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k 


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e- 


THE 


■rS 


'entlemans  Magazine 


Volume    CCLXXI. 


JULY  TO  DECEMBER    1891 

tODESSE  &•  DELECTARE 

m, 

5_^^     E   Pluribus  Unum 

Editid  by  SYLVANUS   URBAN,  Gentleman 

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  ^ 


lO 


Thi  Gentleman's  Magazine. 


^ 


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. 


i 


13  The  Gentleman's  Magazine.  ^ 

"  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 


4 


i 


' 


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14  7-44?  Gentleman's  Magazine. 

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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The  GetttUmani  Magazine. 


I 


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 


^ 


XV  J 


x8  The  Genilematis  Magasine.  ^| 

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 


' 


! 


i 


20  Th£  GentUnuxHS  Magazine.  ^| 

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 


U 


i 


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 


I 


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. 


b 


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 


1 


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 


i 


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 


i 


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 

\ 


i 


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 


i 


» 


i: 


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 

J 


LwahrfEC 


^ 


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 


• 


i 


3S 


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 


i 


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 


I 


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>. 


i 


44  ^^  Gentleman  s  Magazine, 


\ 


^ 


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. 


/ 


F 


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*. 


I 


I 


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. 


t  % 


I 


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 


L 


i 


I 


"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 


L 


J 


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 


J 


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 


I 

i 


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, 


i 


I 


i 


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 


i 


104 


The  GentUnuxn's  Magazine. 


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 


o 


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  '.  " 


h...,-,,  I 

r     \ 

:.\VVC-,.-       1 

'^ouM  t- 

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 

[>I-  CCUtXI.     NO.  IJaS.  JJ. 


-,— -J.  ,  .-  -  -i_- -  n     : 1-^  ;■■    ■  :  ^—   -r  "r-T  — nriiT!T.iiii 


,     -a.    -.1.-:.  -   -    „  .   ^  -r     -^^    :    :.=  -=^  — X3   tEivie  duold 

T  -.--    *-=-    .  -    -i    z^^   ---    I.'-  -r;=r:    ::  :-:t  ziacr  the 

V---  ■".rr   .:.;  ■  .i^-i.~r.:       --===,  -i^-=  :=s  icc   icrsei'res — ire 
Tirr-;  -.-i:f;-r--.:.  _-:.i  ::^— T.=  -t=:: — :S=  -■.      ~^i  -r  ^ -nnf, win. 


;-s-'   » 

T-      ■ 

■-— .   - 

■-    :;    -r^ijir^ 

-       --?■ 

:  -     -  Tzdz  hirvea  of 

v.-';-' 

"j^. 

T  :^    " 

^  j^-.-i^  ^  —^■t 

=  ::. 

-itir-7  ^3=i=a£  oat  of 

■'.-K   -■./ 

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■  -_.   = 

:-::  -.-an   i~    z 

■.Zii 

=i:!r::=^  i^  eveoing 

-.r^:^--- 

'    --"i. 

.-■-r- 

■..  ■.^r 

-.-    -'■—..  I.-; 

v:-; 

r.  --:  f-we^  :  'Ropes 

V    « 

'  Ji'-'    i 

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:    ~  ; 

ri.T.   ::.-:: TiTic  to  the 

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.-_t  1 

;  •.■:±  T:vin.  b.j*  much 

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'    ■'    V 

."  ■- 

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^:  :£  ±:i;  iianaparcnt 

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'  -i 

—  ■  M 

-..''- 

'.;.:       " "'        '.'.    L '.' 

ti--- 

-■r*  iTTi^T:  ercrv  year 

^^ac  . 

'■j*r 

-.■; 

'  -_  f  ' 

^':      -■:    -:    .-tii 

iz 

.;  -Jri-  y.T-  Ruikin  to 

f-^:-^- 

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-  -i- 

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:  -:-ri  -::  "i-: 

.-■-.1 

^^k    r.^  r^rmission  to 

'■,  ,'.r. 

,  'i','"' 

c  '.r  ! 

