LITTELLS LIVING AGE. Fifth Series, No. 2232. April 2, 1887. 5 From Begimamg, Volume LVIII. 4 Vol. CLXXIII. CONTENTS. I. NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT II. A SECRET INHERITANCE By B. L. Far- jeon. Part VI. III. THE MILITARY FRONTIER OF FRANCE, IV. RICHARD CABLE, THE LIGHTSHIPMAN. Part VI. V. VALENTINE VIsCoNrI, . VI. PERUGIA VII. A BRUSH WITH CHINESE PIRATES, VIII. AN UNINTENTIONAL TRIP TO NORTH BEMINI IX. AN OLD FRENCH HOUSE X. SNOWSTORMS ON THE HILLS, XI. THE BURIAL OF THE JEWS OF SPITAL- FIELDS XII. SUDDEN CHANGES OF TEMPERATURE, XIII. THE FAWCETT MEMORIAL, Quarterly Review, English Illustrated Magazine, Nat:~mal Review, Chambers ~ournal, Fortn:~htly Review, Macmillans Magazine, All The Year Round, Chambers Journal, Spectator, St. ~arness Gazette, Pall Mall Gazette, Medical Press, Saturday Review,. POETRY. 2 j PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON, 2 I DOWN BY THE SHORE,. Two DAYS, BY THE RIVER, MISCELLANY, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LIT TELL & 00., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year,free of#ostage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. -. Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, s8 cents. .3 20 33 37 4 49 53 55 .6o 61 63 63 2 2 64 2 TWO DAYS, ETC. TWO DAYS. SOMEWHERE in that strange land we call the Past, Where each of us has laid his treasures by, My heart has set one day whose light shall last When all youths golden years forgotten lie. Ever across my life it shines afar, As through a storm-tossed sky one glorious star. One day struck sudden midst the whirling years Into the perfect calm of Paradise; One day when life, set free from doubts and fears, Lay love-lit under shining summer skies, When I my hearts mad hoping dared confess, And found a heaven in my ladys yes. The clouds roll back; the gentle wind that sighs Low through the branches has her voices tone; Her eyes look in sweet answer to my eyes; Once more I feel her hand within my own. Let Fortune spoil my treasures as she will, That one bright memory is with me still. Somewhere within that unknown shadowy land We call the Future, waiteth me a day When I shall hold again my ladys hand, And listen low to hear what she will say. Ah, Love! that day must dawn for us at last, When all our weary waiting shall be past. Chambers Journal. D. J. ROBERTSON. BY THE RIVER. WE met at morning by the willowd river, Long years ago, when both our hearts were young. We met to watch the lights and shadows quiver, And listen to the song the waters sung. But deeper than the music of its flowing, The tide of love flowed on from mind to mind; While overhead the elder blooms were blow- ing, And dewy fragrance filled the wooing wind. We stand beside the waters of the river, But now the moaning of the sea is near. Far off the beacons mid the dimness quiver, And rolling breakers fill our hearts with fear. No longer choristers of morning greet us, Or blossoms of the May-time droop above; But shadows of the twilight rise to meet us, And cloud the golden harvesting of love. Ah! listen to the rushing of the river Towards its haven in the restless sea, While like a leaf upon its tide forever Our life flows onward to Eternity. -. Oh, mid its eager tumult and commotion, The whirl of waters, and the dash of foam, May Love, the beacon, shining oer the ocean. Lead us together to our Fathers home! Chambers Journal. ARTHUR L. SALMON. PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. THE shorn lamb shivers, but the woolly sheep Feeds on and fattens thro the untempered storms. Felt thro a curly fleece, the east wind warms, While far away shines heaven: an azure steep. We loved thee, Philip, but we could not keep The wind away, nor quell the pitiless harms Such sorrow fans from hell. We had no charms For those blind eyes that lived, but lived to weep. Yea, weak to heal is Love; but Death is strdng, Balming the sorest heart that travaileth, As under bloody wheels of Jaganneth Even such a heart as thine even such a wrong; Soother of sorrow is he whose deathless song Keeps all the choral spheres revolving Death! Athen~um. THEODORE WATTS. DOWN BY THE SHORE. DOWN by the shore at morning Wearily moans the sea; The brown wrack clings to the bare grey rocks, And the wind sighs drearily. The mist creeps over the waters From windward on to the lee, Wrapping the ships in its cold embrace Sadly and silently. Down by the shore at evening The mists are rolling away In long white wreaths, on the solemn hills That shelter the lonely bay. Bright with a rare effulgence, The golden clouds are furled, And the faint blue peaks oer the distant sea Seem the dream of another world. Down by the sea of sorrow The mists lay cold and grey, And never a glimpse of the gracious sun Broke through the gloom that day. But the clouds were rolled together, Just ere the daylight died, And we saw the land of Beulah smile In the light of eventide. Sunday Magazine. 3. M. DUNMORE. NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. 3 From The Quarterly Review. tian era is the subject of a notable con- NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN troversy. On the walls of the temple at ANCIENT EGYPT.* Medinet Habu is painted a wonderful IT has more than once fallen to us to record of invasions of Egypt by great al- draw attention to discoveries, throwing lied armies coming from the north, a much light on ancient Greek history and record which for completeness and vigor manners, made on the soil of Greece by is surpassed only by the memorable tap- Dr. Schliemann and other German exca- vators. It is with still greater satisfac- estry of Bayeux which records the Nor- man invasion of England. But the fate tion that we have at present to record the of Egypts invaders was not that of the results of successful excavations, made Normans; they are said to have been de- mostly by Englishmen, which are of not feated successively by the warlike Pha- less interest to lovers of Greek history raohs Menephthah II. and Rameses III., and literature, though made not in Greek and either slain or reduced to slavery. Of lands but in Egypt. their ships, their arms, and their ethno- During the four years which have logical character, the wall-paintings give elapsed since the bombardment of Alex- us a vivid representation, and their na- andria by the English fieet, learned exca- tionalities are reported in the hieroglyphic vators, equipped by the Egypt Explora- text which runs with the scenes of con- tion Fund, have been at work in the Delta; flict and triumph. Nevertheless the best and from their labors important discover- authorities are not agreed as td who the les have resulted in both Biblical and invadincr arm classical geography. M. Naville has de- b ies were and whence they termined the position of Pithom- Succoth, came. There is no doubt that their main force consisted of Libyans, but with the the first station of the Jewish Exodus, as Libyans came as allies other races, Pu- well as of the capital of the Land of Go- losata, Tekkari, Danaji, Shardana, Leku, shen. Mr. Petrie has identified the palace Turisha, and Akaiuasha. Wiedemann of Pharaoh at Tahpanhes, a spot very considers that all these races dwelt near notable in the story of the later Jewish the frontiers of Egypt; Brugsch identi- captivity; and has further discovered and fies them with the peoples of Asia Minor, excavated, with the help of Mr. Ernest the Teucri, Lycians, Sardians, and the Gardner, the site of Naucratis, the meet- like; while Chabas and Maspero incline ing-point in the seventh century, B.C., of to spread them over a still wider area, Egyptian and Greek, and the fulcrum by and regard the invading army as a great which the enterprising Hellenic race confederacy drawn from the northern and brought the power of their arms and of eastern shores of the iEgean Sea by the their wits to bear on the most ancient and hope of conquest and plunder. Certainly venerable empire in the world. We must the theory that the contingents called leave it to others to speak of the gains those of the Danaji and Akaiuasha con- thus resulting to Biblical archa~ology; our sisted of Danaans and Ach~ans, and so of intention is to sketch, in the light of the men of Hellenic race, is very tempting, newly discovered facts, the relations be- and is as yet by no means disproved. tween the ancient Greeks and Egyptians But whether the Greekstook part in the down to the final establishment of a Greek invasions of Egypt in the thirteenth cen- dynasty in Egypt. tury or not, it is interesting to find that Whether the first contact between Egyp- such great expeditions were not unknown tian and Greek can be traced so far back at that early period in the Mediterranean. as the thirteenth century before the Chris- That the Greeks would not be behind * z. Naukralis; Part 1., 1884-5; the third Memoir other peoples in organizing them we may of the Egypt Exploration Fund. By W. M. Flinders be sure from our own knowledcre of the Petrie; with chapters hy Cecil Smith, Ernest Gardner, Greek character. And tradition lends and Barclay V. Head. London, s886. ample countenance to this conviction. 2. Gesckich/e Aegyj5~ens, von Psamme/ick I. dis auf Alexander den Grossen. von Dr. Alfred Wiede- The two sieoe s of Ilium, the two expedi- b mann. Leipzig, x58o. tions against Thebes, certainly had his- 4 NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. torical prototypes, and the Argonautic expedition is a reflection in the mirage of tradition of many a voyage of banded heroes or pirates sailing from the Greek ports in quest of plunder or adventure. Odysseus beguiled the divine swineherd Eum~us with a feigned story, how he had set sail from Crete with a pirate crew, and made a descent on the c.oast of Egypt; and how the king of the country, with many chariots, came out of the city, and put his companions to the sword, and car- ried himself away captive, just as Me- nephthah and Rameses slew and captured the invaders from the north. Nor would Homer have put such a tale into the mouth of Odysseus, unless it had been a tale of every-day life and plausible on the face of it. There were certain times in the course of their expansion when even Goths and Gauls, though not maritime peoples, organized great expeditions by sea; swarming times when, like colonies of those most political animals, ants and bees, they wandered out boldly in search of new seats; but we cannot think that a people so naturally fond of the sea as the Greeks would at any time in their history be unable or unwilling to swarm in search of new lands or in order to escape over- population at home. But in any case, military or piratical expeditions would not bring the Greeks into real contact with the art, the civiliza- tion, and the politics of the Egyptians ; to be fruitful, intercourse between nations must be peaceful and leisurely. Most of us are familiar with the de- lightful tale of Herodotus which narrates how Psammitichus, one of the chiefs among whom Egypt was divided in the middle of the seventh century B.C., became an object of suspicion to his neighbors, and how they cfrove him out as an exile into the Delta; how an oracle informed him that he should be set on the throne of Egypt by bronze men from the sea, and how these bronze auxiliaries appeared in the persons of lonian and Carian sea-far- ers clad in armor, who did really win for the exile a way to the throne of the Pha- raohs. And however much the critical writers of the new school, such as Wiede- mann, and Sayce, and Busolt, may warn us against the moralizing tendencies and im- perfect information of Herodotus, men will always find a difficulty in doubting the truth of his stories. For ourselves, we are often disposed to take the part of He- rodotus against modern criticism, which is apt to err through supposing that people in ancient days always acted reasonably, and valued motives according to the scale of Bentham. Even Wiedemann, though possessed of admirable judgment, is inclined to reject these stories of He- rodotus in which oracular responses play a leading part, and we cannot think that he is justified in so doing; with moderns, reasons of State would outweigh the worth of an oracular response; but we know for certain that among the less advanced of the Greeks, such as Laced~emonians and Megan ans, oracular advice would out- weigh any reasons of expediency, and there seems every reason to suppose that the same frame of mind would prevail in the barbarian kings, who at the dawning of Greek history had learned to value the advice of the Hellenic Zeus and Apollo as delivered at their oracles. We know, indeed, from monumental evidence * that Psammitichus reigned as colleague of the last Ethiopian king of Egypt, Nut-Amen, and presumably suc- ceeded him, but it can scarcely be doubted that he had great difficulty in making his nominal supremacy real. Whether he was led by an oracle, or by any other in- ducement, to seek the friendship of the Greeks and Carians, we are justified by a passage in Strabo in supposing that the Milesians were among his most important allies. Strabo says that in the time of Psammitichus, whom he rightly states to have been contemporary with Cyaxares the Mede, the Milesians sailed with thirty ships into the Bolbitine mouth of the Nile, and erected a small fortress; and that after~vards they sailed up to the Saitic nome, and vanquished in a sea-fight oneC mar05, after which they founded Nau- cratis. Now the only Inaros mentioned in history is the Libyan king, who about B.C. 460 tried to wrest Egypt from the * Wiedemann, Aegyptische Geschichte, (5884) p. ~ A stone at Boolak bears side by side tbe ear- toucbes of Nut-Amen and of Psammitichus I. NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. 5 Persians. But he was an ally, not an ene- my of the Greeks, and in his days Miletus existed only in ruins; it is therefore cer- tain that the Inaros whom the Milesians vanquished must have been a different ruler. As he does not appear in the Egyptian dynastic lists, we may be almost sure that he was a chief at the time of disintegration which preceded the final establishment of Psamrnitichus, when a multitude of petty potentates divided among them the land of the Pharaohs. Doubtless he was one of the rivals whom the Greek and Carian allies of Psammiti- chus put down for him. Far from think- ing, with Mr. Petrie, that this passage of Strabo is to be set aside as useless, we regard it as the simplest and strongest testimony as to the date of the earliest Greek settlement in Egypt. If with Wiedemann we fix the accession of Psam- mitichus at B. C. 664, we shall regard the building of the Milesian fortress as hav- ing taken place before B. C. 6~o, and the first settlement of Naucratis as dating from about B. c. 66o. This is the time assigned by Herodotus and Strabo for the earliest intercourse between Egypt and Hellas. And that this was the beginning of Greek knowl- edge of the Nile country, is fully confirmed by all the arch~ological evidence which bears upon the matter, both the negative evidence and the positive. When Egypt became accessible to Greek travellers, they crowded to behold its wonders, and we can easily understand how the vast size and venerable antiquity of the buildings of the Pharaohs would overpower the lively imaginations of the visitors, and how the fixity and order of Egyptian society would impress them. We moderns can see that a Greek in Memphis or Thebes as much represented a higher race and a nobler order of ideas, as a Spaniard in Mexico, or an English- man in Canton. With him lay the future, with the Egyptians only the past; while they were sinking into decay, he was just starting on his great career as master for all time in science and art. But in the seventh century before our era this was not so clear as it is now. The Greeks called the Egyptians barbarians, but that term had not yet acquired the haughty meaning which filled it at a later date. So when the Egyptian priests dwelt on the antiquity of their civilization, and told the Greek travellers that in its presence they were like children before a venerable master, we cannot wonder that the stran. gers felt abashed. When Hecat~us of Miletus was rash enough to boast in the temple at Egyptian Thebes that his six- teenth ancestor was a god, the priests led him into an inner sanctuary, and showed him three hundred and forty-one statues of high-priests who had borne sway for life in successive generations, and told him that since that series began the gods had not walked the earth or begotten mortal men. Solon, wisest of the Greeks, is rep- resented in the Tim~us ~ of Plato as having been gently set down by an aged Egyptian priest: You Greeks, Solon, are ever boys, and there is no old man among you; you are young in mind, for you have no ancient belief handed down by long tradition, and no doctrine hoary with age. It is natural then that with minds thus cowed and overshadowed by the vast age of all they found in Egypt, the Greeks should have been ready to believe all that was told them by the priests as to the derivation of the Greek gods and Greek rites and customs from the land of the Pharaohs. Herodotus is entirely van- quished. The names of the gods came to Greece from Egypt. The Egyptians were earliest among men in introducing religious assemblies and processions and set prayers, and the Greeks learned of them. The customs I have mentioned and others which I shall mention here- after the Greeks took from the Egyptians. And later writers, such as Diodorus and Plutarch, speak in the same strain. They pass at once from a conviction of the greater antiquity of Egyptian civilization to a belief that the Greeks must have borrowed from the people of Egypt those cults and those customs which were alike in the two peoples. So long as the Egyptian language was unknown and the early history of the country lay in darkness, modern writers not unnaturally adopted this view; and 6 NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. the French savants, who accompanied to to copy all sorts of handiwork procured Egypt the army of Bonaparte, went with from the valley of the Nile. This is an eager expectation that they would find proved not only by the excavations in in the land of the Pyramids the source Greece, but by the results of Sir Henry alike of the religions and of the civiliza- Layards investigations at Nimrud, where tion of antiquity. They hoped to find the many Phenician bowls of Egyptizing style origin not only of the laws of Solon, but were found in the north-west palace, as also of those of Moses, and to prove that well as by the results of M. Renan s mis- the earliest civilization in the world was sion to Phenicia. also one of the wisest and most fruitful. What kind of an influence it was which, It is hardly necessary to say that the read- after the building of Naucratis, Egyptian ing of the hieroglyphic texts, combined civilization exercised upon Greek beliefs with the progress of the historical sci- and laws and arts, we shall presently con- ences, has put an end to all such sanguine sider; for the present we will resume the anticipations. We now know that, high thread of Egyptian history, which exhibits as ~vas the development of Egyptian civil- the other phase of the connection, the in- ization in certain directions, it was by no fluence of Greek character and valor on means the fertile mother of other civiliza- th~ political fortunes of the valley of the