the 7lh of the same month a dreadful thing happens to rllim. The coniitables walk olf hii duldnea. Miss Nichols, to jail, and id is left to seek such consolation as he canlindat the "Chequers," "Three Cranes,'" and the "Sugar Ixiaf." The next day he seeks out 'fiend Wcstmacotl at the "King's Head," and is taken to the prison *«e tlie incarcerated fair one. Whilst there, he " meets the man « ho ■done the mischief." But he winds up at the "Sugar Loaf," in White- **S and Phillips' mug-house, and is carried home thence in a coach ■winuch overcome by his grief and potations to wolk. On the 14th, "** ac«r3il more visits to the prison, he bewails that he can do ""^'Og for Nichols, and on visiting a Mrs. Hill, that kind matron tells ^^ ibat his great friend. Dr. Stockton, had told her thai " I had *!^*mefed oU I had over a worthless wench, and thought now to live S the expense of my friends;" but the entry, unfortunately, winds up I *''' the words : " iJortowcd two pounds of Simons on my watch." : this, Richard thinks that quiet Danes Court might suit him for a and Marts the next day. the 15th of November, us before to ^fitivncnd l>y the tilboal, and aftcra duty visit to his relatives, slays two Bi|htt at the sign of the " l-Iushing," and dines there merrily with "a da{}tDan named Sell and another good fellow from the North." The stmc companions and others go with him in the coach to Canterbury, ■fere he stays at the "I-leece," gets gloriously drunk, and is cheated oat of half-a-cTOwn ; and lies in bed until mid-day next morning, his jucoe, Jane Fogge, who lived with the Bests at Canterbury, coming
UH3
I
7^ Ga^ietmmaii Magtuiiu.
h
km
ih>
iGi. k
ladwsfteniooabeooiulKXiUind J'*I
(MmlB«(lbone,asdlhr(Uraid<r i'^**
Ob the rn of Deaobct k kB
dnnki C1BII7 nMlillCi
Qrimyhpr Fogge sen 1» Mr
Aey qoind ; DBcle Onlilf Ae^ tb «
lodiaiDefi dfCUK diu K DM
■ad the d^r fvU cms rfi »
mcft at tbermlshiiff"*
(tf Walms Cattle, wtnc he ImJ. al tepiAaetadiMiDdnitibtilii|»it
^^ p>e a a nlutt of K^ ^ Maleefv ud Johs Fo{p Mit 1 ^_H^ bntfas WiUbiiiabai)! DM
to Us imrdoiufT la«a' « *^
_ii«M.ii<BdDOlaiBtri«»*' 0« (be ijth of Mudi. »te g*«» aovr to Mc Tlmns Bop, " Kt(^ ^^ iPTJiwrfy iqtued bin." "* ; -TfcepooeUd*ed»liaKrf** the LiiLi'mi," bat Mt a «aii>>x*
jd s^ 4Vn far the ttMmt of TVB •«»<>.■■««» K) Lowkm bf the ^ P^w haonts ^ uvquk^ Be tries bnd tDbonov nme) &>■ anion aboM liii ctfos ^ IS K pRXt; anstant Tite ■ eflm. «Uc)i petitiom ihW^ cfooane doesnoide$cribe«» c^dooe. Ihatt, docDBtent itsdl b ifl tbe volwunom it 4b^k the sewn yctn it
tin Aogost, i6S^ll*
addicaaed 1 koa
Bass' petitioo) to the
fiUA 1 11^ tbem ti> 1.
UA MUier praooo*' ^
TW, «nor reftmi) to firi*
nar
Journal of Richard Bere.
449
lard Bere, as Collector of Customs, had to do so, reimbursed out of the secret service fund as pro- retaiy of State. The prisoners were kept at Carlisle 1690^ and Richard s|>6nt ^^74 ^s. on their main- is soon after suddenly dismissed from liis post, and lalance his accounts for want of this money, and ginning the diary had presented hts petition to the lasury for the reimUtrsement of the stini, or at least handed to the Keccivci-Ocnetal of Customs on his hilst the petition was lying in the pigeon-holes in her office was only conscious that Richard was .saccounts,andon the nth of May, 1694, there is an n the diary : " Alone to dine at the 'Spotted Bull.' where one Petitt told me about the tolls of Carlisle, : bailiJ^ from A])pleby had a warrant to arrest me." wait long for the bmliiTs, and in less than a week sealed a bond, apparently for borrowed money to lunts, bought a horse and a Bible, had gone to West- oul his brother's aflairs,"and started off for Carliaie. Ii Oundle, where the Rev. Francis Bere appeared to by Stamford, Grantham, Newark, Doncaster, Ferry- (by to Carlisle. Two days before he arrived at the spirits came out to meet him, and a host of friends h open arms after his ten days' ride. He dines ith Dick Jackson, drinks often and deeply with the le, collects money owing to him, buys a line new Haines, and a new swurd, settles up his accounts of loliday for the schoolboys, whom he treats all round, a burst of jubilation by receiving a present of two om his ftiend Bcil, which had not paid much to the ind of which, no doubt, the late collector and his (IS gave a very good account. And then, after a six ulisle, he wends his way back to London again by his horse falling lame at Stamford, and the rider rom Grantham to Ware, and thence to London by sat the " Bell," in Bishopsgate Street, where Benson rith fresh clothes and a sedan chair, and takes him t of London again,
[Jiaid's prosperity is of short duration. The bor- )on comes to an end, with the able and constant icrtain Catherine Wilson, who has now supplanted chob, and by the beginning of September (t6')4l f one article after the other to the pa'WTV&Vvov, M^i.
450
The GentUmaiis Mag€tzine.
brining back sunu which Richard regards as very unsMirfuttty in uootint. On the 6th of that month he silends what muahxw been rather a curious nurriagc at the chuKh of St G«r(e^i, Bloomsbuiy, where one of Catherine ^Vi]son*s companions named Euly was married "to a young oiJin named James Carlilc, bctacco nine and ten in the morning." The whole of the party s<)}oun TO the fields, and at one o'clock return to drink nt the " Fealbcn* in Holbom, " but the knavish constables disturbed us and «e «cm to ^^liitefriars ; at two I went to seek Benson, but he could otdr btinj; me %t. on my pistols." \Viili this sum Itichard finds ha way back to Whiiefriant, where he remained drinking tQl ewniog with (he *' new))- tDniried pair, Catherine Wilson, a gentkraan aad his wifr, and a m.vinc." He then attends a cofTee-house, and winds up with n carouse at the " Kising Sun." Tlie unfunnMtt bridegroom soon disa|>i>ean( from the diary, but the *'Uide' takes part in the drinking bouts for some time to com& By Ike middle of October Richard has apparently come to the cr>d oj his tether, and, after borrowing a h^f-crown o» his knives, quantb and sc]>anitcs for a time from Catherine Wilson ; but bnxhtr Francis and sister Foggc arc appc-ilcd to for monej-, and whenJI arrives Catherine is to the fore again. A great scheme is hatdMd about this time with a Captain Sales and Mr. Butler, apporentl} relating to the tobacco duties, and the Commissioners of Cuitoni and other officials are being constantly petitioned and visited. Some- times the tobacco business is considered bui>efu], and somctiiiKs tbt conirar), but on the 7(h of January, 1695. it looks very bright wbeo the I^rds of the Treasury and the Commissioners of Customs »liif together at Whiteh.iU receive Richard and his two friends, who br the cose before thent, but " Mr. Ctilliford spoke against us* aad notliing was decided ; so the trio ar»l Others who joined them go tt the " Rtimmer" lavem at Charing Cros5,and drink confusion to Mi. Culiiford. A day or two daj-s after this " a knave came to betray me to the bailiffs," and poor Richard and hb friend Sales seek die shady retreat of a lavem in Fulwood's Rents. For the n«i fe» days he dodges the bailiffs from tavern to lav-ern, and sleeps at Brf Court, Whitcfriare, and elsewhere. The "kruvish boililb' ero follow friend Sales in the hope of inicking Richard. On the i^tbt' January the faithful Benson brings his clothes to the new iodgin$ ■ Whitefriars, and Richard venliires out "to the 'Anchor' in CokMO Street, about the business of Andrew Llo)-d and the widow, the ' St. John the Baptist's Head ' in Milk Street, where I foood meeting the cVuiiiins a.\«iM\ v^ Vsbacco business." A few day*
Tke Joumai of Rkkard Sere. 451
: business of " Andrew Lloyd and the widow " is settled somehow " Mermaid " in Ram Alley, and on the 261b Benson pawns all Richard's .sih-er for ^5 7/., and Richard >lips out of Whitefriars at night, )>lcep« at the " Star," and escapes lo the quiet of Danes Court, whcic tli« bailiffii cease from troubling and the spendihiift is at rest.
On the zaA o( Februar)', 1695, scape;(;race little ne|>hew Dick Fogge comes home witlia slory that the small-jiox had ai)i)eaiod at the (chool at Sandwich, " but it is all a lie," and the youngster is led back tgnominiously the next day by his father and 1'iin Thomas the schoolmaster, and when John Koggc letums 10 Danes Court he brings news that the Trench arc capturing English boats in the Channel Richard is still uneasy in his mind, for on tlic isih of February he dreams that the bailiffs have caught him at last, and goon afterwards begins seriously to put his Customs accounts in order. Then early in April he starts for London again, but ns soon as he was on board the lilboal at Gravcscnd he caught sight of a bailiff ■shore seeking him. It t^cs four hours lo reach London, and the citjr is in a turmoil, for duiing the night "the mob knocked down a bouse in Holbom." Hetakcsaioom at the "Green Dragon "for a day or two, and the next night tlie mob burn down two houses in the Coal Yard, Drury Lane. A false friend named Fowler accompanies him in his search for lodgings, which he eventually takes at the house of a cheesemonger named Tilky in letter L;ine, and also goes with him to the Custom House " about my accounts," and then on the 13th of April, after carousing with him half the day, " the hound betrayed me to the bailiffs," and poor Richard is caught at last. He is at once lialcd off lo a spunging- house, called the " King's Head, " in Wood Street, and the first thing the prisoner does is, of course, to send for Benson, who comes with Sales and other fricnd.i, and they have a jovial dinner of veal with the keeper. The next day lienson brings some money, and Richard holds a perfect inre of friends. Sotne of them go off to soften the creditors, in which they fail, and Others to apply for a writ of haheat corpus. A good deal of dining goes on at the sj>unging- house, but on the 16th the carouse is cut short by the removal of Richard lo the Fleet. He has a good deal of liberty, however, for he still occasionally haunts the taverns in Hcet Street, probably under the w.ird of a kcc^wr. Brother Francis is appealed to daily by letter, and pending his rtrply al! the old boon companions come in and out of ihc prison, dine there, drink there, and get drunk in the vaults, Benson and Catherine Wilson coming every day with clothes, books, and comfort. At the end of the month uf May the parson brother, Francis, arrives, and after a month of negotiation
4
\
45»
TJU G*ntUmcais MagoiiiU.
Haae aad tbe law conns, and mticb dri^Jnj
X bond b signed tnd sealed at the "Thnel
mj tnad^" and Richard Berc b fenj
t Kickafd, aAcr a shaip fit of the gout, locn 4 Wi eld Wiiis apfah *i>d oo tbe 6th of Scplerober coafeaiei I gviMbanva Ac "Dag' uveni in Drarx Laae"aboat^ of Wak^ bokh,* aa mdiacreet thing ettcwgh coo^ HoBC acCTitt wcK stiD unsettled, and li Or tbe istof Jutf, vhilsl Ibc •* Cnwm," the constables «al Ik^ go ID the ' Globe ' taretn and aiTcsl ti Uafd the aatbor." And so tbe diuy {( , bia Rjdianl full of the tobacco fai to tlK kB[g aad inieiTicNs with Tieasuty ( : gml bob wool scbeme, which necenittM the ttekeof OmKBd, but does not I lb basM OMfUMStt endttaiy do not thid ; ■■ fco^^BHj mjtfeDg Iiuui toe Treasuiy, rat ' f ^pj*"^** anew vlgit eftf 1 receitvdniTj
drink, he b frugal cdoo^
to the cikI of the diaiy he ea
hebascuen nothing but alhd
Mjpcimyworth of bread to
s i|ipficable to Rkhard Sere I
he aeedi to be sfoiing in his ciqw
aotwhbsaxtdmg his driiJui
Suanonat the "R
to Laid ^bcs atnno in Omxio
new boc rvBcs for six I
oa las i»ew wj^ for w
S5I. to SaMc; the batbei. But
FmiCB seads finds,
B "b; Beaoar sua
«y IteBSMO," Richaid s
Ir bar te ^adwich. l^e «i
lad. bm adBr a daj: aail
soiaos himidf «itf
'alSandwid.
BKabadaccou to~dq:-' But Joan B
TA4 Journal of Richard Sere. 453
1
on the 3ist or October, " oAcr dining with my aunt," threatens to cat his wife's throat. For months after ihia the diary conKiAntly ittwdj thai " John came home raving drunk ; " " John from S«nd«ich to-day, very vioknl ; " " John mad drunk all day ; " " To tilmanston church twice, John there raving drunk," and so on. On ^J'tistnias Diy, 1696, Richard, who as befits a iMiMon's son, is all "■raugh 3ri indefatigable church-goer, takes the »acramcnt st^J ^'baiision churcli, a^ he genenilly does on special days, John ^^ "''f iiKh all the Christmaslide remaining drunk as usual. On the ''"W Januarj', 1697, he gives his wife a black eye, and the next "•y ft is Richard's turn, and he goes on a great drinking boiil with T*Ptajn Whiston, and "got drunk and lost my white marc," whereupon
r* 'wniaculate "John is very angry with mc." On the loih of
™n;,iry ncjAcw Richard runs away from school again, and gets
"""'y whipped by his father, who remains drunk all the month. On
^^'■i*^ of Match tidings comes to Danes Court that the master ha»
J~™ ''^^igcd in Dover jail, and his wife and her brother start off next
. ""o^j to Snd him. He has escaped somehow, and gets back to
^ ^^ourt road drunk just as his household arc returning from after-
" ^^^ar^ce at Tilmanston church. This goes on all March, and on
'"Hi John borrows monc-y from an attorney, named Lynch, and
•*■" ^ Itond at Danes Court conveying all his goods to the lender
as seevA -^riX^, " being tabid drunk at the time." A few da>-3 afterwards
the t>^iii([s Qcaiiy look John, but he escaped by the ciuicknest of
"* ™^*-*e.' Echoes of more important events occasionally reach
"^^^^ Court. On the 6th of April, ifiga, news comes that the
f tencfrx have taken Jamaica, and that they have captured a merchant
flc«'- !- v^ ti convoys off Btlbaa Soon after we hear of " French pirates
iof«a»-jg the Downs, and they had taken two of our ships," but the
domcsxic troubles of the old Kentish manor house occupy most of
k '^ at this period : incorrigible young Richard runs away from
T^ k***^ again and cannot be found for days ; with some di Hi culty drunken
J** ^*s account's with Hill and Dilnot, of Sandwich, are arranged, but
. '*>•; J4ih of A|iril he is lodged in jail at Canterbury on another
*» and is only released by more borrowing from Lynch, and at
^* goes back to his drunken career again. An entry on the 2()th of
_^"^*^1, 1697, gives another inkling of Richard's Jacobite leanings.
*alking to Eythorne I met Pciiil the parson and Captain March.
^ drank together and went to Walker's, where a Mr. Kelly defended
!~^ bad opinion that it was lawful for people 10 rise against the king
he violated his coronation oath."
All through May John continued drunk, and one day falling foul
i
i
Emy
aid fabck podAv*"* 0« the t9* of Odaba; ihn,V^'* d«M^i«AirfAeMuwift—fc*' Ae Hid <tf DnxBfan Ae fOB
b« ■ piA db|d^ itf fiKmk^ ^>
3Bi&nu£: CVS ^ 3)s E^of KfMBer lo Acbg. UdnrfkfB-
3UK jdi= i-Bf ^exn~ »*"~'"g ■■*— r»rfir'i|'^'^'T'**T*'*^'*'
sni =ie .^nte-rxitt ^~ I..37I Coca^obr to f^t dw racanDadttB
.larresi ^vr :■- ire "raasiEx. E;^ Jir^ j^lii«*M4> aftei the ollw ii sijii;-^ =;e 7-t?e^ ITS sac liKKwxnii »■:*< fa«irajd«, and it ii 64 r»; -^izs xicips nra:rs sLcii^ ir as *cccncs ha tnonef. OnAt nc.T're-Tsncsr. ::.:-. S; rsi^cds^ecoKseciaUOorfSL PjiA»»* .•o:=e:5^ --c:srTar>.r>;ia;i=Eaish3ni5t9eiTieeiD4eOAe- is,. • r;:ni ±eHcs 7: ^ae Tsaicue Orjrri md ao n> Ac 'TnBfA v^Kn ~ suTTvi :c Yiixx pn^ciKs *-4 yhnwr Home at a^ «->xM, u' .iiiatifcir' rescont 3iie tc jsiT £ae icEi.' Onlhei8dio(A^ "K i«s frn« -V.-cts. BsL cc =se xaca of Msy «iB fte*^ /-^-ii-fc: ■ir.na. Ssv y.-ncaai. 3stt ^^^"t-t » the "D6^lun"taiai jn-jl iicK Ji i^ -ncrnoi;. Ct tie sci cf lone, aiipanDllj fiirfl? rlv irJLK::ui :i s-na; :c rac -wxt be ■*-^-^^ in the oAt hwBO J v-'^r^ v"-.i::-jci. ;c c iss irmrnrrss ^n>n^«mV at Giq'i !■ v^j-jsjs.. S: Trf-.-ris rw iii:x ^ac ie vrace some siAical «o» ''"^" ■'<■*= -li 1 :3« itfT SIX ct cixiKs comes hone, and be dM
ic:v*?<^i' «-c- "i^ r7t23Ck seme ct sie lme» ''thie* sBoel** cv ■„, ;,^ ;;.-r:^~r^- -j- ^. SLiraids dngnsL Tbe q«i* ■-•.-ir-; v-»^~s .tr rvy r.:.-f-irizrKrTieq^3HaK«r,andtheia»<»
; '^^ -^^ *^* iM r,^ ,-t S;Exik as S«. Juness How rA
\TJie Journal of Rkkard Sere.
omes certainly more respectable as he gets older, and fliR:ition wiih his landlady, Mrs. Stokes, of Sliort'a hear tittle of hit gallanirics henceforward. He is pcosperuus, too, in .tome mysterious way, owinjj to a apparently in an official tapacily, from (iosporl to which a sum of ninety-five guineas is handed to him. ing of his adventures in Klanders, where, however, he Efetend Torn few days from his ship the Good Hoft. M>wever, is evidently an important one for him, at he f it on and off for many months, and takes a special nbridgc to see brother Francis before setting out. On Sober, 1698, he anchors in Dover Roads on his return, K to Danes Court, where he stays over Christmas, and idon in January, 1699. Hiii fiicnd Churchill has now sury matter in hand, and after many munthx of hope krd Bere gets his ;^74 ^. at last in October. But d paying, and on the morrow of the payment e to me drunk, and quarrelled with nic because 1 him the money he wanted," I suspect the money ago, for Richard has often enough gone into the or ten pounds "on the king's order," He is about money mailers, too, for all his apparent He has a boon companion named Henry Johnson, the autumn and winter of i6i>9 drank mamly at his ^ery penny thus spent is noted against the date in the neat account of the whole, headed " Expenditure on cnry Johnson," is bound up with the diary. From ihb at Johnson consumed over seven pounds worth of ious taverns with Richard in about five months. On luary, 1 700, Richard visits the Duke ofNorfolk ; but it is g off to he told that he (toes straight from the Duke's to dings at Smith's. In July of the same year he goes to ^ed Anna \Vtlkes, a prisoner in the Marshalsea, and ^e learns in the 'I'ilt Vard that his boon companion lode Deputy CJovernor of Windsor. On the 3ol!i of ng Duke of (jbucester diw, and one day next week ■ drinking punch with Mr. Vnn Dyk, tries to see the Dung prince at the lying in state, but fails. His brotlier ;own about the first fruits and fees of his new fat living, ie his surety for ^48 \i. ^d. (o the king, and when H comfortably settled in his new rector; in July, 1701, ^^H I the ship Previdcjut for Liverpool to visit him. I'hey ^^|
456
Th* GtutUmaii s Magazine.
ft
: ID stfl there : tnd when he turives ■ gMirtfimii dad that brother Francis has tmuiiedlia(^ wfaoeopoa Kichard is much surprised, iri ! sMoey from his new connection. TbmiM I s ftooot, and Richard is in his element Hediaa 1 with evtiybody, ^om his brother's gtebe-ieiuuits to ibc I «f OcA; K Know^, gets drunk constantly, breaks hb mt r and aHWcr, qttairds in his cups with a good muqr d Ktng Junes III., and enjoys himself greatlf. It b to be Mted that his brothci's curate generally shaved hln durag OMtlKlJtbofJunc. 1701. King William's death is rcoordcii a aftar dte diauts returns to London by road, taking up bi a Staked Shott^ Gardens, again. In the autumn he god CaoR, «)Kee John Fogge is still usually drunk ; and in «f tfMS ywr K most important thing happens to Riduid Ob tbe a^td of that month he visits the aged l^dy MoniM M WaAAcnbiR, tbe ticxt mansion to Danes Court. Hit sister, Mis. Fogp; b with him ; and staying with Lsdy Monins is a cenajn Lucj B0J9, paanaafaly a daa^ter of Captain iloys, the constable of Wafaaec Oaie. After dimwr, Richard, who was then 49 yon of •Ce^ vfaispcRd aoft words of kn^e to this young Udy, and tbe nest day be icooids the C»« that he sent her a tender love letter. The BM«ki< nothing loath, scndx him an answer next day, and a fe« days aftemids comes benelf to visit Mrs. Fogge at Danes Coun. Of eoane, Rkhard improves the occasion, and, as he says, "■ nuka love a^tin." For the next week a livxly interchange of notes oka ^place between Danes Court and W'aldeishare ; and on the 8ih (rf Hovcmber l.ucy Bo>-s thinks it time to go home to Walmcr Castle. It is IKK quite in the direct road, but she called to say good-bye » Mrs. Fogge at Danes Court, and. of course, Mr. Richard Bcre Aougbt well to go in ihe coach with her to Walraer. " M'e pledged,' he ays, " to marry each other, and solemnly promised to many » one else." On the i6th of December he again goes to Waldetstutre and they again renew their iJedgc, and Lady Monins promised all her influence with her grand son -in -law, the great F.arl Poulet to fotvrard Richard's fortunes. ICarly in January, 1703, Ridon) speeds to London with 3 letter from Luc)- Boys to Lonl Poulet in his pocket. The jjcer welcomes him warmly, promises bn great things at the Treasury and ebewhere, and loving Icllcn stffl speed backward and forward between London aiMl AValmer- Richard is constant at I.ord Poulet's Itvht, and at last, 00 to '5th of March, 1105, Richard is introduced to the all-
The Journal of Richard Bere.
Lord tiodolphin, who promises him a good office, upon ibe strcnglh of which he " borrows another £^^ of Gawlcr." Bui Richard com- pUins of lameness on the very day that he saw Oodolphin, and the next enliy in the diary is carefully traced with a trembling hand at the bottom of the page nearly three months afterwards. Richard had fallen ill of (^ut, fe^'er, and rheumatism, and had not left the room for ten weeks, " altended by Mr. Sheppcry of Drury Lane, my targcon Mr. Williams, and my housekeeper Mrs. Cockman," In July he was well enough to go to Danes Court, and on the t ith of August visited Waldcrshare with his sister. Tliere, walking in the grotto, he again pledged hii troth to Lucy Boys. On the and of September Lucy Boys came to dine at Danes Court, and the vows were repeated. On this occasion Miss Boys showed her sincerity by handing to Richard "93 guineas, one pistole, and six shillings in sUvcr," presumably for investment or expenditure on fitting up a home Soon afterwards Lord Poulet came and look his wife's graiMlinother away on a visit to Hinton, where she died in six weeks. Richaid Bere returns 10 London a iuppy man, but in a few weeks hb lady low herself comes on a visit 10 Lord Poulet, and then, on the lolh of November, a great change comes over the tone of the entries. "The strumiJet Boys came to London. ! saw her at lx>rd Poulet 's. and gave her five guineas, besides five guineas I gave her on the afith to go to the Exchange, five guincis more 1 paid on her account at Mr. Slows, and another ten pounds on account of the slot." .\notlicr entry on the 30th is still more disheartening. "I went to tee ihe slut Boys at Lord Poulet's, and the baggage denied ever having promised to marry me at all. and now she has gone and married a stulteiing parson called W'oodwnrd.' Then Lord I'oulet said he had never promised to do anything for him, and " treated me vilely," and (he whole romance was ended.
At this time there are two entries in English as follows : "November ay, 1703. From 12 a clock in ye morning till 7 was ye most violent storm of wind y' ever was known in England, and ye damage done at land and sea not to he estimated."
"Onycisth, 16th, and 17th ofjanuary, 1703-4, wasavcry violent storm, which forced back ye fleet bound to Lisbon w'^i ye Archduke Chiles, under Rookc, separating them, and did a great deale of damage."
In March, 1704, Richard is evidently making great preparations for another sea voyage. He often visits Bear Quay, and is much in Ihe city. Trunks and new clothes seem to be bought now without much difficulty, and Benson's services are not ipparently so ne«,dtii\
1
p^'V'^ THEOLOGY -^^/-VINBURNES POEMS.
V
^*a
^aid ihat at the present time Mr. Swinburne is foremost ligures in the world of English letters, poet who has a place apart on our national , splendid achievements and the dignity of years
^^*Ve of Tennyson too august for comparison oi" ' ^^at there is no other Uving master of the lyre r^|*«sd against Mr. Swinburne. In some respects, ^v^^y overtop* all his contemporaries, but stands ' *1 the whole range of our liietature. r*^ttcr of quantity it would be hard to name any one
r- this last of our peat living singers. His firrt ^as published in r365, and since then he has ^ or so volumes of prose, and more than twenty of * ^rondcrful profuseness never has (at least as regards ^Tve as excuse for any artistic shortcoming. In all ^ of Mt. Swinburne's verse there is hardly a feeble \ and not even his most prejudiced or his boldest ^cny that he is a perfect and ronsummntc master o( &f his art.
Ii in OUT time there are many who have doubled the Utd critic, yei of all these labourers in two fields there Dot even Matthew Arnold — who has discharged the b functions to such good effect as Mr. Swinburne. Mr. kosc essays, in spite of some occasional extravagance, hroughout with the choicest and most subtle insight, H them are masterpieces of constructive or interpreta-
} admitted that Mr. Swinburne has up to the present y large share of public favour. For those who delight Morris or Sir Edwin Arnold, Mr. Swinburne is httle umc. The test of numbers is emphatically against
460 The GentUmatCs Magaxint.
Mn, and die few edidottt of " Atalanta in Cilydoti,* or " Poem* ul
Balbds." make x vtij poor show against the tmposii^ Ggoni tf
"Tbe Eiac o( Hades" or "The light of Ana." And n 1
L Mifff''— "^ agns of this plentifol lack of populxnty, or sgni
of impccfect acqountance with the poet's many gifts, in dl
wUcti gnes toA a dispfopoitionate atteotioa to colli
of im eaiher «a>k. Mr. SwinbniDe has be«n die wt
Md prolific of poets ; volome has feOowed volume bxate
t CTea yatitade cooM say hs woid ofgreetiiig; nd4
n ^tt of ciojtfciDS he has «iiUeu ance, be is to the great mis i
iSk icadac piUk kMmn chieAj as the author of the fim ssies d
•- ft^ Md Bdhd^' as Oe poet of "Dolores' and "AiucOva'
YcL en^ br then ihjtbiueal beauty, these eailr poena in vt
mtpr .aat^Kgy repcseaotnc of Mt. Swinboine. They iUtutnlt
«zsanj^ Ae poet's Ang and hit 607 impatience of the proprietie ;
A^ »< wobAtM md hrantifal pocas ; bot that they dMiild kM
cim-jiiiamni* Am »abor fa so kag 10 the eminence of kadadiT^
Kane sI^mK^i ~ Fresblr Sdbod of Poetiy,' can only be nJt
^nasEi^rJSe by sttcukex ±at tbe poets nobler and ounlict toua
ra-n; ulaL 2Z .-i:x±. ±>f ^cboc ear to anrdung like the suae at£°''
This vTT ^'' '■■■->^r ai bs work does great injustice to He
^•■aiMr'K. It scil: :x :b£ ::?o berrid ^Sorescence of " Poems at
"SadAx. ' \.T SviKCvrs: b 3l -ix bean of him ** a sage ud seoK
T^x-. ' »«r« Hiici 31 ai.-rasE tJyxz Ae doctiine he has lo (Wi*
V-:^ ~w ■K'-'cv- iaraTtJip-aia c£ ^ Poems and Ballads " we io»r«'
t-wn; i.Tirs i-.tn " V'-"' F.ijis:.'' «iiii aie in tioer acrardni
"v -vv. s- "Vi <.irlia>5 —
.:*v- -■-lAv sr-s—
■»«T! ia^a; ass ii2S Js '■— y^ o( swj\. >.T. =ss;4i «-^ n^Hnt m^ "i "» wad iViiii ; "V. .-i; BM xsii .V lac s at aot's Bc^ ICx-^.M :s« -wi.! wna -n>& sot as ie i^
'-^ v-> » '.vr^ bTi; ?*:;»:£ ' iie .Ktamaat -■WT B ■■JtywlO
The Theology of Mr, Swinburne's Poems. 461
Mous paths of desire lead to no good issue, tbe sid coiuciou«ne$s t " tlie end of all these things is death."
I
SwMI wu \\U to hcftr an<l iwcel to imcll. But now with llf>ht» rcvcne th« old houii ictiro And Ihe ImI houi is ihod wilh fire from h«tl. Thi( it the end of every man's duire.
teod, Mr. Swinburne's poctiy is so £ir from being over sensuous t the icstricted nature of his popularity is largely due to the tract character of his themes. He is too philosophical— one [hi say metaphysical— a poet to suit the public taste. In very ch of what he has written there is a want of concrete human Erest The subjects
that touch him are imniating thingt,
IOcniik anil clouil* iml nielii unJ day. Lorn auluinnt kbA iriumiihant tpilngi. at times a poet of Nature, but of elemental Nature ; his dscBpes, as in " A Forsaken Garden," or " In the Sah Marshes, ■■ I pictures of the simple forces of the earth, of sea, and sun and B, and wind and wave. And behind all there loom in gigantic dine die great Eternal ideas, the monadic conceptions. Time and ange, Life, Death, Fate, and Man and God. What Mr. Swinburne has written of Shelley may most fitly and ly be transferred to a great deal of his own work. Referring to : lines written among the Eugcnwan hills, he says —
"It is a rhapsody of thought and feeling coloured by contact til Kature, but nol born of the contact. . « . A snul as great as the irtd lays hold on the things of the world; on all life of plants, and utg, and men ; on all likeness of time and death and good things SeviL His aim is rather to render the effect of a thing than a ng itself ; the soul and spirit of life rather than the living form, the '*lh rather than the thing grown. And herein he, too, is un- »oachabIe,"
In taking even a brief ghnce at the religious or theological options which have inspired a great deal of Mr. Swinburne, it is ■ difficult to sec that there is considerable difference between the litr and the later work. There has not been sudden conversion, «ny slow convei^ion, any choosing of fresh flags or new faiths; t change shows itself rather in an altered emphasis and a shifting the point of view. That there is a change of feeling, if not of wion, will be evident to anyone who will compare " Ilicet " or
fo^ ccucxi. Ko. t93if 1 \
I
\
I
Tht GentlemaH*s Magazine.
"The Garden erf Proserpint" with "On the Verge* or '
nialoguc."
One may, in fact, distinguish three distitu^t stages in
development of Mr. Swinburne's theological ideas. The fi«t
represented by *■ Aulanta in Calydon" and the first series of PonBt and nallads."
This is the period of pessimism and gloom and despond " Poems and Ballads" is a very bcaudful, but not at all ■ i book. The erotic poems aie like all the real, steeped inthepreviilia gloom. In all their sweet music there is hardly a ha))py ROU. Where they arc not concerned with monstrous perversities of puuco, they arc lyrics, not so much of love, as of "low's &Ad satiety," of tbt weary parting of those who once were glad to mecL
Lavc grami f^nl and ftctful, WUh lips but half rcctetful. Sight, and with eye* forgetftil Wfcpd ih»t no lov(» ciiidare.
In " Alalanta in Calydon," Venus Anadyomcne is hymned by the chorus in strains of very dubious praise —
]till«r ihciu wul Itodi ihy birth. Aphrodite, > BiMher or Urife,
Ia)ve 'm regarded as in itself evil, and the last addition to the suin of human niiscticfi.
And, in general, in so far as these early poems are conceraciJ
with a philosophy of life, they paint it in very dark coloun. Tw
poet looks out on all creation and proclaims that it is not good bw
evil. It is not merely thai he is dissatisfied with the ewstinS
conditions of things, with " all the oppression that is done under lie
sun :" his biliemess springs from a deeper source; it is ihevoj
constitution of ihc Universe iliai he condemns. Not "cnjii'*
inhumanity to man," but "the mystery of the cruelty of thing* '*)''
him with aversion and a i>assionate sense of injustice^ Mao u
unhappy, not through any fault or feebleness ofhisown, butbKauK
the gods are evil and have willed that it should be so. It is bcaust
the Supreme Powers are malevolent that the lot of man is lKipclc»
For none ihnll move the niMI high cods
Who nre most tad, bcLnK end i ii«i«
Shnll bicik or take iw*y ih« rodt
Whcicwilh ihcy icouige ui:, not u one Thnt smitn a «in.
This feeling finds its grandest and loftiest expressioo in magnificent chorus in " Atalanta jn Calydon," which for mak
The Theology of Mr. Swinburne's Poems. 463
bythmicol movement and fiery vehemence would haw sufficed nlonc D give iu author a place in the front rank of poeu. This splendid iSMge — I mean of course the chorus which begins, "Who hath pvcB man speech ? "—sets us thinking of Milton and the rebellions npcilcncc of his apoaiate angel, or of the great speech with which bt bound and tortured Prometheus calls eanh and sea and sky to wtaut what he suffers at the hands oi the gods. The same sense 3f hopdcss straggle against Almighty power is common to all ; the ost Archangel and Aeschylus's Tllan are more colossal figures, but Mr. Svtnbumc's chorus seems to me to express a sadder and more hopelessness. Its despairing impiety is certainly inappro- to any Greek chorus, and is in striking contrast to the spirit itrcTcnce and unxhalcen faith which inspired the great Greek IS. Uut any senile oftnappropriateness is lost as soon as we ourselves to the majestic march of these ucmcndous V«iys. There is no question of ancient or modem, Pagan or Christian ; it ts the voice of universal humanity we hear, of unre- KCTKraic humanity, hopelessly at war with the awful Powers who Blupe its destiny. And this great note has never been struck with a poier more wonderful The chorus is a long one, but the march of it never 8ag* or falters. Through all its glowing verses the passion viccperu till we reach the iinal outburst,
Vca, will) ihinc halt, O God, ihou but covered lU.
■And io the great impeachment waxes and grows—
Tbou hui (cnt u> ilecp, anil fliickcn tUc|i with (Imtni,
Sajin|>, Jcijr it not, bul love of joy xhill bo ; Tlwu hut made tweet iprin|[* ira all the [•tnnnl .itnanu ;
la tfae cod ihoo hati nude them bittei with the tM
: the climax is reached —
Loi with heaiti rent and kncei made tiemulouK, Lo, with cphcDicnl Hpi tnd cniual biMih, At kiut me witneit of Ihct ere vjp die thut ihei* thing? are not olhciwisc, but ihii* j Thai oeh man in his head (inhetli, and ulih Thai alt Kien, even aj I, All w« uc agaloM thee, aeainti thee, O God moiit hfgh.
Conjoined with these despairing views of life is the poet's firm btlirf in the finality of Death. This ts asserted and reasserted with an Vnost theological dogmatism. Life is so dreary that men may well he|lad to have done with the foolish business and be at rest. Ikub is tbe one consoler, the one refuge from all ills. These are
111
464
Tlx* Genlieman's Magazine.
the ricwfi which in " Poems and Ballads " find such x [i«»nile and powerful expression as is shown in verses like these :-
From too imidi Iww o( liring.
From hope and bar Mt free. We Ihuik with brief ihaBkstinnc
VThatewt godi mq be. That t>i> life 1m(4 fat ever, Thii (Its'] men riiw up never. "niBi even (he wcarleil river
Winili lOmewheic ufe la Mfl.
In what I calt the second period of Mr. Svinburnc's poetry we woe with some suddenness upon & remarkable change of spirit. "Sonp before Sunrise " wai publislied in 1871, only live years after "Pocnfl and Uatlads," but the contrast between the two books in erer>-thjn{ but in the fervour and Caultlessness of the verse is enomoui Instead of the "soft Lydian measures"of the earlier vohimei, Mf Swinbtiine gives us in " Sonf[s before Sunrise " bold and Tj-rtEin strains. In the " Prelude " to this wonderful book Mr. SwinbuM announces the change that has come over his singing —
We too, have iwiiie<] in oui biiir Such leadiilc u Ihc wild Ltnt% wear—
for the future he is the laureate of Liberty.
In "Mater Triumphalis " some glowing and sonorous niW announce his new position—
I am tliine harp between thine handi, O mother.
All my tlroiig eoiils are itraincid wiili love of thee. We grapple in love anil wicsllc. .is e«h with other
Wtesllc the xrind und the unieluclani ica. 1 have no spirit of skill wilh equal Gn£cn
At sign lu nhupen and to tinckcn slringi, I keep no time of song with gold- perch cd iing«n
Ant) chirp of linnell on the wrists of kin|;t.
I am thy ttonn-tbrQ&h of the Aiyt that dukni.
Thy petrel in the foam thai bean thy boik To port through night and tetnpeit ; if ihou hmikca,
Mjr voice is in Ihy heaven be/ote the lark.
The religious ideas imbedded in this period of Mr. Srinbut*' poetry commence with the flat negation of all recognised titi''* Tlie poet proclaims his emphatic denial of all theological sysiew " general, and of Christianity in particular. In his attitude lonK* the prevailing religion Mr. Swinburne differs in some respect *I widely from most of the poets of the time. TTiere is pletttT<^ scepticism among those whose business it is to make verses, but it'lj
The Theology of Mr. Swinburne's P&ents. 465
:nernll]r scepticism of the icluctant and sorrowful order, ^^'c have >uiulant lamentation for expiring (silb or o?cr foilh already dead, at not yet decently buried and done with.
\Vc arc wuls bcrtATcd
tor all the creatuici unda lieavcn'i hl(;h tope \ We ate mMi hopeleu wlio hod once mod hope, And mott belicRcu who hod once bclicv*L h vrroie in his " Easter Day," and the melancholy strun is dtoed and ic-cchocd in contempotary poetry. But Mr. Swinburne Mvcr strikes this lugubrious chord. He has no hesitation, no hack- nid gbnccs, no retrospective ii^grets. He tceins to have been horn la unbeliever rather tlian to have become so. Tlie thought of the coming Twilight of the Gods arouses only a cry of exultation.
Uis hostility to Chri.itianity is emotional ntlhcr than intellectual. bhu nothing to do with the rise of the critical school of theology. Id Sniwning and Matthew Arnold, in Clough and many a minor pi>«l,wecan see the influence of tiaurand Strauss and Zeller, but "1* cannot tell whether Mr. Swinburne has ever read the " Ixbcn |«M" or concerned himself with the date of the Fourth Gospel.
And so it is that hi:^ attitude is an extreme one. He keeps ri^iit >& the hard, flat, high load of total and entire disbehef, and never ttayi into any of the by-paths of compromise. Mr. Swinburne •OQiiot share the n.iiional fondness for middle courses, fur niediai- Hgbetnceo opposing principles and adjusting their claims to some ■tactical issue. He has himself spoken with some tinge of contempt if the "semi-Christianity" of "In Mcmoriam," and the "demi-semi -hriiiianity of Dipsychus" ; bm one cannot fail to notice how much *ottthe hesitating and moderate tone of these poems is in harmony '*lli the habits of English thought than the rigid unbending won *B«w«j of " Before a Crucifix."
Mr. Swinburne, indeed, in his attitude towards religious matters ^*nii to be more French than English, or at least continental rather *8n insukr. This is evident, not only in his hatred of ciompromise Dd in his carelessness about practical issues, but in other ways too. *tth him, OS with most foreign Radicals, religion and politics are Onoectcd by a close mental bond— arc regarded, we may say, .is Cerent aspects of one subject. Englishmen for the most part put wide gulf of division between these two themes and apply very Uerent principles to the working out of eacli. We have stuidy in- tniors in politics who are in religion the staunchest of conscrva- ts, men who arc ready at a moment's notice to break up the empire conRnict the constitiitioni who arc yet rigid zealots for the
i
*
466 Ti* GeniUHunis Magaamt.
soictest letter of tbe Uw or the tiaditioiis of the (Men, iqnbSail bibliciUtcn, and sabbatarUn anaichists.