^T          'V;   i\:_   :i 

■■  =  :: 

Z--Z  -p  some  hamnra, 

i'riT   -    -  .  -.  ax.--  i:-^  ■■-^  ;-.  =7  "i-r^Ti  *:-«-.;  but  fodder 
-,  var'A  -.-,-;  V-'-"-  i----  --  -"■-  ''"'-  5tir.-±  i-.s;:  — jsier  is  Ukdy  to 

■'■f,'; -v^  --,  ■-./■  c^--  ■--■Zi:-"='=-  -■■^— ii-  c:  aziethyst  bells"  is 
vy.'-'-'.  ■.'■Ir  ■':•'.  -'-'-"■  ""■  --"  "■--  "■-"^T  "^•'»  "^^  enrich  the 
.', ,.(./  f'.:',  -  :'.■.'■.•  --'--'  :■="■'—--'  '."ii:^:--  T'^-.  of  its  usk  for  us 

■/, T  <-r.  ■■  '■ ' -.:':  '^-^v-'  ^-'J  '"■  i-"^c:--*:'y  ^i-"  '^™>  weather  it 
.Mr,u^).v  .  V-.--,  *.  h  ■r;.;r..:r.e»  ur.'.KS  special  precautions  are  taken 
,„  ^1,.  Ii^-r  tl,.  rr.  m  W^.'s-  It  ^^u.d  be  well  if  in  this  matter  it  were 
,„-„.•  iivnl  i'-r  (ar./.crs  to  benefit  thcmseivcs.  v,-hile  bestowing  a  g«a 
„„.„  M, tl..:.r  charges,   by  arranging  for  some  rude  shelter  to 

Li...  I.  ill.'  fi'"  y-^ "  '"'K*''  ™"  ^'^'^  ^  ''^"-   ^^.  '°°"f .  '''^  '^':"!."^ 

,  m  iHi'in  1'.  <li-:il'l-wr  the  ling  becomes  drier  and  less  relishing. 

,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 


.-.ric^'fUCt  ."  J/!2^ 


--1 


■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 


L^ 


i 


i."»o 


Tlu  GetiiUman  i  Magazme. 


I 


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. 


>3i 


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. 


i 


I 

i 


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- 


i 


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 ; 


i 


136 


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 


i38 


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 


I 


140 


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 

ccLxxi.   Na  191S.  I, 


n 


I 


^ 


The  Gentleman  s  Magazine. 

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 


.d 


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^ 


^^^1 


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 


'^£:FLiti£. — ie  sane 

-    -TiirgiiraMa  ty  lia 

^■^=^  -=  -~-:-^=    :=    _   —  -n.  ;nii  -wTn:.  atsaati  of  \xan 
■^^    r-^^jcdiiiw-  acj~raed  by  w 
j£  rtcoe  dns.   TV 
nuL  x-*^  soon  food 
TTTTn.   c:xi  ^EU  be  n 

3 —     ^liTTsii^  — 1?5  were  spM 

i^^  -rat  3n:sc  :ikieLT  com  fai 
'^^'^■:r'r"  iestt^ieiirendafa 

Bocx-<iaa  « 
,iiid,i 


:^s:  -:r-  -:--■  ;- v:::--^  =-  ^':.;--=:  i  ;-n-n;ir  n:  r:e  ^ec  was  occnj 


,^    —C  a- 


>:  -1-- 1_  r^i  r:-.;  ^i\—"iTi  :^l  z^~  >,it-  b".;ws  pveni 

— i-^  -'  :~-t—-^  -.:  r_ii  -■■-.*  ::c.z±:7:':c  ;;r  .is  c^-Lea^ji  Wentm 

■:-.=: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 


L 


1 4$  The  GcHtlema^s  Alagazine. 