tions; rather, like that of China, a corn- Nile. plete and fully developed growth, but not Psammitichus made his birthplace, in the main line of human progress. All Sais, the capital of Egypt. All the coun- modern writers are agreed, that religious try had greatly suffered in the wars with cults and national customs are exactly the fierce and brutal Assyrians, and the what the Greeks did not borrow from ancient capitals Memphis. and Thebes Egypt, any more than the Hebrews bor- were greatly reduced; but this was not rowed thence their religion or the Phceni- the only reason for passing them by in cians their commerce. All are agreed favor of a site in the Delta. The fatal that, before the reign of Psammitichus step of calling in armed strangers corn- and the founding of Naucratis, Egypt was pelled Psammitichus, after becoming king, a sealed book to the Greeks. still to lean on their support. He at- Excavations such as those carried on in tracted to Egypt large bodies of Carian Greece, at Mycen~ and Menidi, fully con- and lonian mercenaries, and settled them firm this opinion. At these places, amid at Daphn~e, on the Pelusian branch of the the remains of prehistoric Greece, there Nile, a spot well chosen as an outpost has been found nothing to point to any against possible invasion from Asia. Here useful intercourse between Egypt and the new-comers occupied fortified camps Greece. A few objects have indeed been on both sides of the river. Herodotus discovered, which, if not the work of says that the king entrusted to them cer- Egyptian handicraftsmen, bear traces of tam Egyptian children to bring up, and their teaching; but arch~ologists, almost that these became the parents of the entire with one accord, agree to regard their caste of interpreters, who in the next age presence on Greek sites as due to the became the go-betweens between Greek commercial and manufacturing industry and Egyptian. If the mercenaries came, of the Ph~nicians, and to consider the as was probable, without wife or child, it is people of Tyre and Sidon as the sole likely that Egyptian women were assigned mediators between the manufactories of to them, and that a large number of half- Egypt and the shores of Greece in pre- breeds arose, of whom a separate caste historic times. It is likely that the Phce- would naturally be formed by the exclusive nicians, who were from time to time the and stranger-hating dwellers by the Nile; subjects of the Pharaohs, were admitted, indeed, we are inclined to interpret in this where aliens like the Greeks were ex- way the statement of Herodotus. Within cluded. We have indeed positive evi- the last few months Mr. Petrie has inves- dence that the Egyptians did not wish tigated Daphnx, and found the site of the r strange countries to learn their art, for in Greek camps, where weapons and horse- ~ a treaty between them and the Hittites it gear may still be found underground, to- is stipulated that neither country shall gether with a quantity of fragmentary early harbor fugitive artists from the other. Greek pottery, in the neighborhood of a But however the fact may be accounted palace proved by a cartouche found under for, it is an undoubted fact, that long be- the foundations to have been erected by fore Psammitichus threw Egypt open to Psammitichus. the foreigner, the Phenicians had studied As a patient in a dying state is some- in the school of Egyptian art, and learned times revived by the infusion of the blood NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. 7 of one in vigorous health, so Egypt seems at once to have recovered some prosperity under the new ruler with his new allies. Temples of the gods arose, or were re- stored, on all sides, as we learn from many a dedicatory inscription still preserved. And it is interesting to find in the art of the SaYte kings a marked new impulse. At this period, writes Wiedemann, in sculp- tured figures, the proportions of the body grow slimmer and more shapely, the mus- cles are worked out with greater natural- ism. The features of the face, even the hair, shows a treatment careful in the smallest detail, and in the modelling of the ear and nose especially we may discern the industry and talent of the artists. And the new impulse was not less visible in arms than in art. After securing Egypt from invasion, by fixing strong garrisons on its eastern, western, and southern bor- ders, Psammitichus marched with his na- tive army and his Greek allies into Syria. Ashdod was taken after a long siege, and inscriptions found at Aradus and Tyre prove that all Palestine fell at this time into the hands of the Pharaohs. But a still more powerful invader came from the north; the dreaded and destructive host of the Scythians poured down into Syria, burning and slaying like the Mongol hordes of later times. Psammitichus was fain to retire; he is said to have bought his safety with money, and perhaps, but for his castle of Daphn~, the plague of human locusts might have followed him to the banks of the Nile. According to Herodotus and Diodorus, the favor shown to the Greeks by the king was the cause of a great revolt of the na- tive Egyptian troops, who left the frontier fortresses, and marched south beyond Elephantine, where they settled, resisting all the entreaties of Psaminitichus, who naturally deplored the loss of the mainstay of his dominions, and developed into the race of the Sebrida~. Wiedemann, how- ever, rejects the whole story as unhistori- cal, and certainly, if we closely consider it, it contains great inherent improbabili- ties. Even among a people naturally so unwarlike as the Egyptians, a great revolt of troops, and the march of an armed force from end to end of Egypt, could scarcely take place without some fighting. Psammitichus died in B. c. 6io, and was succeeded by his son Necho, who was his equal in enterprise and vigor. This king paid great attention to the fleet of Egypt, and Greek shipwrights were set to work on both the Mediterranean and Red Seas to build triremes for the State navy. A fleet of his ships, we are told, succeeded in sailing round Africa, a very great feat for the age. The king even attempted the task, of which the completion was re- served for the Persian Darius, the Ptole- mies, and Trajan, of making a canal from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea. He- rodotus says that, after~sacrificing the lives of one hundred and twenty thousand men to the labor and heat of the task, he gave it up, in consequence of the warning of an oracle that he was toiling only for the barbarians. It is an easy task with Wiedemann to suggest reasons for its abandonment of a more political and statesmanlike character, such as a wish to stop the waste of human life, or a fear which in such cases has at all periods of history terr~ficl engiu~ers, that the levels of the two seas might prove quite differ- ent, and that the waters might make a breach over the land. But, after all, we have no reason for assuming that a Pha- raoh would always act from motives which we would approve, and the simplest plan is to take the story as it stands, perhaps with a grain of salt. Necho, like his father, must needs try the edge of his new weapon, the lonian mercenaries, on Asia. At first he was successful. Josiah, king of Judah, came out against him, but was slain, and his army dispersed. Greek valor carried Necho as far as th~ Euphrates, and in gratitude the king dedicated to Apollo in the temple of the Branchid~ at Miletus the linen cuirass which he wore. But Nebuchadnezzar, son of the king of Bab- ylon, marched against the invaders, and defeated them in a great battle near Car- chemish. His fathers death recalled him to Babylon, and Egypt was for the mo~ ment saved from counter-invasion by the stubborn resistance offered to the Babylo- nian arms by Jehoiakim, king of Judab, a resistance fatal to the Jewish race; for Jerusalem was captured after a long siege, and most of the inhabitants carried into captivity. Of Psammitichus II., who succeeded Necho, we should know but little were it not for the archaeological record. Herod- otus only says that he attacked Ethiopia, and died after a reign of six years. But of the expedition thus summarily recorded we have a lasting and memorable result in the well-known inscriptions written by Rhodians and other Greek mercenaries on the legs of the Colossi at Abu Simbel in Nubia, which record how certain of them came thither in the reign of Psammiti- chus, pushing up the river in boats as far 8 NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. as it was navigable, that is perhaps, up to the second cataract. The importance of these inscriptions to the history of Greek epigraphy is well known; but their testi- mony had hitherto lost much of its force, because it could not be finally determined whether they belonged to the reign of the first or the second Psammitichus. Of late most scholars have agreed with Wiede- mann in assigning them to the later mon- arch; and the excavations at Naucratis seem to prove definitely that this view is right. Mr. Ernest Gardner, who pub- lishes with care and accuracy the numer- ous Greek inscriptions found at Naucra- tis, proves that many of them are of con- siderably earlier date than the inscriptions of Abu Simbel. As the earliest Naucratic inscriptions, however, cannot date from an earlier time than the reign of the first Psammitichus, when Naucratis was founded, it is certain that the Abu Simbel inscriptions must belong to the reign of the second king of that name. Apries, the Hophra of the Bible, was the next king. The early part of his reign was marked by successful warfare against the Phcenicians and the peoples of Syria; but, like his predecessor, he was unable to maintain a footing in Asia in the face of the powerful and warlike Nebuchad- nezzar. The hostility which prevailed be tween Egypt and B~byl.on at this time, caused King Apries to open a refuge for those Jews who fled from the persecution of Nebuchadnezzar. He assigned to their leaders, among whom were the daughters of the king of Judah, a palace of his own at Daphn~, Pharaohs house at Tahpanhes, as it is called by Jeremiah. That prophet was among the fugitives, and uttered in the palace a notable prophecy (xliii. 9) that King Nebuchadnezzar should come and spread his conquering tent over its pave- ment. Formerly it was supposed that this prophecy remained unfulfilled, but this opinion has to be abandoned. Recently discovered Egyptian and Babylonian in- scriptions prove that Nebuchadnezzar conquered Egypt as far as Syene, at which point a certain general, named Hor, claims to have stopped his advance. Mr. Petrie, while investigating the site of Daphn~, has found fresh evidence to the same effect. He has discovered the ruins of a royal palace built by Psaminitichus I., which to this day, most curiously, bears the title of the house of the Je~vs daugh- ter; ruins which by their condition prove that the palace was destroyed by a hostile invader, mall likelihood by the Babylonian monarch. He has even found the srjuare pavement on which, according to the prophet, Nebuchadnezzar should set up his tent. There are few people who do not feel, in the presence of facts like these, that our grasp of many scenes of ancient history is becoming stronger, and our out- look clearer. The fall of Aprie w~as brought about by his ingratitude to the Greeks, and his contempt for the lives of his own subjects. He had formed the project of bringing under his sway the Greek cities of the Cyrenaica, at that time in a most wealthy and flourishing condition, prospering un- der the rule of the Battiad princes, and drawing within the circle of Hellenic commerce all the nomadic nations of northern Africa. Apries despatched against Cyrene a large force; but the Cyreneans bravely defended themselves, and as the Egyptians on this occasion marched without their Greek allies, they were entirely defeated, and most of them perished by the sword, or in the deserts which separate Cyrene from Egypt. The defeated troops, and their countrymen who remained behind in garrison in Egypt, imputed the disaster to treachery on the part of Apries, believing that he would willingly reduce the number of his Egyptian warriors in his partiality for their Greek allies. They revolted, and chose as their leader Amasis, a man of experience and daring. But Apries, though deserted by his subjects, hoped still to maintain his throne by Greek aid. At the head of thirty thousand lonians and Carians he marched against Amasis. At Momemphis a battle took plkce be- tween the rival kings and the rival na- tions; but the numbers of the Egyptians prevailed over the arms and discipline of the mercenaries, and Apries was defeated and captured by his rival, who, however, allowed him for some years to retain the name of joint king. It is the best possible proof of the solid- ity of Greek influence in Egypt at this time that Amasis, though set on the throne by the native army after a victory over the Greek mercenaries, yet did not expel these latter from Egypt, but, on the con- trary, raised them to higher favor than ~ before. The troops which had been~ settled at Daphn~e in the camps, he brought to Memphis to be his body-guard. Herodotus says that it was Amasis who gave Naucratis to the Greeks to settle in; this is incorrect, since the inscrip- tions found at Naucratis prove beyond ,a doubt that the city was in the possession of Greeks before the time of Psammiti NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. 9 chus II.; but it may well be that Amasis accorded to the city special privileges, and laid the foundation of its great pros- perity. Mr. Petries careful investiga- tions enable us to conjecture what it was that Naucratis owed to the favor of Ama- sis, the building of the Hellenion, of which we shall presently have to speak. Amasis entered more fully than his predecessorsintothestreamofthehistory of the Levant. He conquered Cyprus and the cities of Phcenicia, and he won victories over the Arabs. He won by wisdom what Apries had vainly sought by arms, a predominant influence in Cyrene and a fair daughter of that city became his queen. He gave fresh impulse to the cutting of canals and the extension of agri- culture, and we are told that in his day there were in Egypt twenty thousand flour- ishing cities, a statement which seems to be an exaggeration. To him was ascribed the promulgation of the law, that every year each dweller in Egypt should report to the ruler of the district where he lived by what means he made a living, those who could make no satisfactory statement beingcondemned to death. Perhaps this is the earliest of recorded poor-laws, and it is certainly the most drastic; whether there was any relation between it and the flourishing condition of the country, we cannot venture to say. In the delightful dawn of connected European history we see Amasis as a wise and wealthy prince, ruling in Egypt at the ~time when Polycrates was tyrant of Samos, and Crcesus of Lydia, the richest king of his time, was beginning to be alarmed by the rapid expansion of the Persian power under Cyrus. We hear of Pythagoras visiting him and obtaining letters from him to the priests of Egypt, which induced them to communicate to that earliest of mystics some of their choicest secrets. Thales was also a wel- come guest at the court of Amasis. We need not repeat the story, familiar in these days to children, of the friendship between Amasis and Polycrates, and how Amasis broke off that friendship because he was convinced that some calamity impended over Polycrates. Wiedemann s version is that Amasis was afraid that he might be landed in difficulties, supposing that Po- lycrates should quarrel with his subjects; but we must confess that the German pro- fessors explanation seems to us uncom- fortably modern, while the story of the ring of Polycrates suits admirably the whole mental and religious atmosphere of Greek antiquity. Critical historians aie bound to m~tke new theories in such a case; but the tale of Herodotus will out- live them all, and afford a starting-point for fresh theories a thousand years hence. The alliance of Amasis and Crcesus must in any case be taken as a historical fact, for there were Egyptian troops, perhaps we should rather say a body of Egypto-Greek mercenaries, in the Lydian army when Cyrus defeated it; the Persian king espe- cially noticed their valor, and gave them lands for settlement in Asia Minor, where their descendants dwelt in later times. In the days of Psammitichus III., the son of Amasis, the storm which had over- shadowed Asia broke upon Egypt. One of the leaders of the Greek mercenaries in Egypt, named Phanes, a native of Hali- carnassus, made his way to the Persian court, and persuaded Cambyses, who, ac- cording to the story, had received from Amasis one of those affronts which have so often produced wars between despots, to invade Egypt in full force. Jn a battle fought at Pelusium about B. c. 525, the Egyptians and their Greek allies were utterly defeated by the Persian king, and this one victory laid Egypt at his feet. As the Persian conquest is the beginning of quite a new era in Egyptian history, and as it closes the time of the greatest prosperity of Naucratis, we will at this point interrupt our sketch of Egyptian history, in order to trace the fortunes of that city during the reigns of the Philhel- lenic monarchs of the SaYte line. On the subject of the position of Nau- cratis there is distinct and irreconcilable contradiction between Ptolemy and the map of Peutinger on one side and Strabo on the other. The two former authorities place the city to the left (looking down the stream) of the Canobic branch of the Nile, that is to say, outside the Delta enclosed by the Canobic and Pelusiac branches; while Strabo as clearly places the city within the Delta and on the right of the Canobic branch. Most modern writers had followed Strabo; but certainty would never have been attained, but for the spade. That useful instrument has settled the controversy. It was by the merest accident [writes Mr. ~$ Petrie] * that I got the clue to the site of Naukratis. An Arab at the Pyramids sold me an archaic Greek statuette, and, cross- questioning him, I heard of the place from which he had brought it. I visited the site as soon as I could, and found that the ground which the Arabs had cleared was strewn with * Report of the Egypt Exploration Fund, i8S~, p. 3. NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. pieces of early Greek pottery. When I went there to begin work this past season [18845] I saw at the very house, where I obtained quarters, a decree of the city of Naukratis which had been found in the ruins; and it only needed the results of our excavations to turn a hopeful probability into a certainty. The site thus identified is at present on a canal to the west of the westernmost branch of the Nile; thus, by the logic of facts, Ptolemy is proved to be right and Strabo wrong. On another point the correction of clas- sical authorities is rather less conclusive. At present the site of Naucratis is on a canal which joins the Nile some miles off, while in many statements of ancient writ- ers it seems to be implied that the city stood on the river itseW Mr. Petrie is at no loss for reasons why a canal would be a more satisfactory channel of communi- cation with the outer world than a river. If Naukratis * had been on an open branch of the river, it would have been almost unap- proachable during the three months of the inundation. And then these three months were the most valuable of all for trade; since then the natives had nothing to do, the whole land being under water, and at the same time they had all the proceeds of the harvest lying by in hand. This was then the great time for the Greek traders; and when the villages stood out of the water like the islands of the Aegean, as Herodotus describes them, the Greek pedlars were doubtless pushing their fortunes actively in shallow boats, sailing from village to village. Perhaps this argument, that a city on the Nile itself could not be approached during the inundation, must not be too much relied on, since almost all the cities of Egypt did stand on the Nile. And when Mr. Petrie goes on to cite Herodo- tus as a witness in favor of the position of Naucratis on a canal, he seems to us to misquote Herodotus. He writes, Herod- otus expressly says that, when the Nile was in flood, they sailed up from Naukra- tis to Memphis by the canal which flowed past the Pyramids, owing to the stream of the river being too strong against them. But what Herodotus really says (ii. 97) is quite different. At this season [of inundation] boats no longer keep the course of the river, but sail right across the plain. On the voyage from Naucratis to Memphis at this season, you pass close to the Pyramids, whereas the usual course is by the apex of the Delta. But though we cannot agree with Mr. Petries reason- Report of the Egypt Exploration Fund, x88~. 