.Voocber foreigii note may be detected in Mr. SwinbunA ajfiuieu indifleiciice to thoae fonnsof&ithirtuch prevaQ in hk on couany. He hanllf seems to notice any of them ; Chnitiaiu^ii iix him represented almost exdasively by the Bxnnan Cadufic 0)»ii^ It vould be too much to say that he has never letbed Va$lii6 Pntestaiuism at all ; perhaps it is in disdain that he \m TiKscd tn* hs many dimsittes and its general spirit of oppoxwan, tad «iiiK%3 his haidest blows at the Chinch which has hanUrTd leuK to sim its sails to the Tarying winds of the modem sprit
^:;: j= Ais second period of Mr. Swinburne's poetiy tboe ii Jk-CK^^';^ laoce than the passionate astettion of unbelief. In soch ;V«» j» - HckIul" "The IJtany of Nations," " Hymn of Min," .tai * TSc l.as Oncte,^ we han two pontive ptinciples set forth ia ^r sxec tf&eoiSd and most sononnis verse. These two iaci[>cflt crK>it suT Se earned as Pantheism and the ** Worship of Hnmsiu^.'
I:: " Hff^hi.' the island -dwelling Teutonic deity whom Tadtn -.;:-<.:cr$CA.il ro N? Mother Earth, is identified with Nattue b die * viTK s«r-stf. w;:"-. :he general constitution of things, now no loogo -^-;A-J.tfU as «»-.'_ The [>oem opens with the most unmistakibtt >"gi~i:S;is;-.\ i:^i ;-« tanenness and bleakness of this conception rf ^x--.:".' 13 .;-:^; X-*; s;jr,: of in the extraordinary rush and lyric po«a ,'i Mr ^■♦irrcrr.'ii verse. "Hertha" is really a most wondehdpo* ::x'vi:,;-;*sa.-s ire :rjLr.3aiuted into poetry by the sheer force aodfcr. »eix-v o£ ;iw -.vets jeriu^^ Few subjects, for example, could UK're urr.iT.'^rsir^ 6jr [vecic treatmeni than the identity of sd^ect i:!«i coiev'. -i: :he .VI. Vet this is what Mr. Swinburne makes of il-^
^eKiie ioi about me
N.utj^c b lh«ie to go ; Love ■a onlove uc, L'akaoir me or kauw, I isa ;!ia( which .mlovei me ami luies : I ui sOicken ud I am tk b!^-
I Che mark cbsC is missed
AnJ Che aitxjM^ that "»'«, t Chi; mouth th>( b kiaml
Ami the bieoih in the kas, TV snrcb, jnd the jought, and Che seeket. Iksonl, «nd thcbe^'l*'^
But this t'anttieiscic cgnception of Cod is elsewhere ida**' with Humanity. This doctrine is set forth with murfi ckain»»** " Hymn of Man '—
' &*1, if a God thete be, ia the subMance <rf
I
Tfit Theology of Mr. SwinbHm^s Poems. 467
where ihe conditional clabie stitkes one as vcijr curious. This ^ifotlion of Deity 1* expanded a liitlfi futthei on in ihc same poem.
^K Not each Bun of nil men ii God, but Coil is the Tniil of Ihc whole ; Indiviiitilc spirit and bbod, in<lisc<rDlblc bodjr (torn tuul.
I Not men't but man'* U lb« |;lory ol tfOilhcililj the kiai^oiii o( (inu, Tbe aouniaiaoiu agn mailf hoBiy wiili snum for ihc *plril to climU A God with ibo world itiwounil wliote day to hit TootKoIc clliiip; A muiifold Coil &it-boiincl, m with iion of nilveite Ihlnct. In " The Ijst Oracle " wc have a different aspect of ilie same L Thix .splendid poem i» a Hymn to Apollo, who ix here con- ^ered an the cmbodinieni of nian's im^^llct^t, of the IJglit and life that is incanuie in humanity. And so .\pollo h celebrated as the
-
Sbinin); v>a of God, (he Mm of Time they nlleil ihee, Who vatt older, 0 oui Faihei, than they knew.
^wlh -ind decay of religions are but the varying records of mind of humanily —
Divert birthi of muny Godbcodi iind one dotlh appointed.
As ihe >ou1 whence cacli was horn maket room for each, God \rf geA ]jio, ijiit, ilifccrowncd and tliwinolnlctl,
Bat the toul itindi fnit which gave ihem bit\h nnd ipccch.
It needs hardly be pointed out that that way of looking at things It, on Ihc pro&iic level at least, exactly cunsistent with the Pan- «ta of ■■ Heitha."
Vfc distinguish sharply between Nature and Man — "Unfuhlend
\.-Hiir," says (ioethe in one of his nobk-st poems — where the
and indifference of outside things is contrasted with the
nets and justice which arc perceptible only in man. And
Mr. Swinburne takes this view and shows us his earth-
t)eily strugghng with Nature.
> are Iht heart-b«ili of men, the plumn ihxt fcslher hii win^, i-««nii, since being began, with the wind and tliun<1er of thingi. ^ oue cniel And blind ; ihdr itienglh detains and dcformt, ^^ the weaiying wings of the mind siill bent up the siieam of their storms.
ftut
Ma'
there arc other pa.tsages, e^. the last verse of " Hcrtha," where
*" and Nature are idenlified in the poetic cultus.
Mr. Swinburne's "Worship of Humanily" Is certainly widdy
'"crtnl from Comtc's. The divinity of the French phihjsopher is
Sort of Dtus ex machina, brouKhl in to help on the tragedy of
^''")an hisiotj' to some hnppy ending. But Mr. iiwinbume has no
HNitaiian ums, and there seems nothing unreal or nrliticial in his
i
Tk£ Gtnikmans Magazine
h ia indeed p^.^khing to see what fervid adoration tlus
r o( all tbe fc^ oL tadiooo bnogs to his own shadowy drrioiuei
■&S a woD^ipce^ be is ao less Tchement than as an iconodast ; iHut
1 ike ~ HfBB cf Man " and other poems which quil
r ef CMS Ini ScKeg denoDciatioDS. Sdll, in i
cf Kt. SwiBfaofneV voik of this period, ODe mi^
be mamBL to mm dot the sucifce and roaot of Uvse anti-
ndwr dttn religious; that it is
irfaCkRalE«cn«&
wich Chiistianiljr itself I itfpaetK wrath.
beip ia^tssBB% here foi a 00'
m politics as in religion sinO
dnrect of thought in lln
bot a leToliiUoia;^ ^^-
ia bts news : he his
and"cjusO."
of ■^>f-'^ rcf Dbtiaaisiiv
Ipoetiy b a little ngnt-
k B dat Ifac poet cipecu b" ito Wk bd»«l that tk
iwonld mnsim ■ Uih tsbejw
[ ae ai? pacaoC d^ lad He Swinbunx I MiB^£ panftlefiatoedeciptaQoao'
[Tic Tktoiogy of Mr. Sv/inbumeS Poems. 469
seems as if one might make peace, as if one could wish for \ the conflict, could be content to
Rme, forcci, be reconciled.
ng to " In the Salt Marshes" may be taken to d. The sight of the greychurdi tovrers rising Rat level of 3 dreary landscipe stiggeists thoughts which are Urerent from tho!>c which some ycsrs before had been called 'tt roadside crucifix.
Far, ind Tnr beiwcco, io divert orders,
Clf*r ijiey Mrtplra dcavu ihc low grey sky j Ffi'-i nnil film at tlmc.unkhilicn wnidciv,
llcartt made rate by fnlih, by bo^ic mnilc high. Thcic alone Jn ill Ihe nllil tca-lxiiJcrt
Fcai no bksl of dayt and nighit Ihal die. All !hc land ii like u one tstui'i face is,
Pule and IroutilctI illll wiili rhnrpi of cftici, Doubl and death permde hci cloudid vpacci :
Slicnetb and Ungih of lilc and peicc oie thein ; Theirs alone Itnid llicic weaiy places, H Seeing not how ihc wild wdild fitlt and hitii.
^Hes, which are :t splendid expansion of Wordsworth's famous
puld have seemed strange ifihcy had come from Mr. Swinburne
^ars ago.
question of a l-'ututc Life is perhaps the chief topic dwelt on
ligious poetry of thU third period. Mr. Swinburne's attitude
become one of calm and solemn surprise ; there is no
,lc " j-eaming after immortality," but neither is there the con-
urance of annihilation which was so strongly marked in the
^try.
Kinincnc in this division of his poelry stands that noble and IE poem which is entitled " On the Verge." It would be k to praise this splendid production too highly. For loftiness p and grave, austere beauty I do not know what poem of equal !»e could inatdi against it. 'i'he poet's eye gazing over the If waters passes at once in rapt contemplation to "the line of and time's evasive strand," to the ultima litiea rerum, and no- jb the eternal question of man's destiny proposed with a grander te sublime whemencc, nowhere is the blank no-answer set ^ih a mote impressive spendour.
pnd, «ho knows if dcnlh indeed have life, oi lilc have death for ffiaX } f not night can tell ns, nor may teas declare, nor skio unroll M hsa l>^n from evcrtasting, or if aughl ihall alway be. fUX aniwcring only ilrikw rtsponse rcverbeialc on ihc loul lh« tlioie ibat h»ih no shore beyond it set in all Ihc »ea.
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470 Ti* G^Ukwiads Mmgaahm.
1 Ime mAeu of the FisilIi mjuoa. dncmnblc in nocn 01 Ik Swrobome's podtr and of Ib *»*■— '■r fMniiiiiii, bA on bodi pMk ft f *' ! iT^ rescfmncn nmtt be <wof MOuiin^ tnst oc fan ^Mi v Skows tiie ifi^ueM sympaAj witli tintllnoliitcnihuisii untBinK- times bend ftom i&e Gallic Ijic Aboakfike(fi)reaiiipIe) U-Joi RxSt^ai'i ~ T,^T ?w-tp*""^t ' B vtlxdjr and cotiEdT afien to Ac frrtirmwn and kfty tone of our Eo^di poet^ ^w could neio, ^TTf'T^ lET coDoonblc '"T'"!'***— ''r*. bxfc poODtod hit pen aidi XET±^ Skc tfaat mmet anitled "To F%ie ct IDxe." Tbe two Qcs i£^ bwdic wlxde fimuBeac; IL Ricfacjan oatenteticoriy asexs i?- iji rm^.few uol;^ to nolatc all mw^nable sanctitiei; )£:- i^r^^nzst ^a cadex a flag and has a bith and wonhip cf is r«^.
Aai = T^-fc 100. be mar be cacUasted with tfaoae one cr tao •xessz. si& own cnnnn-vbo have tmdled yet finther along tl« — bijBs Tors cf rivi^^tStrf aod doobL James Thomson ii die ctt 'c'Tj^s* ^fT*^ lisB fir«s. anH dxio^i, of comse, *l»i* most nnh^ipj of xz snues s verr xet tren leaciuaf the poetic stature of Mr. Swio- rcrrt^ ye: bt tsj s. pre: ca geninDe insjHiation, and kis chid *Oit »".". >.tr; 1 Tibr; :c =s r«r = ccr IneiaHire. " The Citj- of Dreadfo) X:^ ■ s 7<rrj,7s ^; t3:s meiiixiolT poem in oor language ; one i^Tin i^n.-sc.rieri ;c cici:tia erahrccd? h all ; no ray of light or hope rr*^tt rS; =i;o,-c,Trt :t :ii desncir. Sothmg can be in more forcible --TTC-ts; r.- :bf frrL tad ^asjijien courage of >Ir. S»finbonirt ■ -r.::7u-sr T?,X'i Tb; iretar t>m^ :oa, vben under tbe inflxiHice of V^yji-^ir-; hai rjf psrJAi k poc-m. bj:t it was not the appalling >;3r«i;'ss »-r,irJ. tirus crer ie -Cut rf DreadAil Night," ud ;ii pKs;:rs=}; i3-i,-c iid nx las: joni:. Mr. Swinburne was too jTrs-i: X ^■•K ?.- c»-t- i:iri := ilie Ten:5 of Kedar. The sheer forM rf j5.— .-;» s;v:?i *.:- r-.Tii:; i desoiirr:; Ti-^ilitm He is an audadoB :;-^c:w>-iT ;r. cvschaf .T^eJii. bin be ooes not 1ot« to locAondc rrv-::r ^ju,-k ,■£ :h:r.^ ; :ib=Y £ £ limit which his poetical insdacl
iiiv ■: >- iiT« ;i-.s S^r.Ttr irscinids a" sac] vhich is the most predodl , ■. •:■• V X.^ >'»ir.M:-M J X^Kry. c:mHdered in its inner or spiritiul vs\ 4\"!aif-''. ;r c* rvKma! snc proeJr artistic aspects no ptwe X- - S.- :.v- S]^"- t.Tr i: TV ^wrtK; and varied beauty of Mr. Swin- Nf -.v- 'x iv'*,- r!>:wc S; t joarci x imre delist to aH those who hafe
Tkc Tiuology of Mr. Smnburn^s Poems, 47 1
HcTC there b room for no difTcrcncc of opinion, but ihcTC will be some who can carry ihdr admiration of the poet no further. For them no! all the beauty or the tjTJc fervours of his verse can in any way compcn^aie for the bleak hardness of ihc doctrine expounded. And there will be others who will feel that, in tliese days of mournful subjcctiveneu and sorrowing scepticism, the largest debt of deepest gratitude is due to tliose poets who strengthen the feeble knees and help men to some share of happy confidence in the ultimate consti- lution of lhin^:i. For tho*e poets who " are very sure of Clod " ate the true messengers of comfort, the divine dingers Wliote inu*ic u the sladncu of the cdith.
But even if Mr. Swir^burnc can claim no scat among this sacred choir, be has Mill his own high and peculiar praise. He has handled hU lofty themes with the mo»t splendid strength and the most cotrnigeous sincerity of soul. In his iractry wc discern the energy of a fiery and indomitable spirit, grappling unaided with the problem of man's destiny, gazing undismayed into the myster>' which walls about our life. And through all his heart is slill high and his courage tindaunte<I. Amid all the lainentaiiotis over the routed legions and captured standards of Faiih he has not despaired of the republic of man, nor listened to the devil's advocate preaching the unprofitable doctrine of darknc».
ROBKRT SHINULER.
\
vii_A«ja& — «j£ BOSS fcfcm ss a < aimiMi^. i:r ;«■ get it
£ iiifti>— <, ^rf ffays f denic
AI ac X saa&=x :&eee is s fcedi goo, as X,-;^.-ic* iiK eacBT describe i=n=L -"Tii; at cfec: rf ocesois itie af ores Ac »5ei X: a f^nre of spe Ft«==Ked fcw ibc cool inbazst o ^»epm: gorge tha cleft I c£ «ia cMK&om the vi
xc
AmoM^ the Algerian Hi/ts. 473
Teet below us. ^Ve shdier beneath a solitary wild fig- is shiuie — a »ludow as black as ink when coniraslcd with lunlighl rellected from the white locks. Beneath us is a Before u)s at a di»uncc of not more thnn .t mile as the is the grand vertical section of Kef I)^ma. The lime* Iscomposingit stand almost on end — plainly speaking; of the s which have upheaved these rocks since their conipara- ent formation. Allowing the eye to run along that clean-cut lent, it looks like a geological diagram— as indeed it is. In middle of the section you plainly sec a dislocation or break continuity of the strata. They ate cracked right through, to bottom. On one side the beds lean at a clearly-defined m the other at quite a diflerent one.
put on a pipe and discuss the situation — anything to prolong g rest ; for this mighty ravine has to be descended and and there are several miles of hot travelling besides before I partake of dijeuwr — the first meat of the day. Hitherto, all endoneon the cup of black coffee and munch of dry sour bread
Bfour in the morning. Hunger gives way to thirst in its ideal You imagine clear, cool, crystal fountains, and how nice eep draught of the water would be with a dash of rough b it I But the pipe is the grand solace. We are joined by r three Arab youths who are keeping their mountain sheep and One wonders why they are required to keep them, until a [of black shadows traverse the light in the valley. They are iOf a couple of hungry eagles hovering about fora bit of lamb Half a score of smaller shadows re|)resent the ravens on le tack.
soft-eyed youths linger at a respectful distance, and listen it cars to the conversation of the pith-helmcted Prankish
! and there amid the aridity of these hills, at their bases, ! patches of dark-green sward, perhaps marked additionally by of trees. These arc natural springs of water — the seiunts French colonists, the ains of the Arabs, Many .Arab names of begin with Ain, to denote the presence of natural waters, ke for one of these- It is an ideal spot for a lunch or a There are four or five flourishing trees, now in the meridian ■ early summer foliage. It is just the place for a mid-day rest, I camp here, light a fire, and cook our victuals. The clear, iter is delicious. Not less so is the green shade. Four of are wild pears, over which a wild vine has climbed aad
474 "^^^ Gentleman's Magazine.
d msj an is
kind I
not"!
■ 474
I thrown Ks abounding Ica&ge outstde theirs. Ncrer was there H a more delightful spot whereon to break a hungry nuui's £jut— neret a fast thai was more tn>oyably broken. Tbe overflow waters of tiw spring form a miniature pool in the deep grass a few )-atd»
■ where huge frogs are barking like dogi.
On another occaaon we found a con%-«nient care ia w1 break&st. The coolness and gloom were deticiouslr comforting,
I the sight of the fine river ^tejerda, flowing ^nuously anitd rvsf thickets of flowering oleanders and through the green plains on is way lo Tunis, wa? one of the most irapressivc scenes of its kind I ever beheld. The cave bofe unmistakable evidences of beiajt visited by jackals, although I was told that these animals arc not numerous as formerly. There are panthers atid wild boar abounding in the neighbouring forests. Fonneriy, in the mi of living colonists, lions paid occasiofud visits to this diurict. and of my companions {aa Alsatian settler) had killed one bcrcabouti some years ago.
The shadow of a great rock in a wear^- land is a blessing, iriwtho
you h.ive the wherevriihal to breakfast or not You must etotp
somewhere out of ihe hot, blaiing sunshine, and keep there till long
after the meridian. Work and walking arc both impossible between
eleven in the morning and three in the afternoon. One day «
were admitted by Ihe kindly Arabs at Djebel Taija lo ite
marabout's house. The prophet w»3 absent, but his carpet www
the mud floor, and this was all the furniture in the piacc. Etw ii«
walls were merely mud-dried. There were no windows or window-
places. We cooked our victuals outside, so aa Dot to defile At
place —for they were sausages ! That cool, gloomy hut was s lol
resting-place, and the doorway served as a framewock to the ^owis^
almost dajirfing, landscape of billowy corn-fields outside.
In the earliest part of one Im-cly morning wc pas«d thiougbv Arab cemetery. It is a touching sight to witness an Arab Jioien!' The body is borne, swathed in its burnous, by the nearest rebbooi The mourners are all male, and they follow it up tlie hill in iiref*' but silenl habit. On their return, however, they rend the air ••* their cries and lamentations. Death is atw3>-s a solemn dung; b* it never appears more sok-mn than when wc meet it on sunny, Bo«>' dad hills, and vfith the joyous blue sky looking <m». We iodiridB* come and go and replace each other, like the circulating atontt * some vast and long-lived organism— the Onanism of Hom»ail)r! ^^ These Arab cemeteries are of the simplest and rudest. A fc*
^ stoats piJed one above another mark the resting-places ef *
Antong the Aigertan Hills.
475
A Teir coloured ni£S in addition indicate where a )i a msrabout lies buried. Some of the Litter die in the r mtich sanctity. For generations tradition keeps up the of their piety. They ate canonised in the hearts of the men eir the orange -colon red strips which nurk their rank year r. These marabouts' tomhs are generally on the to|)* of the j^otnecimes the pile of stoncK it large enough tii form a
E^ through one of the Arab hill-sidc cemeteries, I ^w an ,ve. It iras about four feet deep, and cut rudely after the of a human body, jusc as if a man had lain down and some- d chalked out his shape on the ground. The grave had r been dug some time, and i^ethaps the digger had enjoyed ; his oim linal resting-place, and was now waiting in some camp until Allah saw lit to close it.
^ awftjr, on the same hill-side, we blundered into a series of se of ihem six feet deep. These are the .^rab silos, where n is stored. The same silo-pits had been used for centuries, practice is not the new thing some modern agriculturists Perhaps King Pharoah's corn warehouses during the ars of plenty were of this character.
hill Arabs must be more industrious than the town Arabs — r, their cast-nff wives must be. Corn follows us up nearly TCit of the highest hills, about 4,000 feet .ibovc the sea. dean as any wdl-kcpt English wheat- field— better than rhc other day I rambled among splendid wheat-fields, where u was rapidly ripening unto harvest. Nothing but wheat B were visible along the IcnRthencd, undulating mouniain rbere the wind rippled them into rhythmic undulations of ^en waves. 1 looked for mildew, smut, and rust ; but only few smutted cars near the path, where the young pbnis had dden upon and weakened early in life. I did not see a smtiltcd ears all the time I was out, and not a trace of rust
yet this country has been sown with the same crops con- (T, year after year — wheat and onts (oats for horses and wheat ) — for generations untold ! The .'Vrab memoo" is a good one for traditions. The Arabs have been in the country ly a thousand years. During the whole of that time these g have been cultivated for wheat and oats — wheat and oats 'ear, witiiout cessation. Further back still, in the dim lire of ancient history, this country was iwt only the
Tit GrmilewMu's Magasiw.
a mal. Cinfeage. FuiUictb«k jwl, foc tbdr com KereaboQU.
wbicfa I morcd is Uinmgcil wA
«31 older PoBic aomBCBtw
Fv beyond the panod of chhn mna
thai of ehbo Aryan ot Cebc ia-
besct ItiriKd tbeirdofaDeniBJ
« ipat whtdi abo commanded, «illn
of Roaas CBcampoents and <f
AaabantfemeoK.
Miiliiiii'Bii (as 1 did, OB Ibe Dcml
Ae |odB»>«". >i>d jadgnent tit
it vcold MX be ascuuBg too nwdi »
Bom-yuwii^ Itods hjm been laat cr
far tso thciuatd yean ai least. Fn
afncalttiiHts more thaa Oie fxt tbl
(be »me dopi in the same f^
of a. centoiT. Co(ij«tftii
Rcttoiiba akii)"
a^ oAer weO-kno-n eeteil {ani|t>:
ob3j see ^W« i»« »«i< Uieu crop (jiowi
aDd fed two ihoannd mcMnd
and notr tbc pvticobr bkB^-£>^
ears of »he*l ftom serenty B
not b^ wonden^ «t tbc £>"■
tine a poor mteSectnal spectatotw ««h as citta-scieadtic coniuul^' A« a concct aqiluilioo ol the Escti and Aefcfxe ofagricoltanl ^''^ for tiaw and oppoctQnit)r. ta V^ " and conctekios for whit i^ ^ llkaB far better, ■te not like those of Midliii rexulu of the nrf"* as de baclder days or drift tp^ derived frooi^kio^ f^lsare ooly a fe* iadB ivnjw* tbem b reaUy onlr > ^ ee AeAnbs tanying the slimvocd* V aoos Ac addks of the hcocs Act «a Aerdr be pnEag the soJI-xnttbn
p
Amoti^ the Algerian Hiils.
All
'he Uttci is mcrclj^ a woodea shoe tipped vitb iron. i patent ploughshares arc really a very old and rco- ' widespread idea modcrnly expressed. e have the above soils been derired ? From the wash ering of the upper parts of the hills and mountctins. There n bald, precipitous creitt, hardly su|iporting a wild plant on sly hot upper surfaces. The sun'i heat falls upon them ds the surface panicles from their cohesive .itiraciion. The Jown 03 dust, the rains wash them to the lower slopes, and Kw fertility to (he old soils. Year after year this has gone lust go on until these picturesque and rugged mountain entirely reduced tci powder, the powder converted into soil, nto the substance of wheat, the wheal-food into men's d thoughts. Thus, from the minetalogical and inorganic I of Nature, we find transitions to the organic, inicUcctual, n>intual development of marikind 1
tin Nalutc'i chuin wliichevcr Uuk yau xlrikr, Tcnlli, or Icii thouunilth, biukt the chain alike.
I is feasible, and even partly scientific— but it is not enough, cally analyse this wonderful soil (which perhaps of old was ooscMcd of mystic properties, as indeed it is). That test nt— the soil contains from 3 to 4 per cent, of natural : of lime ! Here is the secret of the strong crops of growing I oats, and of the consequent absence of cerL-al ejiidemic such as smut and mildew. The plants ace he:ilthy and
Bui whence came the phosphates, and how were the same ble, year after year, of growing the same bountiful crops?
geologist and chemist find the " Open sesame." The ujiper »C hills (limestone especially, but also sandstone) contain and rich beds of phosphate of lime. It has been from the IS weathering and degradntion of these rocks that the ; soils lower down have been replenished and fertilised r, for perhaps more llian twenty centuries.
J. & TAVLOR.
XIXU. NO. 1931,
X-t.
{
I
i
THE GREA T TALKERS OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
Is Two Parts.— Pakt I.
THE bloody drama of the French Revolution will not loon U: from the inindx of men. Even in our own day i linif interest is felt in its surprising incidents, its rgmantic qMMxlcs, o terrible ulaittrophes, and both the novelist and the dramausl hitt recognised the profound human sentiment which it involves. Evoji fresh work which throws light on its causes or eflccts, or bringi moic conspicuously forward the principal characters which figured in m tragic scenes, is eagerly welcomed. 1 think it may be assencd vtt truth that English !^iud«nts feel a deeper curiosity about Miiabob Robespierre, and Danton than even about their conletapoiaries 4 our own race, liiirlcc, and Fox and Pitt. Hitherto, hovet-er, 6e writers attracted by this great subject have devoted their eAorti ■> the main 10 studies of iu startling events, its historic consequcnca the nature and e.^tcnt of its influence, its moral »nd political ospem or tht-y have dwelt upon the character and career of its state«iM> and soldiers, its leaders of jiartics, its victims and iu martyrs ; vA very little has been said upon its literary relations, ujKinits poetiiiid journalisls, and more particularly those on the anti-revohilii 1 ■ ' Yet literature was greatly concerned in its inception and dc\-cli ■; - ■ It was born among epigrams ; it grew up among jests and salim repartees and Iroulaies, Even when the guillotine was busiest, At wiu could not lie silenced. A suanj^e specucle I this intclkdirf effervescence and efllorescence at a time when the pillars of tW social edifice were crumbling about men's ears ! Lcmcrcier ff " writing tragedies, it is true, because tragedy, he said, had t.i the streets ; but he did not give u]) writing in the Itewspapi.: when the philosophers abandoned their mcuphysics they c>ji-j "Almanachs."
These ".\lmanachs" were a power in Hat land. Ss a teod* H-rilCJ' remarks, they furoislied a means of propnginda, a machiDBT
The Great TaU-ers of the French RojolntioH. 479
of war for or against ihe new tigime. Those on the royalist side — on the side of Uie countcr-icvolution— were veiy superior to their adversaries in wit. humour, and literary form, and no doubt helped very largely to foster and sustain a revuhion of feeling against the sanguinat; despotism of the Terror. But some of the Revolutionary bnxkurts were not wanting in force and a certain brutal Kirength. Among Ihe former tlic most widely popular seem to have been the " Almanach dcs Grands Homines," the " AInianach de Coblent*," the " Almanach di» Gens dc Bien," and the " Almanach Royaliue ;'" chief among the latter were the " Almanach dcs Honnetct Gens," by Sylvain Marrfehal, ami Ihe "Almanach dii Ptre Gerard," by Collet d'lf ctbois. The la« of these pamphlets (for such ihey really wercj was the " Almanach du XIX* Sifcclc."
Tlie Revoluiion, as it flourished in the satons and clubs of Paris, has recently been portrayed by M. du Bled in his charming and gracefully-written volume, " l-cs Causcurs dc la RiJvolution," which has had the honour of being crowned by the Acad<5mie Fran^aisc. M. Victor du Bled is well known by his articles in the Ret'ue du Motsdt, and by his interesting and valuable " Hisloirc dc la Monarchic de Juillct," as a lively and elegant as well as an exact writer, and his latest contribution to the literature of the Revolution will not fail to support his reputation. It presents a picture at once curious and toefiil of the intellectual conditions of French society during that memorable epoch ; while the variety of the names, the contrasts and opposition of the characlers, engage from first 10 last the attention of the reader. M- du Bled's sympathies are entirely with the op- potients of the Revolution, however, and he has nothing to say of the "eausfurs" on the opposite side— of Tallien, M.idamc Roland, Damon, CamillcDesmoulins, and others; but he probably argues tliai they were too vehement in their mcihods, too irregular, and too much in earnest to be " eausettri " in the true sense of the word. Let u* uke his book as he has written it, and let us be thankful for it, as a &3cinat:ng memorial of a social |>hase which has passed away for ever, but must alwa)-s, as I have said, retain its attraction for the student.
Foremost among the Great Talkers of the Revolution we must place Count Anthony de Rivarol. He died in iSoi, before he was fifty, but he contrived to live a life of extraordinary fulness. He wrote a learned " Discourse on the Universality of the French language"; he translated the "Inferno,"' he had some brief ex-
■ The truulotlon is not a nicccM. Dante iloes nol aCGonunmlBle bimieir CMlIf to lilt French di«».
Titf G<mti£wum's MagaxiM.
Ac -Joonul Potiiktoe thbnil* fo» aKtr prafottd B^nqf ndAe VF^ inteoed BnAe u> ompiR 1>« » fttlonfiber, poknitt, Kod Fui^l>kxt(i nfc an his niellectuil nuDRCs, Aoi^ ■be *jmm»ioa of the Couit and flc n- ca wWdi » leaned ; he wuu one cat lie Ae lafcr, and by lus cpigmaoutic unoxs Fteacb poeny wiUt a new qntit, ud to tJcbs faBeis ™«^*T whic^ it bad alinoit pctiiMCi IB iSet as tibe leptmntative o( Low XMO yean of ifae t%^i— -t*** centtity be shjutd tbe «>>■ de Sttel. To some exteat we AK vboiB Sbdley hat hapfiaf IoidbI ^ J- he coold ha« dooe v> ^- or the indtnation to do i of hii ^^ he baa left Dfi little more thn ^
^o knev Riraiol thorooghly. thus detcribcs hu |n«es. He phinged u onrc, be m^s, into one d'^ ■nnfinfc^ taking for hts thesis this, tbil tut ^ id of gonis and animation, to whom al) idol » The svage and the poet go round ibe crde, onljr ■■ hioag^yph^ -with this diScrcnoc, tbaiilKlpoet an otfak of nodi taore extended ideas. And be po- ccndcd to caipand tbai text «ith an abundance of tbODghtS, a DolA «f ncMs » anhde and ao profound, a luxury of otetaphors bo ^sUSiaai and » !■«*■" "y*, ifaic one listened to him wonderii^ He puxd ea in aaoAar Aca^ that " An oo^t always to Furnish itself with tn dhjea. IB mm, riutdd recede incessantly, and put tbe iofinit buwxn the atin and his modeL* This new idea was developed writh cteoBtiaaBrf spefis o( a still more astonishing rhara'*'^ > '^^l woe tndf iIk wonb otfierit . . " I was all ear," says Cbfneddfl "tofisKiitoiilMM wagial phnues which fell in sparkling Sul<s> Uhe ihn^iiii of fvecioaE stones, and were uttered, moreover, wilb i^ the dMim oC a laast mdodious and penetrating %-oice, an oi^ n tbe greatest variety, siBgnlaily subtle and enchantit^"
^>pe^>>^ at DeltQe, Ri^-arol depiaed him as a nightingale, «l bnm wu in his throaL Of BufTon, he said that his style had »»P*ilwde, but was diffiisc and *' pasty "—you could alirapw* of Apollo's robe floating in it, but oRcn the god lilms^ there Of the younger Buffon, that
4
lat he was the iworM
cnac
'Ae Great Talkers of the French Revolution. 481
chapter of his (a'Jicr'5 n.iiural history. The head o( Mirabcau, h«
said, was but 3. grc^tt sponge, always swollen with the ideas of otlicrs.
Siis reputation was due to the £ict that he had invariably written
■upon subjects palpitating with the interest of the moment. His
ibrocburcs he described as fire-ships launched into the middle of a
;fleet; tliey set it on fire, but did not consume it Rivarol lialcd
Mirabeau. The (;reat orator having imitated in the tribune the
famoui gesture of the statue of Chatham, and introduced the
pleasantry of a child Into one of his speeches, Kivarol exclaimed,
I " What are we to think of the eloquence of a man who steals his
\ gestarC} from the dead and Iiis bom moli from childhood ? " At the
dose of a literary discussion between the two, Mirabcau said with a
wieet, " You arc a droll kind of authority, and ought to remember
Ae tlifTcrence there is between your reputation and mine." *' Ah,
Momitur te Comtc," replied Rivarol softly, "I should never have
muured to say that to you!" Mirabcau, he said, was capable of
•TOjlhing for money, even of a good action.
Once at table Rivarol made a blunder, which every person i"'*ent exclaimed a^inst. " How is it," he said, *' that I never ^^ a foolish thing but that some one cries 'Stop thief I '" ' . '1 the presence of an Abbi, nicknamed AbbiS Rou!^, because he j 7*0 OiatJc a vow to keep his hair rolled up until the counter-revolu- lA ' *^'™"*' *■* censuring a certain measure and its authors — " If •JV Kadi had a little sense," said he, " they would have avoided this *"*'* " Sense 1 Sense ! " cried the AbW. " It is sense— it is Fetprit ■"•"hi^-^j, has ruined us." "Then, Monsieur," retorted Rivarol, " why "''^ Vou not saved us?"
I ^i-varol was a frequent contributor to that extraordinary work, ••^* Actcs des Ap6lres." Eleven volumes, each of between six !***"* *^ven hundred pages, teeming with invectives, personal attacks, '^"^aies in verse and prose, with portraits bordering on carica- ^s^*^^ with [ileasantries which amount to insults, with smiles which '^'^Be into grimaces; original always and often diverting; some- omes eloquent and profound, but too frequently just as frivolous, cinicat, and c^'cn obscene ; adapted to the appetite of the crowd "*W than to the taste of the few, "A debauch of satires, an orgie *' personalities " ; comedies and tragi-comedies ; dialogues, farces, bi'leKjues, allegories, apologues, impromptus, sonnets, distichs, H twdcvilles, parodies ; all freely relieved by puns and jests— such Htfrc the "Acies des Apotres," which Rivarol and his collca^es ^Lontinued for two years in daring disregard of the police and the ^Boptilace — replying with open dcHances lo revolutionary bruUiUUe^ ',
(
: :-. ... -. . .-.-. - : -i, -..-.•!•' iz-iLri. -g- "'-''-' is adrance of ii
T~=i^-..- - --■c^^.zL- 7"-= -Ar:^ i=3 At.L-s" is the typo!
■':^... : .-.i riini':-:. ; -it ii -Jie - '-IcrLi Cordelier' oi'CiiA
I>=-r= i—-^- -■ -Id 2:.,=c :.:.!.— ~i:r_K;; T':.i= ;f iei-opnlar Reitil>
■_:■ -_r^-; : .--;-.;.:r.i.— ;^^- rr^^iis. tl-.is Ar-T^des ctercwoe -v;_-: _:. ^ : -Tr-.zz.n li-^inz^i :::■;; i -ireei .likeiegectltma ■ T -.:- ■■::_f .■: '. .■ ~r.r.\z . i S tr- S;~r-..'^.-^f. a; theresMnWi : _: T ^ - -: 7 :..:. : ?. : -:l_ Tliij -X^tz. ^i ulied ; then tom irvT .::r -.^ i, ;.- i^-i i.r-i :;' ^iij -jLclt The number, ihoi .-:- — ..-i-u V-:..- :;--:-;-i tj i i-^— =: Tresi. c.-i a::erwardiso!d bj
--; ~T.i ;;" V-± ■^.■v iri =^\;— = -:' Rii-aTj!,thTO«n iKO
"-■^^-^- ii-;-;^ r-i-irj^ — :he devnees : the KCpticmthi
■■•.'ii :^- i z.:Ti iirt;'.. '.r.-.z-zi-.ti ui by ir.vesiing ilK ■ _-■.:- V :.;,..- fi--;j --.LT. .: t!-.:--.- >.;i ;-v:;ted them with ik
; .. , . . ^_ „^ -■-._;>. ■».:- i;±-j f.y; ; i; is ihis which ^-^ r; :•:;- s-;3 ~'r,i- ivjr -.;-:— i.;-_j-:jhes ; tb: is •--
.■i.- :r; .; -;-.: : .;--,y-:';-.;T hrur; b=:':Te or.e's felloTS.oneis
^-"- ■-" ■ ■■".,'-::-: r.yjLn :'. r.2.\-.r.z r.o .:o::itno:i sense."
--. -■-- • iTij::-.;:i :; Lse "-:i ret -.^-.iiion ; i: lives and breaths
- '■.;- :: :--; ~;-.^ t_-^ -j ^ p_.-^ mediocre-niinded i"'^ - - ■ = -■;---?! -■.;;.■ ; :z--. y rheT.se'.vos ni'jch with men and liB-'
..-;:; ire Terr!-; ^hj -£-. y.oth-.r.^ out of theirwealih bui^^
■ .-.'.'_"■ "'"."-'--"5 ^''"-O speak of us, nine disparage "^ '"".. " "----'" -~* w'"J ?2ys anything in one's favour af '■
■-.■,.*.!.-l..S''''~"^ "jve a reasoning and interest, a logic "lii" ..'V"--"~ '' " ' ^"■"'^■'^"■'''y niistrust." 1 ..=.. 1. e canr.o-. make men afraid wc must make tlieo sr.i~eii.
. 'i.. passes his life in reflecting upon the nasi, incompliini'^t^
WembUng for the future."
T^Ae Great Talkers of the French Revolution. 485
' The people, in the services which one renders to them, will [Buffer prudence, and do not pardon repentance.' ^'Favour the people who sacrifiee their rhetoric to their )>atriat'
I aiu), harinj; ihe laleni of speaking, ha^-e the humanity to hold
riooguiec''
' Contempt ouf;hl to be the miMt mjrsieriotis of our sentiments." I inst on to the AbW Maury (1746—1817). At the age of teieen, richer in hope and ambition ihan in worldly goods, the tee Abb4 set out from Avallon to seek hit fortune in Pari<;. On ■way he felt in with two young men bound on the »amc errand. ty soon exchanged vriih eaih other their youtiiful confidences, ■rtal, the physician, wanted to become a fellow of the AtadmU dtt B»M» ; Treilhatd aspired lo the dignity of the magistracy ; and the »b< saw himself already hia m-ijesty's chaplain. When in the ighbourhood of the great city they heard the deep peal of the hedral bell, and immediately their imaginations were all aflame, ^you bear that bell ? " says Treilhard to Maury; " it says that you Pk aidibtsbop of Paris." "Probably," replied Maury, "when you m bo in the cabinet." " And what am I to be ? " asked Portal, ih, you ? you," they rejoined, " will be chief physician to the ig." Fortune took them at their word, and obligingly fulliUed
r ambitious anticipations.