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 

'  '"  ■"■■  ■*-■"--    -■  "■:  ;  :<tT:-  ;_  :;   T^:^Til  ari  rcoocri 

•  ■  ■  ■     :•  -    -  -    >.     .-.■>    -  V  •  ■--.-  - ;  :.-  i.  1.-.4  £k;  had  r*eB  pla 
■■'■■-  -     '  -    ■---  "  '- .—;-.  i^-i-i  :-  tike  his  sat  i 

>...->■.,,    -.:  v.-  .-.-.  t.-wT-.  ;s  was  ijo  e< 

'  '  7    ~  "  ■'^■'       ■■--  --   .■■;;'-i  >.  j  ■;;irr:r.  tr  =Li::e:5  cc= 


-■• 

"\;  > 

* 

* 

-    V" 

-, 

.  .  '^ 

»"-■ 

'  .  ■-.; 

r 

^\. 

«i« 

0^ 

tl\.  ■ 

■V 

V--, 

-V 

»       • 

V 

1  -, 

■-  -    s 

'.       V 

v-* 

^\- 

-"• 

'v 

■ 

■  ■  . 

^ 

■-s 

V        > 

,' 

,  > 

■--. 

■.  0. 

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 


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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 


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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. 


\%\ 


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. 


\ 


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 


.E^fig^crMtf. 


;        -  -...     —--=     l^r;.    -=        TH^;  LTTIL:.       ^i-   -n-n-rt,  1  -nrg'  .-.JTa^ 

;^^_  .    -    ;.     -  ._  -    -—^    -  :- _    -r    r.r-ur — ■TifiSfi  iin:B?nmciitt 

■^..-;:-    -      _:     -  .::r:    ^  .    -z^Lrr—      -^ricilff-  icvcvithfl 

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 

— ;r~ -■_z-:ii -■-■    ■-    -^^    ■::    ^=  -    .irTs:;  ruz.  j  "jsssntoSJieBqi 

■-  — ="  -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 

*^  —  -   -                                  ■•         -s    -:    .i-i."     .Ci^ed  uhB 

-'    ■-"  ■    "   ■             "■         -    ■-    ■-  •'Zv   iiiT  i^-r.  :j3rji.»lBi 

^■■'  -    --            :-       ":  T  :.-   -_:::.  --i  begsr  serioo^ 

-■  ■       •  '         "   -.           -:   V— :        :-•   :r  z-;r_      I;  «oi:n:ed  iheod! 

■'  '    ■       '    '    ■"    "-     -■-.-.::■-;.:-  :rT7.    Tr-i  Tce:  wasnlte 

-■-■  ■           ■    ■■"    "-.r-.-: —      -;  -  L:;=  ^ -.:- <  7';'~.;:nhiscir«. 

■"•i  :-._-          -    ^;    1.-..    -...-.^titL:  -5-:^    -.:^.  i:^zxi&n.     Vetiiw 

"■^■■'  '-""   ~— —'-^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, 


-.-■..:.'.    r.r    :  .r  :\^=;I-d  :i:ia  i=  Juif 

— -.        7":  J   -„-ur.-iir5^~;ir.;  Wis  pn'^' 

:r   .-    ,    ■.:-.::."    :    ;=.^..  ^-^  n:u!  cm.    IH* 

"  -.-.  -  -.;    .-.-:-  =     Ar.  i  her  «:reine  yow'' 

-      "    ■       -■--.•  -\-sz  ~  .:  iiicir.v-asiedaiafeUit 

■■'■  -   -  -1;:   v;— J-   ;:' the  vr.irid.     Mennrnf 

■"     ■■  "'-'--.'^  ^- :r--n.:£  jr.-i  i:inocenceof;Mi¥ 

-      ;  ■..-.:-::.—,;■.  :^i  ^:,:.:^;--i:hesequaliues.  Ttai'li 

■■  '--.-.:    ■  .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 

VOU  CCLXXI.      no.    I!)3<A  -r 


r-i.      ^..-KZ^-Tt^t  Z    J^J>rx=SMi. 