2!. ing, he has his fact. The site of Nau- cratis is now on a canal, and must have been so originally, unless the course of the Nile has changed, which is scarcely unlikely. By a close attention to the stratification of the remains of Naucratis, Mr. Petrie has recovered for us the outlines of the history of the city. The lowest stratum of all is a bed of charcoal and ashes, which seems to be the result of a conflagration of a cluster of poor houses built in large part of wood. This village may have been the earliest settlement of the Greeks; but it seems to us equally probable that it may have been a native Egyptian village, or perhaps a settlement of Phcenicians, con- quered and destroyed by the Milesians when they came to make a settlement in the land. The next stage of the history of Naucratis, corresponding almost to a certainty with the reign of Psammitichus I., has left us more distinct and solid me- morials. Among these memorials must first be mentioned a large quantity of scarabs and moulds for scarabs, evidently the stock in trade of a maker of seals and amulets. Of these many bear the name of Psammitichus I., some of those of Psammitichus II., and apparently of Apries. Here the series comes to an abrupt conclusion, and it would seem from the extent of the stock suddenly thrown away or buried, that the cessation of the factory must have been caused by some event which greatly disturbed the trade of Naucratis, perhaps, as Mr Petrie suggests, the defeat of Apriess Greek mercenaries. We may observe in pass- ing, that scarabs imitated from those of Egypt, and like those produced in the factory just mentioned, have been fo~ind in Rhodes, and on other Greek sites. They have always hitherto been supposed to be of Phcenician work, but in future arch~ologists will be more inclined to re- gard them as imported from Naucratis. To the same period as the factory of scarabs belongs the foundation of the ear- liest Greek temples of Naucratis. Of these several are mentioned in a well- known passage of Herodotus (ii. 178), who says that, besides the Hellenion, which belonged to the Greeks in common, the ~ Aginetans founded a temple of Zeus, the Samians one of Hera, and the Milesians one of Apollo. An early temple of Aphro- dite is also spoken of by Athen~us (xv. 18). Of these temples the Hellenion and the temple of Apollo were found by Mr. Pe~ trie in 1885; the temples of Hera and Aphrodite have been discovered during NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. II the present year, when the excavations have been continued by Mr. Ernest Gard- ner. A temple dedicated to the Dioscuri has also been discovered. Of the Helle- nion we shall presently have to speak. The other temples mostly show proofs of early foundation and subsequent refoundation; of the successive temples of Apollo, a few fragments, interesting in point of archi- tectural detail, have been preserved. All the temples, however, are very small; if we compare them with contemporary temples of the west or of Asia Minor, with the magnificent structures of P~stum or Agri- gentum or of Ephesus, they will indeed seem mean. Their scale proves beyond question that we must not think of Nau- cratis, even when at the height of its for- tunes, as of a great or ~vealthy city, but rather as of an emporium or trading-sta- tion, chiefly important as being the point at which the Greek and Egyptian civiliza- tions met. But time, which has destroyed all that was splendid in the temples of Naucratis, the marble pillars, the cultus-statues, the dedicated vessels of gold and silver, has made some amends by preserving to us their rubbish heaps. It was the custom of the city, that Greeks who entered Egypt by that way, should dedicate to the patron deity, under whose protection they voy- aged, a statuette or vessel of pottery in memory of a safe journey. On the object so dedicated they would inscribe the name of the donor. And as from time to time the temple became too full of these pious offerings, the te~~pie officers would dig a trench and bury all that they judged to be superfluous, breaking them up for econ- omy of space. Out of such trenches Mr. Petrie and Mr. Gardner have extracted thousands of fragments of pottery, painted with figures or inscribed with dedicatory formuke, besides many statuettes, mostly fragmentary also. To build up these f rag- meits into vases, nearly or partly coin- plete, is a laborious task, which is now in progress; and of which the results caii scarcely fail to be valuable. We shall ac- quire a long series of inscriptions for the epigraphist; and for the archceologist a quantity of vases, which can be dated by means of the inscriptions which they bear. And we shall acquire a sort of visitors album, a record of the Greeks who went to Egypt, from the foundation of the city under Psammitichus, down to the Persian conquest, when these dedicatory customs seem to have been discontinued. Mr. Gardner has already made public one name of no ordinary interest, which .he has deciphered, that of Rhcecus, probably the same sculptor Rhcecus who was in an- tiquity spoken of as having wbrked in the Egyptian style, and who was at the same time, with his son Theodorus, one of the originators of the production in Greece of statues of divinities. In another case we seem to find the name of Sappho,* whose brother, if not herself, is known to have journeyed to Naucratis. On one large vessel we read the name of Phanes, the son of Glaucus, whom Mr. Gardner can scarcely be wrong in identifying with the Greek captain of mercenaries, who led Cambyses into Egypt. It is a point which never can be fully settled, how much Amasis did for the Greeks of Naucratis, and in what light he really regarded them. The two statements of Herodotus,first, that he won his throne through Egyptian support and a vic- tory over the Greeks; and secondly, that he was a great friend and patron of the Greeks, seem at first sight to be dis- cordant. Mr. Petrie endeavors with con- sid~rable ingenuity to reconcile them. He maintains that the abolitioii of other Greek settlements in Egypt, and the con- cession of a monopoly of Greek trade to Naucratis, was really an act fully as agree- able to the conservative inhabitants of Egypt as to the people of Naucratis them- selves, It confined the Greek traders within definite limits, and prevented their from forming settlements in the great Egyptian cities, where their business ac- tivity, their love of innovation, their curi- osity and talkativ~eness, would render them very unpleasant. We may be quite sure, however, that unless the Greeks had in some way had the best of the bargain, they would not have formed of Amasis the very favorable opinion which Herodotus repeats. The likelihood is, that the king, being a wise and liberal-minded man, saw that the good-will of the foreigners was necessary to him, and behaved towards them in a generous spirit, at the same time conceding something to the exclusiveness of his native subjects. With the reign of Amasis, Naucratis reached its highest point of commerce and renown. Herodotus says that he allowed the Greeks of Naucrats to dedicate pre- cincts to various deities. It is a curious confirmation of this statement that, ac- cording to Mr. Petrie, while the founda- tions of the temple of Apollo date from somewhat after the middle of the seventh century, the outer ~vall of his precinct ap * Naukratis, p. 62, No. 532. 12 NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. pears to have been built a century later. We also venture to think it probable, that the building of the Hellenion belongs to the reign of Amasis. This is not indeed stated by any ancient writer, nor can we prove it from the results of excavation; but it seems to be implied in what Herod- otus says, and is in no way inconsistent with the testimony of the spade. After enumerating the Greek cities which had a share in the foundation of the Hellenion, Herodotus adds: These are the States to which the enclosure belongs; and it is these States which appoint over- seers of the market; other states which claim a share in it, claim that to which they have no right. The i~ginetans, too, by themselves founded an enclosure of Zeus, the Samians of Hera, and the Mile- sians of Apollo. It is thus evident that the Hellenion not only contained a tem- ple or temples dedicated to the gods of Greece, but also an important market. This Hellenion Mr. Petrie has, almost be- yond a doubt, discovered, and it fully bears out the description of Herodotus. The enclosure consisted of a vast rec- tangle, some two hundred and fifty yards square, bounded by a wall about fifty feet in thickness and in height, made of native brick. It contained two great buildings. Of these, one has entirely disappeared; the natives, who have in quite recent times destroyed it for the save of its ma- terials, state that it contained passages and rooms, with an entrance on the ground- floor, like a house in Cairo. More than this we can never knnw about it; but we may conjecture that it served rather for a dwelling-place than for temples of the gods. Of the other building there are abundant remains, and a most singular structure it must have been, but admirably adapted, like everything Greek, to the end which those who planned it had in view. It was in form a square, sixty yards each way, framed by walls sixteen feet thick and about sixty high. The en- trance was at eighteen feet above the ground, evidently approached by a wooden scaffolding, which could be on occasion removed, and led into a passage, from which branched off to right and left twen- ty-six chambers. Under each of these chambers was a cellar, but the cellars did not communicate one with the other. There were also upper floors divided into chambers in similar fashion. It is at once evident that we have in this building a great market and store- house. The deep cellars, each only ac- cessible from the chamber above it, would furnish ample and secure space for stor- age; the rooms above would serve as show-rooms and offices, as well as work- rooms. The whole would form a hive of industry much like a modern factory, full of looms and wheels, and the sound of iron and brass. Than the agora in ordi- nary Greek cities, nothing could be more open and simple. Outdoor life, with crowding and talking and sight-seeing, suited the restless and enquiring Greek. Yet here we see him living in a vast pile of building. And the reason is clear. In Hellas he felt himself to be surrounded by friends and fellow-citizens. Even on the coast of Scythia or Gaul or Libya, he had simple means for awing and pleasing his barbarous neighbors, so that their hos- tility soon ebbed away. But in Egypt he felt that he was surrounded by an alien race and a rival civilization; by a people who frankly despised instead of admiring him, and would be delighted at any oppor- tunity to drive him into tho sea. So he took precautions. Close consideration of the factory shows it to have been admirably fitted for de- fence, whether against a crowd or an army. There was no entrance save at eighteen feet from the ground, the approach to which could easily be removed. If an enemy began to mine the wall, which was i6 feet thick, he would at last, on getting through it, find himself in the bottom of a well [that is in one of the cellars] from which the besieged would have had ample time and notice to remove all means of communication. To mount a wall 18 feet high to a doorway, in the face of opponents above, would be impos- sible; or even the floors might be taken out and the doors fastened, so that the defenders could hurl down stones from a height of 50 feet or more on the enemy. The building was simply impregnable to direct attack, and has never been breached in this way. Nor would it be a hopeful task to try to reduce by famine a place so abounding in storage room for food and wine. And even before attempting either assault or blockade, the enemy would have to storm the outer wall of the oi-eat enclosure, fifty feet thick. b As we are now busy with the Hellenion, it may be well to sketch its history from ~ the foundation onwards. It appears that at some time during the Persian rule part of the outer wall of the enclosure was broken down, when and how we know not. Ptolemy Philadelphus determined on its restoration. In the breach he set a large building, faced with limestone, no doubt for offices and for commerce. In NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. 3 connection with this building occurred some of the most interesting discoveries of the year. lVIr. Petrie found that, ex- actly under each corner of it, had been buried a set of foundation deposits, which clearly marked the date and the character of the structure. In each deposit were models of the tools used for the building, and specimens of the materials employed in its construction; a model brick, a plaque of turquoise, jasper, agate, and obsidian; an ingot of gold, of silver, lead, copper, and iron; also models of ceremo- nial implements, libation vases, corn-rub- bers, a knife, and an axe, together with cartouches of Ptolemy himself. This dis- covery is not only charming in itself, but of great promise for the future, because it affords us hope of being able hereafter often to determine the date and character of Egyptian buildings, even when they have wholly disappeared, since it is likely that Ptolemy followed an old custom of the country in burying such record of his works. In the Roman age the building of Ptol- emy was pulled down, and its materials used for the erection of the houses and offices of Roman officials dwelling in the enclosure. But by that time Naucratis had gone far on the downward road lead- ing from greatness to decay. In all Greek cities, as is well known, there were two main parts, the acropolis and the lower city. At Naucratis there was no hill whereon to build an acropolis; the Hellenion, with its mighty walls, took the place of a citadel and refuge in case of danger. At its gates lay the dwelling- houses of the city, its streets and docks. Of these houses and streets the plan has, to some extent, been discovered by Mr. Petrie. Though the site has been ruined and the whole ground carried away by the Arab diggers of sebach, yet by pains and study the lines of street can be followed, and the ~valls of the houses distinguished from the mud in which they are embedded. And these investigations prove that the city, at its best, was small and poor. The contrast between the chief Greek settle- ment in Egypt and the contemporary Greek settlements in Italy and Sicily, on the ~Egean and the Euxine, is indeed marked, and calls for explanation. Nor is the explanation far to seek. When the swarms thrown off by the par- ent cities of Greece landed in a country inhabited hy Thracians or Phrygians, by wandering Libyan tribes or the rude but hardy races of south Italy, they came as a superior race, bringing with them.at least the rudiments of arts and letters, as well as social order and habits of self- government. Those among whom they settled at once felt their superiority; and they had a proud consciousness of it themselves. They did not hesitate, even if they ~vere few in number, to trace a great circuit for walls, and to set aside extensive precincts for their native deities. They knew that expanding Greece was behind them, and that their compatriots would flock after them across the sea. The peoples among whom they settled might sometimes harass them by force of arms, but had no arts, no civilization, no ideas, which could be set up against theirs. They were the force of light invading the kingdom of darkness, and the darkness fell away before them. But in Egypt the Greeks before the ripe of the Persian Empire met with a civilization which could dispute with them on equal terms. The Hellenic nationality being in its infancy was awed jy the ven- erable institutions and beliefs of the land of the Nile. Instead of imparting to bar. barians the rudiments of civil organiza. tion, the Greeks of Naucratis stood amazed in the presence of a society organ- ized in the most inflexible way. Instead of teaching strangers the use of letters, they found themselves wondering at scribes who had two or three quite different ways of writing, according to the occasion and the subject. Instead of being able to tempt the cupidity of the natives by a display of works of archaic Greek art, they had to admire vessels and textile fabrics, images and ornaments, designed with a skill which far surpassed their own, and showing a delicacy and pureness of style which roused their envy. Only in arms, elsewhere that in which they least excelled their barbarian neighbors, did the Greeks in Egypt surpass the natives of the country. Thus Naucratis might be compared to a tender plant growing in an uncongenial soil, and surrounded on all sides by hardier shrubs ever ready to en- croach upon its narrow domain. When the fostering care of kings like Psam- mitichus and Amasis was no longer exer- cised, the decay of the city set in slowly but surely. Meantime, while Naucratis flourished, it was as much an outlet for Egyptian as an inlet for Hellenic influences. Many of the wisest men of Greece in the seventh and sixth centuries, if we may believe the traditions accepted by their countrymen, passed through the city into Egypt, and brought away treasures of knowledge. 