Parts the intellectual ene^y of Maury soon made itself felt. ( age of twenty-six, for his Eloge on Ftfnelon, he was rewarded
I the appointment of vicar-general to the Bishop of Lemberg ; «r enjoying various other preferments he became preacher to the Hut. OrK:e when preaching before Louis XVI. he surveyed the Iftiintitration, the financial condition of the country, and the chief >luical questions, so widely and so well that the king smilingly •Serrcd, " It is a pity ! If the ,\bb<; had but said a little about Ufpon he would have touched upon everything I " On another ^Caaon, following in the steps of Bourdafoiie, he dweh so severely on * vice* of the nobles and the faults of royalty itself thai his auditors St visibly diajtlcased, observmg which, he adroitly added, "Thus hks Sl Chrysostom." This put matters right ; his hearers were ning to admire in a father of the Church that which they bad Indcrcd impertinent in a petty abb 6
hCben the States-General were assembled In 1789, Maury was S up as a clerical deputy from the circle of P<!ronne, and defended e cause of the Crown, which was also that of the Church, with 'Ming vivacity and courage. He displayed an equal courage, and
I greater menial alertness, as a member of the National Assembly;
or bos KboMi I
lad radtili in rpoincw^JBtk
,- bein*cd,*'Whi(!
tpnot o(ta
BMo ■uikli bontM w
iimliak ■ wayocaeeaaybtttg?" A
E. Ob oae geastoB ■ viadi anned nil 1
faiai,a|^''niKfcii
lo say taax in bell ! " 7k
"YaibMrmuhillcom
faac aa aiy onets " (the no fcneb fctltc
Tbe popobce appfatided beaitilr ; and k
of those teaifale niuket vomti, ^
'faiagBad-liiinoncdl]r:"Vouipak
rAbb^tesiMlBcrf aafl yxmaieafixi-
b«t caw docs not die forlhit I '
the nott padmnud conponRiin
of hn idfcnMies, the jrclb ad
dcsignaie '-our nUilQi'
ID Mitabeay, aooss the tetrfo-
yoocaD ndirtnoinph onr of
jKM tmnph ooif ovet 09
hii ■« xImb, todfented, " Dim is dK
'O^ MoBsieor de Miiabeatt,' n^oiiMd
loC Ae KatioBil Aaaemldr, be left France sod K Ac Pope koded tlus bcave and cloqaent it- lefoiAecEsaf dieCnwa and die Chutchwith veQ-meriteA Be MS H^e AicUidiop of Nkaea, and in 1 796 rtwMd de ^*»"Tr*"'' o'^ Rome fi»d not wii hioti ■a itcoocfled to the Holy See, Maury node tjs *-^ ■liiiiii'^.TiliT-r* to Fmccaad in iSii vas ptefened u 1^ lomria. U mm iDentablc result that on iIk itf»- icfAeBavteaskAodd&B buo di^iacc Hefledtpii , «&ee be «*s ■Bptrwcicd, and deprived of his caiditfU'' be dKd iB >Sl^ His "Essais sor I'Ekjqnenee it}
ike Great Talkers of ike French Revolution. 485 diticUm on the great French preachers, Fldchicr, Bridainc, wet, and Bourdaloue.
Maury seems to have had a strong atlraclion for Saintc-Bcuve, ho has uken htm as a subject of his rare critical ])owcts in his Causeritis du I.undi," and his " Nouvcaiu Lundis," as n-cll as in his Portraits. " I'he reader should also consuh Poujoulat's *' L'Abb^ [aury, sa Vie el ses (Euvres."
Of the Abbi Delille (1738-1813), the translator of Virgil, we ■ad that when the Revolution first brolce out he remained in Paris, It eventually lost patience, and for this reason, says a n><'<?n/Mr : [e met in the Kuc du Koi a representative of the i^cople, named utdon, who began to lament his misfortune in being unable to get week's holiday. " The Convention has but three orators," he said, and I am one of them." " h is impossible to live any longer in Kb a countT}'," cried Uelille, and fled from Paris, crossed the hannel, and took refuge in England, where he remained tmiil the ill of the Director)'.
This is a good stot>', but, like many other good stories, it is not me. When the revolutionary hurricane broke over France, and rUnblcd down all the insiitiitions in which the poet delighted, he was Wed before one of the rcvoluiionary tribunals, but his hfe was spared U Ihc instigation of a journeyman mason, who ingeniously suggested flat as poets would be needed to celebrate the victories of the Re- Ublic. it was advisable to keep one alive. In 1793, when the Con- entioD had rehabilitated the Supreme Being, and decreed a fete in tia honour, DeliDe was ordered to write a congratulatory ode. He *eyed, but when reading it to Robespierre he was jierempiorily cot 'on, his verses sounding like sarcasm in the Dictator's sensitive ears. ^»c poet then retired to St. Di^, and translated the " ^'Kneid " ; after- »»di to Basel, and mrV-translaied Milton. He produced also some 'ginal poems, which were worse even than his translations. Napoleon a later period invited him to his Court, but the septuagenarian ^t shrank from its glare and glitter : " 1 have ceased to live," he Coded ; " I am but a spectator of life."
In his later years his mrnagi was superintended by a woman whom ~ at first called his niece, afterwards his wife. She watched over ■* interests witli as much avidity as if they had been her own. The *>is booksellers, more prodigal than their eonfrirts in London, *i(l for bad poetry, and this affectionate housewife locked Delitle up ' IlH diamber every day until he had turned out thirty lines, at six ^cs per line, plus thirty sous for the " niece." One day, when '>ue members of the poetic fratenuty were with htm, she heard hiriv
i
?»1Wi
ixwo&tr Eagtahi s&d EoctuKl >.\K' npUtd be; ")«««« ImtbeaecttxL* Hcmsndta« A person preKK in- ,«ilbthetetiEuk. "That is Boiufdn ' f^otaed UdiDe, with «mair- l«a)y m ptote has aoi been said at ■!.' RToiotioiufy teadoj, k
K of an iMffdatr of a vcr; simple KdliaK •)»
Ae VksnTbd jut died 'Good hcavott''
dad ! What a mtsftiRUDe 1 Uliu wiH becow
dafSBodMr piece of bad DC«s was brought M Ua
dead [' He fen into despair, looked npflo
r no hope of safety for unhap|>}- Sidij. Tha
tnSi^ of the death of ih« Pope. HeunM
by has sides, he could not ultcr a m^
and dnwinf bis cuitaim, he ««nt to bai, aid
ike SOU'S end. Tiretaj-(aur houn passed, and be lieud
at a TCiinice!h miU. ' What ! ' he cticd, ' the wtnf
■irlMdtnp dead, the Pt^ dead, and ihcj are nukif
I II oxinot be possible I ' To saiJsfy hirosclT, he <^
opened tbe shutters, and looked oat inlo 'I"
Tbe caits and carriages itere going to and bo^ and f
chosen «vTc sdouuig into his neighbour's shop as usual Ikalt
cd, ud maOaaMf obeened, ' Well, it seems as il,iluti^_
penona^ vho hare )ust died were not itnlispensaMe.'*
To NaieeoI^ the vii^ <A the "Uictiooaiy of AthdiK''
I
"he Great Talkers of the Frenik Revolution. 487
linistcTcd a sharp reproof. Naigcon had quoted a couple of jics from Dclillc's poem on ihc Colibri ;
^^fe Gu. vif, prompt, dc In \\e !ilTniil>le c( Tiflc eujuiuc,
^^1 El da dlcui, t'tU la tnl, \e pli» diitmnnl caprice,
fn of the gods, if they have any, the most delightful fancy), alter-
Ig the latter so as to read —
^K VA Ad dieux, /Htm tit, le pluc chumnnl caprice,
Rna of the gods, if thcic be one, .Vc.) And along with a copy f his Dictionary he sent to lUe Abb^ a foimal brtvet d'Athie. The lU>£ replied : " My dear ton/rirt, if you see in my verses what is il^bcrc, and do not see in heaven what u, the fault i^ not mine." j^pimon Nicolas Henri IJnguet (i73<i'>7g-4) obtained ai the ^kri&ian bar a brilliant reputation ax an advocate, but niuted about lis liead a swarm of humels by the public^ition of his "Theory of the ivil I^ws." He left Paris for awhile ; on his return he roumetl rork as a journalist, but " the iiii^cible adust little in.in," as Carlyte alts him, placed himself in ihL- power ol his cnemii-s by his bitter paradoxes and an irony almost as savage as that of Swift. For witing that "bread nos a d.ingeruus and pernicious invention " he was btOUf^t before the revolutionary tribunal, wa» condemned to death, and f;uillo<ined on the 37th of June, 1794.
He had a fine and biting wit, and scores of epigrams could be sdeaed from his writings and convcisations.
Liberty," he said, " for ihrec-fourths of mankind is only the to die of hunger."
It is never with folios that men have broken up Into sects and
lilted ma^sacrex. I.et them write, but prevent them from
ing^ and Elates will always be at peace."
"The ' right of war ' demands the gratitude of those who might
'killed or robbed with impunity, when it is exercised in moderation.
RimndE me of the story of tlie good priest who. passing through
in Paris, was deluged with boiling water from a window.
wiped and dried himself as best he could, he tottered home.
sad ught of bis swollen and halfflayed face, his mother and
liousekecpcr cried out, ' Good heavens ! what did you do to the
? ' 'I thanked ihcm.' ' Thanked them ? And for what ? '
they had not thrown the saucepan ; or, instead of scalding
head they would have broken it.'"
"We are told of two birds, one of which fishes for his prey, and ^serves it in a big pouch which Nature has given to him, the other has only a pointed bill as his resource, harasses the opulent
J
^SS The GtniUmans. Magasiiu.
^^ pKfa M him iBcamuI]r until be b foicei) to ofati
aod dwo* aw s porbon of the bootr> Hen jrou bma
of (be Eogfah nnaHtry and wbu is caSed the 0|fe»
I
I
a
A Tj-ff''^^ of bit repartee* : A Madune de Bcthone hsqti tbe Uar^chal de BrogUe, and, inspired bjr Inpfl, bscMwe with great eelat and success. Meettns lhe*6w» ', in an antechamber, "Monseur tiagoet,' aid ih ■ a «9it6cu)t tone, "aUow itadamede Setlmiieioirnt M-dBj as Ac nsuIlT qteaks and not as Moosieur 1 jngoet mate ka ifca^ or jot wiD ban to reckon with mc ; do you uodosMt Maanv UogtKt ? " " Monseigncur,'* replied Unguet, "tcoIm laes HBOt taBBht the Ftenchman not to (iear tiii tatmfT CnU be a bappier imtaoce of the soft answer that tuiadi »t ? " If foo drive the btsbops from their palaces, ihcy will (oke Kfi|t tbc hots of the poor whom they have nourished If you dtftin of their CTosier, tbeir cross of gold, thejr will taicaotai' wood. It is a cms of wood which has saved the woil<L*
These wonSs— anumg the finest, says Du Bled, c?cr addnsselW a political nsembly — are engraved on the tombstone of tbeCoBt de Moockaier (1755-1838) at Randannc. Monilo^er wasooetf lit gnat taftess of the Rn-tdution— one of its most vdienieit x' demwiiied advcnaries — a nun of enthusiastic and fkry teiii|icr, A fco^ far bis idcw like a tigress for her young— "in whom fcmoo' the GaBkw leneo, a Jansensiat. and an aristocrat," always kqdV dte tradMmia of the Chnnifa and the Crown, tliough favounblc u Ac JAeai ofcoastitiiiional liberty. His intellectual gifb were man},!'' so wTte his acqoheroents. He was conversant with theoloQr, J/H^ law, geology, agrtculture, mesmerism ; but if be knew a )^M be knew notiung pcofoondly, having spread his eflbrts oier too *ik a fidd, and foiled to master the all-iroportant science of ^vicgK 006*^ Kkas the cohcsoo and the logical method which alone kd^ tbcm effedive.
Driven from Paris by the excesses of the Revolutioo, he entcnd into Certnany, and afterwards into England, where he resided tl seven jxars, and vras received on the friendliest terms by Burke, Fn and Pitt. He associated there with the royalists — >Iakiuel, tk Chevalier du Panat, Laity, Cazal^s, and Rivarol, the bstofiAcA writing to one of his friends, says : *' You are not acqnaiMcd w Montlosicr ; h« loves wisdom foolishly,andnKiderationimmodeni(^ He fotiDded the CnrrUr ie Lendrti, to wliich lib bnUitDt aiilii^
rreat Talkers of the French Revolution. 489
|t i(Dponanc«. By the way, being admitted to an audience bmte (I'Artois {afterwards Charles X.) the latter, berore alt his IXcIaiin«d : " Well, Klonsieur de Montlosier, how about your It has sometimes a good many foolishnesses." 'I'hc reply |q>cctcd r " I hear them so oflcn that it is very possible one inc now and then."
itlosicr's political views, which I may briefly sum up as
f an aristocratic consliiutionatisi and a liberal churchman,
} more popular under (he Bourbons than they had been
le Republic or the Empire. A man of unquestionable
was strongly opposed to the claims of the sacerdotal party,
denounced at all limes with unsparing vigour. As early
or Tully ten yean before his disgrace, he had expressed his
the subject to the historian M. de Uarantc : " The priests
m ihcmselTcs as God ... is it fitting that such pretensions
ie raised in these times ? Tlie>' will pciish, and will make the
ish with them, I desire Ihal this people should give them-
p God, but 1 would rather (hey should give themselves to
pi than to the priests . . , The French may undergo every
f slavery but tliis, which they will never undergo ; it will
khe reigning family odious, and bring down upon it the
[the Stuarts."
Philippe made him a peer of France ; and he lived in retirement at Randanne until his death in December, 'n his deathbed he maintained the same independent towards the ecclesiastical authority tvhich had distinguished fng life. The lost ofTices of the Church were denied to him I
je ngrted a written retractation of his opinions. He would 1
lent. "God is just," lie said, "and I can dispense with 1
refused to me under such conditions. Let my body be to the little mortuary mansion which is now ready at M ; let a cross be planted there to show that I wished to ie Catholic faith. The poor women as they pass by will '
their reverences, and their prayers will suffice me." |
I XrV'. asked Cardinal de Sanson where be had obtained ,
riedge of politics. " Site," replied the diplomatic prelate, [ ««3 Bishop of Digue, and running to and fro with a {
Item to find a Maire for the town of Aix." "And, in Bays M. Victor du Bled, "politics are composed of sue* ipprcnticeships, in which the knowledge of small affairs ihc comprehension of the great ; and undoubtedly the rcToluiions of that republic of Geuc^'a which Voltaire pre-
na (■749^S«>),b as oftbe R^
:dflii rri
OBOIing ggt ■
be nftciitiii vilfa hs faioAic
fa^DSnl B H
:^ mraK. sad iiMSum flie i^nedj-; «1m^ bf i^
^ ^ES- ''"■^Tifg. Ibk nKnd JmIj [HI mil im J nid III tfr
"'■gf-n-- T-L Ty rT>f jr'iMBt, ke Aoms IsBsdr mdieinBiDKedfAt v^ri ^e ii!^;raiT e JMjinrmix, a |aane^ !»«««««■ MBtiapaSaflOJ ncsr ^u Tii3Linrii: z£ tcsetrr:. Dyins m vant, poor amd wn
:cr. 'us joiL :i>jTCi-.f ~rr i>^ 3a:iT aUnres. but ahnjs &ithfol lo in iV' — r.rniiTKZi:rz = 'lifi hre*:^. :o :ie lasC s^ '. "
V-"'" ±1. J'i:r ▼:£? i^>x:i irirrr Tcais of age vlicn he bdoct • - — ^-" ^^ l^oirci. i:ai :^ sccie tiiae assisted liDgaet {of «!>(» X :;zT^ Lz-^iiT^- i^citsr, iz :^ pcbScadoa of Zzs Anmala Mtiftt- 1:-ji =ii rw; -"Tt— Ti~ il-aiisrced lo work in coUabondon, ffld v^"-*^ ±;. liz~ ~:lxz bcidc r^ h^ nanre Geima, began an acdie ^=T ::irKi= ss scrUT of tie JieKtmrts P»liti^mei, Dnn » T'zrs IS ~!x. ■TgriT'? it tbe ~t3«rcal moremeni vhich was tbca. s;rT-=i£ iiji ba-rs iad TT-nfe cf mea, he amtinucd liis JoobI r^V" :it Tjijr :c :bi Jn-rvnl Ji£ii.--ri^ju ; and by his iadsTCinA srsafr iii:nnji=>:s £^i i^ iin prodaioaDofl of opinions, bf !■• Ti;j"-:>ril sEcar.-rr i^z. ijs issi^; ir.to the heaits of men, soon uAe ■:^.=aei; i. 7»:irsr. He e7«>::9ed the cause of the king and of o»- s:j3.-ci1 n.-cs^^-T w-.i ecial courage and lojalty, and Louis XVl- ,--Tr.^iffi. r.- ^l:= *=. ==7vcaiii misaon to the comts <rf Bofin ad ic r^ziTsicri. Bu: ercEts mshed onmrds nith such Extil W* :'r^: h^ c-.riircwcy was doomed to bilme, and he hinHdf*** ~.Ti;C«'i T.- iwA refuse in Sviuerbnd, while aQ his propotji* V'iTS- »■» c;rc5s!::£:ei EveniciUv he was driven for secnritr ■ 1 oni.t- wberc be suned d»e Afermre Britantuqtu, and died • Mir :>»;. v^ disease aad &sspp(»Dtment — vhidi iras the o* jicc^.iTs, «■ the cisea^e.
\ :cra *o M. Maiooei, a nun of ungular modeiatioD v^
The Great Talkers of the French Revoluiiott. 491
teEritf, who met with the ill-fate thftt geneinlly Attends sudi icn in restless and disturbixl liincK— all parties disowned him. he emigrif haied hini as a Jacubin. The Jacobins miatrusled im a.H the accxjmpltoe or dupe of the Court ; and at a later time lapolesn censured him as an ideologist, because he refused to nndon his long-cheii^hed ideal of a constitutional inonardiy. leanwhite. all respected hi.i inconuptibilily, his administrative tolenu tttplayed in several important olTicci), hia heroic firmnes)., an<\ in- exU)le moderation. In the Coaiiituent A.isembly he defended wiih le noblcxt fidelity the King, the Crown.and the public liberty. As tnikc said of bin), he wa« the laM who watched by the bcd^^idc of he expiring monarchy — which might have been ^.ived if he could uivc breathed into the monarch hia own constancy of soul and tenacity if purpose.
He tool: refuge in England until the storms of the Terror had spent Ihnnselvcs, and Napoleon bad restored to France the gifts of lab and oidtr. As commissar)' -general of the navy he did good service to the Emperor ; and, as councillor of state, belter service by the frank honesty of hisciiticisms ; until, for too openly and strongly protesting ■gaimt the Russian expedition, he was di.sgr.-iicd and banished. He ws appointed Minister of the Marine on the restoration of Louis XVlll., but held office only a few months, dying on the 6th of September, 1814.
tjean Joseph Mounicr was another of those sparkling " ideologists" thopcd to raise on the crumbling foundalionsof the old despotism mnitutional monarchy like that of England, with two legislative mticrs and a responsible executive. At the outset of his career he had sought to enter the army ; but finding himiicir baffled by the •^Kxlcs which tlic prejudices of the aristocracy threw in the way, he ""Wd to the legal jirofcssion, in whicli his rise was extraordinarily ■^'i He WIS scarcely twenty-five when he wai appointed /■{r royal at Grenoble ; and in the six years th.it he held office only <"'(! of his judgments was appealed against. In 1788, prior to the ■"onicntous convention of the States -Genera I ill Versailles (the initial '^^ of the Revolution), the Slates- General of Dauphinc met at "iuilc ; and there, under the impulse and guidance of Mounier, wcQucd some of those great political problems which had begun to 'ptAie the public mind. By the power of his oratory and his philosophical grasp of principles, he carried with him in one common 'ciion the noNtsse, the clergy, and the third esute. The path of legal resistance was distinctly Irared out ; the ministry were iuewarued that the absolute pleasure of the sovereign would no
\
492
Tki Gentlemaits Ma^azim,
I
loogcr be acoefKed as e subdlmte for law ; that the peoile bod ibef t^tes *od were rtwl'cd to reclairo them ; and that TCpfCMHMi iDMt precede taxatxm ; but all this w&s accotn|uni«d wilhi t» polooa "TjMrf for the boDour, and cvea the pretogitives, d ik Crown. These conttiwtional ideas were rapidly accepted bgr Ik TPtriffKy of Ae oatiott. so thai it was sidd, " Dauiiluaf i^ Ft^Keaod HfHf*** rules Dauphin^. "
Ob the coovocatioa of the States-General in 1 789, Momnv ns dected a nenber. In that assembly he poitxd itK path of eqmtr, finooring libenributdreadiRgrcTohitionatid^ wt^ih be bccaw would anend upon it. Of the ^ioid liiimWj, whiefc pew ottt of the Slates-Genenl, threu^h tbe
^■iiiiiiw J iif itii rTiiiiT 1 iiiii. iiiniiilj liil lij Tif in. inrrf-'t"
the mUam and the der^r the pnTQese of a aepante *clo. Ik m provincia] lawyer (he was only thirty or ibAf-m on the xStfa of September ; and m thii ^sx» 10 face the eaiSeat outbreak of the terclnticcarr faUowed dte reader Vnows from the lu«on» OKqgy, resotuce, coolness ; bot the dementi •at swept him off his (eeL The monarchy ftO ; >■' of constitutional govenuncnt itddf to Gtemiblc in Janoaiy 1790. He wu Nt 9^ Ae Alps mio ^ray. Thence he procMdo! » l»itn> he irwwd to France, and was madcaCan°li'' «(SBae. bAca9aad(aatsaf 1S06 bedoeed a carcerirtidiki hf a bdef period of eztiaordinaiy splendour. "HtrX ■.* said KapaleoB, what inloRned of his death N«>
TW «ca HK hm^ bcfcte m by S>C Victor du Bled is d>ic« ihc tmmS», pac^ lad ■■■ of leciets— Jean Fnn^is Mannonld' ■ha ^li^ mAs SMiBcr of i;z3.and died on the tiutdit^ «XW: ** <^'* ^ '**' lin*^ ihRcJiMirths of that ntcnx*^
i^artft have sach an attractioa Dxit*
He was a young man of twen?''^
M;^ oansMItt focke^ be stuted fromaenawi*
hg wUi utlMtioof bopeiL Oa ^
l%pet*layeqfftheLo^*;aDdoohbanmlin*'
fv a faoadRd crawits. Thiimi^
Ubeao^flfthe singing biotheHwod kt
FdiofyaniiBent and prinuioti ; ^
W iMni • pisaU ind a T«ki«^ who literally forced vfrt
^ |i«ak te Imiii of Loeat XIV. after the bmlt
The Gnat Talkers of i/ie French Revolution. 493
Fonteaoy), and recommcndfid him to write for the n.-ige.
nnontet, however, had no dramatic genius ; and the three ksedies which he perpetrated, and was lucky enough to get pro- loed, tit inconceivably dreary. In one his heroine is Cleopatra, d be turns the bmous Queen of Fgypt into a talkative French- >nu,n, for whom Kfark Antony wotitd ne^cr have lost a world I e mi not inw:h more successful with his operas ; and as for his let and heroic poems, his contempomncs would have none of them, d posiciily h.u approved their decision. No French critic, so far
I sm aware, has shown any desire to nimmagc among the shreds >d utters of dead literature in which they lie imbedded. It is not
be wondered at. perhaps, that the needy man of letters, in these itonrd eircii instances, accepted the patronage of Madame de Onpadour, one of whose frailties was the desire to pose as a kind
breeCccnt Muse towards bnd pocls, who repaid her alms with nnpllinentary stanzas and fulsome dedications. Mannontel did not ttd ■ secure foothold in the literary demesne until he began his Coates Moraux" (some of which &ad!y belie their title) in the femn in 1756. They were published complete in 1761, and at •ice established his reputation as an ingenious raionlcMr, with l^Undaiil fancy and humour, and as a writer of pure and elegant '^Wich, More ; they secured him in 1 763 one of the fauteuiU of »c Academy. His "B^lisairc," published in 1767, obtained imme- ■We popularity, and in our English schools long rivalled in popularity t aclass'book Finclon's " Tiiltfmaque." Bui his most important, if tt his most readable work, is "The Flcments of Literature," hidi cortlains a good deal of sound and felicitous criticism.
Bdarmontel was a member of the National Assembly in 1 ;8g. His lapothies were necessarily with the old regime, but with a tou/fon ^ libciality. He was not of the stufT of which martyrs are made, and ^tiring from Taris, concealed himself until the whirlwind of the tenor had raged away its fury.
If the "Elemcnt-i of Literature" be his roost imporL-inl work, his KJM agreeable is his " Mcmoircs," in which he reflects himself— his aioyment of life, his keen perception, his volatile wit, his intellectual ybtritisTn— with charming vivacity. But he does more ; he sketches *e " Men I have known " with equal fidelity and grace. Siatesaien, ouniers, men of letters, the women of theM/o«j — Voltaire, Rousseau, Ijc Abb^ Maur^', Vauvenargues, Necker, Calonne, Madame GeofTrtn, 'hdame de Tencin— all flit through his animated pages in their abits as they lived — eometimes, perhaps, with a touch of caricature » a tally of bitterness—which is very improper, no doubt, but makes
TOV CCLXXL NO. 19JI. \, V,
oCaidmm: tobiatftwtt it vidtD Ae ami )imilait br dn^ md tbe tntth MCH Bcthods. Al all enoa, sttiActofj memoir of thit mb] NspoiccB of Ms Dainnlioa. d'EHcoae DoBmu'; IBabeao «i ton Epo({W*; ; AtH a LonI Maoa- 'Besn^ " Premiers Lurnlrt ": tv S, Surer-Smili) ; liut dodc of iIxk ■s ia iS the mMat-sHtdatsf of bis bn vmdljr and strong!]', u *iik afMn lain, in Ctriyle's ^>>( fcaa no more effecdrdy iiu<le efol s, DOC so much in wliat be (H love done: Take for cjanple;
Inn mbort ind (no 1<J« :
MM CooMc <1< UinbeM, lib «»'
-.wiOeEfeiikAbin. nt^iaiBa
K«a* «1: h b dODcIf, «« oft^"^
of U, MW IttJbfck lii-4ui^ K"
^la^toUr'B^^^ to be dosi-Ctiapeaf I
Siv^dK HteotTctf Franoruidonborf
Ik* MM wald Imm aceded, t* fc* B« •"
■ "An </ Dailnfc" jirt fOtir. «Uoh te«
littwtiiHtT. and m «mfty rimtena'^
mbad l>r)i!n:»re«^]«acMUlM
tew baud; by ■& Lkdihood, a inaJl j«aoodd^ %i, «id s«^ JDio qokfc ibiielfcliicM fcnnt. B^
MOBI
«e rtsnembaed br their achievetnentt ItK I orf'Minbean to be remembered bj the ad«»
CI flg^L
« hnHhitt titlker ; terte, iaciiiye, epienrnmilic H*
Bfk a nm in a si^e p&raae. He baptiied La Fiffl* '
" Ne<^et ■»! " a dock belund lime-' *
*^ FVwKh *s a •• natioii of apes, with the iMjw *'
11^** .*■;*■•» l»>AaB lM4)wdat f«« w «».ilr»«e»ibl«tt«*«'
bat it «S| taniiBe »1 tb« tnvU* << •*'f<"'^
Oriifa^
Th« Gnat Talkers of the French RevolutioH. 497
laroqucts." The deputies of ihc National Assembly were "wild isas, whom Naiuic had endowed with no other Taculty than that of icking and biting." He said of Baxnavc that " he was a fine uce fhtch would one day become a ship's masL" Of Robespierre, " he rill go Cir, for he believes all he says," Of Pastoret, " he boi a fox's jrain in a calfs head."
Some of his maxims are as pointed a* arrows :
" The |>eopI« are never called upon to be gr.itcrul, because one is Mver out of their debt." ' "Thc/c/flM/i-K is one of the bases of empires."
" It is more important to impose upon men habits and manners Ibn Laws atid tribunals."
'* The silence of peoples is the lesson of kings."
He was no belie\-er in the claptrap of equality. When the (Ls$ctnb!>- had prohibited the use of liites, his valet addressed him jnc day as "Monsieur" — and notliing more- "Rascal I" cried Uitabcau, "know that to thee I shall always be 'Monsieur 1c :;omie.'"
The fret and fever of his existence wore him out while he was f«t in the prime of manhood — only forty-one. But it is no light task )o la; hands upon the revolutionary spirit, to curb it, and guide it in a ^vcn course ; and labour of all kinds, incessantly prosecuted, ex- sau^tcd him, body and soul. "Had I not lived with him," says I>tJinoni, " I never should have known what a man could make out if « (ingle day; how much might be accomplished in a period of twelve "^^wt A day for this man was more than a week or a month is " other*. The mass of things which he kept going simultaneously ** Prodigious; from the conception to the execution not a moment ** 'ost." " Monsieur Ic Comic," said his secretary, on one occasion, ■'*»ac )-ou demand is impossible." "Impossible!" he exclaimed, '■^itigliom his chair, "never name to me that beast of a word (A% ^^'^<i jamais eetU bUe dt tnof)"
^**» his last hours he was still Mirabeau — the Titan Mirabeau —
^ ^Jl his intellect aflame, expressing himself in words which glowed
lava-heat. He was never more Mirabeau than on that strange
•*~bed over which France hung weeping and despairing, as over
*"*» in of her hopes. Hearing the report of a cannon, he suddenly
* ^ut, " What ! are those already the obsequies of Achilles?"
*" he said, " I carry in my heart the deaih-dirge of the monarchy ;
^*taains will now be the spoil of the factions." Vet again, to a
'^ who was sustaining him, "Aye, support that head ; would
'^Id bequeath it to thee." And gazing forth on the young A^r\\
I
49S
7%f
tsac ~::e aa Cad t^acA-. £ a k j9e ins ' ■ "^"" f*™ ^ Bv-ad^
jm ,■■■ JIM i**f,_ SBoC ''f^* JX pC£ X^S ^*^ ^' ^OC KZ3nCd Wt B-
pBsvoscd JL^JLit Ik <j^ij'.'h t? cad &es xffxnt^ TicpbpoM
zsd :ae HA be KiQ^ (^DC to k^. Sua&x^ x. OxfoatoliiB AX ra o«e^— {be nAeaEK aad :^ baezjc
V. m, lUIISKKI ADUK
.r^ Ar
1;
'TPf^O PRIMITIVE RELICS OF LONDON HISTORY.
\X. London history- is not centred in the City, nor does all its earliest stages cluster round London Stone. Very much been written about this famous monument of the pAtI, and tjLiite y Mr. Oram Allen has summed up wh.-il I nnd others have had ay about it. I think, perh^ips, this p.-irlicular stone may now be Eto have been restored to its nghtfid place in London hiitory, JTany new&rts are at some future time forthcoming about it, they inoot probably find a place in the stoty Mr. Grant Allen has so Uly pieced together from frjgmenls hitherto considered almost eadable.
But there are at least two other stones connected with the history !xmdon vbich deserve some little attention, and which, in their .are as important to London as the famous palladium in Cannon eL In these two cases, howcip-cT, the investigation begins with fart that the stones themselves no longer exist. That they did t we shall see presently, but the hand of Time has dcah hardly klhem and has swept them away from our midst. sThe most interesting point about them is, perhaps, that thej' were niuated in ihc City. They belong, in fact, to the area lately trane- ntd into the new county of London, and I think it will be found ; ihcy form a not unimportant clement in the earliest history of Bcw county. I am one of tliosc who believe in the practical value 1 landmarks in the history of local institutions, and f think that EidoiKJs of the new county may he just as proud of the pari iplayed in English history as ihe Londoners of the old nous city. 'I"hese other stones, then, whose hislorj' vies with of London Sionc, were respectively situate, the one in the ""1, jusl opposite Somerset House, the other at Westminster — the stone brought from Scotland, and about which so much has t written and imagined, but a genuine London konigstooe, king- "le, whose connection with the later history of the nation has quite I its earlier origin.
i
I Twoi
^•llriA Jim
Tivo Ptimiiitfc Helies of London History. 501
"irirt house, ftfiich was hard by ihe Sttand." Stow*« reading
**l«ite accurate. In the "Chronicles of ihc Mayois and Sheriffs
London," under the year 1174-5, is an entry that upon ihc
|E^ of Sl Martyn {November 11) "(he justiciars in Eyic sal
T» ewtt of Saint Peter," an entry that is corrected in rjjj
|« CToiise de Kcrc," the stone cross, and not the cross of
^er- Thus, from perfectly authentic records we learn that the
l^croKs in ilic Slran<l, opposite to the present Somerset House,
"^ cenir.il mcEiing- place for legal and scmi-lcgal niaitcrs, and it
"oucht wo[ih bearing in mind that not a stone's-throw from
ri-^"^"' spot are now situated tlic stately Law Courts of the
^•Ut to dwell upon the fact tbat this primitive method of ^^ things legal was prevalent in I.ondon during the reign J™" I. and Kilward II.; probably long afterwards. We are »» °''*'^ to think of thing* in the past just as we observe fcttti "^ '''* prei^^'i that it is sometimes didicult to quite jj^ ifwc the people of the ihirtcenth century in outer [j . "" not got out of their old-fashioned method of holding g^ "^ open air. In the counlry tlie practice was continued \.an I *''''ii 'he memory of our grandfaihers in innumtruble }y - y^ subject makes a very interesting chapter in the history p^^, "''itions. But in London, besides this general interest, it IJQ 'r\[erest ; because it illoslrates a very curious subject in
1^. history, and takes us to another stone, similarly used,
ai U'csiminsrer. a^ *-**io at Westminster has become obscured by the famous ^ stone which Edward I. brought from Scotbnd. k ^^ facU about this coronation stone which interest us in P^**'' the other stone. The first is the assigned reason for jj. *"^ugbt to London, "as a sign," says the chronicler j^ » •' that the kingdom had been conquered and resigned." ^*^'nt is that the people understood this sigD— this piece p. *c.lorc as we may perhaps be permitted to call it ^ ^>d so is incidentally proved by the fact that when t- ^ <^oncluded his treaty with the victorious Scots, he stipu- ^ ^ ancient coronation stone was to be given up, but, " the
^ *^»^don would by no means whatever allow it to depart
(^ *=lves." So that it comes to this : Edward L knew
^ *'!sh symbol of conquest would be understandcd ol
1^ ^nd they, faithful to their old traditional ideas, kept
L
*» iheir midst.
A
Ttvo Primitive Relics of London History.
k stone was twelve feet long and three Teet broad, and from ihc oliar dignity attached to it at the roronation it was called Ihc jug's Bench." Like other king^'s stones some remarkable legal toms were performed there, including the swearing-in of officers; I Uicic the Lord Chancellor "anciently sale," says I>ugdnlc, Bd hdd his court," Stow sayn, "that at the upper end of ntminstcr Hall was a long marble stone and a marble chair, >Cre the kings of England formerly sat at their coronation dinners, d M other solemn times the I^rd Chancellor." It would be tedious to go through all the minute antiquarian lints which I have collected to prove thai in the " King's Bench " ■ "estniinster — the stone from which the court of that name was ilj™— we have in London a true konig's stone of our own, on pth our kings were crowned, and on which ihcy or their ■■wMor sat to administer justice. But perhaps the few notes Rpven will be sufficient for the purpose, especially when it is i*™ thai one chronicler records the fact that Edward \. i not dedicate the Scottish stone for the coronation of English ereigns, but "directed it to be made the chair of the priest bauit."
O. UURENCE COUME.
^^3t^5L 3Su toe ^^
poor fc"w]ffi«ti^ but
':»r' i!r^ -x - iBi. iiLss z^a sxi ^vny;^ ne too modi fai*^
*t:(: -^ j« ->,-^n.-i -^-T"* zif in his gecj : xr 3e !ias act Ac tndtf
"■9;; '/'hj; p^ xcfi pnncr.wiac3.giaiiiedicse hardy birds tpnnff
' milm '>t' -vsic .a icaica a sxd. ; md Iiis little weak fedtrfl
iT "i^y-tin^x" aodd in leaiciiitf w!u£ £iic hemq^tfiiidoiilnil-
W >i miouti to sunng ob h peicli and watching for hii F(9>
* Iwrd winter die watdi is apt to be a fatally long one. M
tb$ OCOMOB^ ^'l'** ^ (leyoo the wing boraing I^*
Kingfishers.
hawk over the water, into which he drops likea stone when rked his victim, which is boine ^hori;, knocked agninst a btBiich, and swallowed whole. And his bl.ick and white ic Nile kingfisher, frequently fishes from the air at sea, iato the surf as boldly as any sca-fowI, and letiiing to the ewhen tired. Oui familiar bird, too, is not unfrcqucnily
by the sea-Udc, especially when hard weather locks u|) the ers; and the classical writers seem to look upon it as a iiing bird. To them it was ilic halcyon, the sea-brooder,
sake the rough mid-winter sea was stilled for Iwo weeks, 1 halcjxin days, in the first seven of which the bird built its 3tt hatching and rearing its brood in the remaining seven, e >tor>' went that Alcyone, seeing the drowned corpse of id husband Ceyx, who had gone to consult an oracle, r^nst
shores threw herself into the sea in despair, and that the changed into birds, who bore the name of ihe devoted wife, lorc stilled for a season the waves, which had dealt by them when in human form. matter of fact, however, it must be confessed that the
the kingfisher is sadly prosaic, A hole in a bank forms )n's humble dwelling, and the nest is composed of fish- ich the birds eject after digesting the Hesh. The eggs, ire very beautiful, the yolk within giving an exquisite flush joth white shell. But from them are hatched uncommonly ig birds, at first naked, but soon, owing to the sprouting :h covet them, bearing a distinct resemblance to young L They are extremely voracious, and their abode is js lo a degree. However, when they leave it, which they , they are wcll-iledged, they are little inferior in beauty to nts.
est is often made at some distance from water, though in ry nights the kingfisher keeps pretty close to that element, ;ning to shoot under a bridge rather ih.an over it, and too ninlering a net in the archway. Now and then, however, nsy be seen flying overland, well above the trees, and no ;his way it discovers the out-of-the-way ponds at which it s appears, greatly to the astonishment of some people, who liink that the bird has some mysterious power of its own
water. But mystery seems destined to hang about the , and it is a familiar bird in other legends than those of
witness the belief, to which Shakespeare and Marlowe It a dead kingfisher, hung up in a room, will serve as a
\
Kingfishers.
itroduction of nliicli some trouble had been taken. The c not so anxioiu for the spairow's tximpany now, and ler can bolt as many fledgelings as il pleases, without jng down public indignation on its head. Quite ns
OS this bird is the only member of the kinghunter faction attained to any diKlinction. This Lt the laughing jack- LOugh he has become known to the civilised world in too on age to be surrounded by a inythio-il atmosphere, «KS a personage of repute. In appearance, though there It family resemblance between the two, he presents some- contrast to his small relative of our islands. Nearly as >k, he is clad in soft loose plumage of sober brown and family blue only cropping up, faint and silvery, on his s bill is shorter and stouter than the spcar-likc weapon of er, and he rejoices in a line black-barred tail, which occa- sets itself in a ridiculous way, as if it acted independently, ncpression is one of preoccupied wisdom, as he sit* motion- niffed-out feathers, on his perch ; but let anything edible ' below, and this feathered Micawber Is down upon it nptutide which belies his usual aii of philosophic ab-
In taste he is not fastidious; lizards, frogs, "mice, rats, mall deer," are all welcome, and his cxperincss in dcstroy-
ha« naturally endeared him to serpent-hating humanity. es he despise the humble earthworm, in procuring whidi cs good service as a pickaxe. His movements are not h the poetry of motion ; he hops, as Buckland well ex- nth a peculiar high action, tike a London street sparrow, ;ht is as sober and heavy a^ our bird's is swift and flashing. 01 seem to care for water as a beverage, but rejoices, as so hilospher sliould, in his tub, splashing in and out with an
land-birds ctn equal.
course the great eccentricity of this Australian wag is his ioe, which really does resemble a loud coarse laugh ; and usic he is wont to salute the neighbourhood so regularly :> noon, and nightfall, that one of his local names is the s clock." He also, however, laughs at other times if the snis to him to warrant an outburst of hilarity, and is re-
iinmoderaiely amused whenever anytravclling catastrophe ■he bush. Now and then, his burst of merriment is heard Icy-pot in the suburbs of some Australian town, with, ^^agine, somewhat disconcerting eflecls to the unaccus- Sf. When one watches him, too, pinching and hammer-
I
rOS
Tit G^wtlrmaw's MagmsiMi-
■B^ his airigcfcTptey, tJLULJk!u%»afiirthewfa3cvte*^^j^ oc 1 decidecl? :*»■'■"'■ *r brd, His hezn, bi^cnr, b /^^^ a hard » aa bleak ; oaicnic diy at rheZoortena^H^jj^il,
pniir)w:cngraJc*ti^i«naIIercninpaTiion<rfhMp"*°^ l^iola aick ^JnTTtay : arjj ie ha nacrte wilds he has tt^ "v^^iw '^''^
=«i wxi a fircT w^ich. roides it oecessaiT "* ^t ^^^^ ja at cz-.a-rnng -jusb rjgtm. AlK)^X&a,iaipmc<o''eT^ ^^^^ inr-rr^ri-^ of tokc and appearance he is i t^^ ^^^Oin 1^ and I is rtV-warrr to law rfat hisfcHowawiHryiji^^ ^^^^ 1:3 = be bopedthac his HnaD tinsiun wiQ ^ fttfmMrtiii be=g =ra-TTW-rf tt car hands, aid that we *,^ not dotiDedtoh
ttra^TjI '
to oar cold nonheniisle^
nunc Fiim.
'(i
■-■'51
''■■■ ,
V
u
■*^;''4 (
"^OTOR HUGOS LYRICS.
*Jours un bonheur quand les hommes qui onl le don
muse reviennent Jt U poSsie i>ore — aux vetii."