T  -  .—.=1.  -■■■   •■-I'^-t   —   i3c=.2a=oe,  aiK 


---=■-  — ~  ^   — =  1=;=—=^   liZi:'*^   II   cr-.-    j-.^  fic^  and  f 

•— ^    ^ — ^    --'—-   ~~  ".r-r:-^--.:^   — rtiLgzriia   wiich  needed  tit 

:-  ;_-  _    ;^_r;-   -  f-^i^:.  ^.olr-sp.  asd  XeierMit  ii 

™  _;^-     ~-_^  i^r    :-  i::i  ^  tr   -J-.=L-  hi-h-buUt  c 

--.r:;  ^    .  ;■-   :;v      ;  l;.:-iii  ~-    ihs  eastern  faced 

■         ■ '  -  '     - .  .  ^.    r.-  1  ii^i  zi  iii  l:;ijr.;,  i:  had  upor 

"_  ~  ■    :-■    :  .-  ;— :-  T:.;:=-i.iz.i  i=;.:C-.edoranse-coIc 

"^       "    ■■  -      ---"--—  --^-  ::' r.-^cr-hi^n  itcae.    Theme; 

"~"       -     '-~'     --"    -  i~^   :>.:*-^  =:e  a:':er,  was,  tha[ 

"■      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 


\ 


-r^  "    —  —     jrzt'>=» 


.     ...      _-.-•        -     -_LL    1    :^=    -  — l=E=l.   I^    "-J-Tn'tTir  i~ T'ryiT*     InSt 

rvTi".  TL.-^T'-'  —ii'.  .:^  — ^  ■  .-^-    r.T  tiini  jnrs  i'"E£  5c  laac  Ncmb;  j 
J-  I  ;;.-L*  -,.  -rzLi^  ".^iir.  :±i;i-  lie  ZurmrtT  -"t'**      "ZTi^  j>  ttcMt 

•-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'^ 

>,.-..-;    ;-.-ii:   -..-.-i--_.:  -■.  >aj   1  -  ::.irTrC  r._=::r7"of  its  own;* 

:^-. ■.--.:-.■.  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 


'  ^;   :_      ■5="--     lir7rz.i£;    "■  tiio:  iruiiitti 


'.lia-::.^'-   -•_■-   -■-    r_-T-    -.^iSE-:;-   i    ^TJirm.  r=    saiL  tt    hs  can 

''■:r.-.!  ::.:  ^  .:""-r^:.  t.  .— -.  Ei=  tts.  :;  Ti.tt  I  OH.  hu:  z.  Tiia£. 
"'iK  ■.--.-■r  V-:  .-  "_;iLr.-.— T-i  :ui.i  s^ir.  Trni  ar  aracrtr 
it^r'.Mirr  i.'.  .-:■.■".  ..  ".1;;  - -■."-v."-  ::r.-^.;,  r.n:  S'vsr.  tsac:  hsTnio 
ii\r  T-j.;.-.  --.i-.  -;'.-.—  :.:■--  iiz:=L;--  r.  1*  Tmi  it:^*-  1  ^lamcr 
v-it',  i.*-  -.'  •  .-.:■  :-.-.  -•'-^■-  -  ".I.:.  ;.^ti2m:i"  a-  tik   Hnii  OiT 

','''-^-''''-''      ■'-'  ■■-.■-■-■--1     ;;;—     l    Ziis;    :•:    lEmiitiiiai  £ 

VA-    ■'-'■  ■   ■■      '-    ■■'■-  ■  '-— ~  "--s-  v:ic-;   7:i-^:ir   r.SL  rn-g-.  ta: 
Jv.  .-■'      •:-■■   v..   v..  ■_-..   L-  i-ii.-  -^^  -i;  :;7,-_,i  1-er^jre  ;r  c» 

'/■-*.■•:■.  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. 