14 NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. According to Diodorus, Solon borrowed several laws from Egypt, among others the law that every citizen should once a year set forth before magistrates the sources of his livelihood. Pythagoras travelled with letters of introduction from Amasis himself, and was supposed to have learned in Egypt not only the lan- guage of the country, an acquirement in those days reckoned as wonderful, but also the principles of his mystic philoso- phy. Thales of Miletus is said by Di- ogenes Laertius to have learned mathe- matics and astronomy in Egypt, and to have taught his countrymen what he had thus learned himself. Hecat~us of Mile- tus, who perhaps deserves as much as Herodotus the title of father of history, journeyed into Egypt, and told many tales of the country which remained among the commonplaces of Greek historical knowl- edge ever afterwards. No doubt when philosophy and science had grown in Greece to their full stature, they did not retain many marks of the swaddling-bands of Egypt; yet they may, as the ancients believed, have been very usefully aided in their infancy by those swaddling-bands. There is, however, another field the field of art and manufacture in which the recent excavations should enable us to judge with some accuracy of the extent of the debt of Hellas to Egypt. No doubt they do supply us with materials for de- ciding this question; but the materials must be carefully considered in various lights, and during a series of years, before we can be quite sure how far their testi- mony reaches and what it teaches. It would be unwise to formulate ideas on the subject which may be unsound, and which must be premature, seeing that a large part of the antiquities from the site has not yet been exhibited. We will venture only on a few general remarks, justified by the plates of the volume before us. The products of Greek art from Naucra- tis, so far as published, consist chiefly of three classes of objects scarabs, pottery, and statuettes. The scarabs come from the factory of which we have already spoken. Had they been found scattered over the Greek islands, or in Cyprus, they would have been at once taken for works of Ph~nician craftsmen. For we do not usually think of the Greeks as making copies, barbarous copies, as archa~ologists term them, of the products of other peo- ples. But in that very early period the proud artistic consciousness of the Greeks had not developed, and they were not yet ashamed of making commodities which were in demand, even though the work of fashioning them was ignominious. And even in the commonplace products of this factory we find now and then a trace of Greek originality and skill jn design. The pottery from the site belongs nearly all to the seventh and sixth centuries. The bulk of it belongs to the class so abundantly found in the tombs of Ca- meirus in Rhodes, on which are painted friezes and heraldic groups of animals or winged monsters, lions, sphinxes, and boars, water-birds, and domestic fowls. Here, again, we have much that is Ori- ental, little that is Greek, and the pottery of Cameirus has usually been supposed to be of Phcenician origin. In certain other vases, however, which resemble the class which has hitherto been attributed to Cyrene, we find human figures, and more of human interest. But the con- spectus of the early pottery, which can be dated, it must be remembered, by the dedicatory inscriptions which it bears, proves that even late in the sixth century the pottery of the Greeks had not emerged from that merely decorative stage in which much regard was paid to color and the harmonious filling of space, and but little to form and subject. The result appears to show that our dates for early Greek ware are at present placed too far back, and need revision. The statuettes of Naucratis are seldom or never of purely Egyptian type; rather they are of the mixed character which we observe in statues and statuettes from the island of Cyprus. They too are not beautiful, and show little of the great wave of artistic inventiveness which was at the time pass- ing over Greece. Of course we must wait until the arch~ologists have had time to examine and exhaust the evidence of the antiquities brought from Naucratis; but the first glance warns us not to expect too much in proof of artistic connection be- tween Egypt and Greece. When the military power of Persia be- came dominant in Egypt, the function of the Greek mercenaries was for a time gone, and their influence diminished. And it was by no means unlikely that Egypt, which had long been suffering from phys- ical exhaustion of the warrior caste, and ~ long been used to respect foreign arms as irresistible, might have been content to accept Persian sway and pay tribute with- out a murmur, had the Persians been ~vise enough to spare the feelings and respect the institutions of the people. But this they did not do. They were usually very tolerant of the religions of those they con- NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. 5 quered. Babylon and Asia Minor had little ground for accusing them of the fer- vid iconoclasm which some writers have supposed to be part of their policy. And in Egypt, at the first conquest of the coun- try, they seem to have spared the political and religious sensibilities of the people. We possess a record drawn up by an Egyptian, who narrates how he initiated Cambyses in the sixysteries of Neith, and obtained of the king for the goddess spe- cial favors, and for himself the post of court physician. But afterwards, a sort of frenzy seems tohave fallen on Camby- ses. He is said not only to have dug up and ill-used the corpse of Amasis, who died during the Persian invasion, but to have treated his family with insult and cruelty. From persecution of the kings of Egypt he passed to persecution of the gods of the country. Every one knows the story told by Herodotus, how, when full of irritation at the news of the de- struction of the troops he had sent against the Libyan Oasis, Cambyses was driven to madness by the sound of joy and rev- elry in the streets of Memphis; and how, learning that the cause of the rejoicing was the instalment of a new Apis-bull, he sent for the new-made deity and plunged a knife into its side, so that it languished and died. It is curious that Wiedemann, who usually rejects stories of this kind, is willing to accept this tale, because he believes that he can identify among the tablets set up in honor of successive Apis- bulls in the Serapeum at Memphis, the record of the animal slain by Cambyses, a record graven in haste and wanting in the usual formalities. We also learn that Cambyses wasted with fire and sword many of the temples of Egypt; and carried off their treasures to Persia. In such deeds of impiety the Egyptian priests naturally found the cause of the madness which possessed Cambyses in his later years, and made him a terror to all about him. Herodotus is quite ready to accept the explanation. The conduct of Darius Hystaspes was very different from that of Cambyses; he buried with great pomp an Apis-bull which died dur- ing his reign, and took great pains to find him a successor; he built and restored many temples, endowed colleges of scribes which were impoverished, and is repre- sented to us in tradition as maintaining an easy and friendly intercourse with the Egyptian priests. But there were few Persian rulers like Darius; the Persian yoke was on the whole extremely uncon genial to the dwellers by the Nile, and wounded all their most settled sentiments. It was not long before discontent broke into open revolt; and during part of the fifth and most of the fourth century there were in Egypt native kings who enjoyed a degree of independence, were indeed often quite independent. Egypt was not really reduced to a Persian province until B. C. 350, a few years before the conquest of the country by Alexander the Great. We do not propose to trace the obscure outlines of the history of Egypt during this period of revolt and struggle. But it is part of our task to sketch the course taken by events when the Greeks organ- ized, as they did more than once, expedi- tions to aid the native Egyptian rulers in their efforts to be independent. Between the invasion of Greece by Xerxes and the invasion of Persia by Alexander, there was a perpetual enmity, whether flaming or smouldering, between the Hellenic race and the over-lords of Asia; andAhe ruling States in Greece were constantly on the alert to strike at any part of the Persian dominions which might seem open to at- tack. Soon after the accession of Artaxerxes to the Persian throne in B. c. 464, a revolt broke out in Egypt. The leader was not a native Egyptian, but a Libyan, mar05 by name. Our surprise at this circumstance diminishes if we consider that for ages, from the fifteenth century onwards, Lib- j an or Mediterranean mercenaries had een a chief element in the armies of Egypt; it was therefore natural that the Egyptians in any attempt to expel the Persians should call on their allies for help. They called also on the people ~f Athens, with whom the destruction of their city by Xerxes was a fresh memory, and they did not appeal in vain. There were two hundred Athenian triremes sta- tioned at Cyprus, ready for any service against Persia; these were at once ordered to the Nile. They conquered the Delta and two-thirds of Memphis, hemming the Persian troops into the citadel called the White Fortress. Ach~menes, the Per- sian satrap, came with an army and fleet to the relief of his men; but his army was defeated with great slaughter by Inaros, and his fleet by the Athenian triremes; he himself was among the slain. But a new and enormous armament was de- spatched from Persia under the command of Megabyzus, comprising, we are told, at least half a million of men. The Libyans and Athenians had to retire from Mem i6 NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. phis, and took refuge in the island Pro- sopitis. For a year and a half their naval superiority enabled them to maintain themselves there; then the Persians suc- ceeded in turning aside the water from the branch of the Nile which enclosed the island. Inaros was captured and cruelly executed; the Athenians capitulated, but were allowed to depart, and marched through Libya to Cyrene, leaving the ships to their conqueror. A reinforce- ment of fifty Athenian triremes ascending the Mendesian arm of the Nile, in igno- rance of what had happened, was en- trapped by the Persians and destroyed. The death of Inaros and the defeat of the Greeks did not at once bring the re- volt to an end. Amyrta~us, a native Egyptian, found means to carry on the struggle for some time longer. Cimon, then in command of the Athenian fleet near Cyprus, sent him sixty ships as an aid. But they accomplished nothing, and soon retired. That Amyrt~eus was able to make favorable terms for himself with the Persian king, appears from the state- ment of Herodotus, that the Persians allowed Pausiris, son of Amyrt~eus, to retain his fathers dominion, though he probably retained it not as an independent sovereign but as a vassal of Persia. A later revolt of Egypt about n. c. 45 was more successful; and for sixty-four years that country maintained a precari- ous independence under the 28th, 29th, and 30th dynasties. This was accom- plished only by the aid of Greek mercena- ries, who henceforward play the leading part in all wars on the shores of the iEgean. But to give a connected narrative of their doings in Egypt is very difficult, if not impossible. We lose the guidance of Thucydides, and have to choose between the discrepant accounts of writers like Diodorus, Plutarch, and Cornelius Nepos. The most abundant information comes from the slovenly pen of Diodorus. Of late certain Egyptologists, more particu- larly Wiedemana and Revillout, have tried to restore the reputation of this writer. They have succeeded in showing that his account of Egyptian law is based on good and native authorities; but even Wiede- mann does not pretend that his narratives of events are to be trusted. He confuses names and dates with the most exasperat- ing carelessness, and in repeating his account of civil and military events we cannot escape from the feeling, that it is lik~ly that what he is narrating never really happened. Unfortunately also at this period native records are scarce and meagre. The materials of history, there- fore, scarcely exist. The native ruler who shook off the Per- sian yoke was Amyrt~us, perhaps a grand- son of the Amyrta~us already spoken of. He gained possession alike of Upper and Lower Egypt, and it seems from a casual reference in Thucydides (viii. 35) that he was a friend of the Athenians. That he won his throne through Greek mercenaries is more than probable, and when a papyrus informs us in regard to his successors, that they owed their elevation to the sol- diers, we may be almost sure that the nucleus of these soldiers was Greek. Of Achoris, who ruled at the beginning of the fourth century, we learn that he sent building-timber and corn to the Spartans for their wars, and that he concluded with the active and powerful Evagoras, king of Cyprus, a treaty against Persia, and sent fifty vessels to his aid in that final battle against the great king, whi~ch put an end forever to the chance of Cyprus gaining a prominent place in the worlds history. As to the wars and policy of the next king, Nectanebus I., who came to the throne, according to Wiedemann, in n c. 387, we have ampler information. Evago- rus having been put down, the Persians made great preparafions for the reduction of Egypt Pharnabazus marched into the country with an army 6f two hundred thousand men, but even with forces so overwhelming he was disquieted by hear- ing that the Athenian Chabrias was in the Egyptian service. Sending to Athens, he procured the recall of that officer, and even persuaded the Athenians to let him have the services of Iphicrates, who joined him with twenty thousand Greek mercena- ries. Failing in an attempt on the Pelu- sian arm of the Nile, Pharnabazus and Iphicrates made good an entry into Egypt by the Mendesian arm. The land lay open to them, and Iphicrates counselled (we repeat the account of Diodorus) a prompt attack upon Memphis, which was not in a state of defence. But whether through jealousy or indecision, or through waitingfor orders from the Persian court, Pharnabazus delayed to move until Nec- tanebus had had time to cover Memphis ~- with his army, and the rising Qf the Nile so hampered the movements of the Per- sians that they were obliged to retire, and the invasion came to nothing. The reign of Nectanebus was dignified by visits paid to Egypt by noteworthy Greek savants; Eudoxus, the astronomer; Chrysippus NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. 7 the physician; and Plato, the philosopher. Letters of introduction from Agesilaus secured Eudoxus respectful attention at the Egyptian court. As regards one of the three, Plato, we may he sure that his imagination was not unmoved by the won- ders of the land, and that there are pas- sages in his writings which but for this visit would not have been written. The successor of Nectanebus, Tachos, being again threatened from Persia, ap- plied for aid to the Spartans, and procured for himself, it is said through heavy bribes, the aid of the aged Agesilaus and a body of Laced~monian troops. Being thus fortunate, and having further secured the Athenian Chabrias as leader of his fleet, he felt emboldened to undertake an offensive campaign. He rapidly made a conquest of Phcenicia; but during his absence a relation, Nectanebus II., re- volted against him. The people of Egypt seem at once to have accepted the new pretender, but the question was what line would be taken by Agesilaus and Cha- brias. Agesilaus had already been deeply wounded in his Spartan pride by Tachos, who had failed to understand that the coarse clothes and rude manners of the Spartan king were a sign not of humility but of infinite pretension, and had ven- tured to slight him. He is said to have referred to Sparta the question which side he should take, and to have received in reply the answer, that he should do what- ever was for the advantage of Sparta. He left the party of Tachos and adopted that of Nectanebus; Chabrias followed his ex- ample; and Tachoss Egyptian troops not venturing to retain their loyalty, he fled to the Persian court, where he was received as a useful ally. We hear next of a fresh Persian inva- sion of Egypt, which was repulsed by two Greek leaders of mercenaries, Diophantus of Athens and Lamius of Sparta. But a subsequent expedition, which took place in the reign of Artaxerxes Ochus about B. C. 350, was more successful. The man- ner of its success is very characteristic of the times. The Persian army of invasion was accompanied by a large body of Greek troops under Nicostratus and Mentor of Rhodes. Nectanebus marched against it, accompanied by twenty thousand Greek troops under Cleinias of Cos. On the frontier the two bodies of mercenary troops came into collision, and Cleinias was defeated. The disaster was irrepara- ble; Nectanebus fled to the south, and the cities of Egypt surrendered without fur- LIVING AGE. VOL. LVIII. 