"■th which Sle-Dcui-c prefaced his review of "Songs of
doubtless meet with sympathy from a good many
'* not ashamed to confess that they find something
' turning from splendid tragedy and stupendous fiction 1.
idea entertained of Victor Hugo— suggested by his '*ty, the strong fibre of his genius, his immense power '>B force of expression— is so at variance with the ^*^te grace of his lyrics, that surprise is, perhaps, the * we experience when the verses, published during '^^ dramatic author, aic set side by side with Hentatd **Alts; and, although /umr is the word which fits him *Viese that we learn the real mould of his mind ; it is **is habitual reflections on hfe and ils deep mysteries — tVcn fantastic melanclioly — his tendenry as a moialisL *ntrast is more superficial than real: he is always [he "tberighler of wrong — the champion of the weak — the •3, AS he says of his own work, " It is always the same Other cares, the same wave with other winds, the same tiler day." than trutii was said of him by a writer in Biael-wootTs tat his equal had yet to be found in France, or on our Ihe Channel. Tlie grand colossal form still stands aJone, och that bred so many exceptional men can boast no
as a true son of the Revolution, owing to his uncompro- his vigorous vitality, his advanced ideals. There was n totites as/oiies trempits dt sang, and he remarked with anjty, which in these days of literary detraction is called c, that the greatest poets have appeared after the greatest lilies.
JtJII. KO. igjl. , M ^A
(
Vittor Hugo's Lyrics.
Ittaiion, the exfiuisite gardens— were scenes of perpetual enchant- nt, atid for the worlc which was his life he had uninlciruplcd leisure. It w;is bcTC be vtiotc Let Chilimtnts, levelling his vengeful Unders against the authors of the toup d'ital.
The boolc was forbidden in France, but found its way there under Hi most extraordinary disgui^tes, sumetimet bidden in a box of sar- ■ines, a bank of wool, in dresses, in boxes of jewelry— the more n vas bunted down the cnote thoroughly it was disseminated.
tn the "di\'inc fury "of his yent he draws a parallel between
^ two Napoleons ; the one in whose very fall there is the f;randeur
** » setting sun ; t!ic other lashed so furiously under his satire tliat
» canicd terror even into the Tuileiics. The denunciation was
torible, and here is one of the transcendent effects, of which no other
wif-er has shown himself capable.
the expiation of the first Napoleon is not found in the retreat MoKow, nor at Waterloo — but in the eoup dilal, when he is to be disturbed in his tomb by a voice, revealing that his is being used as a ptetcxt by intriguers to dishonour France.
CAAtimfais procured for him a second exile. He was expelled Jersey, but in the sister island he was received with the utmost "Miajjn, and at H.iuteville House lie remained happily installed tnany j-ears.
In 1S59 his name was not excluded from the general amnesty, but
ic refused to owe anything to a Government he U^pised, and his
rttrm at Jast was melancholy rather than triumphant- Paris was
aU({ecf, and he was heard to exclaim on re-entering the city and
fstag tiy troops of wounded and harassed soldiers, whilst tears ran
rn his ciieclcs : "Would to God 1 had never come back, if 11 is
, **^^ -**»^n<:c dismembered and reduced to what she was under
■^^ * *c>on jij his arrival was made known an immense crowd ^*^lcomc him : he had not been forgotten ; and fifteen ^ *till greater concourse gathered round his bier under *"'Oinphe, where his funeral obseiiuiex took place with . ^^^ ^^agnificcnce. ^- . "Ose who stood there must have been reminded of his
^^tcxn/as when Napoleon's body was brought from St. " Same sad lines may well apply to the poet iiimself :
**lic clouds (hat liimmtd your gloiy "«<! »w»y, Uke miats bcfurc Ihc fail Kwakcnlng dawa t ■^ibtory |;ild» you wfiih x lustrous r»y And huei of mom ;
i
J-
Victor Hugo's Lyrics. 513
Ot been fur this decision it is very probable that many of ; exquisite lyrics would never have seen the light, for it is to ity at HauteviUe House iliai we owe the vivid scenes of y which deepen our sense of life. He was an cyewil- le moods of the sea; the rocks, the plains, the streams — birds aic ail at his commsnd. His love of nature was a 1 in the turrooil of social and political life he must have f the richest sources of poetry. In "Choscs du Soir" ries of pictures — word-painting in the highest Gcnse of ne verse for each, framed in the wild refrain so charac- reton ballads.
jr mist on the moorland— the cattle th.it come (0 the jCC— the lonely cutters far out at sea— with the sombre
Th« winti Myi to-marre«i—Khe water neiu ;—
itrd fcowDiDg on the height contrasted with the primrose b of woods, and the question :
L ^VlK^Cc 'lolh Qod find ihc hlscltnesi shcJ f On broken licaits and the fBlIiiig rtighl ? —
e change of key, the sudden unexpectedness in which the rong:
Eleliiad the windows where lamps are Itl,
The lasj heads of ihe bibet asleep.
nd penetrative fancy vibrates through themes the most the foundering of a ship at sea and in lines to a drop of :el it when he seeks the unfathomable side of things, and a love -song.
ovc-songs there are not many that deserve the name. sound quile seriously, although a few in the first volume plations" are graceful and delicate in sentiment. "Vieille jeune Temps," "Lise," "LaCochinelle," arehght and i^estive; but the only one which pretends to real i with the thought that, as soon as all hope is over, is the better plan.
wing verses, from " Chants du Cr^piiscule," may serre to e giant's power could be in this direction, if he chose to
\
The lummet n^hl Ihdl veiled us yesterday, Beneath the beauty of iu myriad stars,
^Vss worthy thee, so freed [rum bonds of clay. So distHQt from Ihe world of strife and jars.
So rich in dews of peace and ecstasy, Y{n tUee and me.
I
71r Grmtltwiaies MagaxiM.
r«t
•a^im
>k^
— ■■■■iiiilhaM^«T««; riac ia tbt lieMl of due
oa Ike Bi^ Md th«e,
"Lcs CtaHeafteiaBE'wcie pabltsbed from JetBc;
d'mne Sme. It ii tealitKS dttam, c^Ko. 'Tbe ifc cf A nan," be sap, ■* j-es, snd the liws of < aoL. Who as boMt of firing a ltf« sotelx his own ? IIkJ itthei— B ttehBtOfTofooebtbehtoory ofalL"
Titn sad JV^, cotiLun, as he i i£ Us liiie.' Tbe first dates &oin the earijl Wt m ftns — yoothfiil loves and ha)>py day ; and he tondws, rather i^uel)-, on a Ibe of d BO pes bat his own could bring wtihsn the rmgc 4 <tf the gKst fcioc^ie of unity— dassii^ the daisy «ith tbe na-* 100^ bis rajs." The second volume has a adkrH AiB^iii^'' WTittcn after the death of his dau^tcr, t pd Ae »e note of revolt in all his writings ; his grief is ^xt; ^^ k B «cfy ical, nd is followed by a still more pathetic i » in the whole axmc of his tboaght he is swayed hy the i oClhe }BStice of iikexplicable laws.
Hit im^natioa naturally dwells on other worlds, ' be "t^-tyH The far-reaching fancies which may be ' phflowphical put of his work found a severe and cocoas oitic in the Herme dts devx Mbnda. It was said I tbe emotional verses were fair enough, the author's attemfOl the dcainy of man ooutd only provoke a smile ; and in 1 1 Joles Lenahre soppons tbe oi>inion by sapng that, if the | VtctoT Hugo is to be defined by what realty belongs to it, I sophical ideas must be left out altogether.
But it is much more true to say thai the poet's in passing the limits or pure reason, is not to be confined I tec|ucnccs ; it is ot vts very nature vague, for it reaches in i id UUtanl fl^^its vo A^ mnwov wA w-jJivKivcraWc.
Vittor Hugo's Lyrics.
1 "Ugcnde dcs SiMcs" appeared in Paris in 1859. Ha t a dead leaf from a fallen tree, but the tree had ncnr before h such magnificent branches. It is no less tlian the history j lanity under all its aspects : religion, philosophy, science^] ng from tlie days of paradise lo (he last day — a grand pro-] of the most striking figures in all ages. The old Hebrew Is in all their Oriental glow ; the fall of Rome ; Islam ; the r kings and heroes ; the days of chivalry, tyrants, monsters, —the whole romantic past revives at the magician's touch, ndnus, "the true and gentle luiight," is one of his best crea- or he maintained that the legendary is as true as the historic of life, and he has spent all the richness of his imagination on great Paladins, warring single-handed against a world of K and coiruptioD. Wc have their type in Eviradntis :
I!U hoary hend Bore weight of ta^ay yeun, bul he was itill Recou-ned alwvc his pcen : Iiis blood was shed Uiutinled for the light— the scourge o[ ill. Ko evil deed had ever stained his tile. Not thought that wm not loyal, pure, imd fair — And teady in his bond Tot worthy strife, His sword, at Jtainleii, glittered in Ibe air, A Christian Samton, bursting at a blow The gates of Sickingen in flames — wlio rent And ground Ixneath hii hect the moriunient Of file Duke Lupus, and the statue bote From Slrasburg to the bridge l>y Danube's shore, And Rung it in the stream. Shield of the oppre^ed— Strong — and the friend of all the weak, hit bieasl Full of a splendid pity— such the knight And champion Eviradnus. Al the flight Of fast incrcising years he laughs ; shall he — Who if the world entire against him stood Would not ask quarter— quail before the flood 0( fleeting time? All aged though be be. He comes of a grand race I On wild hilt-side. Amid the feathered tribe, not least in pride, Stands the old Eagle I
6 accessories of these austere figures complete the impression r grandeur, and no history of the Middle Ages could bring the ne back so well as the weird description of the ruined keep of , the great desolate hall, with its grim and ghostly guard of lights and iron steeds.
ning down to our own days, the same touch, full of contrasts, iurprises, is to be found in homelier scenes. There is hardly
I
R^ Jeannie is the btniH j
of love and pity.
Jean Chouui, may
Hb faand wss lotited bf All
The diief alooe renuinal,
to keep op with the foplivt^
nkad bjr » file of rouskcn];.
STound in full face d
^
tabet, s police lergeant, fina ; Ae love aad courage, theprotoctica
, uhI ther triease hiin. :ofan IS the story of little Pad. It a i dte som of iQ a child's joys and sonon.
Thcm^KmamAlJbKmjtbay of this is dwdi upon with the utk fedlHB afwoBdv lad piqr in ** Poor Pn^e," when the fisbenuu ■fi:
•• «<a— ^ a» krt a< M^ lu Cod-a kUr I Wby Mk« tht Mther bo* dMM Utt of iUi«i }
Th til trjTil nw i i iM||,iiiiin.i
F«Aiir» tbe •dolttt fcaow I "
But little Paul Ends all a mother's tenderness in lut gnod- fotber, who takes him to his own boioe, where the love between lli( old mzn and the child is painted with a sweetness and umplicit|r icminding tis of soDte of out own earlier poets in smooth and pa- spicuous expression, before «rse had become the vehicle of abstnac rcfleaion and doctrine.
Bat the grandfather dies : •
Amons»t [he hilU A little chuichTud opened. SummcTlide And murmuring bccmrs, liItU tinkling lillt Filled vriih theii giadness all the smiling pliia. And slowly— slowly — cime the funeral tnin. The toad vts bright with llowert : ihcy loalnd to fff. It teemed as if they loved the black airaj. All in their beil, the villagcrt drew near. And liiilr Paul walked, too. behind Ih« bl«r. It wu a mouinful vxi dctcitcd place, J
Victor Hugo's Lyrics. 517
With cruBhling wslti— oor tree nor llower to gnce
The praw-Cown i;r»vcs : « tpot whcie, if Cod will,
Cold Denlli cxa tlecp In pcoci: : ihe <:hild, qallc ilill,
Wsichcd with altcnlive cir : nl ihrec ycare old
U'e K > viiion, tike n lole Ihtt'* told.
Or like > pogcknt lo cxpecUnt eyes.
The iiijihi descend* before the *tar> arise ! "
His father comes and lakes little Paul away. He has maTricd in, and the new mother,
Tender to her own, wns hush la him. Uttered no complaint, but otic wintry night, when snow was on ground, he was searched for in vain. Through darkness he had de his way to the grave where he knew very well his only friend I lying. But though
He called uid oiled and wept, ras in vain.
Andtiiift it coulJ nsl ilir that iJumhtr Jrtf, IVrtlektd aicj tviary, h* Ion JsU attttf^
Their thoughts, their ways, are drawn with heartfelt, almost lever- iaJ tenderness. The poet's iove of children taught him the secret luch verses. He calls himself " un Rtaiidpiire hhappk, passant tei les boriies," and the George and Jeanne of " I.'Art d'etre indp^e " are lillle Iciis illustrious than the poet himself. let the " Quatrc Vents de I'Esprit " we again find the greatest inn in the lyric book ; but in the epic filled by one subject — the ivolution — there is perhaps the grandest and the most charactcr- >caf hit works. It has been called "la vision d'unc apocalypse tOTi<]ue." Master of all that is colossal and fearful—in the wing of the statues, as in pictures of feudal times, he mingles the ttttic and the superhuman. The touch is wild and forcibly ■natic.
The Henri Quatre, in bronze, of the Poot-neuf, is called by a * from above —
"Steifyeur lan ii in hi i plate."
■ Statue descends from his pedesial and takes his way to the lis Royal, where he pauses before the marble statue of Louis iae, with the same message. The two pass on till they stand >rc another king —
" A'ly, not a Kins, * Cad."
»is Quatone descends also, and the three statues m.irch on to Tuileries, and stand appalled before the guillotine ;
0 honor I in the da:k and desohle square. Instead of crowned (liumptiil atntue there)
5'9
CUTTING-OUT OF THE " HERMIONEr
fembcr 2a, 1797. embers from the muiiny at the Noie, Si had been put <3own in the previous June, bmsl into ■pud H.M. 31-gim frigate Hermiont, then ciuising off ■"bf I'orto Rico, in the \\'<:sl Indies. The crcvr rose, jbeEr captain, three lieutenanti, the purser, engineer, (k, one midshipman, the boatswain, and the lieutenant ; the marines, and canicd the ship into the hostile of La Guayra, on tlie neighlwuring coast of South governor of which place, though appriKcd of the by the British commander-in-chief of the leeward received the bloodstained prize and ordered her to as a Spanish national frigate. T^>a was a ship of 915 tons. Whilst in the British Ixnounted twenty-six ii-poundcrs on the main-deck ^nndes, probably i4-pounders, on the ([uartcr-declc *tal thirty-eight guns. On either side, from the /brecaslle, and on the same level as these, ran a ^llctl the gangw.iy, but this was not armed or pro. ^fc- In refitting her, the Spaniards placed two *vo foremost potts of the maJn-declc, hitherto ig ports for them, established four additional "^ tlic c|uarler-deck and forecastle. They also [■^»cnt from 210 men to 321, added a deLtch- '»-«illcrynien, numbering seventy-two, and gave 1 *^a[c thus " strongly armed and manned " to
Sir Hyde Parker, commander-in-chief at
■ Bligcnce that the Jhrmwne was at Puerto
-layra, and was about to proceed to Ha*'ana
ich separates Cape San Konian on the main-
4 Aruba. Captain Edward Hamilloiv, cc^tcv>
b
Hng-otU of the '' Hermione"
L ^. vrith the names of the oI!iccTS and men lo be
bj.^*l the boats were hoisted out, the crews mustered I ^ery tnnn vras dressed in blue, and no white vfus to
'^'ordwas "Btiiannia," the answer "Ireland." 'ITic _^^fcU in two divisions, the boarders taking the first F^licvcd as they got near by the regular ctcws. The !**sied of the pinnace, bunch and jolly-boat. In r Ihe captain, with Mr. John Maxwell, the gunner, \* and sixteen men. llie launch, under the orders '^ant, Mr. Wilson, contained one midshipman and In the jolly-boat were one midshipman, Ihc men. These were lo board on the right or lidi faced towards the land — the pinnace at the Idship, the launch at the bow, the jolly-boat al tlie stern. A platfomi had been consirucicd over ', and three men were told offvfilh sharp axes to
d cut the bower cable. The crew of the jolly-boat stem cable and send two men aloft to loose the I The second divi.iion, consisting of the gig, the \A the red cutter, were to board on the larboard side, Lced the sea. In the gig were sixteen men under the '■John McMullen, the surgeon. These, boarding at ) detach four men aloft lo loose Ihe fore-topsail, taking It the bunllines and clewlines, and to fast thi; sail he top rim. The black cutler, under the command lamilton (no relation to the captain), with the acting \\. de la Tour du I'in, and sixteen men in a!l, were to rboard gangway. 'Ihe red cutter, under the com- atswain, and containing likewise sixteen men, was to rboard quarter. The boats of each division were to ^ a tow-line.
linR orders to the force were that, in the event of lip undisturbed, only the boarders were to board ; remaining in the boats and taking the ship in tow provided for the purpose. Should, however, the ared, all were to board. Lastly, the I/ermione's s to be the rcndcaivous of all the parties. ; James (whose account we arc following), " were the n Hamilton— clear, impossible lo be mistaken, and usivc as to have rendered a failure impossible ; nay Md arise which nearly frustialed the whole."
The Cuttiug'Out of Uie " Hcrmione." 525
away the smoke, and tlic aim was uncertain; moreover, the ^c loaded chiefly wiih grape. Still th« elTect was serious, ^** and spring stays «erc shot away, so that, as the swell was the inai»i»ast hcd lo be secured, the ga^ came down, and *'Voundcr shot passed ihiough ihe hull under water, and obliged ■*Wain to rig the pumps, and subsciiuenily to heel the ship. 7" *hiUi they were stiil under ihc fire of the Imieries, the Por-
7* coxwain of the gig, towing at the larboard bow, who spoke '~*"i Tciwrtcd that he heard resolutions being made to blow up ' ll^SUe, and it became necessary to fire a few musket-shots down I tUlthway lo restore (luiet. IJy one o'clock in the morning all position had ceased on board, and by two o'clock, nearly two hours jr the commenccnient of the action by the boarding of the captain Ihe pinnace, the ship was out of gunshot, and the capture coni- i Then LicuL Hamilton and the lowing crews, who for nearly \at lime had been at wotk, and exposed for a part of it to the 'fe cannon-balls and grape, were called alongside, and stepped
first lime on beard the capiiired ffermioNt.
^/Tfectjng this surprising capture," says the naval historian,
tej'sJi sustained so comparatively slight a loss as la wounded,
*— -"sptain Hamilton . . . and Mr. Maxwell, the gunner (dan-
Of iheir 365 in crew the Spaniards had 1 19 killed and 97
'^*c»st of them dangerously. The survivors were afterwards
*~<3. an American schooner, and landed at PuertoCabella"
* ** ® story of the capture of the Hermiont, a capture gener- *~^ as the most dashing feat of the British navy. It was
^ ^^onception, in ils execution, and in the circumstances
* *^* and it sent a ihtill throughout England. It is pleasant
*--— aptain Hamilton, who was knighted, distributed £,^00
*hc priic-money among the crew, that the lieutenants
^^^ntcd a sword lo Mr. Maxwell, the gunner, and that
-, •^*- s allowed to shar^ prixe-money with officers of that
"— '^^-mione was immediately restored to the navy under
^^"^.g^_ but received a new name, the Rtlributien.
^ '*^*^ iltod, returning home for the cure of his wounds in
*^» was captured by a privateer and conveyed to Paris, was taken particular notice of by Buonaparte. I can find no record of any reward or honour con- Tour du Pin, the officer of marines who led the Tore -hatchway. I'hough his men failed twice to gain -isevctance they arrived in lime and turned ibc scale ibat. FtiETWoon u, pellew.
5i« Tie GtnUm^'s JK
1
^ SONG or DAVID.
THE twffi^ sbnts dang tk waB, Jlnd fin* the t— *~t rmhb : Bnt whete dK sIiadoMS 4rT^B fal\ He deeps— cs&ided b^ tbe g^oam— Tbe peofife^ ihuam, SbbL
r(0 uICSHHCSB deep has ClDBen BBS C^V^Sg
To bnng x dnamless lest \ AboQt Inm si^its of tonr ine.
And, brooding daifc, the Spirit -guest \tha mocks him where he lies : —
Tbe stars are wan, the moon blood-red
Oer iar Cilboa's height ; And biidi of prey, with circlit^ diead,
Keep awful watches through the ni^t, Among the scattered dead.
Lo, while beneath the Spirit's wing He bowed his shuddering soul,
A sound of sweetness touched the King; And, as the music low-struck stole, A voice began to sing. —
Goodly to look at, stout and fair,
As all afire he stands : The moonlight on his auburn hair,
The shepherd-harp swept by his hands Pours music on the air ! —
I
A Song of David. 547
Th« songs the quiet waters hear,
Where green the pastures lie : When, listening, hcavcD and earth are near,
v\nd U71 and down the shining skj The Sons of God appear !—
He sings of God, the Friend of man,
Whu feetlK the waiting land : He sings of Love's eic-rnal plan
To mould and move with saving hand. Since first the earth began.
" Come hither, shepherd lad, to tne ; Thy songs such gladness tell. Those shapes of ill no more I see, While at ihy lips, refreshed and ftell, I drink new strength from thee t
"Sweeter than Bethlehem's waters deep. By thirst-worn hearts desired, Thy words immortal healing keep : And in thine eyes, thou God-inspired, The thoughts of ages sleep ! "
Still on the echoing years they fall,
Tliose heaven-sent songs of love ; And still, as in the days of Saul, Sick hearts, refreshed, are drawn above. And purer joys recall.
CKOSG?. KOLMF.S.
KK 1
i
T
:a.- Hi
O.'iK. TMim'^T ri^mi ^gg mdc Iff)
■f— .F-r— -1S5 -»— t:.T>^ :t -amims jrigrr -m-inii— n n^. vgrfrr" -■ — — -= -=i 7— •^■- s.'Tccc «: jinnr '■-■-^~^ ir --':^ be coo-
• . ;^-^ii -..1^7=* Z ^^iTT, i:^f Z -wi^ n;c irteru ""The -.jr I; = := ij^ri-i. '~.:~ t; ir; 5ii£.-r i; r^isc cf sccie good
7-'r. Htr^rr 'i^ss. if le
;.-_ -. -.tst: -.— -i. Z'. ~i^-^ti i:.^j Tr:;^.; -j'-t- Mr. Heniyjanw :-.^-.T i: ;.:- :--■ z^ :: =i:^t -->-i t^^: — ■-; ^jt^; e-Ji ho oes desire.
H: .; i ---'sr- ::-ic7^fT — " " ' — '~r-" - h; h^ £r;d:ed life under
— :.-7 ::-.i- ■■^. '— ^^"7 7i;--i : ie :^ thi c'.isier ci" a f.r.ely appte-
r.t T-,:ui ?i±= ;: ':» V-i^^i ::i;-d£rr_ I: L^ked inorc than likeljthit
rrc:e a f. jj a: all, would write a pl^ veiy ciicoriTenrional, very originil in its
I'crVjT.^ it is "^l a ;-r.Ie surprising to find Mr. Heniy Jame*
i':.:r:l:ir.; o:' wriuns a play a: all I imagined that Mr. Hetir)' J*'"'*
»as no: arjchcd to the theatre ; that he resembled in that, as io
particulars, M- Guy de Maupassant, who made it his bcaSt
had not been to the theatre thirty times in his life, and thU
:ed ail its works and pomps. When M. Guy de Maupassw'
is confession dramatised his little story " L'Enfant " »»
te." it was nol wotviftrtvil Ki find that it did not proveag«*t
Pages on Plays. 529
No Bian d«fn-cs to succeed, no man does succeed, in an he docs not love. Mr. Henry James's clevci story, " The ic Muse," bctrsyed too keen an appreciatioR of the inevitable wbacks of dr;imatic life, too delicate a sensitiveness regarding Iti lUny disagreeable and unlovely associations, to allow lii.i readets to think of him as 3 man naturally drawn to the drama. But since lie h*! determined to make the experiment. It might be confidently assumed that the experiment would be an interesting one.
M. Emile Zola, who \i a wild critic, sometimes makes very sensible if somewhat obvious remarks, and one of these remarks is that it is highly injudicious to dramatise n novel. M. Zola is right, although on the very face of this declaration he proceeded to <I'wnatisc one of his own novels. The dramatisation of a novel is always a thankless task. The conditions which govern the two arts are so widely different that the oiiginal story is only a trammel to the worker in the new method- Certainly, of all Mr. Heniy James's stories, "The American" would seem to be the most suit- able for jtage pur[)oses. It is no^ like so many of his stories, a mere study of a. section of life ; it does not end in an interrogation ^'n a door stc|> ; it has a beginning, a middle, and an end, just "^ ^U the world like any other workaday romance that ever was written.
^ut the worst of it is that when " The American " gels on to the
""Se all that was raclodrnm.uic in the story comes brutally lo the
"P* vhilc the delicate analysis, the subtle study of character which
^*; the charm of the story, thai are the very essence of work by
• James, seem to vanish almost entirely. "The American" is, in
. '*^in instances, well played ; it might be said to be well written if
"^^rc the work of a new hand, but the characters, if they were
r i'*id never so well, arc not the characters that we knew and liked
'" '*^ « book, and the larguaRc of the jilay does not reach the level of
. language of the story. Take Newman himself, who is in Mr.
•.***^s's story such an interesting study of a peculiar type of
*-*XsatIaniic evolution, the strong man who has made many
^*^ DCS, who is capable of a great love ; the new world almost at its
7^^ contrasted with the old world almost at its worsL On the stage
"secomes an impossible figure cursed with an appalling catch-
*°*'<3, "That's what 1 want t'see," which suggests rather the Variety
_ Re than a modern realistic comedy. The stage Newman makes
* R«t appearance in an nmawng costume of brown velveteen coat
""^ buff overcoat, which recalls rather the garb of a travelling show-
"""■tt than the costume of an American millionaire. Yet this get-a
hink that ihere is notbiag artificial in the scene in fsed woman proceeds to indict the murderers, and actere stand conveniently or inconveniently with , in ordeT to allow Tti^t^c ^nd Lament to go f gaspings and clutching^ of the best Bowery or 1 have betrayed their guilt to the eyes of the most in ? M, Zola is not to be greatly blamed for this s convenient, on the stage, for a large number of enly, to turn aside in an unmcnning silence while ctets have their innings of tragedy and remorse It is quite right from the conventional point of >uld be a giolcsiiue love story of the fairy-tale point the contrast with the guilty passion of the 18. But when nn author is as conventional as n not claim commendation for his astonishing corn of all those old stage devices and dodges of liberal a use. And let not earnest critics endorse so batelaccd a daini to originality, ipassioncd admirers of "ThWise Raquin " have to champion their heroine and her author d brt scarcely calls for serious comment. The 78 are in a frcnjiy because any one presumes not joatcly as they do their favourite author. They ir play as appealing only to "those who arc ire." Clamour of this kind is unmeaning. What ilgatcd that beings interested in literature must rested in M. Zola and his English translators? amplified the code to condemnation of all who a M. Zola and his translators? By the Beard of bosh is this ? For mine own poor part, I have xoellent Zola has written — fiction, ciiticism, and ised to call drama— with all ihc caic they deserve, ' interested in literature ; " and I still decline to wiuin" as a dramatic masterpiece, or as anything Dly long, pompous, and tedious piece, construCTed lashioned lines out of the most old-fashioned )nventional as the conventional can be. Zola's ; of his English following in making a fuss about laterally provokes uncomplimentary comment, at Dllowing are surprised and indignant, novelties to record are Miss Bessie Hatlon's ex- rformance in Mr. Hatton's ingenious version oC
i
TABLE TALK.
HESS OP THE BULL-FlGIIT IS FUMiCK.
IE ih.in once I have been charped wiih exjf-gcij
ing wiih the inlluence of the biill-tij{h[ in I again I have been tolil that my fcara were visiona honors witnessed on the other side of the P)-tenc^ o be feared on this. Yd, slowly an<l surely the prof *^ U* being fulfilled I. el one who Mil! doubts medir.itcl •uigi which I take from Ihc Parisian correspondence ' ^tltgnph: "If Parisians, through humane considers tioti " the Jipcciaclc of the slaying of bulls in the arena of tli "Wc, (here is no such squeamishncss nianifcsied at the sigl ** blood by the inhabitants of the town of Dax, near BordJ "•lall place in the Department of the l.andes promises to [IriTMSS the Spanish city of San Sebastian as a centre of Y>f slaughter. One bull butchered lately caused the mat Ifroub/e as to make him hew it with his swoid. Despiti funds, the goaded animal managed before giving its ;/7i bowel three horses with its horns. The arena prese t.>j:>earance, and not a single protestation was made b; »o/ace authorities of the locality remaining quite i • u II -fighting. On the first day of the so-catled 'f killed, but nt yesiertlay's proceedings six of *r>atched, one being literally hacked to bits. Mil 1 <i' Ills colleague Guenita were the heroes of the '«^olent exploits." Horrors quite as bad as the «s^n at San Sebastian. A heavy price will some *s concession to the ferocious tastes of the soutl
Author-Managers,
"Pagers such as KilUgrcw, D'Avcnant, ^vhom I have previously dealt, stand on a (
Afr. Henry Arthur Jones, whose forthcor ■^*tre has raised afresh the question of wliat it
In some cases the men named were selected ary position, to control an existing institul
^y cachet upon an undertaking. Mr. Jonci
«idly takes a theatre for the purpose oi to«j,i
Sfew
tniMf
tw nsohdKJB u lUq
■ad Ite oM^ot Ik
c^ «iA the cakhmdiod
i1k lood md i^cet vim ns aA
a AiBBB cofBemotw, and Is afMd
__ *«««»ey*ttb*liidi" poor •Hm- tad «Dd«J
» qpifc wcO an«e tint thetv wne pnbieat tn Bfe tkl
P"*"Uy newer GubofH— the cxtreiMs of >or and ^
^^«^*odofporeity;she had fringed the oolsidcnoB^
Btt, and did not mean, if she could help it, to peoetW
"•ewnrrsteries; not had she any rash desire to puA kf
»ay to the front ; she '■ wished no human thing lo K*f
rf LT*."'?^ T'** ^^ P'^>" "• *'*>^'= "P 'o 'f"* •"«* "^ ^ u> be hampered nor to be hindered fiom ukiaB « »U(1 VTOvidt^d her.
Mrs, Hibhert.
539
I Hibbcit had kept at high tension a dry goods store, and een known throughout ihc length and breadth of New Voik as ul of di.tintereitedneis and honour. The store had been so pnducted and financed, that poor Tim had died from sheer otIc. As- he grew rich, his wife always described him as a
rds mrrthant ; after his death, she dciij^natcd herself, with briefness, as the widow of a nierdiani (dry goods lefl out). IS. Hibbcrt, after a year's sojourn on the continent, arrived Ddon just as the season had commenced, puttmjj; tip at a private Bi the oeighbourhood of Piccadilly. She had begim her good n Paris armed with excellent introductions from her New York r, who himself had passed some years in this American heaven, J the icicmific luminaries that circulated round Charcot and jr. The only fault that Mr. Hibberi's Parisian acquaintances with her was, that she dc%-oted too much time to study. ^'du express yourself with facility in our tongue, what more do at ? " they asked.
I want your accent undiluted with the American twang, and, ban that, your rapidity of enunciation. I want to think in n^ue, feel with you, sec things from yourpninlof view, in I a part of you as long as I remain with you."
%me, vms lies tine bdlt Ame," was the admiring response Khat mystified interlocutor. rs. Hibbert, among other things, had learnt to t.ike conipti- tfor cx.tcily .13 much as they were worlh ; tlii:y were tfie wreath IB that naiurjlly arose to Ihc surface as she cut through the L She did not hurry through life, she had time for everything,
fuly in the morning and retiring to rest not too late at night, think people lose a great deal of energising time by waiting eir hot water in the morning," was a remark she presented in :h to one of hei numerous admirers.
you hav^e reason, niailamc ; /lour ma part, je me saivune It he replied with a boiv.
moRg her other avocations, Mrs. Hibbert did not neglect the ad mystic art of Parisian dressing. She went to the root of Iter, and gave her serious attention to it, finding-the learning H as difficult, as complicated, and as engrossing as the When she quitted Paris for Florence, the only introductions epted were to a reliable linguistic professor and to a bcnevo- icerone, whose enthusiastic devotion to art and art-lovers had :d for him the honorary distinction of art-guide of the first Though Mrs. Hibbert's self-imposed rigorous rrpnu h.
mg. 1 hough M
rst ^^^
< do that again," she cried, nnoothing dora : dead beat with trying on." ae, you can't go wrong thcic," pronounced ! emphatically, you know" sh; said, regarding him with mild, Hon. "I've already got two black ones, and what I
r«h a dovc'coloured eosiume ihat Worth has Just this one do?" suggested Mr. Amhurst, as with jscrt he extricated one from the heap, pie of his omniscience she looked hopelessly. " ^^'hy, I than your nephew ; the one you have selected is 1 simply kill the dress."
tp," Amhurst exclaimed, dropping his eyeglass, de- i
iu don't lake an interest in dress," said Mis. Hibbcrt, resignedly on the sofa. "Now, lell me what your ' she intettogaled, turning towards the unde her |j *'A3 for that young man," she ran on (pointing to it any rate I know wliat he does Jttf/ take interest in, ich gramm.ir." '
y," broke in Amhuist, omitting to enlarge upon him- bmily owe you a debt of gratitude for your insisting g to the said grammar."
i what I could. Having the same professor in Paris, ; an interest in his progress, and in the end he did ight 00, I will say that for him." Here she laid (or •essing hand on the young man's sleeve, g;ed himt>elf dose beside her on the sofa, and was ttely with bright eyes from her to his uncle. On't mean to say that you absolutely like (he grammar ttioned Mr. Amhuist, roused. ijnly not ; but it is a means to an end." all had your wisdom."
©cause I am wise, far from it, but I know what I want, it that we can only have the best things by taking a wble, and exercising much self-control.' i eyeglass again. "And do you find the time pass
fa quick, sensitive ear there seemed a somewhat ^ in this next question. But Mrs. Hibbeit answered I indeed I do, I find the hours all too short. I was u?
Mrs. Hibbert.
545
hlr. Amhurst jnoceecled in a meditative mood towards his abode
inCuizon Street. Arrived in liis sultrysittingroom.hi; wcntstia^t
up to the mirror, took ofT his hat, and passed his fingers critically
ihiough his rather scant Icclcs. He had good eyes, though they
ft'CTc somcwhftt sliort sighted, and he had a good mouth, though
it nas hidden ^ a moustache shghtly grixxled. Neverthclcw our
hero looked very di:>contentedly at himself. "I wonder what she
thought of me— omniscient uncle, indeed! She is quite capable of
wiping me clean off from the ubiets of lier memory once my back
it turned. By jovc, she is a beautiful woman ! handiomc is scarcely
the word for her." He sank down dreamily in an armchair, pulled
» cigar, but forgot to light it. His eyes closed, hut lie did
It sleep. " I guess I feel dead beat," he muiniured, m ith a soft
1^ 'fhc cabs outside rattled and paused, the evening |>apcra
hoarsely shouted. " Ooodness I " he suddenly exclaimed, iJiaking
imtel^ " I ought to have been with my relatives an hour ago. I
sislced to tea ; well, can't be helped — important affairs detained
C' He took up his hat, and itiihout again glancing at the inirron
hurried out. A hansom whirled him in ten mimiles to a palatial
TCSJdenp: in a [lalaii.il siiuare. "Waitfyr me," were his orders to
the coachman. A languid hum of voices, mingled with the faint
aroma of lea and hot cake, met him as he ascended the staira.
" "J'licsc confounded 'At homes'!" he growled icUo voce, as he
/oitowcd the deliberate steps of the portentous builcr,
■A girl, who was sitting with her back to the drawing-room door, rt»»ned herswan-lilce neck as he entered, and giving him her hand, ajrmured reproachfully. " I asked you to come at five."
"I knew the crowd would be thinning off about this lime, ■ therine," he answered, meaning to be kind, not auel. Her face ■•e'licned.
h*'*- lady, whose chatter the new comer had interrupted, now ^**^cl the thread of her discourse. . -^nd so I find that being on a committee is an excellent way of iJ^^'^K Oneself in touch with things and people."
^■"icrinc listened, or listened not, with lack-lustre eyes. Amhurst Ji^ed on.
- ^^K some tea? " asked a stately dowager, as he advanced to ^^ *'espccts.
*Wi afraid it is not cool enough for me, aunt ; I like things ^*y hot or very cold."
*'>aU certainly not send for more, poor Pumcl has been **** feet this afternoon. He looked daggers at me when 1
ZJ
=d
di
Afrs. Hibberl. ^^^^ 547
'**'onatGall«7. She is giving mc most valuable Imtmaion, and "cr iimc is precious, wc have to keep strictly to hours." "It doesn't matter in the least, I can look in again." answered ^* AmhuTSt with an imi)atient glance at the obstructive young
^Vell, if thai won't put you out in any iray, it would give tne
pleuure to lee you suon n^in," and, nodtling kindly to him, she
wrcnely down the stairs. On the door step he stood watching
, '' threjding her way among the crowd with calm, tjueenly step,
^* dfcss of sombre hue fitted hei figure like a glove. — It soon ramc to be an established custom with Mr. Amhurst to ^"^p into Edwards' Hotel, and pass there the twilight hour before "^DCT in Mrs. Hibbcn's society. !t was so convenient, so pleasant, ^* Ijnexactinj;. Like batiiing in the pure waters of I.ake Leman, it _ ^ traniiuilliiini;;, and at the same time exhilarating. She did not ^^ther him with inviution*, nor ask for tickcts< nor Introductions, ^^t ftw his official escort. She had no arriirti-fcnsies, she was noi ^^eining, therefore she was not diilraHe. She loved lo listen, and '^ loved still better to talk. She enjoyed laughing at Mr. Amhurst, ^»d took in very good part vrhen the laugh was turned against her- self. She in no way relaxed her rigorous scheme of self-improve- Hicnt— she " would not be laughed out of that anyhow," she ilarcd. Her morning hours were either spent at the British iusetim, following a systematic coiiise of instruction given by ptripatciic lecturers, or vise in the different picture galleries, [tended by her enthusiastic girl-guide. But in the talc afternoon 'Mr, j\nihum found her invariably icposing in her (haiic loitgue, with hands folded piously. From her coign of vantage she gcnily drew him out on politics, on agriculture, on English literature, on Rnance, on socialism, on fin-ie-siklt. And m return she imparted 10 him unstintingly her impressions, fleeting and fi>ced. Sound or nnsound, crude or canny, these impressions of hers always interested and roused him, for they were evolved out of her own sclf-con- (ciouaiess— they were the outcome of a clear, detached observation ; they were not ideas gathered second hand, or dished up with stale London sauces. They showed a mind unbiassed, unprejudiced, ttnsophisticaled. At times her frankness and truthfulness almost Jarred upon hira, and yet he felt she had— as she expressed it— her reservations. "^Vhat do you say to coming to the opera to-night? I have two tickets," he suggested one afternoon, with careful carelessness.
You are very kind," she answered, with grateful tm^basi*.
t<
IJ
-ii - «^ Giiz^tiSKS Magazine.
:■■.-. '- ■- : .lit T-— :- ;; :.Z-T±-.Z i xZ.' IS a boX bcioilging 10 SOW
T
:;--:;h:. or co'^ld bencvolenilj 1^ " : ^^o:**;, ■^■:-£=^. I si Z-.i -f"rv.i~ as ever your obli^d ::kl;:: itTOiT ' Hi ::•:& :;t h:=A=l: i=o:her stall ticket, ■_: '■-•: :>:t^— z^ --ij.:. O-::::^ ibcu: like a prirate detecurc, :„; vi:l : ;z :_i ris. iri :Teri ila=s rsz-^i, he haunted tht ■v: ; zz-L •.-.'isi T^t^j :i=l:r.^t:ii :; v.e various licrs opposix : rifi I'' "L-i-i J- — t-zzitL Hj »ir.te*i lo obscne Ma ■.nT. t:=z z.'- -•-.-zs :c v.^-t — -.1} ;':K€rve. b-^i r.o: to be observed - -4 .--z-i- :_ 'z--^ ;f T-.;-=r Vts. Hibbcrt looVed loi^iy :^-:j.r-; tl= :4r-.^_r_- -:■; il-.e ;r::r.c; to apply 10 her.
:--■:;. ~" i v rr; - ; :'T.z~t"s save a single star of
;T -:-• -_-i- ^--i ;'ri.:r:ei :r. the rr/^sic, :he sat
i ■— _-:i : i :--i. -":: trrrr. lisie to time tumed
.■ z. :—.z:^. -.:B-Ti; he:. They weie boih
. ^-u'-;;. z.zi zz' i :hs ^-cier.ce only the benefit
1- the rear of the boi . :... ■ i : _■ ;r z~z.- Hz^z-'-^lz. -'z'z'.t.z choc<jb:e intom- \ ■ . -. ~ :. -■ ; -T .■•.--.: >r;: r::,:~=dr.;=ieinan3giuted
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-. - ;--,- ;;.-;. -ij — i-i..-_it:vc',y Ita-.ini; over the
-,- . -z .. -:: : -t -"■-:-■:"; r= I.::'" hw-,;7— should anive.