I 


.   £  -.-i  "  ■_:■;  rri^tjr^^tfs. 


u  :o  be  almost  wonh 
rI:-SiA;=  r3<:e  ;o  uie  kindly  to ' 
ry. "  "A'riAi  =Lin=er  of  bistoi)'  ih 
=-;c  ::  Siiure."  in  one  or  other 
.  ^.ii  7=;  ci**:overevi  or  shall  di 
--<i^=.-K-:..'.-t.  -xt  are  -Isasei  witho* 


^  "  ^  V     . ,     1 

■  ;r  -;ii.;.-   :r  T-z~:~Zi~r  .  -i  =arr:;r  aown  theient 

.:-.  ■-•    i  ■ 

-.    :    -  ■.:.  ^-;  V.  1;  :-  :  _;-.  'zzz  vs:  fall  ar  short 

^  '     ^  -  _^"" 

:  ^:  ,       -_  i  V   -ii --.:— .jcl.-;;,,     Greek. and Li'.ii 

»  -  ■-       '1 

■i  ~-ZLTJ.z  ■-  -^—i  y,r.iTtz.-  I'-s  ;ar  U  :i:h 

'^   *  ' 

"•:    ■  "-;;:s;  ^^  -  M---  ;;  tr^'sr -.r.econversei 

_  '  .    ^  -  ■ 

.  -    . ,  -     -   ;i^-       - -T^-  :  :■;,  ■-  i^~  v'-o'.i  for  thi 

^ 

:7z.-.:'r.  :fi>,=  Tr±eof Knc 
■-■.  wr_;r.  :i=  iacred  Ni 
— -7ir     .s    -.1-;    oe'.v    rei 

::  *•:!;  a_tr.;K=*i  -■ -jndei 

*i  '.  -is.  *.;! -jit  hs  r.ever  s 
i   , -;r5;-.trl7.      is;,  it  ii  a 

r    -;   --.i;ri:ir.i  h.  figr. 

;  i-:.-.:  — ;-  : ;  :r.;  ar.ittLC  « 
Ju^-;  _■:  :'-±  ti.i.  bv  Cth 

-  ir     -  il-.cru  has  a  const 

-  ~- j  zz  aV.  hiKorlL-s 
?:^:.ir:?.  ihe  iT.'.y  oni 

.-    ■,    -r-.iz  ■».v-.  a  i-or^ 

T :-.;  ;    -:_:  j:  a  jar 

:■:->  ^  :-  --.--;  <;:i>div 

-'■  -   ;■    -'i  :>i  vrAi'i^ci 

■     •   -•-  >-.:..-        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. 


i 


I 


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 

;■.  -.      :..     ^:;  vi  •--.   ::  z:  t  :-r=-:--hanJ  i::  Hyde  F:ut. 

-.     -     ;--,-     ;;.-;.    -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.  jȣ  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 

V  va 


--''■^■'^.siz:  Zfj^-2^jid. 


-^^  -:^.-,p^  :rj-:ei,T(c 

/    -■^■-. 

P 

it  s"K=;-    ei  iie-  :j  iff 

rtJ^.  r.r  r  TT-:  r:c  -i 

■■^^i:; 

:=-:.'  :i^ie  je-iiie  ht". 

-'■;  -h 

~-  ^:s  :ve=.  iKc  =;« 

-  'it^, 

~  ■  ie  i^sxersi  l*!:iT. 

^:-~i^ 

■^— "^.   inc  iCtf  r:jce  aa 

'■-    ~i-Z.  Ui.r^  i"j:j 

.  -'t: 

r  :;i:jl. 

=r;:;.-' 

If 
1   l"i, 

-;"^  ''^  '■--■:?  iz-n  hi! 

--■7^, 

-'-.U 

".-  ::?:  iiv  1  sin  vjj  1 

I.fF 

--  ---7-  vl:.  >j£i~;-_  i:;d  let  me 
"  * ---  "--  ■;  ::rit".  ■.:':«  ir.ysiie.  1 
~-    ~        -~~-  ~i  ".icifiii  brightly  up  iwo 


*-     iT.:. 


Jig 


"  "    '"~_"'^".  - --'^  :-"--0E  cveiman^'W.! 