2966 ther struggle. The Persian king Ochus visited Egypt, and is said to have re- peated all the cruelties and enormities of Cambyses, down to the slaying of the Apis-bull; though it may perhaps be doubted whether the fact is that Ochus copied Cambyses, or merely that Plutarch and other late ~vriters who record these deeds copy Herodotus. In any case this was the end of Egyptian independence, and the historian must allow that the end was due. A nation that could allow its national existence to depend on the vic- tory or defeat of one body of foreign glad- iators by another, can scarcely claim our pity when it fell. Egypt had still a history before it; but it was a history not con- cerned with conquest or war, but with science and poetry, religion and philoso- phy. But before the first page of that later history could be opened, it was neces- sary that Greek influence should affect far more deeply the national life. Hitherto Greeks had been only the defenders and mercenaries of Egypt; it was necessary that they should become her masters; and not masters only of her political organiza- tion, but also of her learning, her science, her religion, and her art. Persian authority had scarcely been re-established in Egypt, when Persia in turn succumbed to a new and mighty foe. Alexander the Great, having welded into one force the wisdom of Greece and the hardy strength of Macedonia, brought that force to bear with irresistible energy on the languid and overgrown empire of Asia, and it crumbled at once to pieces. In no country was the victory of Alex- ander more rapid or more easy than in Egypt. City after city opened its gates on his approach; and the throne of the Pharaohs cost him scarcely the life of a spearman. Of course to forces and talents such as those of which Alexander dis- posed, Egypt could under any circum- stances have made but a weak resistance. But there is reason to believe that she did not care to resist. Sabaces, the Persian satrap of the country, had fallen at Issus, and the Persian garrison was withdrawn to meet the nearer needs of the empire. The Egyptians had no motive for resisting Alexander on behalf of their foreign mas- ters, and they were too weak and dispirited to oppose him in the interests of their independence. Rather they were inclined to welcome him as a liberator, as a hero belonging to another and more tolerant race than the lords whom they were used to obey. Alexander offered sacrifices to NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. th~ national deities, and amused the peo- In religion, we find under the Ptolemaic ple with warlike pomp and agonistic fes- kings a process of syncretism. The re- tivals. The Egyptian priests were ready semblance, which had not escaped Herod- with a fiction to make submission in some otus, of the worship of Isis to that of the sense a duty. Nectanebus II. had disap- Greek Demeter, made it easy that she peared at the time of the Persian recon- should retain her place at the head of the quest; the priests gave out that he had pantheon of Egypt. But her consort made his way to Macedon, and there, Osiris gradually recedes into the back- through the use of magic arts, become the ground before a new deity, Serapis, whose father of Alexander. The story was an worship was introduced into the country invention, as obviously false as the earlier by Ptolemy in consequence of a dream. fable which had made Cambyses daughter Serapis took his place beside Isis, and the of an Egyptian princess; in both cases other Egyptian gods, Anubis, Harpoc- the motive was the same, and in both rates, and the like, sank into mere sat- cases the story fulfilled its object. ellites of the supreme pair, into whose Escorted by his troops, Alexander sailed worship more and more of symbolism and from Memphis by the Canobic branch of of mysticism entered, until the Egyptian the Nile; he landed at Racotis. Here religion seemed to the pagans of the third ~vas the place ~vhere Homer represents century of our era no unworthy rival of the imaginary raid of Odysseus into Egypt Christianity. But the State religion of as having taken place, in a poem which Egypt in Hellenistic times was less the cult Alexander knew by heart. He at once of Isis and Serapis than that of the kingly made up his mind to build there a great race. According to the tales of the priests, city to bear his name and to be a memorial all the gods of Egypt, from Osiris down- of him forever; and thus the greatest of wards, had been originally successive all the Alexandrias came into being. kings of the country; it was therefore not Hence he visited the oasis of Ammon, led difficult, especially since the Libyan Am- to the spot, when the way was lost in the mon guaranteed Alexanders divine par- sand, by two serpents; and found in that entage, to raise him also from the rank of deity a third claimant to the honor of hay- king to that of god. The worship of the ing begotten him. Macedonian hero and his Greek succes- As Alexandria grew, Naucratis de- sors became the central worship of Egypt, dined. In the troubled times of the Nec- and not only united Macedonian, Greek, tanebi the city had rather shrunk than and Egyptian in a common litany, but increased, and had suffered from some served to give religious sanction to the hostile violence, of which traces still re- power of the reigning dynasty. main. Despite the efforts of Ptolemy As kings, the Ptolemies stepped into the Philadelphus to restore the place, it never customs and the honors of the Pharaohs. again flourished. A fragmentary papyrus This was natural, since among the Greeks proves that it retained under the Greek there was no precedent for such relations kings its municipal organization, under as existed in the East between sovereigns magistrates called rqiovxot, remaining a and subjects. Alexander did indeed for a free Greek community. About the third short time assume the position of a Per- century of our era, after giving a home to sian king of kings, and in some part of the some notable men of letters, Philistus, station which he thus claimed most of his Proclus, Athen~us, and Julius Pollux, successors tried to imitate him. But Naucratis ceased to exist. Since then probably the precedents of the Persian the site, one of the coolest, healthiest, and court had less effect in Egypt than in pleasantest in Egypt, has been tenanted by Syria or even Macedon. Of course the re- none but scattered copts and companies of lation of the king to his Greek subjects and agricultural Arabs. to his Egyptian subjects would not be the Egypt was indeed fortunate in being same. To the former he would be a coun- assigned, when Alexanders flimsy empire tryman in high station; to the latter, an fell to pieces, to Ptolemy, son of Lagus, earthly god. From the facts of archreol-~ the gentlest and wisest of the Macedonian ogy we may illustrate this distinction. generals, a man who understood, while When on the walls of an Egyptian temple bringing fresh life into the administration, one of the Ptolemaic dynasty is depicted the religion, and the social condition of as engaged in religious or political oh- Egypt, how to avoid shocking the sensi- servance, he is represented, as were the bilities of the conservative people of the older monarchs of the land, in Egypti~n land. dress, in conventional attitude, with the NAUCRATIS AND THE GREEKS IN ANCIENT EGYPT. 9 Inexpressive features of an abstraction, goods which were everywhere in demand: not of a person. When on their silver line linen, ivory, porcelain, notably that coins, struck for the use of Greek com- papyrus, which Egypt alone produced and merce, the portraits of the Ptolemies ap- which was necessary to the growing trade pear, they appear as men, idealized indeed in manuscripts. Artificial barriers being to some degree, but still as men, liable to once removed, enterprising traders of the accidents and diseases of humanity. Corinth and Tarentum, Ephesus and On the bronze coins struck under Ptole- Rhodes, would naturally seek these goods maic rule, mostly for the use of the Egyp- in Egypt, bringing in return whatever of tians themselves, we have usually no most attractive their own countries had to portrait at all, but the effigy of a deity. offer. It seems probable that the subjects Something, however, was changed even of the Ptolemies seldom or never had the in the government of the native Egyptian courage to sail direct down the Red Sea population. Writers on the Ptolemaic to india. In Roman times this voyage constitution of Egypt attach great impor- became not unsual, but at an earlier time tance to the establishment of boards of the indian trade was principally in the judges who moved in circuit into the dif- hands of the Arabs of Yemen and of the terent districts of Egypt. Hitherto the Persian Gulf. Nevertheless the com- courts of justice had had their fixed seats merce of Egypt under the Ptolemies in the great cities ing, like all pleas and the peasantry be- spread eastwards as well as westwards. ant cultivators, very liti- The important towns of Arsinoi~ and Bere- gious, had flocked into the towns with nice arose on the Red Sea as emporia of their causes, and waited for long periods the Arabian trade. And as al~vays. hap- until they could be attended to. We are pens when Egypt is in vigorous hands, told that the resi~it was that much of the the limits of Egyptian rule and commerce fertile land of Egypt remained for con- were pushed further and further up the siderable periods untilled. Instead of Nile. abolishing the local courts, the Ptolemaic The influx into Alexandria and Mem- kings strove in some degree to supersede phis of a crowd of Greek architects, art- them by providing boards of Chrematist~e, ists, and artisans, could not fail to produce who moved among the people, vested movement in that stream of art which had directly by the king with a portion of his in Egypt long remained all but stagnant. authority, and responsible to him alone. A wealthy Greek court and self-indulgent Thus cheaper and speedier justice was Greek satraps had to be supplied with made accessible to the peasantry. But articles of luxury, which would not offend in Ptolemaic as in Pharaonic Egypt, the them by hieratic stiffness or bear the im- king was practically an autocrat, whose press of a religion which they half de- rescripts were law, and whose officers spised. That the Egyptians responded to held power not a moment longer than they the demand we know; the best proof is to retained his favor. In Ptolemaic as in be found in reading the extraordinary ac- Pharaonic Egypt, the nome or district was count in Athen~us of the pomp of PtoI- the unit of government; probably the emy Philadelphus. We there not merely hierarchy of officials in the nome was not hear of a display of wealth such as was much altered. perhaps never rivalled, of mountains of But although the political constitution gold and silver, but also find precious in- of Egypt was not greatly altered when the dications of a new departure in Greek art, land fell into Greek hands, yet in many which seems on that occasion to have bor- respects great changes took place. The ro~ved something from the abstract ten- mere fact that Egypt took its place among dencies of.Egyptian thought. There were a family of Hellenistic nations, instead of statues not merely of gods and kings, but claiming as of old a proud isolation, must of a multitude of cities, and even personi- have had a great effect on the trade, the fications of qualities such as Aret~, valor, manufactures, and the customs of the and of spaces of time such as the year and country. To begin with trade. Under penet~ris. Such abstractions are not to the native kings Egypt had scarcely any be found in Greek art in its best period, external trade, and trade could scarcely nor are they in the spirit of Greek art at spring up during the wars with Persia. all; but they mark the new age and the But under the Ptolemies, intercourse be- progressive amalgamation of Greek and tween Egypt and Sicily, Syria, or Greece, Egyptian nationalities and ideas under would naturally and necessarily rapidly the just and benign rule of the earlier advance. Egypt produced manufacture~i Ptolemies. 20 A SECRET INHERITANCE. If we may trust the somewhat over- colored and flighty panegyrics which have come clown to us, the material progress of Egypt under Ptolemy Philadelphus was most wonderful. We read, though we cannot for a moment trust the figures of Appian, that in his reign Egypt possessed an army of two hundred thousand foot- soldiers and forty thousand horsemen, three hundred elephants and two thousand chariots of war. The fleet at the same )eriod is said to have included fifteen hundred large vessels, some of them with twenty or thirty banks of oars. Allowing for exaggeration, we must suppose that Egypt was then more powerful than it had been since the days of Rameses. The number of towns in Egypt under the early Ptolemies is given by some writers as over thirty thousand. But far more noble, and far more dura- ble in its effects than any mere material expansion, was the rise at Alexandria of a great literary and scientific school. Among the scholiasts on the great poets and prose-writers of Greece there was no doubt much pedantry, but a literature which was adorned by the writings of Theocritus, and Bion, and Callimachus, cannot be despised. And to our days all children are trained to mental accuracy by the writings of an Alexandrian professor of mathematics, Euclid. A large part of the thoughts which dominate the worlds views in philosophy, religion, and science,saw the light first in Alexandria. But if it were our intention to do justice to the glories of that illustrious city, it would claim not the last page of an article, but a volume. We have introduced the Greeks as they made their first appearance in Egypt as mail-clad warriors from over the sea, and we have followed their career until from being the hired protectors of the Egyp- tians, they became their masters. The later relations between Egypt on the one side, and Syria, Athens, and Rome on the other, would form a subject not less inter- esting, but beyond our compass. Egypt, with Alexandria as its capital, plays a great part in the drama of history; Egypt, with Naucratis as its link with the outer world, can form only a dim background to the splendor of the later fame of the country. It is therefore the more welcome, when excavation helps us to clear away some of the mist which envelops the earliest of the Greek settlements in Egypt, and en- ables us more clearly to understand under what conditions it existed and what were its relations to Greece and to Egyptv From The English Illustrated Magazine. A SECRET INHERITANCE. By B. L. FARJEON. BOOK THE FIRsT. CHAPTER XVII. SUCH a story, which Doctor Louis truly described as strange and eventful, could not have failed to leave a deep impres- sion upon me. During its recital I had, as it were, been charmed out of myself. My instinctive distrust of the twin broth- ers Eric and Emilius, the growth of a groundless jealousy, was for a while for- gotten, and at the conclusion of the re- cital I was lost in the contemplation of the tragic pictures which had been pre- sented to my minds eye. Singularly enough, the most startling bit of color in these pictures, that of the two brothers in their life and death struggle on the outer walls of the lighthouse, was not to me the dominant feature of the remarkable story. The awful, unnatural contest, Avicias agony, Silvains soul-moving appeals, and the dread silence of Kristel all this was as nought in comparison with the figure of a solitary man standing on the sea- shore, gazing in the direction of his lost happiness. I traced his life back through the years during which he was engaged in his relentless pursuit of the brother who had brought desolation into his life. In him, and in him alone, was centred the true pathos of the story; it was he who had been robbed, it was he who had been wronged. No deliberate act of treachery lay at his door; he loved, and had been deceived. Those in whom he placed his trust had deliberately betrayed him. The vengeance he sought and consummated was just. I did not make Doctor Louis acquainted with my views on the subject, knowing that he would not agree with me, and that all his sympathies were bestowed upon Silvain. There was something of coward- ice in this concealment of my feelings, but although I experienced twinges of conscience for my want of courage, it was not difficult for me to justify myself in my own eyes. Doctor Louis was the father of the woman I loved, and in his hands lay my happiness. On no account must I ~ instil doubt into his mind; he was a man of decided opinions, dogmatic and strong- willed. No act or word of mine must cause him to have the least distrust of me. Therefore I played the cunning part, and was silent ~vith respect to those threads iim the story which possessed the firmest hold upon his affections. A SECRET INHERITANCE. 21 This enforced silence accentuated and have urged them not to waste their lives strengthened my view. Silvain and Avi- in a village so small and primitive as that cia were weak, feeble creatures. The in which they were born. man of great heart and resolute will, the Somewhat destructive of your own man whose sufferings and wrongs made theories of happiness, doctor, I ob- him a martyr, was Kristel. Faithful in served. Yourself, for instance, wasting love, faithful in hate. Trustful, heroic, your life in a small place like Nerac, when unflinching. In a word, a man. by your gifts you are so well fitted to play But he and his brother, and the woman your part in a large city. who had been the instrument of their fate, I am selfish, I am afraid, he said with belonged to the past. They were dead a deprecatory smile, and am too much and gone, and in the presence of Dr. wrapped up in my own ease and comfort. Louis I put them aside awhile. Time At the same time you must bear in mind enough to think of them when I was alone, that mine is an exceptional case. It is a Meanwhile Eric and Emilius remained, regretful thing to be compelled to say that They lived, and between their lives and the majority of lives and homes are less mine there was a link. Of this I enter- happy than my own. Often there is love, tamed no doubt, nor did I doubt that, in and poverty stands at the bright door this connection, the future would not be which opens but on a scene of privation colorless for us. To be prepared for the and ill-requited toil. Often there is wealth, course which events might take, this was in the use of which there has been an en- now my task and my duty. The thought deavor to purchase love, which, my friend, was constantly in my mind, As Kristel is not a marketable commodity. Often acted, so would I act, in love and hate. there are sorrow and sickness, and neither I observed Doctor Louiss eyes fixed faith nor patience to lighten the load. It earnestly upon my face. is my good fortune to have none of these You are agitated, he said. ills. We have love and good health, and Is not such a story, I said evasively, a sufficient share of worldly prosperity to enough to agitate one? Its movements provide for our days. Therefore I will are as the movements of a sublime trao edy. b leave myself out of the question. What! he cried, interrupting himself in a tone at True, mused Doctor Louis; even once light and earnest; am I entirely in obscure lives may be found such ele- useless in Nerac? Do I do no good what- ments. ever? You have told me little, I said, of You do much, I said, and also do Eric and Emilius. Do they reside per- Eric and Emilius in their village. You manently in the Ii ghthouse in which their have admitted that they are fishermen on mother died? a large scale, and possess boats. Conse- They have a house in the village by quently they employ labor, and the wages the sea, replied Doctor Louis, and they they pay support the homes of those who are in a certain sense fishermen on a large serve them. scale. The place has possessed for them With some young men, said Doctor a fascination, and it seemed as if they Louis, with a good-humored laugh, there would never be able to tear themselves is no arguing. They are so keen in de- away from it. But their intimate associa- fence that they have a formidable parry for tion with it will soon be at an end. every thrust. To the point, then, without In what way? argument. Eric and Emilius have in them They have sold their house and boats, certain qualities which render me doubtful and are comino- to reside in Nerac for a whether, as middle-aged men, they would time. be in their proper sphere in their village I started and turned aside, for I did not by the sea. The maidens there find no wish Doctor Louis to see the cloud upon serious favor in their eves. my face. Do they look, I a~sked, with a tortur- Only for a time? I inquired. ing pang of jealousy, with a more ap. It depends upon circumstances, said preciative eye upo& th~ maidens in Ne- Doctor Louis. If they are happy and rac? contented in the present and in their pros- Tush, tush, said Doctor Louis, in a pects in the future, they will remain, kind tone, laying his hand upon my shoul. Otherwise, they will seek a larger sphere. der; vex not yourself unnecessarily. Is this their idea? Youths hot blood is a torrent, restless by Not theirs alone. I am partly respon. day and night, never satisfied, never con- sible. We have talked of it often, and 4 tent, forever seeking cause to fret and 22 A SECRET INHERITANCE. fume. You have given evidence of wis- dom, Gabriel exercise it when it is most needed. You are still disturbed. Well, question me. Of all the maidens in Nerac, I said, striving to speak with calmness, Lau- retta is the fairest and sweetest. Go on, my friend. I, her father, will not gainsay you. Is it because she is fairer and sweeter than any Eric and Emilius have seen in the village by the sea that they quit their home there, and come to live in Nerac? A plain question, obscurely put. Were I simply an ordinary friend of yours, and not Laurettas father, I might feel inclined to play with you; but as it is, my happi- ness here is too