. - . •-- V;- ::j>i-. : .7^ : _: "i ;«; ;.— . c-t had yei to come.
- .-. 1 :.- i--'.rz - zr-'Z.-.-i.::. . -.he hcrses were champii^
-., ; ,:^.- :: :>i jf :i,--=;-.i:, hire it last, turning the
. -,-.-;>■ ;. ;. .^^ -..-; 5C, ?.--; r.;y:. The toofofthccoich
■ ,: ,. V - zz ir;-:,ii5 ir.d rr^h: faces, only the seal
■ , ■■ ■ . ;.-;-■ .-.-:. r:- ; ;_:;". '.ir-le brougham come
. , _■ > :-..i-: :: - :,z.-iii::. ;".:^ beside the great
.,- ■. :r..z'z~- iv. ;-;e* rrst'.v a niiniaicre liow
; . . ,.:,:;, i i . K :- :■«. :r. sr. a shaJed dove dress
• . .. ■ ■ ■_■ 1 ■ ..: --.-i V r; :.ri '.ziz'.y a Kack parasol, wi*
• ■ .- -,;-.■!. -; i ;i r:... :r. iove-taanileiedhand.
1^, ■'..i:!-; •< :''"-'i- it—c ,-;^,-b. throws the reins to I'm
Mrs. Hibbtrt.
grooms, and whisks himselfofT his high perch, alighting on t)ie ground in lime to sk-ady Ihe ladder for this dove-like npiiariiion to mount.
" 1 don't feci quite like climbing so high," exclaimed Mrs. Hibbeit, vith a little timid laugh, as she shyly glanced upwards.
" Vou'U feel very like it once you're seated, I assure you," urged the Colonel encouragingly.
I'he ladies from the roof looked down in chill silence, while the black-coated crowd about the railings clustered more closely.
•■ WTio is she ? " " Ton my word \ " " By jovc ! '* '■ Like the do%-e returning to the ark ; Mowbray's is the hand siiciched out to receive it." " Lucky dog ! " " What nationality ? That costume is not Engliih.'" " Why, she's iini<|ue ! " " See, the Prince is actually ^X)king back at her! " Mrs. Hibbeit once seated, closed her grey feathers about her, and remained for a time mutely still. At ln« »he gasped, " It quite takes my breath away."
" What docs ? the furore yon have created ? "
"Ah, you should not laugh at me, you see it's all soncv to me — I mean (he magnificent horses, and the way you manage to steer your way, and the bright colours, and those beds of scented /lowers, and the well groomed crowd — it's all so typically English, it's just splendid. And it's ever so kind of you to have given me this treat"
" I .im only too much honoured," answered the whip, turning from his horses to lake in more closely the exiiuisite details of the dovc-colourcd costume. " It is a sight no American ought to miss," he added, almost severely.
" I am real glad I've come then."
"Of course you've got your trotting horses," he gallanly admitted.
••That's so."
" But this sort of lurnoui i.s brought lo perfection only in England ; in France, for insiance, the horses may be as good, the driver belter — —"
" Impotsible ! " she laughed,
"But there is always some slovenliness— a want of finished detail in the thing as a whole," he concluded, passing his lash caressingly over the sleek backs of his team.
" I reckon you're right, " she said, looking up into his face with {[enuine admiration.
•■ r^ear Father," Mr. Amhutst wrote in a tempest, "I wond"f if you would mind my bringing down a small party at the end of the week to Hangingihaw? The fact is that Master Harry when in Paris made the acquaintance of an .American widow l.idy— a cuiti
550
The GeniUm^ ^^ Magaxim.
wed and tetaeaiBg wBdun. **, has had a Bon beMfod mfloence oter the boy, ketjwj Wtt» »tth his ncae lo the v^^Z aad u a distance from ihc fiiroliUe*. The young bepJT^"*^
I fooe off oo Ilia reading toui,leaviiis her oo my haaSb l^JT And I feel that the bmij miBte show her tome hospi^^ tetnm tor her care of o«r jxodigA I think I awJd oomu " K« aod Catherii^e beiag of ibe pwy (ihc fcrmer h'^ti^ZZ
' only ihc other day lha<he«iiK«l a few day, of pure aiTwhos the bother of opening up her omi Suney ahamy), I would kok op «K or two men ai pwldaig. No. if all iha wjd bore «■ wy much. 1 can eady uke my irido* ,o WeMwo„v bei „ «
Iboaitt is hiawricBlandthcooiafty sotypican, English I ,h,„k .
.«K«. of Weniworth. Troung the gout « keeping b .lrl« n
Your aficctionate Son.' *^ * " ■oejMCt J
By return of post cwne ll>e foDowing : " My dea, h» t» Jl
meant bring the »ido« and ibe rest of the i«il aJZC' ^■. ■
^jj^^^ ^»«^ ■-.. ..u .ir,.ttjr
"PJ5. By the way. "hy not punbh Master Hanv^ d«ni» by appropriating the mdow yourself? You know I havT^ warned someone who ■ould succeed in kcei^iT*^ ^^
pi«fc«o«. ^6 « . d..tance fro. the SS^^^T *" ^ j«« <x«idex ,-our«» ,00 old a bird ,0 be caughTty ^^L?^
" Let me ate, what are out engagements." sain 1 i J^
book. Amhum was not in her good (mr« ,. qtieotly she recd«d his invitation %rith f^ ^f*"- "^ Lpid'on. "And. besides this AmerTc^ l^^^^''^'' '" JS^to hare ? " she asked, «g^„g ^^ C^Tv o^ . '^r'"
"WaUIthoughtofaskingPhil Um^n^'^r 'i".'*'^ ' a great admirer of Catherinc-s." " *"•* . Uww he « .
" She has by iw toeans a Rtc.it admiration far h;™ - J ■
her bdy^h.^ "I suppo«." she con^rer^,r aTT^n had bcttw call on thi* Mrs. Hibbert.* '^'*^' I
" I am sure she will be delighted if vou ran « j ■ j but dont pot yoocelf out in any way " ^ " '^'' '^'^ "^"^ " '*'' "^
Hibbens : the father is nuniMer at Berlin? ■' ftwuBy
"This lady is widow of a New Voifc me^nt" " Ah. u«n. >-our uncle wiQ doubtless know who d- « I Ik. a n«te about asking him. And is .he settled intir
Mrs. Hibbcrt.
she is only on the wing." 1. if wc artf lo meet at Hangingshaw wc had bcHcr call." b] van she will be charmed," responded in flat tones the tephcw.
^ about the day ? " Here the engagement book waj again linto icquisition. " I-ct me see— Hangingshaw, from Saturday tday ; then shall I put down Thursday for making this call ? " im sure that vit! do very well," he said, rising with alacrity leave, " she is always in fioni five to seven."
rie laic hours, however, would not at all suit uie" (he imperious dowager. " Vou had belter call for us at id tell her my visit will take place at 3.45." 1 light, aunt," and Mr. Amhursi impatiently sci/cd his hat. op a moment ! wc arc havin' an cvcnin' party on the id I hope I may count upon you."
really can't tell what my engagements arc su far ahead." he n imlably.
dt, wht-n you get home put down the nth, for the ei'enin', j^be bte," she s.aid, with stem dignity. Slmhurst did not neglect to give Mrs. Hibbert an initial ic presentation of his aunt, for by this time the two had ! very intimate. Mrs. Hibbert had laughed, but at the same e hod scolded him.
jdoesn't seem quite kind to laugh at your elderly relations," I remonstrated, ^t until you see her." Tiy, you quite ahirm me."
es, I guess you'll quake," he drawled, with a twang. 1(d), I suppose she won't kill mc." 0, but she may wound you." nyhow, jx)u're nvar by to support mc if I fall," she laughed,
■$, I'll support you through thick and thin, you bef ! " ^ppo«c it's a fellow feeling that makes me wondrous kind i your aunt, for you spare no one in your mimicry, and I i particularly hard upon me, for 1 have taken as much pains .Vatc your English accent as I took to learn the French one." ^!1, as regards the English accent, you have signally failed to ID," he said, shaking his head hopelessly, while he regarded h delighted eyes.
V doubt you are nght," she went on seriously : " in fact, the live in London, the more I feel my deficiencies — the low.
55*
The GeHtlematis Mtxgasint.
tooes vu) staid bearing of EngUshwomen seem lo be bora «itli ihcro.*'
" Wait bll you see my aunt, biuI hcsr the mjr she pietots ytw ear with her ^-tess woada."
" 1 T3S thinking more of the young girls, but the old beei, loo, have their tyixol loveliness, like the ptnurea of the Uotch icbod in yoor Natiaiul GaDery ; there is about them a generous rcpoK hiTthh. and Dobtlity. Now our aged faces are apt to be to> riwrfv the eyes are bright and testlc&s, but the features ate hagcaid and bncd, and our old ladies dress their hair as if they nre iUli youi^— the lack of tmaitcf is shown even in their ooiffute.' ** Wait tiQ you see my aunt's headgear." " Oh, mercy ! how )-oa bighlen me."
** I do It with a purpose. It b because 1 want to get you inta the Ttghl Slate of mind for ihb \-isit of ceremony. Remember, ii \i an jatportant event, a sipial and signiAi-ant mmc ; you are goioE to be, at it were, introduced for the firxt time into the family— intQjn: bmaly.'*
"Gndoual yon take my breath away," she cried, bir hands >o a supposed quickly beating heart
She wmdd lain have kept to generalities. He had been leaune apimt the imntdpiccc. but now he came and sat on the sola her.
"IdowiihyoawDaldbesenotu, Mrs. Hibbert." I jghtly At answered, " I will try, my friend, if >'0U on your fan will not take youndf and your rcIatioRs so very Bolemnly. t dpm to sec a sttoog tamHy resembbnce between you and your aunt, anyAing nora sententioas than this prologue of yours 1 hn nrely heard' She oMild ikH help rippling with bughier, (hou| hs brow w«s furrowed with frowns. " Vou are not really aogiy she asked at hit, with penitent air.
"There's a ttme to langfa aiKl a time to cry,' be said, ic^tli i rebuke in his voice.
'*.\nd ve are berc to-day and off to-morrow," she mimtclied, in oimorms acccws.
"I vant y«a to be here always," be murmured GemimentjIU. " Yoar wanting it will not, ;das! make me immorlaL' "Yoa know I don't mean in that sense." *Ii saoM to me," she said, rising "that what yoo want a 5«ar dnmer, fer yoor conversation to-day is tiot so bright as uiu) ) intet.it it what you En^ish would call 'dry.'"
-' 1 am huining on matters too qokVly. 1 am forcing her h]i4.
bt^U
i
k
Mrs. HibUrt. 553
fiat is 10 become of mo, what shall I do I " gronncd Mr. Amhurst, a> back in CuKon Street he tlung himself hcjvi!y into his armchair.
" I suppose you do a great deal of shopping here? " (|ucstioned her ladyshipt looking above Mn. Hibbert st the reiling.
" No, I don't think I have enlL-red a shop since I came to London, I get all my things from Paris; and you, do you shop much?" swreetly asked our Arociican in her turn.
Lady Haipington dropped the tortoise-shell eycgliss which she was raising fiom her girdle, and looked fixedly across the room at Mr. Amhurst.
" Mamma has things sent to her from the sliopa, her time is v"cry much occupied; she does not give much thought to dte»s," answered Lady Catherine.
"And how do you manngc to pass the time? I thought Americans were never hajjpy unless I hey were shoppin',"fes"'"cdhcr ladyship, after a pause.
" Well, I owe a great deal to your family," declared Mrs. Hibbert cordially ; " both your nephew and grandncphcw have been very kind and helpful to me, and I have a few other English friends, whose hospitality has made my sojourn in England extremely pleasant."
" I heard that you h.id the box seal on Colonel Mowbray's coach the other day," continued the old I.idy severely.
"And you. I suppose you are quite tired of coaching?" in her turn queried Mrs. Hibbert.
Again the lorgnette was dropped, nnd again irate eyes were turned towards Mr. Amhurst. " I don't think mamma was ever on a coach in her life," replied Lady Catherine.
For a moment the fair brows of the hostess contracted, as she tried to conjecture what felicitous subject she could introduce that would hcip to cement together the rough edges of her party.
■■ I suppose your ladyship is mudi occupied with religion ?" she tentatively haiardcd.
The hand that held the poised ejcglass trembled ominously. Mr. ■\mhu[st coughed, he dared not bugh. Lady Catherine was again heroically prepared to fill in the breach, when the door opened, and the waiter announced " Mr. Silas P. Hopkins."
" Why, I declare, is it realty you, brother I Come right in ! " excbimcd Mr<. Hibbert, dropping into her national accent, while she warmly embraced an outlandish looking old man of the sea.
" \Vell, I guess it's no other than Silas P. Hopkins from Bethlehei f 'Frisco." Then oblivious of the company, he put his Vwcaiis on
'MT S™^ ?DK- Sfts: bw TOiBBttnc adocd^ At ik£ KKamafvc, as ne nmed don apoa hii beat lieid>
* 3nc :v ?oac j^d. ic's ?« who KB Ae (Ud^nOcia' Tv t jookl&ez?' AeadKdrVafalmMiadBiKx.
*VsLxxx«==f «<jdd il'i,'iiiihi' -f •^- -" — '^""' ^s~uc3Kx?cn^sil v^^^vt^TOB nor Ac dodarKOBU -— ni— :3K ■»r"-^-t VWs I^U^Bi tfK |£iMm^ IB he wmitad v^ ~ Ta. j»£ I xoi BX m de snae boat ; bcfcij fe me Fre beeo ■-TWYi»nr :3nT^K' :~ ^mettx, kvccac^nci]ppcddieRvlvheBidbe wmiiL j: 31 E:ii^:c« wii aac ss he faas beta commiMnomd tt amsiCcMK zw S^AiL cs=c aad he has done ererjthing he could to mci 3r- iLmi rtf' thw sscwe : bo c s no t&e, 1 c»n diink rf nothing iisc ; «r ■:-:a 12 iir :^e Crswci Hocse business in Liverpool, te I iKt ^ ; tiz 3i;c =i:«=-oai nradf K> yoa ri^t awaf, 1 slwidl
- 7 -.XT S:;:*. TCCT S. Js : * nserced Mis. HflAert u she genllT n-^ -er n-.tier 0:^:1 cc ±ie soci. and djsping xhK weather-be*W ii:riia ji bi;r ;*:i. sm i-ztrtK. catstixan^j : " Yon most rememt* ;rjc i-.-c iri arc ^xs: ±c issKJOsihilitT of the money, it was I ^l"
~ rii- ^it; .i;»sf =»rc =ue ie joss d»e less, my poor chfld." " Ttjiir rc-^tbe^ -'-r^*-r =i-jci maiteis as long as we low <•* tTvcSir ; iii-r^ -i»d _~ as i bM« fpoe along, and I am swwg sscor: r." "re ;ru; rr rjs ia kt saia n a moment's notice.'
*V,-c-^ a r-Ji ,\:ae:i:a=. sot* he eaidaimed, his dim «!<*
ArrsT srs— .5 >^i i.::i: i^j cocsin to tbrir carriage, Amlmi* W =i.-c :«rr^ r,- ;;.>• >.;(»;. 1-. was doc because he did not wish 10 P >J!ci . ,-= ;-« ccc;n-r. i: was p»iti and ai^;(ush to denj luB» Vk bt ;;{- ii i c=w— « cuiv be almost o»ed to his coontiy-" -Ti ci.-. ew Kib <-- CI C-Kberlae, or laiher to panse and coniito ■ ai^af i= irrerocablc Sep. Tbeie was his cousin with btf *^«»=»i «: tbe coc hind, and, on the other hand, there "« tot ccs^s her twen^ thoosand. Catherine was dirtiM* t ^^napa^eA Vxiku^ di >te V«K and she ms a I
-^ ~i
Mrs. Hibberi. 5*5
t% this aAemoon visit bid borne berself nitli di|;Rlty, and
Aot insistent like her inother.
^ pondered over the subject, and wcigliL-du'cIl the advantages iotuinJy connection, and the satts^nction it wotitd afford bis Mid friends — yea, even his cncmtc?— his step gradually lost ticity, the spring of his imagininK* ran down like dock-work, \ assumed a prosaic, bored expression, and his Idw whistling
" No» bang it, I can't ! " he exclaimed aloud. Idid not aik for a copper, your honour," responded close at Wf a roguish little crossing- sweeper.
hursl pulled himself together and shut his mouth, but opened le. T^ie dii Id's grateful beaming faccacted like a pick.nie-up. krliiig !" he murmured, not, however, to the crossing-swee|>er. Uiwhilc Catherine, with her chill manner and correct bearing, |>ut both the one and the other from her room that night. iside of a low sofa, at the foot of her bed, she sunk down,
out tense arms over the cool chint£ cover. '■ Make nie jpf him, make me worthy of him 1 " she moaned. She did no-. pry out, no tears fell from the strained, pained eyes. She B^ed herself writhingly, and with low reiteration she went Pkfi me worthy of him — take away all bitter feelings against ier woman— guide me— help me — raise me up— make me W him— or— or— if it must be so, make her worthy of him." jjf she kissed het rounded white arms, which had grown chill ran moonlight. I'hcn shivering she rose, undressed, and lay ) bed with wide open eyes, waiting in passive patience for rntng.
the following day she was herself again, with her he.id poised f on her swan-like neck, and the conventional gravel well |»CT last night's trodden ground.
Ig before his accustomed hour, Mr. Amhurst knocked at the 'the sitting-room in lidwards' Hotel. Mrs. Hibbertwas alone, Oding somewhat like aghost In the middle of the room, robed Ke white gown. There was a subtle change in her whole Bicc, her face was pale, and her eyes seemed as if tears had kem. Amhurst had never known her look so toucliing or tble: A certain grave dimness had come over the glittering te of her beauty.
hi it is you," she exclaimed, somewhat confused. There was It little trace of worry in her tones. " Now you are here, i \ turn you away, but as you came in I was just thinking I |0 to bed to get a rest until dinner, when the doctor icui
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" " '"~_"'^". - --'^ :-"--0E cveiman^'W.!
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Afrs. Ilibhcii. 557
10. go on," be sighed, bonding liis head to kiss licr hand.
all my energies became concentrated in making myself him, vporthy of his disinterested attachment. I tried to ^ Up out of my littleness. And now, how I love him, oh, ^im ! " She buried her face in her hands, and the hot *i through her slender lingers.
^es he find you improved?" he asked prosaically, scarce
3-t he said.
I'esumed Mrs. Hibbert, regaining her serenity, "he has
% it was mostly fault-finding last night," she said humbly,
<iewdrops from her soft shining eyes, while she packed
*^tiief into a little damp ball. " For instance," she went
^'^''ed me how wrong it was for me to tell you that my late
*^or Tim— was a merchant, instead of a storekeeper. He
to be proud of him and his calling. Well, I am proud
*- of the good name He left behind him, but I can't feel
•-ng proud of the store ; but I mean to work out that
^ ings, and in the meantime I apologise to you for having
*~» incorrect idea of my exact position."
*^ *s. Hibbert," interposed he, with a protesting wave of the
■^« things don't matter."
^wt the doctor says they just do matter ; for if one is slip- ^tmall things, one will never be earnestly accurate over the -^ons. He says there is no use in education if it does not •-* live up to a high standard." » quick, decided step was heard coming up the stairs. - he comes ! " and the tears were hastily mopped up. 'n a quick friendly whisper), " lifi up your head, and look t have told him that you are just lovely," i-rnhurst did lift up his head, though he signally failed to er spry or lovely.
conquering hero came into the room very modestly, very ery quietly. After the introduction he shook hands with t, fixing upon him at the same time observant, experienced "hen with a quick turn to Mrs. Hibbert, who sat paling and on the sofa, he said abruptly, " Vou took a real sick woman, better go and rest in your room. We've come down upon iuddenly ; we've upset her," he explained to Amhurst, con- ill, aint you gone yet?" he asked with a laugh, his full lips ; a little, as he delightedly looked down upon her hanging |Iy on his arnu
55^ Th^ Gemihwuuis Mfi^vamt.
~ I «£I £o as a«B » jm fane dnnked diis good fiiend bae it ks 3«x. sad las nephev's fc™**™— to me ; it is mosdj owing to aoL 3ac I bnc had sock a good dme while in Eo^and.'
~SdC I w adeed tbmk too, and if 70a ever visit tbeStitn,! hope TGc «£ Btx fx^ to look op tin ladf ia my hons^" sud Ac
*■ I ST. cad ieScm' called oat Amhnist, stof^nng a man «bo vii ^ULi tLBg dowa dK nepKof at^ib^ "joa asked me the other diy if I wnad ^ «i^ TOi to the Cancasos. I said no then, but now I sqr les. X TOc sal hdd to toot plan."*
^ V^ «CH aeed not look mi tngic am your afiiiinattt'e."
^ landed.* west on oar berov fiownin^ ** there is no other
"^ 3;nBS ' I lincld as soon think of askii^ any one bat younelf 3: *.T'-iiiL«a ae as I sbooU dunk of propodDg to a casual ny- SLs. 1: cxae oi ^a\ wHi me."
-iZrspt: ■":!£. da toc san? "
■" T:~'j.i ?■'■ —■'^~~r a^ serm sharp.''
Vmi ^■ij:i lb; rw; iepirued. Is it not Georges Sand who says riii tl :»:r fn=ii =i.viZ^£ a sisplr a cowardly ninning away?
.*..in.-nx rs; jir:::^^ >Ir. Ariburs; wrote before leaving was an £_xv..-«ar rcj; aiizrsK^i i; H^r-gir^haw : " Dear Father," it begin, - 1 is -if r- tie Cir-zii=£ w:i a fciend. My party has fallen :?.-,xa:i. A=: Hirrc^r^rc. -:= second thonghis, declined I am iTt -^vi; i3,-w, rr ^.:c=: =_t e^ before they are hatched " (this m ■nwijc r; iir.-w^ i^s =: ra U-Ser"s eyes : but the old gentleman,
* -Va-co ^:^"c :; Tbe A=eri:i3 w-;dow has thrown him over," he iv-\ usBctei. as b; iiri;w is jener across the break£)St-Ublc \o
* i^it. ITT oar, is sesiis is aZ:2aaD to Catherine."
"Tur >i:scacic ~^v<£Ai mar lii £^i,sses with affectionate tolenliw jt Tis 'Vj:?x5s.-ai« wi-r^-iibic Kocse. Ii had never been a deW' ■jiv-w rt V.s ires ^^ sbi WX5 srcsewhi: - slow at the uptak'," " itgoo »-i;t --;uiiirv* ;rjc o.-vscC ;m =y ceiciencies," was his pm^
V \^>i;n= Jiii. — lic ^.:c:» rf time — time the great healo-
'.>*.' 4 vBi; :,- :itf Vura; sctTst. xad was hospitably entertained in
(* \ ,-c< *; tv ivtfsr ,ic ::» =>as cei^xated physician, irtw*
irau?^ wiic si^c^K^^am.wti&'niBsbic statistics for his pondenus
Mrs. Hibbert.
559
volume on the Americaa Republic Catherine in the course of time — time the great healer — mairied Phil Lambert. Master Hariy, to the surprise of his family, took a first class at Oxford — a standing which he modestly declared he owed entirely to the stimulating influence of a fair American. Amhurst, when not coUeaing American statistics, passes penitentially alt his disengaged evenings in the company of his old Aunt Haipington.
Anuradhapnra : a pre-Christian City. 561
nding Kt.iitcasc, and Ihcncc descended into the sacred chamber, heicin he dqjositcd the precious casket containing the relic, what- rei it vra&, and various other trcAsurcK.
Of course, in exploring any scene of ancient historic interest, it is wential to have gathered previously as much information as possible ■garding it. for nowhere docs the eye so truly sec what it brings the ipiciiy for seeing as in visiting the ruined cities of bygone ages, hi* is certainly true of this Labyrinth of ruinous brickwork and Ulpturcd stones, so bewildering till one begins to gel something c a due to its main features. In point of fact, mom of what vains of the once mighty ciiy of Anuradhapura, ihc magnificent, S buried beneath from six to fifteen feet of soil, wailing for a whole ny of excavators to come and supplement the feeble force now rking for GOTernment. And yet, although the forest now over- >ws (he whole plain, so that the only break in your long ride is an ^Asional oi>en tract, where line old trees grow singly, as in an >Rlish park, enough remains above ground to enable you to recall i<l visions of the ]kisi. For a space of sixteen square miles, the Qcwhat scrubby jungle, stimied by the prevalence of droughts, is t a veil for the masses of masonry and brickwork ; a wilderness of i^lite pillars, with richly carved capitals and flights of steps, some 'Crcd with intricate carving, as perfect to-day as wh.;n, two thousand *r5 ago, ihey were trodden by the unsandalled feet of reverent fshi]>pert or busy merchants. The designs of the stairs are *Utifol ; on either side supported by rich scroll patterns and '*:cful figures, overshadowed by the seven-headed cobra supposed
be tlic emblem of vigilance, while the huge semicircular stone '*ch forms the lowest slep (commonly called "a moonstone") leraliy represents a sacred lotus blossom, round which circle rows of *"ses, clegihants, bullocks, and the invariable geese held sacred by all cicnt nations. These stones are peculiar to Ceylon, and, strange
8ay, no two of them are exactly alike in arrangement of detail. Broad roads have been cleared through the dense jungle, embrae- S th« chief points of interest, and, as you ride slowly along these or *y of the innumerable pilgrim paths which here intersect the forest, iHi sec on every side the same wilderness of hewn stones, heaped p in dire confusion, all overturned by the insidious growth of Vgeution, and at last you emerge at some huge bathing tank, all of ancd stonework ; or it may be on the brink of a great artificial lake irmed by an embankment of eyclopcan masonry. Or else you find aurscJf in presence of some huge figure of Buddba — perhaps reclining I the dreamless repose of Nirvana, perhaps sitting in ceaseless
-^•w — — T-1- triE -Hi-.TTT^* -"■ ■ ■■■- kzii zarst fflU
_ L irsr~^ — ^-i". T:;tsi :;r~: i.r» :eir ^ i ^^ls:::* tleairf
-- - -=i -r^ :-.r--.-z-- ;.^- ~rL^- :- z sr::i--^" iist Tall :: -;. .::l^ ::-. : •?„-.— -=Z V-i-ts lj ^:j; biii :;" :r-i bufe mas of
.,; - T-. ;t-,^:^ ^ I l^- :^ w:;l i.^tiiLj^ u ii := f ::t7 i>:--^r.d. «i
_:;j^.i":r:-- ■-:— "" :t.:Lp :;.-:i live c^-srrtaedaa
T: ■-■--—-■:■ --^--^ '.-.-rLi z-^: 'j ^-z It=Tri.-j.ir.ia Tissa, "The
I-..^!: ■.:!:;: j:iii.' t^- : iste^iii the :irc=e e-c. 3=7, andhirinj ■ :-^^fi :.i-i:sT?:=:.-.c ::' L-iij-i': r.z~ cillir-bor.e, proceeded to buM —_;; T-jL:.ir:U •■r.-'^t :':- ::; 7&;erco=. <I cannot refrain from
-= c-.- i:-* ci^i^i-'^^T c^relea were poor Prince Gautanu's
-».^.;--i-; Tz.t dxzXii 1; Kala-wewa purports to conaJn his .i.»-:''.Cii. ■■■^i: *:j j-".er x Eintenne was erected d,c. 164, to contain 1 :iKS fr:s r.^ -iiOTXTL f The height of the Thuparama dagota )>
TtiS j'.l^i isjnoi::r.:c columns all round il are peculiarly elegaft
■.'■.y^z^ Tir.TaeaTiine except as ornaments. A similar arrangement of
•_-.ree rows of j.iilars of equally delicate workmanship, numbenng
KSi<ectivelv la, z8, and 40, surround the Lonkarama, which is a
mailer but ver^- fine dagoba of unknown date. It is attributed to
ine Maha Sen, v\w> a\iw:ee4ed to the throne a.d. 275, and wlw,
■ jn the vaXvx 'jeai* (AVa\««gi,*ftss^j«is.-».t3s«l known to
Afmradkapttra : a pre-Ckrisliau City. 563
orthodox Buddhistit as " the \\'ylulian heresy " (auppoied 10 have b«en Bnihnunical)> had done nil in his |)Ower to suppress Buddhism and destroy tts nvonuincntt ; but, rmcling (hat ihc ineviuble result would l>e to raise a general rclK-lliun, he lecanied and became a xea- lous Buddhist, not only rebuilding all the monumcnis and priests' houses which he had destroyed, but building dcw ones to outvie those of his predecessors.
The chief of these is the Jciawanarama, which, though not originally quite so large as the Absyagiria, was 316 fecthigh, and is still 149 feet, with a diameter of 360. Sir James Emerson Tennont calculated that even now it meaaurea twenty millions of cubical feet, giving suDicient material to raise eight thousand houses, each with twenty feet front- age, which would form thirty streets half a mile in K-nglh, and would COftttniCt ft town th<; si/e of Ipswich or Co\Tnlry, or form a wall one foot in thickness and ten feci in height reaching from London to Edinburgh \ Now this mountain of brickwork is covered to the very summit with large trees of such frugal habit as apparently to live on air, for they surely can tind no subsistence in the crumbling bricks.
Those slim columns with the ornamental crown which never sup- ported anything are most puuling, no one having any idea why ibey were erected. The only rude parallel which occurs to me as possibly thtowing light on the subject, is a custom which prevails in cciiain tribes in the Kassia Hills, on the confines of Upper India, where a cromlech is erected over the a.shes of the dead, whose spirits are invoked by the living. Should the prayen thus offered be granted, a great monolith is erected close to the tomb in acknow- ledgment thereof, and in due course of time these multiply, so that some favoured tombs arc surrotmded with a large group of such tributes of gratitude. It is just possible that this rmle phase of ancestor worship may give us the clue to the more elaborate produc lions of a highly civilised race, whose object was equally the invocation of the dead. Whatever the meaning that may have once attached to them, it is now uitcrly forgotten even by the priests.
;\s regards the dagobas themselves, there are now two classes : first, those that were built as depositories for sacred relics (these in- clude all the Cyclopean buildings) ; and secondly, a multitude of small oncs,which were merely hollow.circular domes, built overa tower square chamber which was the receptacle for the .-ishes of some cremated monk or nun. Apparently the only means of access to this chamber beneath the square platform was by a square opening beneath the dome ; but when once the dome had been erected, the living might no more enter the chamber of the dead. Within the chamber, at the four corner^ fona'mgai sort of octagon, iiere st,oi\e-!.\aXis\«»™^>
Q
Tkt Geni/cman's Magastnt.
• <£ the dead aad » ibotl cauloeae of his or bet good do mJA » igpreanttioe of Boddha's feci, the trideiH, \it i BwMhiitic emblems. M ADvadhapunt most of these tomb < i by ssciikgioos ircflsttrc-seeken.
in this plan; are specially inieFCsungcst t in Ce>lon, the lamc form is reprodtKCd b i cibes, atid in connection with Buddhist templet ill ■■ bidt OB the aame pauera, naincly, a circul&r build^ :plaiionii.> At CW Cliea in Cental America there arc ancient buih I in BK. Ibnn of dooke, and the oriumcntal tcmci or Tee *e i^Mft, arc said to be apparently identical with those of Ceylon. h wmM be lmnrmii% to know whether they bare also the tquut
Ii ■• wonhf at note that the commonest type of grave all n«c KmA Qiiw, from Shanghai to Tcking. simply consists of i mouBd elected on a square pUtfonn of earth, the bang fcaenlly crowned by a spire or nob. 'IIick are tanie fat Ae very poor, very brgc for the wealthy, and Car cnpeion. This combination is the mystic synbolbBi to dK '~*'^-— -■"* represents the dual |>Tinciplc in nature The ii Ae frr'T^" ^rabol, and reptctents the Earth. The circle the maiK principle, aixj symbolises Heaven. The tome it wated out in the conatniction of the great temples of Eifdt ai Peking.*
gealii>6 •ivi curious to find Ihb ancient symbolim
pespeniated by the professors of a creed to which socb
aie ceft^nAy Coretgn. The external square was repeated br
pBlar wUdi naikcd the exact centre of the dagoba— a
of dte tomb dtgcA» the pillar was sometimes square, sccdc-
CRCiiUi. It was about a foot square, and roise about four ke
mdon it rested the casket containing the ashes of
Saeb cMkets were generally minutuie dimobas of the
nnebdidave.
In the oottstrnttion of the gigantic relic shrines it appeais thu
■ Tfci TliHM«— iail I^Glanii«> datoliM arc a|)pi[cntl]r «xcep(ioa*l»<^ Talc, (m llia^ t^ t*U dmiMt ifilTC resU oa a u^vnn \AttianB oa tbc wa^ «f Ae il^iiti*. the Ce** ""W*** bwBdniEi ate uiiieil on ciiculir idoubK
■ $tc U'^^ril^ im Ckinm, \f{ C. F. Gotilon Cununiiij;, lol. v~. [■(■ lya, \-^ iSo, saa. Sm alto " A Cround Plan c( the Temple of tleavt*.'*' *'K«tl9 rm, TonMrwpin,'' in Mittimg IIU Sin, by Will. Simpson, F.K.C.S
Amtradhapura : a pre-CkriitiaH City. 565
in the first place the exact centre was marked by an upright monolith accurately squAred, nnd placed so as la have the four sides true to the points of the compass. The squares of the plaiform and outer vail were ihcn marked out ; also the tiuc circle for the daj^oba ; and Ihc whole was built up solidly — no chamber of any son till the appointed height was reached, perhaps fifteen feet from the summit. But so soon as the central square pillar was built up, another was placed on the top of it, "truly perpendicular, and securely fixed in position by mortise and tenon." Thus it was carried right up from ■be base to a height of from zoo to 400 feet to the relic-chamber, whicl) was formed as a perfect square facing the cardinal points ; and here, as in the tomb dagobas, this stone pillar projected about four feel through the Hoor ; it was overlaid with gold and supported a circular golden tray, on which was bid the casket containing the precious relic, which may have licen only a liair from a saint's eye- brow, or a revered toe-nail, but was probably accompanied by treasures of very much greater interest, which fully accounts for the anxiety of ruthless marauders to pilbf^e these depositories.
Here, for example, is a list published by Mr. U'ickremasinghe of the various objects enshrined in a dagoba at Hangurankcia ; " Two gold chains and two medals studded with valuable gems, 160 silver images, 199 bronic images, 604 precious stones, s.oco uncut stones, and many other objects, including two boards for binding a book, of sUvci and gold studded with gems ; five books of the Vinaya Pilaka written on silver plates ; seien books of the Abhidharma Litaka on eiK'cr plates, as also a number of other hooks ; one book written on 900 copper plates each three spans long, and extracts from various religious books written on 37 plates of gold, each plate weighing five English sovereigns."
Uf the gigantic relic dagobas there are seven within the limits of Anuradhapura itself, without reference to those at Mchintale and elsewhere in the neighbourhood. These seven are —
DMebegDa
1, Tlinpaiania
3. Miriuwetijra ■
3. huinwcti
4. AlAyiRlrii
C. lelamaaniiia
6. Linluiama
7. iicia Chaitiyi .
|
Dfifinftl |
PftHllt |
DUmctrr |
|
heighl |
■1 tdac |
|
|
(I. |
ft. |
ft, |
|
— |
sal |
59 |
|
— |
164 |
|
|
aro |
189 |
379 |
|
405 |
a3' |
3*5 |
|
316 |
349 |
360 |
|
331 |
*4 |
|
|
10 |
Too rui[iuiis |
lo asccilain |
B.C, 307 B.l% 164
n.c. 161 ■I.e. 89
A.D. 30a
Unknown B.C. 119
AHuradkapura : a pre-Christian City. 567
le lowest. The tatlcr was built up from a foundation supported by xteen hundred granite pillars, all of which the Rajairali imj)U(:s were overed with copper. Each priest had his own littli: dormitury, and {as 10 great man could povtihly allow his inferior to sit higher than him- etf) the poor old |)ric$ts of highest rank had to occupy the upper- noet rooms, Just under the roof with its glittering braiicn tiles — ralher lartn quarters on a hot summer's day I
A most interesting account of this palace and its various apart-
,ts has been preser>'ed in the Maha-wanso, which is the book ol
t lutional chronick-9. In one great hall were golden pillars,
by golden sialues of lions and elephants, while the walls
id with flower- patterns of costly gems, and festoons of
In the centre stood a magnificent ivory throne of wondrous
nianshif), for the high-priest, while above it wat the while
:ttft or umbrella, the Oriental ty|>e of sovereignty. On either side
this throne there were set 3 golden image of the sun, and a silver
one of the moon : and the whole palace was richly carpeted, and
fuU of luvurious couches and divans. Amongst the curious sutistics
irf the " tlreat Braren I'lilace," we hear of a stone canoe, twenty-five
aibits long, made to contain .tome special drink for the thousand
priests — a very jovial species of punch bowl ! A huge hollowed
Slonc, 63 feet long, 3^ feel broad, and 3 feet 10 inches in depth,
«as pointed out to us amony the ruins of this great monastery as
having been used for this purpose, while another hollowed block
«f granite, 10 feet long, 2 feet deep, and 6 feet wide, lying near the
Jetawanarama, was shown as that wlierein the daily allowance of rice
teas measured out. Certainly the proportion of sack was largely in
excess od* ihe solids.
I Minute details are given of the daily rations provided for all these priest* of the king's bounty, as also of the vessels of sugar, buffalo butter, and honey provided for the builders, whose work, how- ever, did not prove enduring, for in the following reign this " 'lower ttf Babel" had to be taken down, and it was rebuilt only seven itoreys high. I'wo hundred years later these were reduced to five Storeys, and seventy years afterwards, in A.D. 240, it must have been fentiiely rebuilt, as the reigning monarch changed the position of the Bupponing pillars. When (a.i>. 175) King Maha Sen succi^eded to the throne, full of iconoclastic teal, he demolished this lofty "Clergy, house " as well a; many more buildings connected with Buddhism, and used them as quarries for the erection of new shrines for the images supposed to have been sanctioned by "the Wytulian heresy." (But when he threw ovct his new love to return to the old, he rebai
568 The Geni/effian's Magastne.
the " Brawn Temple " and all dsc Ihai he had destroyed. UnfiBW. natcly some of the i,6oo granite monoliths had been broken, wio malcc up the number a certain number were aplic. This was dooebf boiing holes in the atones and therein drivini; wooden wedges, oa to which water was poured to make the wood swell, a simfile but ciec- tive device, which was Arst adopted in Enijbnd about two thoemid year* laicr.
How strange it is to think that when our ancestors sailed tlw stormy teas in their little skin-covered wicker boats, or paddM canoes more roughly hoUowed from trees than those quaint out- riggent which here excite our wonder, Ceylon was the chief ccnlre cf liasicrn iraftic, having its own fleet of merchant ships, whcrc'.n » csfiorl <»onie say) its superfluous crain— certainly other products- lo dislnnt lands. Possibly its traffic may eren have extended M Rome, to whose historians it was known as Taj)robanc, and oi trtiott coins as niuny ai eighteen hundred of the reigns of Conaaotinc and other emperors have been found at Balticaloa. Think, tm that while Britons wore a full dress of only woad, attd li\'cd in ntilc huts, these islanders had vast cities with stately palaces and othci great buildings, and monuments whose ruins, even now, vie in dimensions with the Egyptian Pyramids. Besides these duu^r ruins, and this endless profusion of scutpttircd granite columns ud noble stairi which once led up lo ht;aely temples, how poor ind mean do all the modern temjiles appear, with their wooden pilUn and walls of clay, the work of pigmy dcsccodants of giants !
Here, four hundred year* before the birth of Christ, all iW constituted Eastern luxury reigned supreme. Great tanks waiewi beautiful gardens, and in the streets busy life fretted and toiitd^ Allowing largely for Oriental exaggeration, we can form some iifc» of the greatness of the city from the native annals, which idl ho«. including these tanks and gardens, it covered two hundred and fifty- six square miles, the whole of which was enclosed by & strong ouict wait, which was not completed till the first century after Chrsl From the north gate to tlie south gate measured sixteen miles, and the old chronicles tell us that it would take a man four hours lo walk from the nortli to the south gate, or acrces the city from tf« rising lo the setting sun. The UTitcr enumerates the principal streets, and it gives a strangely fnniiliar touch to hear of Great King Street, while Moon Street reminds us of the planet worship of ilw early Singhalese. Moon Street consisted of cl«'cn thousand hoasia, many of which were targe beautiful mansions two storeys high. There '^re lesser streets without number, bearing the name of the caue
l"V'
Anuradhapara : a pre-Chrislian City. 569
ot prorcssiOR of its inhnbiuinls. All ncrc level and straight ; (he broad carriage-way was sprinkled wiih glittering white &and, while the foot-path on either side was covered with dark sand. Thus the Coot-passcngcrs were protected from the dangers of the swift ndcrs, chariots, and carriages. Some carriages were drawn by four horses. There were dcphanti innumerable, itch merchants, archerx, jugglers, women laden with flowers for temple-offerings, and crowds of all sorts. Not only had they cunning craftsmen of all manner of trades but the most minute care was bestowed on such practical matters as the sanitation of their cities. Thus, in Anunidhainira there was a corps of two hundred men whose sole work wn-'« the daily removal of all impurities from the city, besides a multitude of sweepers ; one httndred and fifty men were told ofT to carry the dead to the ceme- teries, which were well cared for by numerous officials. "Naked mendicants and fakirs," " castes of the heathen," and the aboriginal Yakkos and Nagos, ix. the demon- and snakcworshippcrs, each had dittinct settlements allotted to (hem in the suburbs.