"  _"_."  _"'.;"■.  't^'/'-'frht.    1  have  been  in  M- 
'T-;  --•■:--/■""- ^■="- "-estates.   At  fiistUsto" 

:."  ~:"  ""r'::';-r:: :  ^'^  "^^  ^^^n  capable  d  i^^ 

■":.:  :r:^:-:7{\^^^°'^  °f  ^"l-er  met,,  andolki 
■^  r^^-kcd  witha  «hite  cross  in  tTSd"^''t^'"^' 


:i.!; 


■-  ■  n 


-.r  w.- 


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 

V.-.  .,    .•  ::r. ;:.-,:'  Wti'dvlay,  V 

--:.-,        ■'::■:  :'.^:-.r..  Tht-y  Iiad  gained 

■  '  ■    '        --  " '-  ■  '■-;  ■--   ■'-:■"--'".  ^rA  all  thtir  followi 

- ''  -"-■■■■■-''■-I'''-i"'jn"if''CccLliafamul 

'■■''■■■'■;■■-   '■■"'-.-!*.',-;;.■  rt'.orLli.-d  by  the  courtlj- tax- 

".'    v..f.;ii,.,,,,  V..:  know,  when  thi:].ritsts  were cclibai 

;;  -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- 


it  11  bed  IB 


i  Jofan  Cedlf,  md 

be  afloved  Id  pot  a 

to  bive  dfcnuted 

a  (3tpenter,  had  to 

hadtobeatit- 

Tfaxt  mme  «ai  u  the 


ll»10i«HBk"Wlut'l 

,  it  :  tts  SiDggJe^  its  wTOi^ 

Th^ylrrjiiiiigc     The 

;  <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  ! 

IS.V,    J,    P0STG4TE. 


•mod  ^al  Awsirs  3e  tk 

— Ut  "IT**  11^'    H 


fEJllP 


lie 


ana  :tiE  ^'■'^  ir    I-samBats.   u^Mirif^  ir  ]&:    ''tti— n  ; 

^"^    T    aac.  ^  X  ±  itargi    ly   )t:    T  ri»--nr  T^x^.  ^  «^ 

3^   leinnn  7us>e£  ien=^  3E:  ?'n>sn  Tgiona.  ■■■■■"'t 

Six  jiu  ■: 


I**.*  .     -hsL  Z  TTI'g'  DIE  S  C3E^  ICOT  llKMLfaOl^  I  iniiiniM  t  )|t 
HoTx  Arrsnr  Inmi  xev ^lk.  na:  1  imx  iK  she »  igot 
j'^j'fWiT'r  «n±  qbes^shl.  z  -wa:^  cfTHaat     Far  I  ^""^j^  x  vcrv 
^  X  affiusBC  X17T  K^ A  *-"^'"^  f  ifniiS'ifiiTn  gk  ^se  ics  "mfii   aad 
taefeEg^rTguuiutJia^i,i:»fcLiiiiK.iiii«agTgaahe  ja^cwly 
3  ji— iMMiy  jatit  ^o:  £  it  cm:  zne  qoe  )i=.  IsmesV  bea 


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 


'--.Jt 


.  u    Zettz^-nax  :  J£ifpxzz:a. 


k^  I 


T-— ;.  ■ 


-d  r-^-  L  T-_  -  -  ■  ^;  w    ;  :i.,2r-s^    iCs 


-^- i.r 


2Ls 


T 


1  L  ' 
V  - 


"*  t  r>" 


;-  '  ^;  ;:-..-;  z  :•:- ^-ji  Vsra  Vca 
-;-..v.-i;—  .:  :f  V:.  DaVs 
-:.i  :■-:  L\rz'-t-.:::  ;:   -As Vera 

..T.i:±.  •:.-  ::  :-Lj\-,ar:"cT  the  f.r^l 
:  ;t  --.-...-  i?  -..-i  r=;:,  RcM'ir.d 
i.ii  ::  «:-.:cr.  ;:  .5--.:;d  be  hard  to 
;;  ir.-z-  ::  sjy  :"-5'.  M:ss  Rehan 

--.;r.-;r.;-  •ir/y  beer,  realised  in  the 

I:- :::k  cf  spiri:  and  sense"  of 
.-:-;.  ir.-  wctcs  can  say  no  more. 

id  well  for  :r.e  sweet  idyll.     Mr. 

■i::  ia  hean  of  maid  could  desire. 


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 


il 


'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,\>-. 


^ 


> 


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