largely at stake. Do not fall into error, Gabriel. Viewing with a selfish eye a human failing, common enough your own immediate affairs, for- get not that I, Laurettas father, am as deeply concerned in them as yourself. Never would I be guilty of the crime of forcing my childs affections. Do you think I love her less than you do? If it should be your happy fate to be a father, you will learn how much purer and higher is the love of a father than that which a young man, after an hours acquaintance, bears for the maiden whom he would wed. After an hours acquaintance! I ex- claimed, somewhat hotly. It cannot be said to be more, re- sponded Doctor Louis gravely, comRared with my knowledge of my child. The retort was well-merited, and I mur- mured, Forgive me! The consistently sweet accents of Doctor Louiss voice pro- duced in me, at this moment, a feeling of self-reproach, and a true sense of my pet- ulance and imperiousness forced itself upon me. There is little need to ask forgive- ness, said Doctor Louis; I can make full allowance for the impetuous passions of youth, and if I wish you to place a curb upon them it is for your welfare and that of my child. Indulgence in such ex- travagances leads to injustice. Gabriel, I will be entirely frank ~vith you. Before your arrival in Nerac I had a slight sus- picion that one of the brothers towards both of whom I feel as a father had an affection for Lauretta which might have ripened into love. It is in the nature of things that a beautiful girl should inspire a sentiment in the breasts of more than one man, but she can belong only to one, to him to whom her heart is drawn. What passed between us when you spoke to me as a lover of my daughter was honest and outspoken. The encouragement you re- ceive from me would have been withheld had it not been that I saw you occupied a place in Laurettas heart, and that the one end and aim I have in view is her happi- ness. Is it too much to ask, I said, to which of the brothers you referred? Altogether too much, replied Doctor Louis. It is an unrevealed secret, and the right is not mine to say more than I have said. - I did not speak for a little while; I was the slave of conflicting passions. One moment I believed entirely in Doctor Louis; another moment I doubted him; through all I was oppressed by a con- sciousness that I was doing him an injus- tice. Anything more, Gabriel ? he asked. Nothing special, sir, was my reply, but in a general way. XVell? Born under such sin~ular circum- stances, and of such a father as Silvain, it would not be unnatural to suppose that they might inherit some touch of his strangely sympathetic nature. They have inherited it, said Doctor Louis there exists between them a sym- pathy as strange as that which existed in Silvain. I am at liberty to say nothino more. He spoke in a firm tone, and I did not question him further. As I accompanied him home we conversed upon general subjects, and I took pains to convey to him an assurance that there was nothing really serious in the ungracious temper I had displayed. He was relieved at this, and we fell into our old confidential man- ner with each other. I passed the evening, as usual, in the society of his wife and Lauretta. Peace descended upon me, and in the sweet pres- ence of these pure women I was tranquil and happy. How lovely, how beautiful was this home of love and tender thought! The wild storms of life died away, and strains of soft, angelic music melted the heart, and made themselves heard even in the midst of the silences. Doctor Louiss gaiety returned to him; he smiled upon me, and indulged in many a harm- less jest. I was charmed out of my moody humor, and contributed to the innocent enjoyment of the home circle. The hours passed till it was near bed-time, and then it was that a change came over me. Sit- ting by Laurettas side, turning the pages of an illustrated book of travel, I heard A SECRET INHERITANCE. 23 the names of Eric and Emilius spoken by Doctor Louis. He was telling his wife of the impending change in their mode of life, and there was an affectionate note in his voice, and also in hers, which jarred upon me. I started to my feet, and they all turned to me in surprise. 1 recovered myself in a moment, and explained that I had suddenly thought of something which rendered it necessary that I should go at once to the house I had taken, and of which Martin HartQg was at present the sole custodian. But you were not to leave us till the end of the week, expostulated Laurettas mother. Is it so very important? Indeed it is, I replied with a smile, and should have been attended to ear- lier. You will return? she asked. Not to-night. You need have no anx- iety; everything is prepared, and I shall be quite comfortable. Mv wife is thinking of the sheets, observed Doctor Louis jocosely; wheth- er they are properly aired. I have seen to that, she said, and there is a fire in every room.~~ Then we can safely let him go, re- joined Doctor Louis. He is old enough to take care of himself, and, besides, he is now a householder, and has duties. We shall see you to-morrow, Gabriel? Yes, I shall be here in the morning. So I wished them good-night, and pres- ently was out in the open, walking through dark shadows. CHAPTER Xviii. IN solitude I reviewed with amazement the occurrences of the last few moments; It seemed to me that I had been impelled to do what I had done by an occult agency outside myself. Not that I did not ap- prove of it. It was in accordance with my intense wish and desire which had lain dormant in the sweet society of Lau- rettato be alone, in order that I might, without interruption, tHink over the story I had heard from Doctor Louiss lips. And now that this wish and desire were gratified, the one figure which still rose vividly before me was the figure of Kristel. As I walked onward I followed the hap- less man mentally in his just pursuit of the brother who had snatched the~ cup of happiness from his lips. Yes, it was just and right, and what he did I would have done under similar circumstances. Of all who had taken part in the tragic drama he, and he alone, commanded my sympathy. The distance from Doctor Louiss house to mine was under two miles, but I pro- longed it by a ditour which brought me, without premeditation, to the inn known as the Three Black Crows. I had no in- tention of going there or of entering the inn, and yet, finding myself at the door, I pushed it open, and walked into the room in which the customers took their wine. This room was furnished with rouot tables and benches, and I seated myself, and in response to the landlords inquiry, ordered a bottle of his best, and invited him to share it with me. He, nothing loth, ac- cepted the invitation, and sat at the table, emptying his glass, which I continued to fill for him, while my own remained un- tasted. I had been inside the Three Black Crows on only one occasion, in the company of Doctor Louis, and the land- lord now expressed his gratitude for the honor I did him by paying him another visit. It was only the sense of his ~vords which reached my ears, my attention be- ing almost entirely drawn to two men who were seated at a table at the end of the room, drinking bad wine and whispering to each other. Observing my eyes upon them, the landlord said in a low tone, Strangers. You do not know them? I asked. Never saw them before, he replied. Their backs were towards me, and I could not see their faces, but I noticed that one was humpbacked, and that, to judge from their attire, they were poor peasants. I asked them, said the landlord, whether they wanted a bed, and they answered no, that they were going further. If they had stopped here the night I should have kept watch on them. Why? I dont like their looks, and my wifes a timorous creature. Then theres the children youve seen my little ones, I think, sir? Yes, I have seen them. Surely those men would do them no harm.~~ Perhaps not, sir; but a man, loving those near to him, thinks of the possibili- ties of things. Ive got a bit of money in the house, to pay my rent thats due to- morrow, and one or two other accounts. They may have got scent of it. Do you think they have come to Nerac on a robbing expedition? Theres no telling. Roguery has a plain face, and the signs are in theirs, or my names not what it is. When they said they were going further on I asked them where, and they said it was no business of mine. They gave me the same answer 24 when I asked them where they came from. Theyre up to no good, thats certain, and the sooner theyre out of the village the better for all of us. The more the worthy landlord talked the more settled became his instinctive conviction that the strangers were rogues. If robbery is their errand, I said thoughtfully, there are houses in Nerac which would yield them a better harvest than yours. Of course there is, was his response. Doctor Louiss, for one. He has gen- erally some money about him, and his silver plate would be a prize. Are you going back there to-night, sir? No; I am on my road to my own house, and 1 came out of the way a little for the sake of the walk. Thats my profit, sir, said the land- lord cheerfully. I would offer to keep you company if it were not that I dont like to leave my place. Theres nothing to fear, I said; if they molest me I should be a match for them. Still, urged the landlord, I should leave before they do. Its as well to avoid a difficulty when we have the op- portunity. I took the hint, and paid my score. To all appearance there was no reason for alarm on my part; during the time the landlord and I were conversing the stran- gers had not turned in our direction, and as we spoke in low tones they could not have heard what we said. They remained in the same position, with their backs towards us, now drinking in silence, now speaking in whispers to each other. Outside the Three Black Crows I walked slowly on, but I had not gone fifty yards before I stopped. What was in my mind was the reference made b~r the land- lord to Doctor Louiss house and to its being worth the plundering. The doctors house contained what was dearer to me than life or fortune. Lauretta was there. Should t leave her at the merc~r of these scoundrels who might possibly have planned a robbery of the doctors money and plate? In that case Lauretta would be in danger My mind was instantly made up. I would return to the Three Black Crows, and look through the win- dow of the room in which I had left the men, to ascertain whether they were still there. If they were, I would wait for them till they left the inn, and then would set a watch upon their movements. If they were gone I would hasten to the doctors house to render assistance, should any be needed. I had no weapon, with the exception of a small knife; could I not provide myself with something more formidable? A few paces from where I stood were some trees with stout branches. I detaczhed one of these branches, and with my small knife fashioned it into a weapon which would serve my purpose. It was about four feet in length, thick at the striking end and tapering towards the other, so that it could be held with ease and used to good purpose. I tried it on the air, swinging it round and bringing it down with sufficient force to kill a man, or with certainty to knock the senses out of him in one blow. Then I returned to the inn, and looked through the window. In the settlement of my proceedings I had remembered that there was a red blind over the window which did not entirely cover it, and through the uncovered space I now saw the strangers sitting at the table as I had left them. Taking care to make no noise I stepped away from the window, and took up a position from which I could see the door of the inn, which was closed. I myself was in complete darkness, and there was no moon to betray me; all that was needed from me was caution. I watched fully half an hour before the door of the inn was opened. No person had entered during my watch, the inhab- itants of Nerac being early folk for rest and work. The two strangers lingered for a moment upon the threshold, peering out into the night; behind them was the landlord, with a candle in his hand. I did not observe that any words passed be tween them and the landlord; they stepped into the road, and the door was closed upon them. Then came the sounds of locking and bolting doors and windows. Then silence. I saw the faces of the men as they stood upon the threshold; they were evil-look- ing fellows enough, and their clothes were of the commonest. For two or three minutes they did not stir; there had been nothing in their man- ner to arouse suspicion, and the fact of their lingering on the roadway seemed to denote that they were uncertain of thea r route they should take. That they raised ~ their faces to the sky was not against them; it was a natural seeking for light to guide them. To the left lay the little nest of build- ings amongst which were Father Daniels chapel and modest house, and the more pretentious dwelling of Doctor Louis; to the right were the woods, at the entrance A SECRET INHERITANCE. A SECRET INHERITANCE. 25 of which my own house was situated. Which road would the strangers take? The left, and it was l)art evidence of a guilty design. The right, and it would be part proof that the landlords suspicions were baseless. They exchanged a few words which did not reach my ears. Then they moved on- wards to the left. I grasped my weapon, and crept after them. But they walked only a dozen steps, and paused. I also. In my mind was the thought, Continue the route you have commenced, and you are dead men. Turn from it, and you are safe. The direction of the village was the more tempting to men who had no roof to shelter them, for the reason that in Father Daniels chapel which, built on an eminence, overlooked the village lights were visible from the spot upon which I and they were standing. There was the chance of a straw bed and charitys help- ing hand, never withheld by the good priest from the poor and wretched. On their right was dense darkness; not a glimmer of light. Nevertheless, after the exchange of a few more words which, like the others, were unheard by me, they seemed to re- solve to seek the gloomier way. They turned from the village, and, facing me, walked past me in the direction of the woods. I breathed more freely, and fell into a curious mental consideration of the relief I experienced. Was it because, walking as they were from the village in which Lauretta was sleeping, I was spared the taking of these mens lives? No. It was because of the indication they afforded me that Lauretta was not in peril. In her defence I could have justified the taking of a hundred lives. No feeling of guilt would have haunted me; there would have been not only no remorse but no pity in my soul. The violation of the most sacred of human laws would be justified where Lauretta was concerned. She was mine, to cherish, to protect, to lovemine, in- alienably. She belonged to no other man, and none should step between her and me neither he whose ruffianly design threatened her with possible harm, nor he, in a higher and more polished grade, who strove to win her affections and wrest them from me. In an equal ~vay both were equally my enemies, and I should be justified in acting by them as Kristel had acted to Silvain. Ah, but he had left it too late! Not so would I. Let but the faintest breath of certainty wait upon suspicion, and I would scotch it effectually for once and all. Had Kristel possessed the strange power in his hours of dreaming which Silvain pos- sessed, he would not have been robbed of the happiness which was his by right. He would have been forewarned, and Avicia would have been his wife. In every step in life he took there would have been the fragrance of flowers around him; and a heavenly light. Thus with me, and for me. Did I, then, admit that there was any resemblance in the characters of Avicia and Lauretta? No; one was a weed, the other a rose. Here coarseness, there re- finement. Here low desire and cunning; there angelic purity and goodness. But immeasurably beneath Lauretta as Avicia was, Kristel~ love for the girl would have made her radiant and spotless. All this time I was stealthily following the strangers to the woods. Once I tripped. The sound arrested tbem;. they clutched each other in fear. What was that?~ one said hoarsely. Are we being followed? I stood motionless, and they stood with- out movement for many moments. Then they simultaneously emitted a deep-drawn sigh. It was the wind, said the man who had already spoken. I smiled in contempt; not a breath of ~vind was stirring; there was not the flutter of a leaf, not the waving of the lightest branch. All was still and quiet. They resumed their course, and I crept after them noiselessly. They entered the wood; the trees grew more thickly clus- tered. This will do, I heard one say; and upon the words they threw themselves to the ground, and fell into slumber. Sleep came to them instantaneously. I bent over them, and was satisfied. The landlord of the Three Black Crows was mistaken. I moved softly away, and when I was at a safe distance from them I lit a match and looked at my watch; it was twenty minutes to eleven, and before the minute hand had passed the hour I arrived at my house. The door was fast, but I saw a light in the lower room of the gardeners cottage, which I had given to Martin Hartog as a residence for him and his daughter. Hartog is awake, I thought; ex- pecting me perhaps. I knocked at the door of the cottage, and received no answer; I knocked again with the same result. 26 A SECRET INHERITANCE. Hartog! Hartog! I called; and still no answer came. The door had fastenings of lock and latch. I put my hand to the latch, and finding that the key had not been turned in the lock, opened the door and entered. Martin Hartog was not there. The room, however, was not without an occupant. At the table sat a young girl, the gardeners daughter, a sleep. She lay back in her chair, and the light shone upon her face. I had seen her when she was awake, and knew that she was beauti- ful, but as I gazed now upon her sleeping form I was surprised to discover that she was even fairer than I had supposed. She had hair of dark brown, which curled most gracefully about her brow and head; her face, in its repose, was sweet to look upon; she was not dressed as the daughter of a laboring man, but with a certain daintiness and taste which deepened my surprise; there was lace at her sleeves and around her white neck. Had I not known her station I should have taken her for a lady. She was young, not more than eighteen or nineteen I judged, and lifes springtime lay sweetly upon her. There was a smile of wistful tenderness on her lips. Her left arm was extended over the table, and her hand rested upon the por- trait of a man, almost concealing the fea. tures. Her right hand, which was on her lap, enfolded a letter, and that and the portrait which, without curious prying, I saw was not that of her father doubt- less were the motive of a pleasant dream. I took in all this in a momentary glance, and quickly left the room, closing the door behind me. Then I knocked loudly and roi~ghly, and heard the hurried move- ments of a sudden awaking. She came to the door and cried softly, Is that you, father? The door is unlocked. It is I, I said. Is your father not at home, then? She opened the door, and fell back a step in confusion. 