Within the city there were h.ills for music and dancing, temples of various leiigions (all of which rectived liberal support from the earlier kings), almsliouses and hospitals both for man and beasts, the latter receiving a special share of attention. One of the kings was noted for his surgical skill in treating the diseases of elephants, horses, and wakes ; another set aside rice to feed the squirrels in his garden, and a third devoted the produce of a thousand fields to provide for the tare of sick animals. .\t every corner of the countless streets were houses for preaching, that all the passers-by might le.iin the wisdom of Buddha, whose tcmjiles then, as now, were daily strewn wtlh the choicest flowers, garlands of je:(saminc, and the fragrant champac* [ blossoms, and beautiful white and pink water-lilies (the sacred syra- L boUcal lotus). On all great festivals the streets were spanned by I arches covered with gold and silver flags, while in the niches were LjdBced statues holding lamps or golden vases full of flowers. .\t a later fSue the records of I'ollonarua arc almost identical with these. I Yet ere long both these cities were doomed to be forsaken. The
huge tanks which watered the gardens and irrigated all the land were left to go to utter ruin, and for centuries all has lain hushed and still. When foreigners invaded the isle it Wi-as (he policy of the Kandyans to keep the interior inaccessible, so thcrt were only diffi- cult paths through dense jungle ; consequently, although Knox had written of the wonderful ruins through which he had passed when nulcing his escape from his long captivity in Kandy, they continued unknovm till they were rediscovered by Lieut. Skinner, about 1S3J,
VOL. CCUCXI. NO. 1931. Q Q
4
i
icii iir.ca=ii <i-irirp »?•■"'■--- iscof tfe rcin^ ** ^^'^ "" *^ ^j^ ;ejx3=a. ii-araEws. *=d ccaer jqowc Ewdfc and biff flocb if pta.-5-,«F: KTgrr rsiaot =i ±e axi soad^ « Kmncd themsdm -T ~.» £— — - rrj-ffT ^^T^ j^w-^ MTf hew gatcB. Of count, tiili ^e — ■— .;£ so — -1-T -I. ifijii beiop^ doe shy cnatnres bne ?=raQac r; 2ii.e= w«--^.f^ c^Big-piaccs. Here and there, on the ctnaicTS a A=^fls^cB, Oxie ax ptat heaps of aooo-hnge CUTIS — --0 »ia-J:. ciei K> da» «im', eadi p»»er-by naisi, wiAoot =l:. *ft£ i «3ct ±aca!i d« people bne fa^ since ntteriy fiwgottei
T-rT.T.r^-^ Kxh K £an as lUs cnqang orer the great capilali ■nsr: a. zz=d:td md sxn--fite sscasan kings reigned in all tbe ^cd^x i=c :.i _-7 of aa Orlesal Court Their htWx7 has be« ia=if*; ii-i^:: ^ ^ :he SUiawamoL or "Genealogy of the Greit," --■^- irt:n.;iis — ;-- j.---f :j «hich feB>:;ncnt reference is so uecessatj ;; i. r^zz ---.^^v-.-.-'-rr c: ercsa in Ceylon. Its fiist section, •w2_-:-_ Tii c:— -.zl^i i';-:;: z^e year ad. 470, from natire amulSi ~ti3 :f -i± Orsi: 1'jt::is:j — />. the tings who reigned from 543 ^'^ -: t;: t.:. — ir.zz »-;:cr. carries the history- of those who are classed 3S -l.-t i—-~wir^i. IT - Lc*er race," although that list includes the t— » Eih:i by whose orders the work was corn- et— :.i. 1 266 A.D. Finally, it was earned on to — e yiar :-:$ .%.^. by ccninund of the last King of Kandy, »11 ic—zOz-i. r-c3 i.:±er.:ic Eaave documents. Being written in PiS rersi. =:-e x.; :he ir.js: learned priests could possibly read it, and, ii i ^iner c: iicz. ::o one seems to have been able to do so when -.= i::6 >t. T'^iniuKr, of the Ceylon Ci\-il Service, set himself to =xiKer- this terrtbly diiEcuIt task, and with marvellous patieiux ^ ;r-^-ui:T s::cceeded in so doing. Therein we obtain the clue w wr-:: 1; £:s; seems such a mj-stery — how a race which produced work so wcr-ic-:';;! as these great cities, a people so powetful md •.r. scn:e respects so wise a? those old Singhalese — themselves, wemu* «r.5e:n5er. coscuerors from Xorthen\ India — should have been cHven ir^'m pro^-ince to province till all their old power and cneigj s«:us to ha\^ died out.
The mischief seems to have begun when the King of AnundJu- pura nrst look Lito his pay mercenar)- ttoops from Malabar. Thea *K^i«i^ Taails, whose descendants remain to this day. They rcbdled, slevr the tug, an4 V»e\d the throne for twenty yean.
■ Am
Anurad&apura : a pre-Christian City. 571
nwn rrom the island the/ returned, and again held it for forty :ati Once more they were expelled, and onca more fresh hordes 3Uted in from Mnlahar, and landlnf; simultaneously on all pans of iciiland, agnin look possession of the dpilal, where some teltled, hile others returned to the mainland laden with ])liiiider. During
I these years an ever-returning conlcst was maintained between the uddhisEs and their Brahmin invaders. There was the usual pulling- >wn and building-up of temples, so that by a.d. 300 the native cords declare that the glory of the ciiy was utterly destroyed, 'd the royal race of Children of the Sun had been cxicrnunnted. eveilheless it continued to be a great poweiful town, enclosed by ■ong walls.
The struggle with the Malabars continued till about A.D. 736, len the kings forsook Anuradhapuia, and made I'ullonarua, farther the south, their capital, and more beautiful thnn the old city.
II the Malabars pushed on, and overran every corner of the *nd. At length, A, D. 1155,3 mighty king arose, by name Prak- na Bahu, who with a strong hand delivered his country, and driv- [ out the invaders, established peace and security. He rebuilt - temples of Buddlia, and made or restored liftcen hundred tanks, d canals inthout number, to irrigate and fertilise the thirsty land. 't thirty >-cars after the death of this great, good man, his family d become so utterly weak through their incessant quarrels, that ft Malabar^ once more returned and seized the tempting prize- HS bo the story of strife continued till in 1505 the Portuguese **»C and then followed the further complications of the struggles twccn Portuguese and Dutch, and later, the French and English olc their turn as disquieting elements.
But the consequence of all these fightings was the removal of the *t of government from one part of the isle to another, so that in ■•nya now desolate jungle iherostill remain some ruins of ancient ties which successively claimed the honour of being the capital for ^ time being. The oldest of these was I'amana-nuwara, which was ^ capital of Wijayothe Conqueror, n.c 543. His successor founded >OpatUsa-nuwara,caIlingltafterliimsetf. Then Maag.imaand Kellania Qd their turns before Anuradhaj>ura asserted its supremac)'. With kc exception of eighteen years when Kaasyapa (the parricide and luicidc) lived on the fortified rock of Sigiri, and one year when King iCaloona removed the capital to Dondra, or Dcwa-nuwara, the '■ City if the Gods," and likewise committed suicide, Anutadhapura reigned upreroc for i,j53 years, when it was abandoned in favour of Polio- arua ; three hundred years later Anuradhapura became the cai^ital
1
71r Gtmtkmmdx MagasiiU.
>"US
Kila-toCto, and Kudo- far I brief intcnraL Then cane ,«lKa tbcglocyorPollauni ihe c^l■ad donng the teraneea in the Prenty years after Im id fl( dK ccattoy Dambadintya mu liK lad MOtlwr tdm. After ihis, Kcmi- KsDdy, and CoUa wtit Now ooe aha- iinotber oT that : neglect, ud seven] into tcBl both palaces and ma/iw; Icwned tbe gnat blocks of iuw aie veaed by lovely creepers ind jl thraagh wfatch, as ihey did » bean aod kopords roam undisluiM. : daongh the foliage. Onlj' ai tk i do dtiuui pdgriiiis stiU wend their nr «r tboe duk farests, to do bocnagc « of w^A B broken by their ptout ; as t&ey oKie uMod oe BO|e tnc sfanncs. tnc c' «r VBS la Anwadhapuw, tbc pilgtimi bd M wWiHff the tedral of the bmI- camps— ydlow tents of pot of wfeidi escb pagtin) carries one scdm ^ iMbKSft — fanned a voj picttmsqae featnie ii BaK • doam pieces of led; stqiponed 1^ utcks, fcia vUck is al ibey need, (ifaay carry one of de cavOopcd the young; flowtrof as a snaple rice plate, while u leaf Kvms an excellent mcr- bacfas.) Vlk mcRat ateps ibey trod the gnen forest glidA dK COBM of the nain stnets of the holy citf, wd bf jdbw^obed WwddhiHt pnnts. Many of the plgriM ,aDd ooe group carried a miniattire ok ■ a goMea lotas bfaoom to be offered to the sacred SotKC. Tbe tit, \ WKf otiTi. hoHs die same pbcc of hoooor inCeyteo as it does ia na^ cd»cr aotioas. To all tnTcIleis ia tbe Hiiaataj ii, the atk vtikd vidi cnxtaim, widun wbidi b cooceiM te idol noai decpty rerereaced, is a £ininiai object— u i^ «hidk is canied ob sUvcs ihroogh die fonxis, with mosic and and which, both in its proportkNis and in all tbe cen- onnnected wish ■^ besis a strange affinity to the sicitd
Anuradkapura : a pre-Christian City. 573
•rk of the tsractilcs.' Wc find it again in the chuichcs of Abyssinia and in the Buddhist tumplcs of Japan ; and here in Ceylon, cwry itniiortant dewaii (that Js, every Malabar temple) has an ark ptcriecly similar to that of (he Himalayas, the sacred ob}ccts, whkh are so jealously concealed from the gaze of even devout wofshippcts, being in this case the mystic arrows of the particular god or dcilicd hero there held in reverence. Once a year, at a great full-moon festival, this ark i« botnc forth on its staves, and carried in sunwisi: circuit round the temple, amid great rejoicing. That tiny ark, containing the mystic lotus blossom, was not the only link kv noticed to the customs of far distant lands. At the entrance to the Wata Daghc at Pollonarua lies a stone precisely similar 10 the Clach Btalh st St. Otan's Chapel in lona,* with a row of hollows, worn by the continual action of Mone or crystal l»ll*, which the paisera-by turned sunwise to bring thctn luck. And here, in Anuradhapura, are three stone bulls, which women who have not been blessed with olTspnng also drag round sunwise, that they may insure the speedy birth of an heir. One of these seems 10 ha\'C formerly revolved on a pivot, but now main force does all.
Ceriainly the most venerated objects of superstition are not often impressive to the eye, and these are three insignificani little animals, measuring respectively 3 feel 6 inches, i feet 9 inches, and i fool 7 bches. 'I'hcy lie on the turf beneath a great tree— a curious fore- ground 10 a roost picturesque pilgrims' camp of yellow palm-Ieaves like gigantic fans, banked uj) with withered houghs ; women and children busy round their tamp fires, and beyond tlie curling blue tmokc rise the pillars of the Brazen Pnlacf. Thousands uf these primitive tents were scattered about in groups in the park-like grounds, md I had the good fortune to witness a very striking scene on the night of our arrival, when all nigh) long, by the light of a glorious full moon, great companies, guided .by bare-armed and bare-footed ycUow-robcd priests, circled round the Kuanwcli dngoba, shouting Saadhu 1 (the Buddhist form of All hail !). Bui in making their drdc they kept their left side towards the relic shrine, which in sun- bre all the world over is the recognised form of invoking a curse instead of a blessing. But on the bcaurifuUy sculptured "moon- stones " at the base of the great temple and palace stairs, all the
' Sec l» ikt tliiualayai. by C. F. Gordon Cuniiiiini', iiublishod by Giatio tt Win<!u>. p»g« 361-371, 436.
' See /■> ikf Utiridn, page 72, by C. P. Gordon Cumminc, publiahcU by Ch*tto it Windui.
1
575
'-^ONPLA C E-BOOK,
■v-^ t*s a commonplace-book too often resembles
<^arefully buries a bone for future use, yet
■^ to dig it up ; and it is positively pathetic to
' dainties which probably lie buried in many
'■^^^je of this class.
'iig up some of the old bones which are to be
^f this kind which lately came into my hands,
*lie reader — if I can catch him — a few curious
tliis source, a few literary or linguistic morsels,
^ ^^t prove altc^ether insipid. Of course they lay
^ .^iginality, and to but little even of research ; yet
-^■fc**Ope that some of them may be new to many
fe ^^tti to some.
^C—^Hed international proverbs, or sayings in various "-^^w *^8 the same or nearly the same sentiment, is a .^^;:::^.^ ^ now tolerably familiar to scholars and linguists, "" .^^ ^nately — not all people are linguists or scholars ; -^^^ X think I can produce some examples of such ^^ ^*^y be found not uninteresting and not altogether
-^^~^ t.>ie frying-pan into the fire " is not badly expressed
7\r^Vi *^ference to what may be called the opposite
^^>r^ <iem Regen in die Traufe kommen" — said of one
^^ *^^? shelter from a shower of rain, takes up his position
^V^^.. from a roof, and so, instead of escaping a wetting,
*">:y **^& The Italian saying on the point is on all fours
'-^i^ - "Cader dalla padella nella brace "—to fall from the
V^^oals.
^ ^ ^ing dogs lie " is found nearly word for word the same
V^ Non molestar il can che dorme." But that sprightly
\^^ ^ another and sufficiently picturesque proverb to express
t-w^^ . 11 jjon stuzzicare il vespaJo " — stir not the wasps' nest.
^^3 convey the same caution by a slightly different
576 Tit Gtmdtmtmms M^mxuu.
ids btes-jt da bbse mcfat'' — &n ax. the
widk ^^^ noo-essenbid, the dowbrtg^ such so afhorism z-t idea ii happily expfesedbj ^- i_" Ljc^ d^s Kind mit dem Bide T*xj Ac "■■*—*■ of the b%^
he w&o wonbl 1 ::-ic gao^ tea, Itt Vim hnr and see and huld his vxosse. — ks a m.-rj; nemA aadoeM m the laUaa
see. bcEL and ^ i^^ if Ikov wiafcht five in peace. '
a."intra: vjcc ?:r «cc->l ~« szme in Gonun — I wonder wbich is ibe .-r-ir-r-:i" jzii wij~ -jx cccv : - Via nn Ctashans sitzt scJl ione ygim- ■n—wE.' i<; wiiisKxber «cII-kDo«ii and sbcdesoiDe piece ct aiii-i; : -^ Scrxss=. bi=b bei dcinetn Ldsten," or " Sotor ne sapra c^ait2i ' — - Sbrt=!iiki=. Kick to ihy last. ■
■^ n »Wfti i?^-^'^ ira.-e ^ k well icpicsoited both in Geniian and ii l:ija= : - U:in=:: Kirbc rucht ''—the worthless weed dies tot ; i:vi *L; ^aiTersiTi^ le fxesDo' — evil T^ctaikn comes apquii^y' "■ ^c^ w-irir^ t:^; c^wo '' bs i shwie more pkmresqne in the lively I:aj;i= : - Arcpi j^=isa rjrisa il ponte' — 'lis the quiet stream irhiii
W^cidrttT rr.-Tiirts c* coose abousd in all languages, but ihtT also iVcmi ai CTwracr. lasnad of ooi saying about St Switl"''" tbe la^iisi iciid thii w^sizctci the veatber may h^pen to be on Afri i sxi wciriet wii; coboddc far forty consecutive days ; ^ ^xf djress tie ssperscboa in a sort of jingting ifayme of the sort dear to :^ jTSifcs ec tbeo^ 'ar^za^ bet mote than usually de£^' «" KTcr jgraarcur in CK strsctcre ;
1c !<wis3 ;o M ^te tt£e of most popolar ddnsions to be svep^ anjr br tbe itieBbrs beoB of sciamSc obaaratioo. 'Dku. '
A Commonplace- Book. 577
belteve, ii has been demonstrated hj 8 long scries of meteorological records thtt the St. Swilliin forecast is all nonsense ; and similarly with the Italian saying as to April 3, governing the weather for the forty following days, uhjch has been found lo have abiulutely no foundation in fact. In like manner the venerable delusion to tlie dEect that the moon influences the weather, though it dies hard Unong old-fashioned and ignorant people, ii pretty nearly exploded Unong tlie well-infurmed.
Many more instanct^ might be cited of popular fallacies demo- lished by science, yet emulating the cat in tenacity of life, especially in minds of an anti'iuated and HU]ier«litiouficast, Take, for example, the custom of sprinkling salt onthclablc-clolh when wine— especially red wine— has been tpilt u|)on it. . Chemists know that this custom is ridiculous, since no acid contained in any known wine is suffi- ciently energetic to separate ihc chlorine and llic sodium which together compose the salt, and thereby release the former and enable it to act upon the stain. Nevertheless the custom holds its own, and is dcv-outly believed in by many, if not most, persons, on the principle, probably, of Teitullion's "credo quia impossi bile, "and no amount of argument or demonstration will .ivail to wean them from the time- honoured and cherished fallacy. >Vhac a collection might be made of the popular delusions which in all countries and in all ages have clustered round the single subject of domestic salt.
But to return to weather proverbs. Some of these are distinctly founded on actu.il probabilities, and arc./n> lanto, entitled to some respect. Take, for instance, those regarding Candlemas, which arc fbuiHl in many languages. Thus the Scotch say :
ir Canillcinni-ilny br diy ind (xa. The hiir of winter *i la come mid mair; H CandUmns-dny be wel and (oul. The half ofHinler't jjanc aiyule.
And very similarly the It.ilians say:
Per la candclont, Sfl nevica o se plora, llcU' inverno sianio faon* M* s'i sole o suticclln, No' siamo a meiio il verno —
St Candlemas, if it snows or rains, we are out of winter ; hut if there be sunshine, or even a ghmpse of it, we are in mid-winter. Hudibras tells us that
They who wrile in rhj-me slill make Tli« one vtise fut (be olher'» (ake.
Tit CatUmatit Mt
xn t^ »fiB^iciE3iif bnfcoa tkiSBbfeaaf Candleiius dK aeadm ; te: tbey ma? be beiE saBoted op b; tbe old dog-
Tlevfaoleof tirisbodr of befiefoolfaesDliject is obnooslr only in COBMttgmce villi the pmsaic pnibability that unseasonable ireatfiei xt one tine of the ^car viD be followed b]r tmseasonable veaiAei bUr OR, and cOMCtluently tbaE if it be warm and fine in winter, il «iB probaMy be bad at a jtibsequent period, on the principle liiai a ceitaiD amount of bod weather is likdy to occur in the year; as tbc
Fiencfasay:
Si rhircr ne Cut son dcKiir Auz mou de d jccnbie et jaoTkt, An plos laid il st fen voir
En fermx ;
and the Italians :
CiTDcvtJe al sole, P«squa al fooco; CunCTiie al liioca, Pasqna al sole-
Camival in the sun means Easter at the hearth, but Carnival bj the hearth means Easter in the sun.
In this country we generally hold that a halo round the moon is a sign of approaching rain. The Italians, however, draw a thT important distinction in this matter. They say that such a '^^ indicates coming rain only if it describes a wide circle extending » beyond the moon ; but that if the circle is small and dose to ^ moon, it is a sign that rain is not at hand. Thus :
Cetcbio lontano, acqua vicina ; Cerchio vicino, acqua loEtana. '
And truly I think the Italians are right in this matter. I «'"
remember during an Indian famine cur hopes of rain were constancy
being raised by haloes round the moon ; but no rain came. ^
tloes were smalt in diameter and close to the satellite.
\mong sayings regarding weather and climate, I may note thai of
Mniards touching the climate of M-idrid, which they, justly ot
A Commonplacc'Book.
579
unjustly, consider to be decoilfut above all things snd dcspctatcty wicked. As thus : " £1 itirc dc Madrid no spaga una ccrilla, pcro juita la vida i un hombrc " ; or in another and ihyming foiro :
I nuita la viOj
I llu^ nil nf M
£] »ir« de Madri'l <i> tan lutil Qoc mull k un hombrc,
V no apaEii a un condjl —
the nil of Madrid is so treacherous that it will not extinguish a taper, and yet it will extinguish a man's life. The Madrilefios also thus proudly and ftntleiingly dcscrilK their climate :
Tics moct invicrno,
I |J[UUUJ
^Uiree months winter and nine months hell.
^r la this connection it may not be out of place to cite a somewhat
I 'MvtiiBg Italian saying as to the tertian ague, to the cfTcct that it will
actually inftf^ratt a young man, though it will cause the knell to toll
for an old one :
La Tcblirc tcrtana ^^^^ [ );iovani li riuna,
^^r Ell «I vccchi
^^ Fft fuonw la umpana.
Travdiers in Germany and Switzerland must be familiar with the qtuint sententious inscriptions so often to be seen on houses in those countries, and presenting a curious medley of combined piety and prttdenec— for example :
I
Kirchengthcn utumct nldit, Atniingcben armcl nichl, Wagensdimicrcn hinder! nicht —
etauTch-gcung delays not, almsgiving impoveiishes not, wheel-greasing hinders not. The hrst of these lines reminds one of the sentiment which is put in the mouth of one of Sir Walter Scott's characters— VIS it the worthy Abbot Boniface ? : " Meat and mass no-er hindered woric."
Here is another of these solemn wise saws :
Denken, ilann ugcn; Wigcn. <l™n wafien ; I^icht i&t icrbroclicn, Doch lanipatn gcbaul —
first think, then speak ; ponder firsl, and venture last ; 'tis easy to disraembcT, but hard to construct— the whole of vtVitch, but espcetally
Tfc rrffriMirj Jfi
... idl DC CBMBMBdod iDdmcifidCMM
, who talk » |B>lr of poIfagtD pieces Ae
■ — * -■ ^» - - * *
■l^HDCmg IDE IMMIlll < mpilBL
^ of DDK ^■Malltigeani nc oooMOBuIf hoiiiblj ndiK- . Sc ebm nMcnncs wen cMi voodcB boiloDgs in tbc TTikL. wiik^ JOB, cf 1 1 MM\ri ^By BiHr Id oe duiiujed bj fiie i
.Ui ' bz^ 3l Tjohi, pmecx Mf koosr^ and bum 107 Dd^bam^ FJooB, » BBf povfe knor, was tbe pUnn sunt of L a ddamk c/£k ■MBiwf ooa^aiaa, be is i^sided in • SB Ae p*— ■■■'» IP*-" «ba tbe dscifia of Fennii- ■ » caS '-i^ iliiiHiiin deneoL* TbeGoa^ eqaDoU^ of ~ Dm^ failkn dQ jon^ out cf die *- TV^ T^ ndit prcne benr der Abend kommt," being aibiuc »?wV"' veil CTSsn' xnd semeiBJoct Scrfoti's cxntioa to poor, a^on-OJCSis: "CxIfistaxnbijipTtiSheBdeaHl.' Andthesolenin T*3iL hK arc iklisd i: ;o=g ibe f^^cofcl sennment, snd intpron tbe tKZJsLH. wzz. La - Hasci ei £= EaSe es dicbosa"
~ Tits :ix -'""■^ "^^ Vf— > black '" k expressed 2 vhole shade more pi^izKly :r Isl:!^ ir.=5 : " La padcHi dice aU puuolo, tirati in 1^ OK n m. raci " — ^bs trvisc-pan sars to tbe tettle. Get out, lest ihon jc^ m* .K^ :^ ZziL-i.-it hsve aacAber good enougb ssjing about dK r-i-r!i-TiL= -Avf= -= .x-ii:* ilia padella e nno aj gatto " — toh»n iCK rrj .ti tbs zrrci^'TiLz. iad oae an the cat, to deoote simultaocoui
Hit; s X r;=i.-..s *j«ma2 sayiii& fcir which I do not recall inj «--^3jm: :r Eafisi : - I>is Fan kuin mil der Schtiize mehi aim H&:s; r.^^=sraf=: ijs 6= Xla=3 mil dem Heawagen hinem'" ^ i;.-t.-vr<ri: ;xr ce^ mere cai oi tbe bouse vilb her apron ihv die f»-*^T-;BT CK£ cx:tt isi si& bis hsy-wagoo — to denote the jtnKin&icis ^~ >=aaj£ ex=:m$aace ; as tbe Italian pfoverb bis it| *^A a,ir.Tis sris :xl ia caa. e la mana la disQ."
XcTT t?e thf sayags. is Eaaay tongoes, as to the suppose CT>^i^^l -TKSS .tl FndiT: bat ibc I'j'jitis, in one of their quMnl vn^ii&£ Tr."T£::bf. t«t Taesdsr tbe compdiment of indusioQ i"
Se i Xeotrr nt i5 Hsle Nt t Kun ne ti pDte —
•ftS Tix n.t s« i;x:i cTcc a jgjiuc) on Friday or on Tuesday. nr ^li d« Tw»5i5 «■« inf
A Comnwnplace-Book.
581
For " Nothing venture nothing hare " the Itiliann have another of their somewhat grammaticslly-stTaincd jingle* : " Chi non risica noB rosica " — who risks not cats not.
As to the cap fitting, the Germans have " Jcdem Narrcn gcfaltt •eine Kappc" — every fool is pleased with his cap; though this saying may aI»o be employed to mean that every fool is given to over-riding bis hobby, like the Spanish " Cada loco con su tcmx' T)ic lirst of these two senses is tersely rendered by the French "Qui se sent morveux c|u'il se mouchc."
The ovenreening self-satisfaction ridiculed by our saying to the effect that " Some people's geese are all swans " is well mocked by the German "Was dem Einen i^ne Eule bt dem Andcm cine Nachtigal "—what is to one but an owl, is to another a nightingale. Abo the following, with a rhyme :
k
Fingt Einer eintn Hpait (in MbI, Und dciiki et sci '□« Nubiiffi], $>g't Ihm bci Lcibc nichi —
if one should calch a sparrow and fancy it is a nightingale, on xhy , peril undeceive him not.
Our " Cut your coat according to your cloth " is somewhat I amplified — or shall we say diluted ? — by the German saying on the point:
Wer uch nichI nadt do Dccke slrEckt, I Dem bUiben die Filite oobedeckl —
lilcially, he who stretches himself not in proportion to his coverlet, leaves his feet exposed. So with our— or Najioleon"* saying about washing dirty linen at home, which is not improved upon by the German;
I Wer da bauel an der SUanen
Muu die Lcule reden lauen.
To indicate ine<iualitles of fortune, the Germans say:
Dcr KInc )|niinl die Seiile ;
Do Anilctc (ilei &i< mill Kleide.
Which reminds one of a specimen of "Baboo English" which occurs in I^dy Du/fcrin's book on India ; "The rich man wtlieri in crim- son, while the poor one snorts on silk." Though what the latter clause of this dictum was intended to mean by the eloquent Baboo it would be hard to say.
That tall men arc not always the clci,'eresl i* well expressed by 1 the following German saying: "Hiiuser mit vielen Stockwcrken
H
SSs 73c
aoKfi are «nBC to be poorij- titiMWt.ui in ibe top Aorj. Aki^ Gnn Kta (bat et akftl aDeiBw
BE B net cierTthm^ oihoane tbe cow vonid catxh die hue'
* Hen a paved with good tesohuiaBs' ts well lepnamted, nthet Aan £re^r cxpramd, bf the Mlowing Italian sajii^ : " Dd stmu ApoivapioieleftHae*— ifacAtdicsaicfidlol'after-tboagfats. For caCiagaspHfe a sinde theltalaiis ny : "Oiiiiiiar h pXUpBze ■OQ Buda." *A Ind in hmd,' &£., fignres in Geiman u " Ein Spo&ig in der Hand ist besser ab zwd mf dem Dacfae"; udMiS : tMeainlj in Italian : " Me^ilio im noio oggi che mu plBu
- an egg tD-d*f than * hen to-moirow. *- M luder wiQ out ' is mnenint ponderoas and lo^lth; in Gamu: Ei ik Kidtti lO fcia ptfwmii,
&n tbec it bouts tbe glorr of a rhyme.
1 do noc remember any Genoan or Italian saying corresponding to ocrs as :o speech being sUrei but silence golden. Moli^ how- efer, ba» ihe idea in his *• Qd parlc seme, qui ecoute moissonne."
Tbe fas^Uiar tn:th expressed by our proverb as to the impossi- bilnT of '"»'''-g a sj'.k pone out of a sow's car, or of changing one'i cir-iTC. wbctbcr inbOTn or inbred, has of course been represeiueii in ^-i-r "i-T-iJit Tbere is the wetl-fcnown and well-wom line in the creelef c< Hotsce :
Xi^sna eipellii (b:c^ Umen nsqae iccniret ; a=rd Lis Umoizs second epode, with its concluding lines :
Hue chi locntn fcncratot AlGo^
Jim jam fotunis resticns, Oaaem redccil Idibiu pccnDiam,
(jsaeti; Kalcnlts poncrc
Tre STULTisrds express the idea by the following proverb : La moaa s=iKjne sc TUlm de leda, MaB» X qocda —
:>« afe. e«n if dad in silk, remains an ape. And Sheikh Sidi
y^s a Fer^an coup>rt to much the same effect : Atltat gooigiada (piorg sbaTid, Gudic^ ba >dmi booiooii; sbavad —
the wolf-cab. thoagh it be reared among men, turns out in the
■ So B>c^-n— "!J; L(^ ^i- Albau aid that wbe natnie did never pot bcc
jnv-i.'vt ««wl» ia!''' » prm tan stones high ; uid thereTore that exceediii{ wU
B,«h»ie«««rj«™p!y*"**^" And FnUei^" Often tbe cock-loft ii iBplT
A Commonplace-Book. 583
end but a wolf. Although, on (he principle, probably, that no rule is without its exception, tbc same poet clscwhcte advnnces a case to show the very opposite :
So|; i uhab i Icahaf rare chand Vs\ \ iK'ksn giitfl, mUiii thud —
in allusion to Katmir, the faithful hound which accompanied the Seven SleeperH, and which eventually as a rcnard was promoted to manhood and admitted to Paradise.
" Do at Rome at the Romans do " is expressed in Italian by nu rdierencc lo Rome, but simply by " Pacse dove vat usa come trovi " ; and, to much the ssme purport : " Quando si & in ballo bisogna ballire " — when you are at a bnll you must dance. " Brevity is the soul of wit " is tersely rendered by " Ogni biion gtuoco dura poco " ; which, however, is also used lo repress exutieianl or ill-timed or unduly piolonj^cd jesting. Somewhat akm to our "Diamond cut diamond" is the Ilali.in "Duro ton duro non ia. buon muro." "One swallow does not make sHnimer"figur«as "Un fiorc non fa primavcra "—a single flower docs not make spring, " A cat may took at a king "is less pithy in Italian: "Anco ai tapini fe dato giuudare alle Melle "—even the lowly may look at the stars.
"Strike while the iron is hot" has two representatives in Italian, one of them similar to ours : " Bisogtiabattcre it ferro finch t-caldo"; and the other with a different idea: " Aspeitar la palla al baizo" — watch for the ball at the hop. " Six of one and half a doz«n of the other " is expressed in Italian by two diverse sayings : "Sc non t lupo b can bigio " — if it is not a wolf, it is a grey dog ; and another of curious tenor : "Sc non fc zuppa <; pan mollc " — if it is not soup, it is soft bread, which docs not seem to make much sense, at least to our minds : nevertheless, it is the equivalent of our saying just quoted. It should be noted, however, that both of these Italian saying arc always used in a contemptuous and depreciatory sense.
"Solviiur ambulando" is denoted in Italy by "Per via s'pggiusi la soma " — the toad fits, or settles itself, by the way. Our " Much cry and little wool " has two forms in Italian : " Molto fumo e poco atroito"— much smoke and little roast meat ; and "Assai pampani (second 'a " short) e poca uva "—plenty of leaves, but few grapes. Much diversity of opinion or of wishes is indicated by "Chi la vuolc a le»so e chi arrosto " — one wants boiled, another roast.
Some German youth hater must have invented the harsh saying : "Jugendhat keinc 'I ugend'" — youih is deslilulc of virtue; but there t> pith as well as good jingle in their " £ile mic Wcilc "—/aiinaUnU,
574
Tkt GeniUman's M^asitte.
animals, elcphantt, oxen, liono, lions, and sacred geese, hare tbeii right side towaids. the central lotus blossotn, so they are nuking the orthodox sun-wise turn.
jost beyond these butU arc forty rows of roughly-bewn stone pillars, which even now stand twcK'C feet atx>ve the fioil, and are doahtlcss sunk to a depth of many more— a strange and unique Eight In caeh rov there are forty of these granite monoliths, making six- teen hundred in all ; some have fallen, some arc half buried among the ruins, but there thc>'arc,and these arc all that now remain abort- ground to mark the spot where the stately Brazen Palace once stood with all its crowds of learned priests. Of course there is nol t vestige of the copper which once cot-cred the pillars, nor of iftt resplendent hnucn tiles. I was told a legend — whether authentic or not I cannot say— that the final destruction of ibis grand building was due to lire kindled by a queen who, when sore beset by Ma^hii armies, and seeing! no hope of escape (rom beleaguering fftti,tt- solved that at Icoit ihey should not enjoy the (Milage of the palM and 50 caused all her most precious pos,KSsions to be bron^l here and heaped together, and havinj; with her own hands set fire to thit costly funeral pyre, thereon sought dcatli. Now the desolate mini ate forsaken alike by priests and worshippers. I wandered alone thtoogh the labyrinth of grey pillars where only a flock of shaggy long-lcg{t>) reddish goats were nibbling the parched grass, just as I have tnn British sheep finding greener pasture beneath the shxdovofi'ic mighty rock temple of our own ancestors at Stonchcnge.
C t. CORDON (XKJO!"-
575
A COMAf ON PLACE-BOOK.
TH£ mnn who keeps a commonplace-book too odcn lecembla the dog which carefully buries a bone for future u«^ yet icldom or never returns to dig it up ; and it \\ positively jiathctic to think of the intellectuitl dainties which probably tie buried in ninny a pale and fkded volume of this chs.%.
I pro|)oie then to dig up some of the old bones which arc to be ound in a reposilor>' of this kind which lately came into my hands, and to serve up to the reader — if I can caich him — a few curious odds and end$ from this source, a few literary or linguistic morsels, which I hope may not prove aUogclhcr insipid. Of course they lay claim to no sort of originality, and to but little even of research ; yet I am not without hope that some of them may be new lo many persons, many of them to some.
What may be called international proverbs, or sayings in various languages expresiiing the same or nearly the same sentiment, is a branch of folk-lore now tolerably familiar to scholars and linguists. But — perhaps fortunately— tiol all people are linguists or scholars ; and in any case I think I can produce some example of such proverbs which may be found not uninteresting and not altogether hackneyed.
Our " Out of the frying-pan into the Rre " is not badly expressed in Gernun by reference to what may be called the opposite element : " Aus dem Regen in die Traufe kommen "—said of one who, in seeking shelter from a shower of rain, lakes up his position under a spout from a roof, and so, instead of escaping a wetting, catches a ducking. The Italian saying on the point is on all fours wiUi our own : " Cadcr dalh padclla nclla brace " — to fall from the pan into the coals.
" Ixt sleeping dogs lie " is found nearly word for word the same in Italian: "Non molestar ilean chc dorme." But th.it sprightly language has another and sufFicienlly jiicturesque proverb to express the same idea : " Non slu/?icare il vespaio " — stir not the was])*' nest. The Germans convey the same caution by a s\ightly different
i
5*6 nt
leiflcncaudKrcnBeaB.* And lee bom other
, |XDicni^ wluclilaKan die y*"^ dnc it k sopmortoon Wc Mf ust oic xcndcQ cut srain nt wtt i
Ado dciagBi6iBiMij«* — thcKaldedcatihaidieffeBatf wtfs.
''Oncggod DiiiideiaTcsaBoliicr*la> two veniooaiBGcRiiii: ■ Eae liebc iat Oa mkn werth.' an^ more piameaqiw; "Wiicb OK HjDd ticbt die xodcK?'— doth not tfceooe hand mhtle other? *Wdl began binlf done '^ipean in Gemiin as "Fncfa |e«a£[ Ht lidb pwouKB "; in lufim, "Tnttoda nd princqauE,' ■od, of cim^ in the vdl-wora Fiencli pbiaae, " Ce n'est que k {■cmo pel qn cuflle To denolB coDtuton ■atwi eoofoondcd tte Gennns ^, " Man «cm mdtt ver Kodi and wer EcODer lei' " Xcv btoooH meep dean ' it nady the sune in Gennan : "Kcne BcMn (boons) got fcyn.
On the mndt bewiitten thane of the alleged mntabOity ofwotnen— dte " Vahnm et mutabile temper fenuna " of Virgi] — the luUaiis hi*^ as migjit be CTcperted, snndir sayings, such as :
La doona i la lana,
Ogei setena, donuDi bnina —
woman is like the mooo, to-day blight, to-moirow dark. Also, " I^ donna e im barometro che segna sempre vaiiabiJe " — woman is a b>to> meter, which always marks change.
They indicate the power of the sex by saying " L'uomo fc un owne in caso accusativo retto dal vcrbo attivo donna " — man is a noun in the accusatiTe case governed by the active verb woman. And the] have a pithy rhyming saw as to the condition of the hen-pecked :
In (iDclla oua e poca pace, DoTC galUna canU e ^lo lace —
> Of course, to EDgtishiiien, the most familuu and bmom sajing oa thii nt^
is Sba^pcBie's :
When torrows come, they come not single spies,
Bui in battalions. — Haadtt iv. 5.
Then, in the beautirnl lament of Briseis Ua Patiodut :
, . , fii fw I ^xiroi nadir '■ mutaS alif /
Hituixa. 190-
And
Irtpa S' it' Mf»r
KtKil taiAr Kupti.
EuKiPiOES, Htenic, 688.
n.^ Troadeu S9U
A Commonplac€-Book.
587
tbere u little peace in thai house where the hen crop's and the cock b mute.
What the Greek* railed juijiiii^ntpio, or dixuitixfaction with one's tot — the "(Jiii fit, Mxcenas," A:c., of Horace— must surely be the nibjcet or many »yings in many tongues ; nnd yet the sole one Imring on the ]ioint, in modem linguiigCK, which now occurs to me pa the French one : " Qtiand on n'a [las ce qu'on aimc, il faut aimer lee i|u'on a." Of course the ever ])enincnl Horace has his
' Invitlus altetiiis mncicsclt icliut opliaife ;
elsewhere,
OpUt ephippin boi, pii;ec upui aiate coballu* (
<Juodi|Uc ttleiM capclla i^ni dUleniiut ulicr TabcKAl, &c 1
fllilc Ovid in the kiidc vein sings,
Fcclilior tcjfet m Bllcnii uiiipci in a%tn, Vicioumquc pccui grandiiu ubet hnbcl.
rraveUera in Italy are often sorely puzilcd by Ihc words, "F.E.R.T. P.E-R.T, — F.E.R.T." which arc seen on the rims of Italian coins, puHl also on the collar of the Order of the Annuiuiato, and elsewhere. The mysterious monosyllable is composed of the initial letters of the lacntencc, " Kortiiudo ejus Rhodum tenuit " — his valour preserved [Rhode* — which was said of Ainadeus V. of Savoy, in reference Ho his undaunted defence of Rhodes against the Turks in the thirteenth century. Fti]i[jant young Iialians, however, Florentine ^mashen. and others of that kidney, occasionally make merr; with a jOCiUr rendering of the four letters, thus : " Femina erit ruina tua " .—a drollery nkin lo that of the London alderniiin who interpreted Ihc letters S. P. Q. R. as meaning " Small profits and quick returns.' Readers of Italian must know the curious word "busillis," some- limes spelt " busilis "—meaning a great difficulty, a erux, a poser or pu;;zlcr ; yet it is not Il.ilian. and even Italians arc sometimes ignorant of its genesis, which latter isdistinctly interesting. The word occurs in the thirteenth chapter of the " Proroessi Sposi," where the grand chancellor, Antonio Ferrer, rescues the Vicaiio di Prowisione from the howling mob of Milan in the famous episode of the bread riots, ■When Antonio bids the trembling Vicario to run the gauntlet through ftbe surging crowd from his house to the carriage, ho says in his •native Spanish : " .Aqui c^li el busilis ; Dios nos ^alga ! " — here's the difficult point, or the point of danger, God help us! Tlie expression often occurs too in modern Italian, in the newspapers, and in con-
ail
I
A Commonplacfi'Book. 589
ings thou didst to us, O holy father : first in assuming the all, then in living so unconscionably long, and lastly in mid-Camival in order to be mourned. allowing excellent squib on Papa! infallibility appeared in Sir t Pollock's reminiscences. It has probably not been seen body ; and, in any case, it is good enough to brave the of being cramie repetita:
Quando Eva morse e mordei fece U pomo, iddio per stJvii I'uomo si fece uomo; Ma it Vicario di Ctisio Pio Nono Per far uomo schiavo ei fcce Dio.
shall leave the reader— if any reader gets so far— to translate
elf, or to get translated.
ith William Barnes's clever tetraglot epigram ;
Se I'uoni che deiubs uq lomo Tiium literarum est homo,' Celui qui d^robc liois tomes A man of lelters must l>ecoiiie.
now I'll wind up this rambling " omnium -gatherum " with a t French pun, which occurs I know not where :
Ce gage d'amitii plni qu'un antre me louche,
Un witcmeni de maia vast din sermenti de bouche.