1 should have let your father know, I said, that I intended to sleep here to- nightbut indeed it was a hasty decision. I hope I have not alarmed you.~ Oh, no, sir, she said. We did not expect you. Father is away on business; I expected him home earlier, and waiting for him I fell asleep. The servants are not coming till to-morrow morning. I know. Have you the keys? She gave them to me, and asked if she could do anything for me. I answered no, that there was nothing required. As I wished her good-night a mans firm~teps were heard, and Martin Hartog appeared. He cast swift glances at his daughter and me, and it struck me that they were not devoid of suspicion. I explained matters, and he appeared contented with my ex- planation; then bidding his daughter go indoo~rs he accompanied me to the house. There was a fire in my bedroom, almost burnt out, and the handiwork of an affec- tionate and capable housewife was every- where apparent. Martin Hartog showed an inclination then and there to enter into particulars of the work he had done in the grounds during my absence, but I told him I was tired and dismissed him. I listened to his retreating footsteps, and when I heard the front door closed I blew out the candle and sat before the dying embers in the grate. Darkness was best suited to my mood, and I sat and mused upon the events of the last forty-eight hours. Gradually my thoughts became fixed upon the figures of the two strangers I had left sleeping in the woods in con- nection with the suspicion of their de- signs which the landlord had imparted to me. So concentrated was my attention that I re-enacted all the incidents of which they were the inspirersthe fashioning of the branch into a ~veapon, the watch I had set upon them, their issuing from the inn, the landlord standing behind with the candle in his hand, their lingering in the road, the first steps they took towards the village, their turning back, and my stealthy pursuit after them not the smallest de- tail was omitted. I do not remember undressing and going to bed. Encom- passed by silence and darkness I was only spiritually awake. CHAPTER XIX. I WAS aroused at about eight oclock in the morning by the arrival of the servants of the household whom Laurettas mother had engaged for me. They comprised a housekeeper, who was to cook and gener- ally superintend, and two stout wenches to do the rougher work. In such a village as Nerac these, in addition to Martin Hartog, constituted an establishment of importance. They had been so well schooled by Laurettas mother before commencing the ~ active duties of their service, that when I rose I found the breakfast table spread, and the housekeeper in attendance to re- ceive my orders. This augured well, and I experienced a feeling of satisfaction at the prospect of the happy life before me. Like mother, like daughter. Lauretta would b~ not only a sweet and loving companion, but A SECRET INHERITANCE. 27 the same order and regularity would reign in our home as in the home of her child- hood. I blessed the chance, if chance it was, which had led me to Nerac, and as I paced the room and thought of Lauretta, I said audibly, Thank God! Breakfast over, I strolled into the grounds, and made a careful inspection of the work which Martin Hartog had per- formed. The conspicuous conscientious- ness of his labors added to my satisfac- tion, and I gave expression to it. He received my approval in manly fashion, and said he would be glad if I always spoke my mind, as I always speak mine, he added. It pleased me that he was not subservient; in all conditions of life a man owes it to himself to maintain, within proper bounds, a spirit of indepen- dence. While he was pointing out to me this and that, and urging me to make any suggestions which occurred to me, his daughter came up to us and said that a man wished to speak to me. I asked who the man was, and she replied, The land- lord of the Three Black Crows. Curious as to his purpose in making so early a call, and settling it with myself that his errand was on business, in connection, perhaps, with some wine he wished to dispose of, I told the young woman to send him to me, and presently he ap- peared. There was an expression of awkwardness, I thought, in his face as he stood before me, cap in hand. Well, landlord, I said, smiling; you wish to see me? Yes, sir. And there he stopped. Go on, I said, wondering somewhat at his hesitation. Can I speak to you alone, sir? Certainly. Hartog, I will see you again presently. Martin Hartog took the hint, and left us together. Now, landlord, I said. Its about those two men, sir, you saw in my place last night. Those two men? I said, pondering, and then a light broke upon me, and I thought it singularas indeed it was that no recollection, either of the men or the incidents in association with them should have occurred to me since my ~.waking. Yes? You are quite safe, sir, said the land- lord, I am glad to find. Quite safe, landlord; but why should you he so specially glad? Nothings happened here then, sir? Nothing. Thats what brought me round so early this morning, for one thing; I was afraid something inzght have happened. Kindly explain yourself, I said, not at all impatient, but amused rather. What mz~ht have happened? Well, sir, they might have found out, somehow or other, that you were sleeping in the house alone last night and here he broke off and asked, You did sleep here alone last night? Certainly I did, and a capital nights rest I had. Glad to hear that, sir. As I was say- ing, if they had found out that you were sleeping here alone, they might have taken it into their heads to trouble you. They might, landlord, but facts are stubborn things. They did not, evidently. I understand that now, sir, but I had my fears, and thats what brought me round for one thincr An expression you have used once be- fore, landlord. For one thing. I infer there must be another thing in your mind. There is, sir. You havent heard, then? As yet I have heard nothing but a number of very enigmatical observations from you with respect to these men. Ah, yes, I remember; you had your doubts of them when I visited you on my road home? I had, sir; I told you I didnt like the looks of them, and that I was not easy in my mind about my own family, and the bit of money I had in my place to pay my rent with, and one or two other accounts. That is so; you are bringing the whole affair back to me. I saw the men after I left the Three Black Crows. You did, sir! When? Where? To tell you would be to interrupt what you have come here to say. No more roundabouts, landlord. Say what you have to say right on. Well, sir, this is the way of it. I sus- pected them from the first, and you will bear witness of it before the magistrate. They were strangers in Nerac, but that is no reason why I should have refused to sell them a bottle of red wine when they asked for it. Its my trade to supply cus- tomers, and the ~vine was the worst I had, consequently the cheapest. I had no right to ask their business, and if they chose to answer~me uncivilly, it was their affair. I wouldnt tell everybody mine on the asking. They paid for the wine, and there was an end of it. They called for another bottle, and when I brought it I did not draw the cork till I had the money 28 A SECRET INHERITANCE. for it, and as they wouldnt pay the price come straight from the doctors house. not having it about em the cork There was the blood, and there the man; wasnt drawn, and the bottle went back. and from the description I should say it I had trouble to get rid of them, but they was one of the men who were drinking in stumbled out at last, and I saw no more my place last night. It is not ascertained of them. Now, sir, you will remember at what time of the night he and his mate that when we were speaking of them Doc- tried to break into the doctors house, but tor Louiss house was mentioned as a the attempt was made. There is the evi- likely house for rogues to break into and dence of it. They commenced to bore a rob. hole in one of the shutters at the back; the A moment, I interrupted in agitation. hole made, it would have been easy to en- Doctor Louis is safe? large it, and so to draw the fastenings. Quite safe, sir. However they did not get so far as that. And his wife and daughter? They could scarcely have been at their Quite safe, sir. scoundrelly work a minute or two before it Go on. came to an end. The villains couldnt hear what we How and by whom were they inter- said, no more than we could hear what rupted, landlord? That, of course, is they were whispering about. But they known? had laid their plans, and tried to hatch It is not known, sir, and its just at them worse luck for one, if not for both this point that the mystery commences. the scoundrels ; but the other will be There they are at their work, and likely to caught and made to pay for it. What be successful. A dark night, and not a they did between the time they left the watchman in the village. ~Never a need Thee Black Crows and the time they for one, sir. Plenty of time before them, made an attempt to break into Doctor and desperate men they. Only one man Louiss is at present a mystery. Dont be in the house, the good doctor; all the oth- alarmed, sir; I see that my news has ers women, easily dealt with. Robbery stirred you, but they have only done harm first if interfered with, murder after- to themselves. No one else is a bit the wards. They wouldnt have stuck at it, worse for their roguery~ Doctor Louis not they! But there it was, sir, as God and his good wife and daughter slept willed. Not a minute at work, and some- through the night undisturbed; nothing thing occurs. The question is, what? occurred to rouse or ak~rm them. They The man lies dead on the ground, with a got up as usual, the doctor being the first gimlet in his hand, and Doctor Louis, in he is known as an early riser. As it full sunlight, stands looking down on the happened, it was fortunate that he was strange sight. outside his house before his lady, for al- The man lies dead on the ground, I though we in Nerac have an idea that she said, repeating the landlords words; but is as brave as she is good, a ~voman, after there were two. all, is only a woman, and the sight of blood No sign of the other, sir; hes a van- is what few of them can stand. ished body. People are out searching The sight of blood! I exclaimed, for him. But that I was assured that Lauretta was He will be found, I said safe and xvell, I should not have wasted a Its to be hoped, interrupted the land- moment on the landlord, eager as I was to lord. learn what he had come to tell. My mind, And then what you call a mystery will however, was quite at ease with respect to be solved. my dear girl, and the next few minutes Its beyond me, sir, said the landlord, were not so precious that I could not spare with a puzzled air. them to hear the landlords strange story. It is easy enough. These two scoun- That, he resumed, is what the doc- drels, would-be murderers, plan a robbery tor saw when he went to the back of his and proceed to execute it. They are ill- house. Blood on the ground and what conditioned creatures, no better than sav~ is more, what would have given, the ladies ages, swayed by their passio~is, in which a greater shock, there before him was the there is no sho~v of reason. They quarrel, body of a man dead. perhaps about the share of the spoil which What man? I asked. each shall take, and are not xvise enough That I cant for a certainty say, sir, to put aside their quarrel till they are in because I havent seen him as yet. Im possession of the booty. They continue telling the story second-hand, as it was their dispute, and in such savages their told to me awhile ago by one wlw had brutal passions, once roused, swell and A SECRET INHERITANCE. 29 grow to a fitting climax of violence. So with these. Probably the disagreement commenced on their way to the house, and had reached an angry point when one began to bore a hole in the shutter. This one it was who was found dead. The proof was in his hand the gimlet with which he was workino~ Well conceived, sir, said the landlord, following with approval my speculative explanation. This mans face, I continued, would be turned toward the shutter, his back to his comrade. Into this comrades mind darts, like a lightning flash, the idea of committing the robbery alone, and so be- coining the sole possessor of the treasure. Good, sir, good, said the landlord, rubbing his hands. No sooner conceived than executed. Out comes his knife, or perhaps he has it ready in his hand opened. Why opened, sir? Would it not be a fixed blade? No; such men carry clasp.knives. They are safest, and never attract notice. You miss nothing, sir, said the land- lord admiringly. What a magistrate you would have made! He plunges it into his fellow-scoun- drels back, who falls dead, with the gim. let in his hand. The murder is explained. The landlord nodded excitedly, and con- tinued to rub his hands; then suddenly stood quite still, with an incredulous ex- pression on his face. But the robbery is not committed, he exclaimed; the house is not broken into, and the scoundrel gets nothing for his pains.~~ With superior wisdom I laid a patroniz- ing hand upon his shoulder. The deed done, I said, and he, gaz- ing upon his dead comrade, is overcome with fear. He has been rash he may be caught red-handed; the execution of the robbery will take time. He is not familiar with the habits of the village, and does not know it has no guardians of the night. One may stroll that way and make discovery. Fool that he was! He has not only committed murder, he has robbed himself. Better to have waited till they had possession of the treasure; but this kind of logic always comes afterwards to ill-regulated minds. Under the influence of his newly born fears he recognizes that every moment is precious; he dare not linger; he dare not carry out the scheme. Shuddering, he flies from the spot, with rage and despair in his heart. Unhappy wretch! The curse of Cain is upon him.. CHAPTER XX. THE landlord, who was profuse in the expressions of his admiration at the light I had thrown upon the case, so far as it was known to us, accompanied me to the house of Doctor Louis. It was natural that I should find Lauretta and her mother in a state of agitation, and it was sweet to me to learn that it was partly caused by their anxieties for my safety. Doctor Louis was not at home, but had sent a messenger to my house to inquire after me, and to give me some brief account of the occurrences of the night. We did not meet this messenger on our way to the doctors; he must have taken a different route from ours. You did wrong to leave us last night, said Laurettas mother chidingly. I shook my head, and answered that it was but anticipating the date of my re- moval by a few days, and that my presence in her house would not have alt~red mat- ters. Everything was right at home, I said. Home! What inexpressible sweetness there, was in the word! Martin Hartog showed me to my room, and the servants you engaged came early this morning, and attended to me as though they had known my ways and tastes for years. You slept well? she asked. A dreamless night, I replied; but had I suspected what was going on here, I should not have been able to rest. I am glad you had no suspicion, Ga- briel; you would have been in danger. Dreadful as it all is, it is a comfort to know that the misguided men do not be- long to our village. Her merciful heart could find no harsher term than this to apply to the monsters, and it pained her to hear me say, One has met his deserved fate; it is a pity the other has escaped. But I could not keep back the words. Doctor Louis had left a message for me to follow him to the office of the village magistrate, where the affair was being in- vestigated, but previous to going thither, I went to the back of the premises to make an inspection. The village boasted of one constable, and he was now on duty in a state of stupefaction. His orders were to allow nothing to be disturbed, but his bewilderment was such that it would have been easy for an interested person to do as he pleased in the way of altera- tion. A stupid lout, with as much intel- ligence as a vegetable. However, I saw at once that nothing had been disturbed. 30 A SECRET INHERITANCE. The shutter in which a hole had been bored was closed; there were blood-stains on the stones, and I was surprised that they were so few; the gate by which the villains had effected an entrance into the garden was open; I observed some par- ticles of sawdust on the window-ledge just below where the hole had been bored. All that had been removed was the body of the man who had been murdered by his comrade. I put two or three questions to the con- stable, and he managed to answer in mon- osyllables, yes and no, at random. A valuable assistant, I thought, in unrav- elling a mysterious case! And then I reproached myself for the sneer. Happy was a village like Nerac in which crime was so rare, and in which an official so stupid was sufficient for the execution of the law. The first few stains of blood I noticed were close to the window, and the stones thereabout had been disturbed, as though by the falling of a heavy body. Was the mans body, I inquired of the constable, lifted from this spot? He looked down vacantly and said, Yes. You are sure? I asked. Sure, he said after a pause, but whether the word was spoken in reply to my question, or as a question he put to himself, I could not determine. I continued my examination of the grounds. From the open gate to the win- dow was a distance of forty-eight yards; I stepped exactly a yard, and I counted my steps. The path from gate to window was shaped like the letter 5, and was for the most part defined by tall shrubs on either side, of a height varying from six to nine feet. Through this path the vil- lains had made their way to the window; through this path the murderer, leaving his comrade dead, had made his escape. Their operations, for their own safetys sake, must undoubtedly have been con- ducted while the night was still dark. Reasonable also to conclude that, being strangers in the village (although by some means they must have known beforehand that Doctor Louiss house was worth the plundering), they could not have been ac- quainted with the devious turns in the path from the gate to the window. There- fore they must have felt their way through, touching the shrubs with th~ir hands, most likely breaking some of the slender stalks, until they arrived at the open space at the back of the building. These reflections impelled me to -make a careful inspection of the shrubs, and I was very soon startled by a discovery. Here and there some stalks were broken and torn away, and here and there were indisputable evidences that the shrubs had been grasped by human hands. It was not this that startled me, for it was in accordance with my own train of reason- ing, but it was that there were stains of blood on the broken stalks, especially upon those which had been roughly torn from the parent tree. I seemed to see a man, with blood about him, staggering blindly through the path, snatching at the shrubs both for support and guidance, and the loose stalks falling from his hands as he went. Two men entered the grounds, only one left ~ that one, the murderer. The blood-stains indicated a struggle. Between whom? Between the victim and the perpetrator of the deed? In that case, what became of the theory of action I had so elaborately described to the land- lord of the Three Black Crows? I had imagined an instantaneous impulse of crime and its instantaneous execution. I had imagined a death as sudden as it was violent, a deed from which the murderer had escaped without the least injury to himself; and here, on both sides of me, were the clearest proofs that the man who had fled must have been grievously wounded. My ingenuity was at fault in the endeavor to bring these signs into harmony with the course of events I had invented in my interview with the land- lord. I went straight to the office of the mag- istrate, a small building of four rooms on the ground floor, the two in front being used as the magistrates private room and court, the two in the rear as cells, not at all uncomfortable, for aggressors of the law. It was but rarely that they were occupied. At the door of the court I en- countered Father Daniel. He was pale, and much shaken. During his lifetime no such crime had been perpetrated in the village, and his only comfort was that the actors in it were strangers. But that did not lessen the horror of the deed, and his large heart overflowed with pity both for the guilty man and the victim. So sudden a death! he said, in a voice broken by tears. No time for repentance! Thrust before the Eternal presence weighed down by sin! ~ have been praying by his side for mercy, and for mercy upon his murderer. Poor sin- ners! poor sinners! I could not sympathize with his senti- ments, and I told him so sternly. He A SECRET INHERITANCE. 