PATRICK MAXWELL
' The Rotnsuu called a Ihief a man of ibrec letters— f-n-i.
Goethe's Mo/her.
593
nd above all wicli a joyous trust in God. She was the dclig;ht of liitdrcn, the fat-ouriic of poct^ and ptinrcK, and beloved of all who iroc into contact wiih htr. Wicland, the greatrtl poet of his time, ho intreUed from Weimar to Frankfurt on purpose to make the cquaintancc of Fran Rat, praises her as (he deareit of all nioihers, ic qiKrcn amonit w(«nen, and the crown of her jet ^"he Duchess Ana Amalia considered the day on which she received a letter from er as a day of rejoicing. Genial x-i she was, she became the good enius sent from heaven to her husband. Once, through her tact nd cheerfulness, she actually prevented serious mischief which treatencd her husband in consequence of his abrupt behaviour to le king's lieutenant. Count Thoranc, who was quancrcd in Gocthc'a ousc in the Seven Veaia' War in 1759.
With the birth of her son Wolfgang her life's joy and happiness islly began. She became ihc playmate of this son, and with him ie once more enjoyed her childhood. " I and my Wolfgang," she lid, "have always held (asl to each other, because we «ere both Dung, and not as many years apart as Wolfgang and his father." he waa her son's first and best teacher, as every mother should be. Ic praises her tact in educating children in his autobiography, ■here he relates the following: "The old, many-comcrcd, and loomy arrangement of the house was moreover adapted to awaken lead and terror in childish minds. Unfortunately, too, the piinciplc f discipline that young persons should be early deprived of all fear w the awful and invisible, and accustomed to the terrible, still rrcvailed. Wc children, therefore, were compelled to sleep alone, nd when we found this impossible, and softly slipped from our Iwrds 0 seek ihc society of the servants and maids, our father, wiih his Iressing-gown turned inside out, which disguised him sufficiently for he purpose, placed himself in the way and frightened us back to our esting places. The evil effect of this anyone may imagine. How E he, who is encompassed with a double terror, Co be emancipated rom fear ? My mother, always cheerful and gay, and willing to ender otheis so, discovered a much better pedagogical expedient, the managed to gain her end by rewards. It was the season for leachei, the plentiful enjoyment of which she promised us cwry aoming if we overcame our fears during the night. In this way he succeeded, and both parties were salistied." In another lireclion her induence upon her son was even stil! greater. For he transmitted to him her love of story telling, and in cultivating lis imagination in a most original way she laid a good foundation or the development of his poetical genius. She would relate to him
dc wnSE SI hmi au. in 'W n 'in^ W^ -in i-^'— * :iBE nc bo 301 jke aer mi jd iiic s sact a -^■■'•™"— 5tibe bis jtajm^BOoiof
srusxca diat M_e in. size sr "tpit. "^n* \'v '■'"* '•sib 31 Eu Imn whac his zdial !■ r-u- if^f Q-tww^t ^J^™*'^ Ttnf ^uuv^k at ■Its XtmhiW''^''^'^^. bafi nid ^ nsr : ~ Tio. smiiii ^r ^ inans to gp^ aim back 'yT : -=r^ innmirca W^heit ci"'^"''* a ■" i* "'y OjE cxc xr iiEt cl= ^:a9 ^t-i—tn^'.-wi^ XiS pn:(=sal ^nsnea. xr :iK ■itiii 3 3i:w 33 lie ccgic ^- bt lis JT'TrTT' o; lie :«a=Lag
W3a act well, ii:tf becocKa resL^iss. — " sine r^jsi-ia i .cck com him w~xii ails ier ±ai =£ a al r_p^ "iericrcc ioe asswos: - 'jr.£ wzri 'Tgfari cf a rhocaand. i"i>; — -e- iricw its »ia; is tir ji^cr beaent- -Aj I Live cic^r^i c*er =t i-i-^ i--i i3 ifa^ to iwciT TCc wui "iie "■I'a.-.s ci I^^idiri; i -_:::« s=c csc^nbie lift, jr.i '^2= easily i=az:=e hc» ■: wztLd jr-leve ew j' tcc *ce to K«t:c: jccr ba^ a=d sa^ength in th- c:ics senrtce. Tbe «rj >» rcEi— ^^erwaids woold i-i-r-j-n'y cot cake me fc- I 1= -J berx^e. ba: whh Cailian- I consider life a nae tiling- 0= -".e -:cber ha::ii. to tear you avar oom tout ptesen: occapadw wzf:^ be Ci.:aIIy ^i^reasooab'.e. Now you are your cni misrer- Prove all :^:r,g^ and hold hst what b good." When the French armies tid arerrcn South Gennany, in 1 797, she writes : " We live q:::te 'undismroed and are in hopes of remaining what we are. I for my own pan am quite contented, and let things which I cannot alter go iheir own way. Weimar is the only place in the wide world from whence my peace could be disturbed ; if my dear ones there aieweil, the rizhi and left banks of the Rhine may belong to whoroei"« they please ; that does not affect my sleep nor my appetite, and if I nly receive good news from you from time to time, I shall be of ' KJliaa BnufiedL, > writer of neiry comedies.
Goethe's Mother. 595
|Ood cheer, and shall in truth be able to sing all mjr icmaining days : ' Enjoy life while ttic lamp is still oj^low, pluck the roses ctc they fiidc,"" In the beginning of 1801, when Goethe had rcco^'crcd from a serious Ulnets, she sends him the following characteristic letter ; " Dear Son,— Your recovery, and moreover a letter by your own hand, have made me so happy that I write to you by tetura of post. The sixth of February, when I received your dear letter, was a day of rejoicing, of prayer and thanksgiving for inc. I could not possibly keep this great happiness to myself. I went to Syndicus Schlosscr's in the evening, communicated the cause of my glad- ness to them, and received their heany congratulations. Our whole town was alatiucd at your illness, and as soon as your recovery was announced, newspai>eri poured into my room, everyone wishing lo be the first to bring mo the glad tidings. Unly (lod knows what I fciL 1 suppose you have forgotten the verse you found the first day of your arrival at Strasbur^, with your health still in a [irecarious state, when you opened the little book which Councillor Moritz had given you as a keepsake. You wrote to roe saying you were deeply moved. I lemeinber it exactly, it was a (juotaiion from Isa. liv, a, 3 : ' Enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the curtains of thine habitations ; spare not, lengthen thy cords and strengthen thy stakes ; for thou shalt spread abroad on thy right hand and the left," BIcwed be the Lord, who has strengthened the stakes aj^in and lengthened the cords anew. Once more, sincere thanks for your dear letter. Do let me know from time to time how you are. Love to my dear daughter and Augustus, and the Lord furtber strengthen you, which is the daily wish and prayer of your joyful loving mother, Goethe."
This great love towards her son is also transferred to Christiane, to whom she writes the most aiTeciionaie letters. After the terrible days following the battle oi Jena (October 23, 1806), when Chrlstianc behaved so bravely, he was religiously married to her. He com- municated this to his mother, whereupon she replies : " For your new state of marriage I send you my heartiest congratulations, and wish you all blessing. In this you have acted according to my heart's wish. 'I'he Lord keep you ! I herewith send >'0u my sincere motherly blessing ; for the blessing of the mother establisheth the houses of the children, Vou must content youisclf with this wish for the present, as 1 can do no more in these troublous times ; but have pauence, the cheques which I have received from the Lord will be duly honoured ; this is as certain as that now, while ' The fim linn oX u pofuUr German King.
The Gentleman's Afagasine.
I write this, the sun is shining. Hepend upon it, you shall be stftsfied with four (wnion. Give tny afTcctionate love to my desi dsoKhlcr, tell \xt that I love, esteem, and honour her. and nroaU hft*e written to her myself if wc were not in a continuous hurl)- buriy.* To her grandsoa AuguMus, shf, ihc delight and favouriic of chiWien, writes moat loving letters, couched in words »uitablc to tbe understanding of a child. She encourages him to send her descrip- tions of what he hu tteen ; and when he does this in his childlike way, she his many words of praise for him. 'lo the boy, five ycwi old. she writes : " Dear AugM., — It is Tcry pwiscworthy of yflu to have written such a sweet dear little letter to your grandma. I n(i<a Ibought that you were already so clever .... As a reward for j-out beautiful tetter. I will send you some sweets. You must study very welt, and become very dercr ; you will soon grow big, and then you can turing me the ' Journals ' and ' Mercuries ' yourself. Good liyc ; give rey love to father and mother. — Your affectionate grandma, Eltubetha Goethe." When Augustus is seven j'ears old, she writes: "Whenever I receix'C such a well and distinctly vrrittcn exeicitcbodlL from you, I rejoice th,it j-ou arc so clever to describe things in a orderly and lucid a manner." Then, after exhorting him to be an obedient boy and to pray to God to keep lattier and mother in good nealUi, she condnues: " Your dear father has never given mc trauble and sorrow, therefore the dear God lias blessed and raised him ibon many, many others, and has made him great and renowned ; so thx dl good people truly esteem him. Now, my dear Augst., I am suie yon will exert yourself lo the utmost to follow your dear father's good example, and become equally good."* ^Vhcn Augustus, after Vvi\% paid her a visit in Frankfurt in 1805, left for Weimar, she gate him the following characteristic testimonial : " I, the undersigned, publicly acknowledge by this letter that Julius .\ugustus von Goeihc, thi: bearer of this, has behaved so well and exemplary during his «»y here that he ai>pears to have inherited the ring in the &ble i° H Nathan the Wise" (by Lcssing) "which make^t him who poMe««i' the beloved of God and man. That this is the case with the obovt- mentioned J. A. von Goethe, ccnilics herewith his loring griiid- mother, Elicabeih Goethe."
She takes the most lively interest in the literary products of to son ; the seed she has sown in his youthful soul now bears ricti fruit. She longs for each of his wotlcs, and when rfie receirtJ one she first reads it by herself, then once more with her friend* ^ in a literary circle where the dramatic works are read inpantaiw their merits discussed. Sb.e notices that her son has adopted wnw
«
I
Gocfhc's Mother.
597
(f bcT peculiar expressions in hb writings. On ihc other hand, she is so bmihar with his works that she often quotes passages (row ihcm in her conrcrsaiions and in her letters. Once site •niles : "Vcs, dear Augst, if I knew where to find Doctor Kauu% manttc, I would come to see you." Another time (October lo, 1805) slic says: "About twenty years ago Mcphi&topheles sang in
l>r. Faust,
Th« (l«u olit Roman leolm. How (loc» il boll] logcthcr?
At present one may justly ask this question : The prince electors and the princes run lo and fro, the world is upside down, |)ahccs and thrones do slope their heads to their foundations, all is turning like a whirligig, the time isout of joint. One does not know with whom 10 side; but evcr>'thing will be set rit;hl again, for the dear Father aboi'e wisely prevents the trees from growing into heaven." Her ioterett increases as more works axiwc from Weimar. When she had received the poems she wrote (April 17, 1807): •' I rend the first volume of the lyrical poems over and over a^oin. The three riders who come forth from under the bed, in the ' Wedding Song,' I sec bodily; 'The Uride of Corinth,' ''I'he Bayadere," the (original) beginning of the 'Set Voyage '—' For d.iys and nighUdiyship stood frighted,' 'The Magician's Apprentice," the ' Katcaiclier,' and ail ihe other ]>oems make mc inexpressibly happy." Kot content with what is sent her, she repeatedly asks her son to forward new poems. She tells him, " Vou do a good work to send mc new products ; there is a great literary dearth here, and your fountain with its fulness of water will quench my thirst." "We thank Clod," she continues, "for the crumbs iliat full from your table,"' She ii quite taken up with '• Wilhelm Meinter," for which she sends lier liciuty thanks, saying " that was once more a joy for me; I ftli thirty yean younger, saw you and the other bt>ys making prepar.itions for the puppet-show in the third story, the elder Mors wliippinj; Kliic Hclhmann, and other reminiscences. If I could fully describe my feelings, jou would grcally rejoice at having caused your mother 10 enjoy such a happy day. Also the romances which Rcichardi has set to music gave me great pleasure, especially the one beginning with the words—
What h«ar I lound ouuide the ptc. What voicci 00 the bridge ?
irhich I sang the whole day. Once more, then, my very bc»t thanks." 1, above all, she loves the epic idyl, " Hermann and Dnroihca ; " (fiKlsil is a rellertion of her 0«n soul, and she writes: " It is .i piece without e()ual. I carry it witli mc as a cat does hci
Goethe's Mother. 599
. * ^^^ others pell mel) in the I'mter, enjoy themselves,
^uthor, and cheer him. . . . Remain then faithful to
■ - (. "^bits, to Gciman letters ; for if Komao letters continue,
*V years German will be neither spoken nor written, and
^ Schiller will become classic authors like Horace, I.ivy,
ni
! *^d ihe others, for where there is no language there i» no nd A ^''^ ''^^ professors will pluck you to pieceit, interpret, - ^tti you into tlie Iieails of the schobra. Therefore S|>eak,
* *1(! print in German as long as it is pojsilile." ' ' "e glorioux works of her son surioiind also the mother with a
I
"> which many would like to basic. She becomes not only a ''* 0/ adoration, which is due to the mother of Goethe, but is ^^ troubled for recommendations to her son by people who j^*l to Weimar. Students, teachers, actors, opera singers, and ^*Ti come to her with the same request. Once Goethe, having ''J^d these intruders 100 many, complained to his mother that she **! not the courage to refuse anyone ; he said that whilst she *ed those people a box on the ear, they got a hole in the head. (Jt the goodness of her heart and the pleasure to serve others are 'defatigable, and she expects the like of her son. There comes an Uikeie()er, and begs her to ask her son to help him to recover the MHiey somebody owes him who has wealthy brothers in Weimar, iJiC humorously writes : " If you can be of any assisUmcc to your Ountr^mnn in thi.s affair, he will relate it to the 'burgher captains,' " Ulusion to 3 I-rankfurt local comedy of this title) "and that class f people who drink wine at his inn will praise their gracious mntiyman." Above all, the professors who pass through Frankfurt isit Frau Rat. Concerning these visits she writes her son an riginal and characteristic letter in October i8o;: "This autumn lir was rich in professors. As a great part of your renowned name \ reflected upon roe, and these people imagine 1 have con- ibuted something to your great talent, they come to have a good mk at inc. Then I do not put my tight under a bushel, but on a iDidlestick, Certainly I assure the [wople that I have not con- ibuted in the least to what made you a great man and poet, )r I never accept the praise which is not due to me. More* rer, I well know to whom praise and thanks are due, for I
K* The good Fiiu Kai w*s not awire ihtt whtt sfa« called Ccroikn wer« ^Dally Lilin tellers, lod bud only iMeived their elaborate .4i«pc firnn the looks of (he middle Jgu, In ipite of hers aod Prince Biimarck'i picdilcction v the io-caltcd Gennan typtw 1 think il wuuld be bcttci \l Ihe Komao cbftrueteM iptneded the Cicnnan, both in tehc>ol3 and pmciical life.
Coeikes Mother. 601
lay her han<ls iUly in her Ixjx She is sixty ytats o]d, still finds someihing to do. She has four hobbies, as she herself ics : " Firstly, making l)iussc1« lace, which I have li:amcd in my days, and which gives mc childlike pleasure ; secondly, piano- ing, then reading books, and lastly chess, a game which I had n up, but have lately taken to again." She reads the best lOrs, whereby she gains considerable knowledge ; is ac(|uainied I ancient and modern literature ; quotes chapter and verse from
fible, her favourite book, and even understands the Hebrew Once she corrccu Luther's translation. This makes the say to Cain : "Why do you disguise your face?" But she id out that according to the Hebrew original it is "Why hy countenance fallen " (as the English version has il). She n alludes to Creek history and mythology, and is familiar It Shakespeare and the modern pocis, and with delight ({uolcs n her great son's writings. She diilikcs the common pleasures of senses, more especially the bantfuettings which were in vogue, he god of mo*t of my countrymen," she writes, " is their belly ; ' arc veiiublc epicures. The finest academy for painting and *'ing mi);ht be built for the money spent on these carousals, ^ resemble ennui like one drop of water the other," And yet in ' of her dililike of such social gatherings, all people, high or low, ''cr interesting. In a modest way she describes herself tn a letter •■ daughter- in. law, " I am," she says, " thanks be to God, very I do not understand how it i.*:, but I am loved, esteemed, and * a/ter by so many people that 1 am often a riddle to myself 'Q not know what they admire in me ; enough it is so, and 1 "»is human goodness, thank CJod, and spend my days in con- "•*t." In July 1799 the King and his celebrated consort, I.uisa of Pru!*sia, came 10 rrankfurl. The latter sent her bro- "^o Hereditary Piince of Mecklenburg, to l-rau Rat to invite her [ ths Queen. Frau Rat reports to her son as follows: "The ■^ame about noon and dined with mc at my small table. At "^^k he titove mc to the 'I'axische Palace in the royal carriage, eys standing behind us. The Queen conversed with me of ^tmes, remembered the pleasure she had in my former house *^ jiancakes, Jtc. Dear me, what effect such things have upon
CThis visit was at once reported in all coffee and wine in all large and small societies. During the first few days eUc was talked of but that the Queen had invited Frau Rat "^ait through the Htrcdiiary Prince of Mecklenburg. Vou cin ^ how I was queationed to tell all that had been tran^cied ; ccLxxt. NO. 1931. s s
|»^e
Goethe's Mother. 603
age. or sex. I am fond of people, and everyone fecU that immediate!)'. 1 pass without pictcDsion through the world, .ind that gratifies men. I never act the moralist towards anyone, always seek out the good that b in them, and leave what is bad 10 Him who made mankind, and who knows best how lo round ofT the angles. In thia way I make myself happy and comfortable. ... I enjoy life while its lamp is still aglow, seek no thorns, and calch the small Joys ; if tlw door L* low, 1 stoop down ; if 1 can remow the stone out of my way, I do so ,: if it is too heavy, I go round it ; and thui oery day I lind something which gladdens mc ; and the comcr-slune, the belief in God, makes my heart glad and my countcnantc cheerful."
From this, her happy nature, arises her calmness and fearlessness, In spile of the continuous ^Tur troubles and the presence of hostile soldiers quartered in her house, she keeps up her spirits and n <i( good courage. Her son inherited this Olympian calm from lier and his dislike of unnecessary agitation and emotion. Amid the roar of cannon at the bombardment of Verdun his mind is occupied with Ihc study of colours. Her sunny nature shrank from storms. " I hate perturbation of mind," she said, " more than all the sam euhUes in the grand I'~rcncb army, who could not disturb one of my nights' rests. I have, thank God, never been timid, and now 1 do not wish lo grow so ; we must wait and see ; in the meantime we will accept the good days and not grieve before the time ; one moment may change all. I'car is infectious like influenza, and always makes the plural out of a singular ; it still does as it did four thousand years ago (1 Kings vii. 6) ivhon the Syrians said : ' \jq. the King of Israel hath hired against us the kings of the llitlilcs and the kings of the Egyptians.' I'hcy said kings instead of king, their fear imagining il»e danger to be greater than it really was. In order, therefore, not lo let my head be turned, I avoid having cowardly fear as my com- panion. It \> a common place where every goose and every hare- l>rained fellow may eoniribuic his mite of tittle-tattle. As a child lo whom the nur^e has told a ghost story is afraid of a white sheet on the wall, so people here believe everything, if it is only sulTicienlly terrible, but whether it is true or not they do not investigate.' Then continuing, she gives an amusing incident of fear. " Krau Elisc llcthmann came in hot haste and breathless into my bedroom in the night of Januarj- 3 (i795)i crying, 'Dear Kaelin, I roust acqtiaint you with the great danger threatening us. The enemy arc bombarding Mannheim with fiery balls. The commander of the town has said that he carmol hold out
SSI
Goethe's Mother.
605
ic and ethical interest of man. In her are fulfilled the ; words of the greatest work of her great son : —
All things transitoiy, But as symbols are sent ; Earth's insulfideTicy Here grows to event j The indescribable. Here it is done. The woman-soul leadcth us Upward and on !
JOSEPH STRAUSS,
606 7^
THE GREAT TALKERS OF THE FRENCH REl^OLUJJON.
b Two Pasts. — Pah IL
IF one BD^ KEse » co^hb llirJifM to a tundes, fierce ami wwnSir i^cc, TjOenmBd ^^ sn^ be fikened to ■ ^— K oc des End nr, Kq^ «f luomnuit, vigilant (rf e]«i WKZTi rftoras cue <£ GSa^ aad ^^ger. While die tigei &lb «i^ X jccaj ral z bucai ~c:t ?:£s advcisuy, and rends him vilh CTDci ^Lincs. ±e :3r ktst^is x:^ tnes, deaUng Toonds that fester m; itLfli.nf. =.;cxt. ri^T it* =:c absi^irir &aL And irfiile yrT.Tiii:7. :::r=--_ki. k:oc = :i: f^Tstoc: cf cosibait, snd ftustraled is i;a t-t^ 5=r:iM ihu in=*d iKa, TaHeyiand, cat-tQ^e, hid i.3SAf i: r.-CMTS i:i Mcr=t axjts. daxda^ out stealthily « ^■rctirTE:.— scTT^i. :: =irc ^nh 7i;:scced claws some nnsuspediiq! ETO-T-cs^ '!:■■=. tc^^^ifs I s^iscli apclopse to the cat for » c^^o-'^s^c "iix: s =: c:^z j:^e=t : tbe cai ij not nnsusceptibte of i5!T-i:iTa.~j ::=^-c^di«. z^i his bees knows to ding to its master oi i^srsg »::i :j:>±^j SiiizT : vbems Talleyrand was dead to ill «a± Ker^p — rr ersrr :"j?"~.; be; thai of self-interest— he was so iujxittffi. ic sei; jisrosc. so wbc"y a creature of the intellect He i*i =in: ;CLT ar r-nssrcs. be tic even no prqudiccs. WTien one re.3lij '^f b; wis i= sccdeaicc Micis:er of the Directoiy, of the ij=:ri:rs. re :ie XeK:t3i>2, of" tbe July Monarchy, one readilj ;::<iisr5ci:3i5 is ^iiratrer : i» elaborate analrais of it is needed.
TiTi^TTt^i hLi bsen csfsed as intdlect m^e man — intellect riSifi ;.- Tbi ircr^ rc-w^— twcaT:se in him this faculty dominated i-fjc iZ .-cbiT^ Kj w^ iifis*; wixh r^ariy every phase of it, esicepi :^; ~~-^ — ;;-t" ; »;Th ci<i«Ta:;oo. irony, diplomacy, administratiit n.TiB.-.r'. :Se ;r:fCe~ c; sil«ice. d^ intellect of the situauoiiilhe -.rc^ ji^- .~c :h? i:.y i=>i cc tie i^moirow, the chann, the subtlety, ir)i "i^ -^Ty .■^.'W cc' ^teC-ec^ As a master of words, as a sayer of c>.-ii ;r.-^ be b»s iarc> been egr^lied. His career b^an wth a },fx ttte -. ^ E^ctgdxs SR TnAi& 119 H. mutj, and in the most
The Great Taiktrs of tlu French Revolution. 607
embarrassing conjunctures he cxtricalcd himscif from his difEculty, or put the Laughers all on his side by some prompt and lively repartee. He was present in the circle of Msdime du Barry when its habituh were rchling their affairs of gallanlty. Perceiving tiwt he kept a rigid silence, the favourite said to him, " And you, Monsieur I'Abb^, you uty nothing?" "Atas! madame, 1 was making n melandioly rcfiection." "And what was it ?" "That in this city of Paris, madaine, it lit eauier to gain women than abbeys." Thcuw/ was repeated to Louis XV., and procured the young Abbi: dc P^tigord hii first preferment.
After the campaign of Dresden, Napoleon perceiving him (he was
then Princ* of Uenevcnto) at his IcviJc broke out violently : " WTiy
have you come here ? To show mc yout ingratitude ? You affect to
I bdong to a party of opposition? If I were dangerously ill I would
i take care that you died before mc." Talleyrand, with infinite grace
and composure, replied : " I have no need, sire, of such a warning to
address to Heaven the most ardent wishes for the prolongation of
your Majesty's days.™
K His fare was like 3 mask, impassive, inscrutable ; and to the
Hviolcnl outbursts of the Emperor he opposed tliis intlexiblc visage
^und an immovable silence. On one occasion, however, when
^Hncending the stairs one d.iy, after ex|)eriencing a scene of this kind,
^ne was moved to whisper to his neighbour : " What a pity that no
great a man should have been so badly brought up \ ' Marshal
Lannes declared that if, while speaking to you, he was kicked in
the back, his face would show no sign of the injury offered to him.
"I admire," said Louis XVIIL, "your influence overall that has
^taken place in France. How did you contrive to break down, in the
St place, the power of the Directory, and, later, the colossal power
Uonaparte ? " " Egad, sire, I assure you I have had no part in
(uch matters ; but there is something inexplicable in mc that brings
ifortune to the governments which neglect mc."
After his speech against the war with Spain in iSi8, all Paris
concluded that he would be deprived of his of}iccs,and probably sent
rnto exilt " Arc you not thinking," said the King, "of going into
ihe country ? " " No, sire ; at least not until your Majesty goes to
Fontaineblenu, when it will be my duty to accompany you." " No,
no, that is not what 1 mean ; I a.sk if you are not alwut to retire to
your estates ? " " No, sire.' " Ah ! well, tell me, how far is it from
Paris to Valen^ay?" "Sire, it is — fourteen leagues farther than
from Paris to (ihirnl ■' (the royal nftige previous to the Restoration) —
a menace which Louis understood : and TaJIeyrand remained.
q[ so nuny tciu mcti should
not really his awo. And
fathcicd tfacm upon him in
r. Tins, Harel, in the Mai*
^taaSK, " L* parole a d^ doanie
'(^wech was giren to man to
he visited to redaim it, but with
i^m 3C. 6e VipiBe Tdfeyn&it borrowed the happy pfaias^ 'TtehvBi^itf Aeoid." Aad foxB tfae Cbeniier de Puui be
brww en lie impofitic conduct of the * TfcEf Ibic leamed Dothing, and for-
an tbe jodidsl moider of the Due
it is a btnader,^ TallejTand's
I to htm the emphatic adwe,
'AMtf A- iSK : Aoa^ l«d Chesterfield, it is tm^
: «f tis *— ^ " Modentian, and no vivacity ! '
1: B agd liot de Dacdoi Rewixll, in a fit of ngc, fltmg an inl- samd X TxLevaBu's head, esdainki^ ' VHe im^rf, yoor mind is u oasfcef as ?c:iie- ieis.^ The viuy <3ipplc soon took his reveD|e- "B^vax ^oHi c:ne?'saxl Revbcfl, one day. ** Ciossvafs, « .«■ xc' ic=£od TaJiHTaBd Rewbefl sqainted.
TaLnssn^s «uci naiet tb EnqxR and after the Restontjon, Bee :dK&e cc ilie Rennksko. hm stood tbc test of time — the best ct aX Kodsacoss. *■ Good tasce,' be saud, speaking of NapoleoD, *- B hs Tv^-ma' eaegnr : be wookl destroy it, if be ooold, by cuinon- si».t'
'^ He «il CBC," be aid, co ancsber occasoo, " by di^usting me «x^ 3ise cxciiiE' jcnss f jr «4ikfa I hare had all my life such i fK^Jecbfc' *'Hcwso?' *- By his cannan-baQs.''
HeJefibeiHcksoi'lasdxvsiqun Uaret,DiicdeBas5Uio. "In al 1^ wnL* s»id be, '^ I knov bat one man stopidcT than Muet' * And wis is he?' '■The Doc de Bassana' After the disasten <*" de K.]ssaa ei|vdeifn, be cnjaimcd, ** Tbey said that all the ■ttsral was ks. asad bene b llarct back again!'
Ix M<ac«aineiii£t« a randidite for cmploymoDt, the man's friend vnuekxc. -^ Eve^tiodT Kict bve." ' I do not see the necessity,' Kfted Ti&Tixad. rBoi ths answer bad abcady been given bf >L D'ArjjeBKs k> ^k Abb; DesJontaincs, and Piron has verified it]
0»f ct Itts UTVcnx taipes was M. Simonville, a man dis- taifps^icti bt be cotei^ ^tccd and sclfishncis. " ^ow 13 Simon-
The Great Talkers of the French Revoluliott. 609
villc?''bc asked, one day, or a common fiicnd. "Oh, very well, uiODKigneur, he ix even growing fatter." " Simonville growing fai } 1 cannot understand it." "Why not.monseigneur?" "Nc^ I can't understand what inicresi Simonville has in growing fat I "
Another time, somebody observing, "At least, in the Upper Chamber there arc consciences." "Yes," replied Talle>iand, "a good many. Simonvillc h;K twa"
Who can forget his audacious speech to Madame de Sincl, who was suspected of having (lainted henelf as the heroine in her romance of " Dclphine," and Talleyrand in llie character of the greedy and artificial Madame de Vernon? "They tell mc that both you and I are in tlie book, madame, ititguistd as femaUs,"
II is a well-worn story how that he, when .icated between the I>c Stai-l and Madame Rifcamier, behaving with his accustomed gallantry, but betraying his partiality towartU the latter, replied to Madame de Staiil's embarrassing question — "If wc two fell in the water, mon- seigneur, whom would you first assist ?" " Oh, madamc, yon know how to swim 1 "
This, says M. du iJlcd, is a charming Tei>ly, but not equal to thai of a Bavarian Count to a beautiful Madame de V., with whom he was greatly smitten. " If your mother and I," said she, " fell into yonder liver, whom would you succour first ? " " My mother," he answered, but, looking with emotion at Madame V.,he added, "To save you first would be to save myself."
" Do you know," said Talleyrand, referring to his inseparable friend and confident Montron, " do you know why I like him ? It is because he has so fow |irejudices."
(When Madame Ibmlin reproached Montron with his devotion to Talleyrand, the former replied, " Who would not love him ? He is so vicious.")
The Ablx: Dcsrenaudes refused him a vote on the ground thai his conscience was opposed to it. " Wc don't ask you for your conscience," explained Talleyrand, " but for your vote:."
At one of the first sitiings of the ConstiiucDt Assembly, when its TDcmbcTS were prepaiing to elect a president, Mirabcau led off Ibc debate, and indicated to his colleagues the tiualifications in cha- racter and capacity which the office reifuired, in such wise that it was inpossibte not to recognise himself in the portrait he was tracing. "There is only one detail wanting to comjilete M. de Mirabeau's sketch," observed Talleyrand — "that the piesident should be pock- marked." [Mirabeau bad suffered severely from sm:ill|)OX.]
AVben Charles X. said that for a l^ing who was menaced tlicrc was
6io The Gentleman's Ma^zim,
no choice b«tiiecn the Ihronc and the scsfTold, " Your Majesty," be said, "forgets the poot-dtaise.'* To a person who asked him hu opinion on a cenain subject, he said, " I ? Oh, I ha^-e one in tbc morning and another in (he afternoon, but I have none at all in the evening."
A^'hcn his Triend Mootion was taken ill, and replied to hi« is- quiiieS) "Mon aini,Je seas Its lourment 4t i'enfer" (My Tricnd, 1 frtl the lorniCRts of hell), Talleyrand replied, * QtieU dS-jitl" {\\'\a\\ already ?) [But this repartee ii much older than l^lcyrand's time.]
Ora ceruin bdy, whose dreu, or want or it, provoked renuuk, he observed : " Out, elU til bflk, iris ie/ie ; matt, four la ioilitte, ida tnuBtnte trof tard (ifinif trvf tit."
Sidney Smith tells us that, talking in Talleyrand's presence to )>i> brother Bobus, who was just bc^nning hb career at the bar, he txA, " Mind, Itobus, when you arc Lord Chancellor I shad expect om of your best livings." " Yes, my friend," rejoined Bobus, "bol Int I shall make you commit nil the basenesses of whicli prieus at capable," " \Vhal an enormous latitude ! " ( Que/Ie htitudt itioniil\ cried 'ralleyrand, shrugging his shoulders and throwing up his btadt
The following .inecdote is told by the late Lord Dalting aid Bulwer:— For scver;tl days Talleyrand saw, without rccognisiBg iin, a well-dressed iwrson, who stood bare-headed and bowed veff lo* as Talleyrand mounted ibc steps of his coach, " And wlio arc^ myfricnd?" he said at last. "lamyourcoachmaker, moiueigneo'.' " Ah, you are my coachraaker; and what do you want, my «ach- maker?" "I want lo be jiaid," said the coachmakcr, incdil^ " Ah, you are my coachmaker, and want lo be paid ; you sfatll bt paid, my coachmaker." " And when, monseigneur ? " '■Hum,' answered the statesman, looking at him closely, and settling himtclf comfortably in his carriage, " you arc very curious! "
Statesmen and wits leave their characters beliiiM] ihcm to be the playthings of opposing critics ^shuttlecocks whicli they bandy to 3iul froif Ifurgri. Over the grave of a man like Talleyrand the voice o( dispraise will be louder than that of panegyric. Chateaubriand said of him: " Had he been a plebeian, poor and obscure, with only tii immorality and his drawing-room wil, we should never have heard of him " — which I lake leave to doubl. ".Sui|> off ihe di.-£Tadcd bishop, the debased grand seigneur, and the married priest, and whit remains ? His reputation and his successes have belonged to these three depravations." Kut this seems sony criticism. What is the use of talking of what Talleyrand would have been if he had not been Talleyrand?
Tfte Great Talkers of the French Revolutmi. 6 1 1
to)
MsdUme de Scac^l, who did not (.-ind lind no reason ootnpares him to those little toy-men we give to childrea With their headi of cork and limbs of lead, you itisy upset or rerersc tlicm, aad theyalmys find ihcir feci.
Mignet's judgment is more favourable. "Napoleon," he layi, "had the genius of action; Talleyrand that of counsel. The one projected et'er^'ihing that iUKf. gnnd, the other avoided whatever ms dangcrou«; and the creative jiasiiion of the one was hagipily tem- pered by the slow circumspection of the other. It i.t probjiblc. or at least possible, that, if Napoleon would have more frixiucntly adopted his advice, he would have escaped his worst calamities ; but then, had hedone so, he would not have been Napoleon ! " I confess I have little pitienoe with these assumptions of historians, which always proceed on the untenable ground that if somebody had not been somebody, then, &c.
Sa>'*M. Adolphe Thiers: — "M. dc Talleyrand had a moral merit, that of loving peace under a master who loved war, and of allowing him to sec it. Clifted with an cxr^uiiite taste, with unfailing tact, and a useful indolence, he could render real service to the Stale only by op]M)singtolhe FirstConsul'saffluenceof words, of pen, and of action his perfect moderation as well as his penchant for doing nothing.
Says Saintc-Beuve: — "The moral ptoblcni which the |>erson.ilily of Talleyrand in>i>!ves, tn so far aa it ix original and extraordinary, rests wholly upon the singubr and unique combination of a superior intellect, a clear good sense, an extjuisite taste, and a consummate corruption, covered by disdain, laiisfr-alier, and indiFTcrcncc." Again, in a severer mood, he calls him a diminutive of Mazarin: " He is only a finer edition," he adds, " more elegant, and embellished with tele, of the Abb^ Dubois."
Talleyrand was a man of his epoch; he was made by tlicage which he helped to make. This may seem a paradox ; hut I ttiink the reader, on reflection, will perceive that it is the expression of an obvious truth. Finally, uc may say of him that he had many ideas and no convictions; a good deal of wit, but nm a iiariiclc of imagination.
Among the Great Talkers of the Revolutionary period I must pass OYCr, from want of spare, the Manjuis dc ]JouR!crs(i738-r8is), who wrote ^y verses and gayer tales, wasting upon trifles' an intellect capable of belter work, and, with a heart full of generous sympathies, doing nothing to make the world belter; and Comic Alexandre de
Tbe ChevaliM de Boaniud calk Ihem : C«t jolii rieni^ Que tu produis ivee «i«u)ce.
1
6ii Tie GenilematCs Mt^asme,
TiDr (1164-1816), who wrote bitteily in the "Actes des Kgilaa^
soied Louis XVL with more hcHicstj than most of bis fellon^ ns
■ftervuds Chamberiain to the King of Fnissia, and tenninated b; hb
own nnhapiir band a life whidi had made fining and gallantry its chief
occQpatioos. His scandalous " M^moires ' glitter with flashes of ■
keen and often cjnical wit — with monlant sketches of some of the
pcindpal pcxfonnen in the strange drama of his time — with lirelj
anecdotrt and livriier repartees. Then there are the two S^gun :
Comte Loois-Plulippe de S^or, who died in 1 830, aged serenty-sereoi
and lus brathcr, Vicomte JoaqA- Alexandre, who died in 1805, aged
only focty-niae. Both were men <rf talent, men of honour, and fine
laDun. The Vicomte wrote some pleasant things in prose and vene:
awaedie^ /rwrfcf, oords, cAnumfr, opens. Hisprinctpal worki)
■*Lcs Fcmme^* poblished in 1803. Not a few of his songs ire
fangbt with witty intentioD (** Le Temps et L'Amour," fat tnstana;
which is wdl known); but be coald also strike with success a icnti-
nceul dtxird. I Tcuureto quote a spedmen:
Vcei IK r^aiea pom mll^ a la glMK,
M^G VTAt CSRU WTTa pSTUNU TO» pU.
Al^ec vda an temple de mMaoirc, ^^Te; l*boDce=:, icudt ne m'oubiia pas.
A T^^« de^;«n coBine a ramouT fidclc, Chis^u ^ ^■^ire, CTi;cz le irepas ; I^iz* Ics :ve:btttt ci: itKcaeur roni appdle, rS — ;—" locf : mail ne m'aubliei pas.
Vae aiTt, ixla* I iai* tats peines cnielln ;
_' c ' la Taix a=;a::: <;'>:< les comhals :
Y;cs T TOTc: 'jsx de bcaiitcs nouTctln ; ^'.:cf jec r«L£ei : sail ae rn'onbliei pax,
O ■^::ai Tliiim « TCCS taincrei sans cesse ;
ViTf K r.\=i.'« i=:Trjc: fsr^out tos [os, Tt T,-s Kow* farie: la oocet incsse ; >rr^ lc=esj : — -■ se ic'ocbliei pas.
Is v'ji ii J- ,-c i SK?ir, the leider will accejrt, perhaps, the folloving
>^ ~iZ ^^trsjcc :
V .1 ttii-e E*. ;<ar. ;; l.C'^ Gioit's vap,
V • $&:. ^fi^ K-II )^jl". oxauz:. share iliy lol : vV. ;-. i^i -««l :^ sTci:^ m' banian ptais« ; S-vi. K-co^ i =lee^: ; Yc: .^ Kjt^el me not !
T,- ,": 7- 1* r.- i.-TC -,b.-c'i ii;;i5J be ; 1 -Ti rw-v-t ia; sr:i ;ie ^.-'Aatfti lot ;
^^i^iitr^ni « J ^ lis: ^ ict^es Bc Bi.< !
The deal Talkcri of Ihe P'rench Revohtiion. 6 1 3
Alu far me ! iinc« in my ntlTetinf!! dire TcMc do I Uxi not leu lliin wir, t wi>l. New beaulin thou wilt everTuhere adnnte, And Ihey will iinile : but oh, fuigrt mc not I Vet, thoH will oonqiitr alwaj-*, for 'ti» meel Both M«tt ftnd [.uvo tlioiilil consiaol thicc llij' \n\, or thy uuccu the Iniaiicution (nccl Jojiiut pietcfvc ; but oh, foipci me not I
The Comic I^uis Philippe plied a more serious pen, and pubiislini a " History of the Rdt'n of Frederick Wiiliani II., KingofTruiaia"; "A Hisloricat Decade, or Review of Europe from i;86 lo 1796"; "Contes Moraux ct Politicjues "; and " I'cnsifcs, Maximcs ct Reflections." A distinguished statesman and diplomaliic, he was Tecoticiled 10 the Empire, and accepted office under Napoleon us n senator and councillor ofSiaic and Grand Master of the Ceremonies. But the Vicomte remained unmoved by Ihe Imperial blandish men Is, Knd refused the colonelcy of a regiment which was ofTered to him. He dubbed hU brother St'gur te Cirimonieux, adding, with a certain maticiouuiess, " I am Segur tarn drmenie."
But his bioiher had (juite as lively a wit. In 1789, white at Vienna, he dined with l*rince de Kauniii;, who suddenly broke out against the Marquis de Noailles : "I have received, Monsieur I'Ara- bassadcur, the blest news from France, where the>' arc plundering And massacring more than e%er ; ;ill heads are turned topsy-turvcy ; ihc countr>' is given over to madness and frenzy." The ambassador was silent, as befitted his dignity; but 8<*gur, younger and more impatient, could not restr.iin his anger." " It is true, my prince, that France just now is suffering from a very severe fever. It is said that the malady i* contagious, and that it came to us from Brussels." [Belgium had recently rebelled against the yokcof vVuslrian domi- nation. ]
In 1 ;9J, when he was at the court of Berlin, the King questioned him abruptly : " Do the French soldiers continue to refuse all dis- cipline?" S<!gur's reply was felicitous: "Sire, our enemies shall judge of that."
Napoleon, on one occasion, reproached his Crand M,ister of the Ccremonict with being behind lime. "Sire," said he, bowing, " I could undoubtedly offer j-our Majesty a million of e\cuse»; but just iww one is not always able lo make one's way in Ihe streets. I had the misfortune to get involved in a ruck of kings {un (mbarras de fvish and could not exuicaie m>-self easily; ihat, sire, was the cause of my want of punctuality. " Eveiybody smiled at this delicate bit of flattery, icmembcrin); tbai at ibai moment thcic werciix kings in Paris.
_ /*. _-
"^Ttzli-K^x s ^firszime.
"Vour
"~r.i- M. i; E.',vrcwj;
- ;■- ■■-■:--:■ -r .::;:;: r;- .:y. :hi; i';:jcel
.'■..-.- " --..-. ^.--f T...;.i :..-■. ^^ or.i.- of :he i ■ ■ ' i '■ ■ ■■--'■■■''-■■-- \ :f :;^e /;.-'.:-jy:-, ::;ca
-"""-•■''■"- - ■ -- --' ■ 1 ."- c; Locke: .T.s=oi
-■- - - .'---"":■ ■ '.--.".;?; :..-^~\z: :'js thtr.-.;s:> o!
._.--- ' — ..---■ ~ -■ - ^■'-i." ^-■.r... r ii 1 .1 iijji'iiy 01 ",
: ■ -' ' - - -^ '■■ - '•■-■- ^^ ■■■-"■;; 'Cjor.ttd :-.io>: c'.t-.irl;
" -"■■■- ■■ '- " - ~. --r..:_-'js ,-.:-.: :;-..i^r,;r.Ci::';: c'r.ora
■■:--.■■-■---"-■" '.-.J.---- i -;;.jy c; ■ijr.-.r.i'.iiatis;:' iin'.TUi .i :.;:.■■.■.;=-" iN..;; :r. a.:c;-jr.; c:' hi* i-a!iiph!e:s ag ..r.i --'-'■- '""^ ■"-'■ - ■:vtr .;: l;bo::_v. even of its chitii , - : .:: -'---■ -ii--^" c: tr.e s;ve7r-.:ncnti he iirefcrred a< .■..^- ':• -"-:".-■;■ I- «-s o:i hU return fro:ii or.e of his c
I ;..-:. r.-..r.-:;r.; :.:i \[-,.:< ::, >U.ii:r.c .:e Bcjjhnrr..i-.«. whtte i^t ■!: jr. ;--.. --■ •'■- -^"-er tir..:. scinial w;i i>lentiful, he sjij, "1 at iOi Ely r.:iili-oii[ (.n dry bu-iJ."
The Gnat Tall-ers of the French Revolution. 615
Louis XV. addressed him: "What have you done in England, Monskur de Lauraguaia?" "Sire, 1 have learned to ihink {p€nser)\ " What, horses ? " icplied the King, quibbling un the word fiamtr, "to groom," which, as the wcllinsirucied render knows, is identical in sound v.-'tXh ftitstr, " to think. "
Thf Duo was a wann admirer of our English Constitution, and urged Louis XVI. to adoi>t it in France.
llic stoiy of Ln&yeite Is well known. If it be not. the fault does not rest with the gentlemen of the pen, for it has been told over uhl over again, and generally with an enthusiasm and in a spirit of pAncgyric which, I confess, seem to me something extravagant There arc the original " M^moires cl Corrwpon dance," in six volumes, publislicd by his family ; there arc Rcgnaull \Vaiin'8 " Mt-moircs i)our servirii I'Hisloirc dc La Fayette" ; there is Chatcauncufs sketch " Le Wncral La Fayette " ; and there arc sketches and studies by Lamanine, Sainte-Bcuve, Dc Lum^nie, Saint-Marc Ciraidin, Tliicrs, Mignet, and others. All these sliow him as one and the same: The raiuilic of an idea, a transcendental egotist, an eighteenlh-eeniury Don Quixote, a man who wns equally capable of the greatest absurdities and the finest actions, the Grandison of the Revolution, a hero amon;; fnic gentlemen, and a fine gentleman among heroes. When tlic Revolution sank bleeding and exhausted at the feel of Napoleon, Lafaj-ette still maintained his exalli devotion to liberty. He refused the dignity of senator and the embassy to WasJiington, preferring to pose before men as a prophet of the divine doctrine of freedom — "a copy, precious and almost unique, without blot and without errata, and for cpisraph the J'tViri.x cama diii plactiit.' Ycl the genius of the great conqueror dazzled him. He admired hint profoundly, though it b true he did not envy him, believing himiclf to be inspired by a much nobler and loftier ambition. Nai>o]eon understood him thoroughly, in his weakne» s.% well as his greatness ; and recognised tliat the best way of preventing him from undertaking an open opi>osiiioit was by imlulging his vanity in tlie opposition of the telt-a-liu. One day he discussed with him his intentions respecting the rehabilitation of the priesthood. " Lafayette intenuptcd him to say, with a laugh, 'Confess that your only object b to break the little phial' (used m the coronation ceremonial). * You laugh at that little jihial, and i also,' replied Napoleon ; ' but, believe me, it is important to us at home and abroad to make the Pojic and all those people declare against the legitimacy of the Bourbons.'-'
Anoihci time, when the First Consul sout^lit to tickle bis vanity
4
of pUnolL
of dK luucd be old Bt laritfocxKT. Aiidtbc r cf dK csEBona " of tbe Km- 1 be R^&d ID Kapoleon, "A ftte Icfk; diK iBipri^al!' Libert]', m mpcaaUt but ncorered finn Ac ThcB be ictiradtD a tedcMOB of silent and func laowMdilmiL "Everfbodr -Iji£ij«de. He hu ham tmiqinl he is ; jo, but I kL '■cc :^sk V 3S r=3e :eigi ni be^ ^aia." •^ The sHeax of our
i''i-i tie =^Iii TTi: s zcs'ir^'e ~ ziX larixig A. for fear he will after- ^L-a be LCi^^L zz sLj r,' Azic ■•hi Xipoleoa a man had to go ^ ^e iisc jsrsr ^' lie ilTc-ibe:.
Crl^i;:?*. Trc:; d=Xi.-Tt;cie 17:5-1515, oncnetd not saymuch. K I c-=ii liiiui. X rcT^lsL i=d a n^m of letten, who, by the a;ii r-caa-* :c i-a c;c;e3.p;c3nei, was capable of dwng great :jjT^ ii^ ircai ;':» ^Tccr^iiiijes. One remembeis him chiefly ire ^ie Tm=TC "rcrxre i^i rc*;t=;:5a with which he and his thirty crscxa ie'z:=^t ue cs3^ cc' Mf«iimes the King's aunts in '91, izii 3:e ±E T-i=^;C2^ ^H. whkii be accepted the XlinisUy of War in .;i Tirrizxi tie re^r ce Maiaire de S^cacl he escaped to England ;; zz't ztrz-=J=z :' ir* Tcrncr. cis^;:iscd in \-a2ets clothes, and settled i- ^- i=':cc hU "rccis -Ir. ih* i"-a:-T7 ^■alley of Micbleham, until S;t>: ■ere rfr^;c:«cr:;— ed French society, when he returned to France, i.-i i:-^TCi-i s.;=; -.zzt'Ctut.z dir'ccuiicmissioits under the Empre. ;■; Tii 1 riz=i?i •—'.'itr, ard Xapt'.eon enjojed his conversation, T-. ;>. r.t i^iw >-:w :^ l;r;^:r wi:h a delicate fragrance of compli- rr-ir.-L Oz >.i* txt— rr: :V;=i s^. embassy to Vienna, the Emperor r-.jr;fi ,--.:. -Wc:'_ v'r-'. i^y they of Eiuuen? What say they of 1:^—z~t' Fee a= £=:r«icr 10 put a question is one thing; for* ".-.:r:;r •..■ r^r'v to :: ;-::s mother : but Narbonne was equal to the 5c;;:;t. - .\h, sine." he replied. " some say that you are a go4 Ts t>^: jc:areade\Tl : bu:e\-erjbodY is agreed that you are moce nan : ' His moiber, tbe Duchesse de tsarbonne, had lemaioed
The Great Talkers of the Frenek RtvolutioN. 617
a [ervent BourtxiiuU. The Ein[)cror knew this, but irss not much eoQcerned. "Ah ^a ! my dear Naibonnc,'' said he, with a smile, "il is i»i good for my service tliat )ou should sec yoot mother too often ; I am assured that she docs not love me." " Il is true. Sire ; as yet the has {;ot no fuithcr than admiration."
He accomfunied Kapolcoii on hi.t mad plunge into the Russian wastes— a madness « hich he had vainly endeavoured to )>revent. lie did not long survit'C the disasters in which it involved the Kmpirc.
TheComte Beugnot was a political Vicar of Bray. His method was that of Sosia — Ive devoutly admired hit Amphitryon for the time being. He was always faithful to success— .1 loynl follower of the man in possession ; and felt an etiual pleasure when Napoleon pinched hi} ear or Louis le D^sii^ smiled upon hit Haiteries. I-'or he was wanting neither in intelligence nor in political foresight, and after he had ulcen core of his own interests, was not above looking after the interests of his counirj'. The fact was that during the Terror he had been imprisoned as "a suspect" in the Concicrgcrie ; and the experience was crushing enough to deprive him of all elasticity of toul ar>d independence of mind.
In his capacity of fervent royalist he invented for Louis XVIII., on his restoration, the famous mol—" No more divisions ! Peace and France ; at last I see her again ! And nothing is changed except Uiat there is one Frenchman more ! " His, too, was the ingenious idea of warning Bluchcr, whtn he proposed to blow up the Pont dc Jiina, thai if he c.irriodoui his idea the King would take his stand upon the briditc and be blown up with it. , His, too, the ingenious inscription engraved under the statue of Henri IV. — " Ludovico reduce, H curie us redivivus."
One day, after tbe Restoration, the Comte dc Marcellus proposed to the Cliambcr of Deputies to set up above the tribune an image of Christ, as a witness of justice, reverence, and faith. Beugnot immediately raw and said ; "' I desire to support the proposition of our pious and honoui-iblc colleague, while I beg leave to move an amendment <)Utte in harmony with it. I pray the Chamber to order that beneath the statue slwli be inscribed in letters of gold the words of pardon which He spake when dying—' Father, forgive them ; for they know not what they do I ' "
With this sufficiently sarcastic speech I take leave of Beugnot, who died in 1835, aged seveniy-four.
In the same year, at the age of eighty-four — most of these survivors of the Terror seem to have enjoyed a remarkable longevity — died Rcederer, a man of energetic capacity, economist, joutnahst, bi&toiian,
VOt. CCLXXI. NO. 19J). T T
T'fu Great TtUkers 0/ the French Revolution 619
Who has not enjo)-ed tliat chnraiing story, the *' Meunicr d« Sans- &ouci"of Andrictix? — l-'ran^ois Uuilbumejcan Stanislaus Andricux, to give him all his names. How slulful the vcrsiticauon ! the style, how strongly individual 1 the humour, how delicate and refined ! It is founded on the old anecdote of the honest miller who refused to mU his mill 10 Frederick II. of Prussia, and when threatened with confisciilion, thanked heaven tliat there were judges at Berlin. The King, however, when he learned all ihe liicts, showed a laudable desire not to interfere with Mm, humble neighbour's landmarks.
II mit ITarope «n feu, ce wnt U)c<u de prinec : On icipecie un moulin, on vale une provinw.
This tittle apologue is treated with infinite grace. As much may be said of the other stories, fables, and romances, which will be found in his "CEuvres Choisics," edited by Charles de Ronm. The dramatic verve and spirit of Andricux are equally undenabic \ and his comedies of " I,es Etourdis " and " La Com^diennt; " still retain an honoured place on the French stage. Andrieux began life as an advocate and a politician, but wa* Mroiisly opposed to the Napoleonic i^me, and iiis public career being abruptly terminated by the Imperial tyranny he devoted himtclf to literary pursuits. At the Re:ttoration he wat appointed to acJiuir in the Coll<!gedc France, in iSi6 was admitted to X scat among the Forty, and clotied a happy :md not unpro&pcroux li/e in 1833, at the age of seventy-four.
M, Legouvi- furnishes an nmiiKing sketch of Andrieux as a lecturer. "The day I was present," he says, "he arrived a little lite, and explained that the fault was his housekeeper's. She had allowed the Inilk for his coffee to boil over, and u\isicd a quarter of an hour in seeking a fresh supply. Thereupon he plunged into a thousand details of domestic economy ; of household management, of the cuisine, of the linen-presses — the whole blended with a sketch of the domestic virtues after the mannerofXenophor.'s' Economics.' He discoursed to us at length upon his cat, and <J profos of his cat upon Aristotle, and A prepos of Aristotle upon natural history. Facts led to reflec- tions, reflections were linked to narratives, and the narratives were delicious,"
One day, t^ the height of the dispute between the «o-ealted dasSKtsts and Romanticist*, he lectured upon Racine and Cometlle, censuring those who sought to give to the one a pre-eminence oi-er the other, and demonstrating that they had equal titles to the public admiration. And he concluded thus: "One ought tovay, 'Ilove C«ncillc antj 1 love Kacinc,' u one »ys, ' \ lQ\-e papa and I love
I I
Sx> Tie Gnffrmmm's Mmguim,
TkckruewK saBcsid.aBd loud ^i|4iqk tokoo
■im tfae pMftsac, wlio «si about to quit ihe pbtfbni,
i:flDKBAaia^^ JBd,KttiiiiiisafevstQH,added: Yal
Bai ?i^ 1^ F«b» ve nnble a Ae tngc^ei of N^pomnchic LaaesoBr ii7T9-<S4oi m "Omisa Hulowc,- and " Le LMte jl-icaim.' vx B iiarBfTnal vjgonr wandng m the " Agimemiion,' Ac *Fiiid^BBae,' Mid Ae-Kito -; bm m iL Lanercier'i woA B M fce abscwd a ««K trfhaoan inaerea ■» wril M of artistic oni^, and I SBTPCMC c hM ante chance of oiKaramg a permanent pontkn in ¥i«BC& ds^BtfK fimatiRC. Hi» »oA w%riwhlfr hk f-hjt7(ftiT,ytiii-h ^ ti^MWaii giiiriiHtl by imiwiliu, inbannooioas; a tamre ■Bfoe of Ac grew aod the litde. Talleyxand thon^ him the MK bcI&Mt talka ofbB dm^— Imt tbat is not a lepoutiaB which
HcR sie two aDccdotcs vludi Ohisttate hk ready coobwsi.
One dav, at the Theitre Fian^ai^ „ offico planted himself right ia fccfii cf him, and refused to more when he was couiteously axieased.
- 5i :' Slid U=:«ier, " I have told you that you prevent me frocn seeini: i=e sa^t aad I order you to get out of my way "
-W^ orfer ce: Do you know to whom you are speaking? To a nu= w-a has cair.ed the coloure of the army of Italy ' "
" Very ::ie'.y ; an ass carried Jesus Christ."
A doel en-^cd. in which the officer was wounded in the arm.
To a trlend who was much agitated when one of his pbys was hissed, " Be caIn,. my friend^ said he ; " you will have many mote hisses before long.
He WIS a profound admirer and a close personal friend of Napoleon, until he sealed himself on U.e Imperial throne, when LemeTcier boldly said to him : " Vou amuse yourself in remaking the bed of the Bourbons. Well, 1 predict you wiU not lie in it ten years."
This bold speech cost him the imperial favour, and the perform- ance of his plays was prohibited. Lcmercier made no complaint, but preserved a dignified silenca In i8ia, as a member of the Institute, he was compelled to present himself at the Tuileries. As soon as the Empctot perceived him, he went straight up to him : "Ah, well, Lemercier, when will you give us another of your fine tragedies ?" " Sire, i'attends," was the reply— which, on the eve of the campaign against Russia, sounded like a prophecy.
The last of the Great Talker? of the Revolutioq to whom 1 wish
The Great Talkers of the Fretuh Ret'olulton. 62 1
to direct the reader's nttcntion is Jean l-'ran^ois Ducis (1733-1816), the dramatic pod. The inleUect of Duels was first stimulated into tivitjr by his perusal of Shakespeare ; of whom he became a evoted admirer and an earnest student— seeking to make him known the French by ingenious ada[>taiions, in which he retained the ^nal names and plots, and even whole scenes of his dramas, but ed the classic forms sanctioned by the cxaniptc of Comcille, Racine, and Voltaire. This has been called profanation by some levere critics \ but I see no reason 10 doubt that Ducis acted in perfect good faith, and honestly chose a course whidi hu thoui^ht would reconcile hi« countrymen to the novelty of the Shakcspcirean methods. In ihc same way he served up Ruripides and Sophocles. 'I'hat he was capable of a tolerably strong Hight of his own may be seen in his tragedy of " Albufor," which, however, on its first Teprcscntation,
»waa not successful. ' Though Ducis made no conspicuous figure in the political world, he was at bottom a republican idealist, or a republican with ideals (whichever ihe re.ider prefers). He was a profound lovet of freetlom, and oould not reslrain his indignation at the tyranny of the Terror, Writing to a friend, he break* out into a storm of p-tssionale eloquence: "Why speak to me of writing tragedies? Tragedy stalks through Ihc sirceia. If I set my fool outside my door I stand ankle-deep in blood. I lind it hard to shake the pollution off my shoes when I return ; I say, like M.icbcth, ' This blood will not out,' Farewell, then, to tragedy ! 1 have seen too many Alreuses in saboli to dare to put them on the stage. It is a rude drama this, in which the [leople play the tyrant. My ;fiicnd, its derietitmeritcan take place only in hell. Believe me, Valltn, I would give half of what remain!! to mc of life to pa.<ts the other half in some corner of the world where Liberty docs not appear in the guise of a blood -boltercd Fury."
Campenon relates a pretty anecdote in illustration of Ducis's pious dcv^ion to our great poet : " I shall never forget," he says, " a visit I paid to him at Versailles one cold January- day. I found him in bis bcd-chambcr, mounted on a chair, and busily engaged, with a certain pomp, in arranging about a bust of the English vtschylus an enormous dump of laurel, which had just been brought to him. ' I am at your service immediately," he said, as I entered, and without disturbing himself ; but pcreeiving that I was somewhat surprbed— * Do you not sec that to-morrow is the feast of Saint William, the patron saint of my Shakespeare ^' Then, steadying himself on my shoulder while he got down, and having studied the elTect of hit posy, the only one undoubtedly which the season had been able
I
6T2
of 5fe, aaddnt Inn
* ILllHf Jllll 11 SSTmOtfi
. XUT13ICBX AltUB.
623
THE NAMING OF OUR FOREFATHERS.
*HERC may not be much in a name when It U once Killed, stereotyped, and familiar; but Tium the manufacture of Knglixh names — those of northern England especially— there arc some cry curious ideas to be derived and inferences to be drawn. The acthods of the Red Indian prevailed in England in the days of the Qtagcnets. Our forefathers of the non -territorial grade owed their Dgnoniina to the most diversified of incidents ; incidents of change knd decay, of servitude and degradation, of mirth and laughter, of Bvagc irony and moclting jest. Envy and malice account for some these names, contempt and bitterness for olhcn. When we read Adam VVadinlof, a bachelor who lived at Ansion near Doncaster, I clearly meet with a victim of unrequited affection— "wode," or ad, vnth his passion ; yet in its gratificatton the possible ancestor a dean of the Church. Wlien we encounter Agnes CroslkaU : most probably have a petulant young damsel who sulks and considers herself wronged and neglected by everybody. ITiomas Lady, ofSnaith,isanothercharacterofderision and the very opposite) may presume, of Miss Crostkalf; to his friends he has been a |iinicking sort of person, or, as the old country pccipic Still describe uch, a Miss Nancy — seeking the admiration of all. 'I'hc most complete catalogue of medi.'evai names ever published Ms that supplied by the Poll Tax for Voikshirc, levied in 1379— when England claimed to be In the front rank of civilisation, and actually after France had been concjuered by men named in the fasliion adopted by savages. As a ])ictiire of folk-life the Roll is absolutely uniqtie, entirely without a rival in in.iiruciion. Its general \-icw of association and the ordinary modes of life is most excellent. Its lights and shades of village thought and speech arc maTTcllous, l-'or instance, Robert Thombamc, married and with a family, was de- nominated in a manner which adds dignity to human ingenuity. Beyond recording him the Roll git-esus the names of the stock of ^he men who won Crccy and PoictlciB, and in doing so raises Ihttj
I I
63 \ The GentUmmh Magazine.
heartiest ofUughterat the thotight of the roll-cail of those intrqoi warriors. Fancy ihc «iKor of the King of Bohemia being olW Hill at-'l-Kirkchcndc. and the I'rincc of Wales having the fcathm jircscntcd to him by llob Brcnhousc— both names being actualttio. Think of the Oalltc sir mounding in Ihc moment of nctof y with (he heroic nanKSof Jolm Tup, William Nng, Thomas I'rop, Wiltiam Calfe, Robert Tcwcr {fewtr being a mrord expressing violent eDcrgr), ^Villiain Bug, John Stoute, Sjrmon Tredbatd, W'illtam Charity, Jotin Kuttebrownc, Adam Maksmall, Wjltum Snatchberd, and John Spylwcdc— the last a botch of a tailor who tfailtwfeds, or garments '■ Yet these arc the ver>' names of the men thcmsch-cs, or of their sons ; and more than one of the names must have sounded abo\-c the din of battle CTc England could claim the glory their owners won lor her.
The rank and file of the population of all degrees below the baronage are named in deuil in this curious record ; not. as we lec, in sonorous tenns or in syllables (hat stamp the caMe of \'tit de Verc. Hie fiuUcalves and Otecakcs oT Shakespeare's days hvK their ancestral existence in thb Roll. They were not the sneering dciignaiions of the fet knight's wit, they were the very names of his father's playfellows. Thonias Hulet — whose name must be translated The Owl— and Robert Halter (not an ancient member of the house of Lincoln and Itennet, afUr being the nortli country word for a viper), natives of Armyn, were scarcely likely to be of gentle blood, any more than their neighbours, William Katon, William Faysand, oi William 'i'hecar — the ihatchcr. \Voodcraft or field life gave the proud dctuimi- nations of their ancestral houses — " \MiD drives fat oxen needs himself be fat" Gentle blood had left them to deal with themselves in nulteis personal, with a sexy suggestive rwult. He tt-as evidently a man of worldly knowledge and slyness of thought, if not of courtly attainmcntSi who named Robert Hardfysshe, of Newton. Such men weic amply abundant, as ihe stock of Hardfysshes, 'i'uplambs, Lawdogs, and the like bears witness. These rude ideas, then the stock of men's mindti arc yet living and speaking in this quaint catalogue, which is much more eloquent than any learned dissertation on the social history of the Middle Ages. The uncouth names arc now history speaking in the niomenis of its birth and life ; as such they ha^'e become valuable to an extent never dreamt of by the *' publicans and sinners " of the Exchequer who extorted the groats that were the tax of a peasant
Tlie thing which most strikes thesludent of (his curious list is the idmost complete want of nominal evidence of the men "whose ■ires came over with the Conqueror," as the pedigree-makers delight
The Naming of Our Fo/c/a/Acrs.
in saying. I'cdigrcc-mcn become sadly baffled by the silence of this ux-gathcring. So far :is traces of the cadf^is of great houxeN in grandcui of nomcncbiurc arc cot>ceined it might be argued that as a class there had been no such men. The representaiivet of half a dozen of the great old name* exhaust tlie list, :■»(] prove nt the same time ihe repealed im(|uitii:3 of the detcent of lands. 'Ilie very highest name of t)ic English baronage during the reign of Edward Lxingshankti, the great Plantagenei, vas that of the l)e I.ad, of Ponifrcl, whose heiress married Thomas Ilnnlagcnct, Earl of I.ancasler, the male line of her house being worn oul, it was utd. It was only that reputed absence of a male heir which allowed her to inherit. Vet we find a squire and a few peasants bearing that name and Milt living about the confines of the great estates. Kobcrt Ijisey and Margaret his wife were peasants paying their groat as t.ix and living in Skelbrook. William and John I^sc>' with their wives and families were living in Carleton, near Selby ; but they also were peasants, and though they bore the old name, which spared them a nick-name, ihcy only paid a gtoal as ta-t ; and, being poor, evidently could ])Ut forth no legal evidence ihal ihcy were rightfully descended from the grand old race, and so the mighty barony passed, by a monstrtius fraud and a very bad woman, to a king's grandson, and tliey were left to herd with the Hatters and HuletK with whom they had intermarried.
William Saynte-Poule and Matilda his wife, bearing one of the names of the royal house of i'rancf. were peasants also hving in Skelbrook. William de Qwyntyn and loan his wife — greasy Joan who keeled the pot, and attended to the hogs, not clad in fine raiment and attending upon a queen's bower — though they had the name that came over to Senlac and glory, were likewise peasants in RawclifTc, having Robert Ffoghcll— the Fowl — Richard Badger, and Richard C'haryic for their neighbours. A queer association iliis for Norman blood 1 A gamekeeper named after his trade, a vassal who had to be named from the beast that his lord hunted, and a foundling whose infantile misery became his manhood's distinction were the equals and associates of mighty barons. The bitterness of the old lines —
Whrn Adnm iklvtril *iiil Ktc span,
Vilio wu iben llic gcnilcniiiD ?
wontd find a resting-place over many a hearth. The disinherited patrician and the nameless rustic had to ponder over their soUs and conditions in a wrong they could feel, and we may guess their reflections.
1
- '■■■---- -:;- ". .r , .;- -jr.iii — seme
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;; -v. u ,. v.:.T<i i\„. I,;iri(|;.„i,u.'st niccts in lliv village. Ccci
wi> :. .ii'.M, l»it tlu ux-inaii has omiucd so to call her,
The Naming of Our Fortfathtrs. 627
memory has to sufftr from the neglect. Roger Parsoiwon, living at Itudsworth,' h.-trd by, and having kindred Parsonsons in a score of other filaces, is rather an unronunaic existence, and mould have been much bet ter as Panon- nephew. So might Wiiliam Nuiineson,or Linton, have been identified, itislead of being one of the saddest of all facts, not being a solitary instance of the name, which to-day survives as Nan- son. Justice, hovrcver, declares that the nuns were not more accountable for the spread of [logiulation than the monks. William Monc, the carjwnter of Selby -seat of one of the gicatcst Benedic- tine abbeys— is possibly one whose aticeitry tlie fashionable pedigree- men would not care to illustrate ; but these monks were always very I unsatisfactory fellows, and so ivc will dismiss ihi:t man who bears their I precise name. William Attc \\'ykers, of Fryslon, is more colourless, I M also is the maiden Joan Prcst of the same place ; but there may ^Bven tuik about their existence and ancestry a suspicion which is HHiuch bettor consigned to chatitable oblivion. John Person, of Hambleton, is a more agreeable fact, for ve may regard him as a species of " local brother," nicknamed probably because he was apt " to prcirh a little " ; John Archedeken, of Fcnton, is another good JokCi being sur[;assed only by Henry Cardynall, of Snaith, and the frequent members of the supreme house of Pope. We may now guess why the mcdi;c^-al clergy alwaj-s adopted a territcrial designation, 'rhcirscnseof the ridiculous, or of some oilier emotion, blushed .n the names of their foicfathtni. To havt; called a rector Pclci Spylwcdc, an abbess Catherine Nunscdoghicr, and an abbot Symon Slambchynd — actual names— would have been to have tendered them contempti- ble to posietity. They were sutlicienlly wise to look for ahead of their day and t^eneration.
The old sea-dogs of Viking invasion left some mark on popular nomenclature, but not to the extent we might lia>-e expected. Richard llrnnde, of Ackworth;the Ulrelhs, of the Kelby disuict; Emma Ctitwolf, of Weston ; Isabell.i Hardenute, of Tadcistcr ; Ketill and Dunstan, also of Sclby, and others of the old names still ding- ing about the water-lines arc sufficiently pal[)able evidences ; but, in the main, the nnmc-fcaturcs arc sadly changed. Their compatriots came to be known by local cognomina as "of that flic" — Hugh dc Saurhy, Ai;nes de Ityrom, and John de Okilsihorp, for instance, whose residences are all of Norse foundation. The old Christian names, too, are sadly changed ; here and there we find Sigretha, Kohesia, and Haw>sia among the females ; but in the bulk the Norman names prevail, and Alice an<l Cecily and Matilda, Johaima, Idonia, and Coiistantia are the most familiar. They alTotd queer com-
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; <tf ri'iiliuTwin (o wfaidi dte 1^ HOK pec^M loBGo, hcnrciCT, that Aese 91 ae £ic= T*a:, ■Iihin x centary, nine-tentlK of Ac lEtaori -jm^ bai rir-ar^i. Tb* nun and his repiesentatnes lai an: rr-^g^ : i w::s rii S3=>s onlv. I; wmji because men had cntBi i; cd;-* rii; ^ -wTii :fci= aa i^Kiiriry, moK often a mockeiy. S£-= haf ber=— =x. iais-i. ";:^ zr'—.i for ihetnselves '": iheyhad ia:;^ orce riiz — ^im rr a:: "•::'= ;b±=- omrj thotights, to the trouble ■ai ^srar :c =i=r i«==:x- E.zwsr\i 111. voold lain regulate the irc * zriiirrt a=xrdi=; to ;h-£ rssks of society. He passed an T rx-^^'ir ■- -: :ia; eSec:, Kiii|:hts and nobles were to be Me itKJZC sea =, «»icr. Bm the se\-cre penalties the At; =i=>3sez =«:c :^iase »tia Ti^iared h prore that from its initiation «: *K ^T * ^=^ eaar: c« haporfncc. It was at the very time wb= :i; ocsrsaiar: af G=rth the SwiQcfacrd tore off the coUai cc is r^iJirc: :hr: x caTc' lo oblrnos ibc miserable patronjinics of i:s wrt-£ii=:s.
W. WTl EATER.
631.
THE SUPPLIANT.
THE night was daric, and knew no star, The rain had put them out ; The door was shut with bolt and bar : A beggar stood wiihout.
II. Long lime he sued nor would depart,
Though all his suit was vain. With tones that seemed to pierce the heart
Like infant's cry of pain.
111. At length the bolt was backward drawn
Amid a sound of tears ; He entered in like light at dawn.
With step that no man hears.
IV,
The house changed hands that fateful night ;
Wtih strange and sudden thrill. Its firm foundations owned the might
Of an all -conquering will.
V.
The day relumes its golden torch
In dawn without a cloud ; Without, the roses in the porch
Unfold, the birds sing loud.
VI.
Within, the cloak of rags slips down
That hid his purple wing ; Love stands revealed in stany crown,
A suppliant? Nay, a King !
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the produrtlon* of "Tlic Cnisadera." It may not be so ingenioc&Iy oorstnictcd ns "The Danoing Oirl." I say it may not be, for I am not ai All picp.ircd (o adroit definitely that it is not : but, as a study of human nature, of human character, as an impulsive force in dramatic ait, it is far and vK^y tiipeiior to its predecessor. I have not felt so much encouragement u-iih tcffiii to the immediate fiittiie of our drama ai> I fdt after seeing " The Cnisadera " for )ong enou^, not since tlic first time I saw "The Doll's House " performed at tho Novelty Theatre some two years ago. •" The Crusaders " niarics a distinct advance in our dramatic art ; it is a result of the netr forces at woik upon the theatre both from within and from without, and in welcoming it 1 find it not 3 little ditHcult to keep my words restrained within the limits of a prudent appreciation. Valuable in itself, •• The Crusaders " is more vaUiable still as the herald, as the prophet, of better things to come.
If it be admitted, as it surely must be admitted, that the drama has a right to concern itself with the serious problems of its limei then Mr. Jones's play has a more genuine reason for existence and a more earnest purjiosc than any play which bus been put upon the sLige since " Hedd.i CJabler." If there is one problem which mote than another is forcing itself upon the attention of all thinking men and women in this, phase of our civilisation, it is the problem of how to deal with the poor of our great city. I .el nie not here be misunder- stood. Let me not be supposed to lay down the doctrine that the only business of art in general, and of the drama in pariicubr, is to deal with social problems. The 6rst business of a woik of art is to be artistic ; if it is not that, all the moraiii>-. all the philanthropy, all the philosophy under the sun will not save it from condemnation. But it is because Mr, Jones's play deserves to be regarded as a work of art that its attitude losvards certain great social (|uestions, towards certain moods of modern thought, calls foe such close consideration, such thankful recognition. In Ingarfield and in Una Dell Mr. Jones has seized upon two types of those who in the highest sense are heroes of the struggle for life, because their struggle for life is not for themselves, but for those, the many and the unhappy, whose part in the struggle is so piteous, whose lot seems so hopeless. In Cyntiiia Crccnslade Mr. Jones has had the daring to draw a certain type of modern woman as she really i*, and the result crowns the courage with succe^. She is a real woman, vita) as the women of Ibwn are vital She is not an admirable woman, but one need not be assume<l to range with Schopenhauer in his scorn of women if one accepts the fact that all women arc not admirable. Even the most enthusiastic disciple of Mi. John Stuatl Mill's thico^\ts,'«nlOR, rot. rctx-ti. so. t9ji. ^J \j
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Pages on Plays.
635
r
I
r. James I,*wis was full of a qtiainr, tvj, restrained humour as Touchstone. Mr. CInrkc was a sound Jacques, and Mr. Whcalleig;h % dignified banished Duke. Surely the part of Celia must be one of th< moat unwiisfactory pails toplay in all Uie range of Shakespearean drama. Though she is on the stage from first to last, from first to last )i)so she is overshadowed by Rosalind— she is a]wa)-s in attendance upon the Witch of Arden, and always in (he background. Vet it mutt be reco^iscd that Miss Adelaide Prince made a most charming Cclia, that she gave life and colour to a character wliich a less gifted Rcimt would have left lifeless and colourless und showed in a small part gifts of acting which deserve a greater opportunity.
" Lord Anerlev."
I AM at a loss to understand why Mr, Alexander elected to put " Lord Ancrlcy " upon the stage. The youngest of our actor- managers, Mr. Alexander has^hown himself to be one of our ablest, most energetic ; in what must be called a very short space of time he has gathered about him a highly cl^cient company, well quali- fied for the production of artistic work. Why has he given to such a company such a play as " IjDid .Anerley " ? " Lord Ancrlty " is not a good play ; it is ditiliculi to see how, under the conditions, it could be a good play. For it is avowedly inspired by a novel by Arthur Amould called " I,e Due do Kandos," which novel was draniaiised in I'aris some ten years ago. The original play was a suflicicntly dismal performance ; the wildest kind ofwililmclodmma. convcniionni to the n"" power, with nil the old dickits, all the old palits, all the old Irua. What might pass muster, however, in Paris, upon the planks of an inferior theatre, is hardly the sort of thing one expects to sec served up upon the stage of a first-rate London theatre,
fvrith the assistance of a first-rate London company. It would be velf> nigh impossible to Ao what the authors of " Lord Ancrlcy " have tried 10 do— convert " Lc Due dc Kandos " into a possible English play.
' .The old, old murder, the eld, old personation, the old, old villain, the old, old passionate Spanish dancing gid, the old, old comic towr and his lass, the old. old angelic being who converts the personstor, worst of all. the old, old detective— every one of these events and individuals has its part in the bewildering medley of " Lord Anerley." The company, of course, plays well — the St. James's company always has played well under Mr. Alexander's management— but the task of triumphing over the " Due de Kandos " is too hard for them : it is a hopeless task. Ii is hard to see so sound and artistic an actor r. Waring wasting his genuine gif^s in th« gallant effort to ma^
I
I
1
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'f
Pa^s on P^ys.
637
ed by th« knowledge of his ftge, so long as be : human jaitHon, liiu sometlitDg which is common If be can sintie wnter from the rock of one hardened IKly h« cmnot have worked in rain. All thi;, if not tcertaini)' true. I't-rhaps the mosl r.tluablc pan of the en Mr. Lrving procc-edcd to contend that the theatre, being a place of amot^cmcnt, was a bving educational \tm many are there, he uid, who have had brought home an undcrsi;indablc manner by stage plays the costumes, en, and customs of countries and ages other tlian ihtir oly must the actor's dress be suitable to the part which but his bearing must not be in any way antagonistic ; of the time in which the play is fixed. The free bearing Ktxlecnlh century is distinct from the artificial one of the ntli, the mannered one of the eighteenth, and the careless nineteenth. vVnd the voice must be modulated to the i of tlie time. The habitual action of a rapicr-bcaiing age is at to that of a mail-clad one— nay, the armour of a period in real life the poise and bearing of the body ; and all this Tej)r()dur(!d on the stage, unless the intelligence of the be Ihcy ever so little skilled in history, is to count as It cannot, therefore, be seriously put forward, in the face of nifold rc<)uiremcn[s, that no art is required for the rcpcescn- ' suitable action. It is not surprisiiig to find that this line of ught soon led Mr. Irving to the name of Diderot. The whole question raised by Diderot, in his famous « Paradoxe «ur le Comd-dien," and in his less-known but admirable " Esn}*! upon I}Tamati<: Poetry," is unfortunately loo grave to be entered upon here at sufficient length. Let me then say that the truth lies between Diderot and Talma, between the followers of Diderot and Mr. Henry Irving. Neither is right absolutely or absolutely wrong. It depends so much upon the individuality of the {Kirticular actor. To the public at large the result obtained u the only important matter. The public docs not care whether the actoi docs or does not feel the emotions he portrays so lonf; as he comiicls the public to feel them. And the bc%l method for making the i)ublic so feel, after all, every actor must find out for himself. There is no other way. Finally, said Mr. Irving, in the contideration of the art of acting, it must nc«r be forgotten that its ultimate aim is beauty. Truth itself w only an element of beauty, and to merely reproduce things vile and squalid and mean \s a ddnwmcnt of an. There is apt to be such a fendeacy in an age of peace, and men should carefully watch it^
0:r^'. -s^ .>^.^^. . :-,i t 7.'-. -J:
■-^^^r---^ s'^cTch of Badei. : :s sorr.ewhat fanciful, but the Genesis of Printing
h-ir.^ •--«K.f ',f vLviic-'v-x-tJ, Esd eniere into the \-exed question
f/ 'J-^ f-^-^-i ---f fVrt-r^bwz and Cosier. Exodus shows the distri-
b^jc "-/p^intir^ throuzh therarioas countries ; Leviticus declares the
U-irt ixfJMart Vt kit otKcned in the manutacture of a book ; Numbers,
OTK wt hapfrtly, adumbrates the greater printers, and Deuteronomy,
or ieomd birth, shows the regenerative influences introduced t^-
ttumx di«»vcrie<, including steam. A chapter on Judges professes
M be no more than a sketch of the bibliography of printing. It
iupplicf, however, a series of title-pages in facsimile. The new
volume, which ii profusely illustrated, will find a warm welcome.
>ntain> * valuable list of Blades' contributions to p>eiiodical
re, and a iclection with explanations of the Latin names of
smployed by the early printers, which will be of ser^-ice to
ho do not possess the " Typographical Gazetteer '" of Co::o:t
SVL\AMS l-RF,\>-.
^
>
NON-CIRnilfl'
Stanford University library
Stanford, Caliioraii
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