3 made no attempt to convert me to his views, but simply said, All men should pray that they may never be tempted. And so he left me, and turned in the direction of his little chapel to offer up prayers for the dead and the living sin- ners. Doctor Louis was with the magistrate; they had been discussing theories, and had heard from the landlord of the Three Black Crows my own ideas of the move- ments of the strangers on the previous night. In certain respects you may be right in your speculations, the magistrate said; but on one important point you are in error. I have already discovered, I said, that my theory is wrong, and not in ac- cordance with fact; but we will speak of that presently. What is the point you refer to? As to the weapon with which the mur- der was done, replied the magistrate, a shrewd man, whose judicial perceptions fitted him for a larger sphere of duties than he was called upon to perform in Nerac. No knife was used. What, then, was the weapon? I asked. A club of some sort, said the magis- trate, with which the dead man was suddenly attacked from behind. Has it been found? No, but a search is being made for it and also for the murderer. On that point we are agreed. There is no shadow of doubt that the missing man is guilty. There can be none, said the magis- trate. And yet, urged Doctor Louis, in a gentle tone, to condemn a man unheard is repugnant to justice. There are circumstances, said the magistrate decidedly, which point so surely to guilt that it would be inimical to justice to dispute them. By the way, he continued, addressing me, did not the landlord of the Three Black Crows men- tion something to the effect that you were at his inn last night after you left Doctor Louiss house, and that you and he had a conversation respecting the strangers, who were at that time in the same room as yourselves? If he did, I said, he stated what is correct. I was there, and saw the stran- gers, of whom the landlord entertained suspicions which have been proved to be well founded. Then you will be able to identify the. [body, already, added the magistrate, identified by the landlord. Confirma- tory evidence strengthens a case. I shall be able to identify it, I said. We went to the inner room, and I saw at a glance that it was one of the strangers who had spent the evening at the Three Black Crows, and whom I had afterwards watched and followed. The man who has escaped, I ob- served, was humpbacked. That tallies with the landlords state- ment, said the magistrate. I have something to relate, I said, upon our return to the court, of my own movements last night after I quitted the inn. I then gave the magistrate and Doctor Louis a circumstantial account of my movements, without, however, entering into a description of my thoughts, only in so far as they affected my determination to protect the doctor and his family from evil designs. They listened with gre at interest, and Doctor Louis pressed my hand. He un- derstood and approved of the solicitude I had experienced for the safety of his household; it was a guarantee that I would watch over his daughter with love and firmness and protect her from harm. But you ran a great risk, Gabriel, he said affectionately. I did not consider that, I said. The magistrate looked on and smiled; a father himself, he divined the undi- vulged ties by which I and Doctor Louis were bound. At what time, he asked, do you say you left the rogues asleep in the woods? It was twenty minutes to eleven, I replied, and at eleven oclock I reached my house, and was received by Martin Hartogs daughter. Hartog was absent, on business his daughter said, and while we were talking, and I was taking the keys from her hands, Hartog came home, and accompanied me to my bedroom. Were you at all disturbed in your mind for the s~ifety of your friends in conse- quence of what had passed? Not in the slightest. The men I left slumbering in the woods appeared to me to be but ordinary tramps, without any special evil intent, and I was satisfied and relieved. I could not have slept else; it is seldom that I have enjoyed a better night. Cunning rascals! May not their slum- bers have been feigned? I think not. They were in a profound 32 A SECRET INHERITANCE. sleep; I made sure of that. No, I could not have been mistaken. It is strange, mused Doctor Louis, how guilt can sleep, and can forget th~ present and the future! I then entered into an account of the inspection I had made of the path from the gate to the window; it was the magis- trates opinion, from the position in which the body was found, that there had been no struggle between the two men, and here he and I were in agreement. What I now narrated materially weakened his opinion, as it had materially weakened mine, and he was greatly perplexed. He was annoyed also that the signs I had dis- covered, which confirmed the notion that a struggle must have taken place, had es- caped the attention of his assistants. He himself had made but a cursory examina- tion of the grounds, his presence being necessary in the court to take the evidence of witnesses, to receive reports, and to is- sue instructions. There are so many things to be con- sidered, said Doctor Louis, in a case like this, resting as it does at present en- tirely upon circumstantial evidence, that it is scarcely possible some should not be lost sight of. Often those that are omitted are of greater weight than those which are argued out laboriously and with infinite patience. Justice is blind, but the law must be Argus-eyed. You believe, Gabriel, that there must have been a struggle in my garden? Such is now my belief, I replied. Such signs as you have brought be- fore our notice, continued the doctor, are to you an indication that the man who escaped must have met with severe treatment? Undoubtedly. Therefore, that the struggle was a vio- lent one? Yes. And prolonged? That is the feasible conclusion. Such a struggle could not have taken place without considerable disarrange- ment about the spot in which it occurred. On an even pavement you would not look for any displacement of the stones; the utmost you could hope to discover would be the scratches made by iron heels. But the path from the gate ot my house to the back garden, and all the walking-spaces in the garden itself, are formed of loose stones and gravel. No such struggle could take place there without conspicu- ous displacement of the materials of which the ground is composed. If it tookplace amongst the flowers, the beds would bear evidence. I observed no disorder in the flower-beds. Did you? Then did you observe such a disar- rangement of the stones and gravel as I consider would be necessary evidence of the struggle in which you suppose these men to have been engaged? I was compelled to admit but I ad- mitted it grudgingly and reluctantly that such a disarrangement had not come within my observation. That is partially destructive of your theory, pursued the doctor. There is still something further of moment which I consider it my duty to say. You are a sound sleeper ordinarily, and last night you slept more soundly than usual. I, un- fortunately am a light sleeper, and it is really a fact that last night I slept more lightly than usual. I think, Gabriel, you were to some extent the cause of this. I am affected by changes in my domestic arrangements; during many pleasant weeks you have resided in our house, and last night was the first, for a long time past, that you slept away from mAs. It had an influence upon me; then, apart from your absence, I was thinking a great deal of you. (Here I observed the magistrate smile again, a fatherly, benignant smile.) As a rule I am awakened by the least noise the dripping of water, the fall of an inconsiderable object, the mewing of a cat, the barking of a dog. Now, last night I was not disturbed, unusually wake- ful as I was. The wonder is that I was not aroused by the boring of the hole in the shutter; the unfortunate wretch must have used his gimlet very softly and wa- rily, and under any circumstances the sound produced by such a tool is of a light nature. But had any desperate struggle taken place in the garden it would have aroused me to a certainty, and I should have hastened down to ascertain the cause. Gabriel, no such struggle oc- curred. Then, said the magistrate, how do you account for the injuries the man who escaped must have undoubtedly re- ceived? The words were barely uttered when ~C we all started to our feet. There was a great scuffling outside, and cries and loud voices. The door was pushed open, and half-a-dozen men rushed into the room, guarding one whose arms were bound by ropes. He was in a dreadful condition, and so weak that, without support, he could not have kept his feet. I recog THE MILITARY FRONTIER OF FRANCE. nized him instantly; he was the hump- backed man I had seen in the Three Black Crows. He lifted his eyes and they fell on the magistrate; from him they wandered to Doctor Louis ; from him they wandered to me. I was gazing steadfastly and sternly upon him, and as his eyes met mine his head drooped to his breast and hung there, while a strong shuddering ran through him. From The National Review. THE MILITARY FRONTIER OF FRANCE. IN 1870 the French authorities were so confident that the quarrel with Prussia would be fought out on German ground that they provided the army with tens of thousands of maps of western Germany, and neglected to supply it with any of Alsace and Lorraine. A French officer of engineers, who afterwards published an interesting diary of the campaign,* tells how he tried to buy a map of the east of France as soon as it was evident that this would be the real field of operations. The booksellers told him that they had re- ceived a circular stopping the sale of the ordnance maps, and all they could give him was a small map, fit only for a schoolboy. Other officers were even worse equipped in this respect. This mistake, the result of an exaggerated con- fidence in the efficiency of the armies in the field, was only one of many springing from the same cause. That the French army might have to fight in France and on the defensive was not to be thought of. No preparations were made for such a contingency. Most of the fortresses were in such a condition that they could not stand a siege against modern artillery. Metz was well fortified, because it had always been looked upon as the destined point of concentration and mobilization for the campaign against Prussia; and in the same way some attention had been paid to Strassburg, as the fortress which was to cover the passage of the Rhine into southern Germany. But neither of those places was properly provisioned for a siege. At Paris the forts were un- armed; and when defeat on the frontier made the siege inevitable, they were hur- riedly armed and garrisoned with guns and men withdrawn from the fleet, which thus practically ceased to exist, in order Trois Mois & lArm~e de Metz, par on Officier de Gdnie. Paria, 1871. -. lAYING AGE. VOL. LVIII. 2967 33 that Paris might be defended. As to the minor fortresses, most of them fell before a mere bombardment, without any regular siege, others were blockaded and starved out. Both their works and their arma- ment were obsolete. The French had clung too long to traditions running back to the days of Vauban, in the matter of fortification, and when attacked by long- range rifle artillery their fortresses were little better than open towns. Metz and Strassburg were feebly defended, and soon fell. The minor fortresses were mostly incapable of a prolonged defence. Only one of them held out till the end of the war. This was the little hill-fort of Bitche, in the Vosges. The siege was a memo- rable one, not only for the obstinate and successful resistance made by the garri- son, but also because it had a distinct effect upon the plans subsequently adopted for the fortification of the new frontier. After the battle of Woerth one of McMa- hons regiments, or rather what was left of it, instead of retiring across the Vosges, threw itself into the little fortress. The place was blockaded by the Germans in the second week of August, but held out until it was evacuated after the treaty of peace. Perched on a bold rocky height, the guns of Bitche commanded the rail- way from Metz to I-Iagenau, and the Ger- mans were forced to expend much time and labor in constructing a loop-line be- fore they could use this railway to supply the army before Metz. The defence of Bitche had thus some influence on the general course of the campaign. Moreover, it taught the French engineers the lesson that a strong fort with a small garrison, unencumbered by a large civilian population, may be much more effective than larger fortresses where the defence is often cut short by the mere difficulty of feeding a multitude of non- combatants, or by the panic terror excited among the people by bombardment. The new scheme for the defence of France contains only two kinds of fortresses: (I) the great fortresses of the first class, cov- ered by a mile of detached forts, and (2) small forts well placed so as to cover some important point, and having within their ramparts a garrison unencumbered by non-combatants. These forts are very numerous, and the large part assigned to them in the general plan is in no small degree due to the successfur defence o~ Bitche sixteen years ago. The cession of Alsace and Lorraine placed Metz and Strassburg, the keys of the old French frontier, in German hands. 34 THE MILITARY FRONTIER OF FRANCE. It gave France a new frontier, and a very daz515u1 as bases of operation in the heart open one; a frontier unprotected by any of the country. The accompanying rough very great natural obstacles, for the Ger- sketch ~vill help the reader to understand mans now held both sides of the Rhine, what follows, and will explain the general and the northern uasses of the Vosges system adopted by the French engineers (the passes by which the French armies better than many pages of description. used to march to the Rhine under Napo- The sketch omits the forts that link leon I.) were well within the new German tegether the fortresses of the first line, territory. Moreover, this naturally open and the other minor features of the gen- frontier might be said to be wholly un- eral scheme of defence. It shows only protected by art once Metz and Strassburg the main points of that scheme, these be- were gone. True there was the fortress ing (i) the line of fortresses immediately of Belfort on the extreme right, guarding inside the frontier, (2) the two groups of the well-marked valley between the Vosges fortresses placed on either flank of the and the Jura, which French geographers line, by which an invading army must ad- call Za Iroule de Be~for/. But Belfort, vance on Paris, (3) the three great rallying- shattered by the successful siege which points for a defensive campaign like that was the last act of the xvar, was only the of I 8yo7~I Lille, Paris, and Lyons. Be- wreck of a fortress; and in any case its fore proceeding to a more detailed account works were not of such a character as to of these three lines of defence, it must be fit it for its new position on the very fron- noted that the French railway system in tier line. Taught by the hard lessons of the east of Franc~ has been greatly devel- defeat, the French government at once set oped since 1871, a large number of cross to work to put the new frontier into a lines having been constructqd with a view thorough state of defence. Successive to the rapid concentration of a large army war ministers have steadily worked upon immediately to the rear of the first line of the lines originally laid down by the engi- defence. neers charged with the task in 1871. Thisfirst line isformed of the fortresses Money has not been spared. It has been of Belfort, Epinal, Toul, and Verdun. spent by millions, and now, after the labor Belfort is linked with Epinal, and Toul of sixteen years, the work is done. Prob- with Verdun, by a line of detached forts. ably so vast a scheme of military engineer- But between Epinal and Toul, and again ing was never before planned and executed between Verdun and the Belgian frontier, in so brief a time. The French engineers there are wide openings left in this line, have not been content to erect upon the and these gaps are all the more remarkable new frontier three or four first-class for- on account of the immense labor that has tresses to serve as points of support for a been expended in closing with forts and defending army. They have closed i~ batteries every other portion of the frontier with a double line of works, linked these barrier. Belfort closes the valley between together by an elaborate system of rail- the southern extremity of the Vosges and ways, and, besides re-fortifying Paris, the Swiss frontier. The place has been they have constructed two other great re-fortified since the war. The space of fortresses in the heart of France to serve about eighteen miles between it and the as bases of operations for her armies, if, nearest Swiss territory is guarded by Fort as in 1870, the barriers nearer the frontier Lomont, close to the frontier, and two were again pressed by invading armies strong forts with a battery between them from beyond the Rhine. which protect the valley of the Doubs Lieutenant-Colonel Kbttschau, a distin- south of Montb6liard. To the north of guished officer of the German artillery, Belfort the line of forts stretches away has recently published, in his striking towards Epinal, a distance of some thirty- work on the prospects of the next war be- seven miles. Going from south to north tween France and Germany,* a number of we have first in the little valley of the interesting details on the new fortifications Savomeuse (which runs down from the of the eastern frontier of France. In de- Vosges to Belfort) the battery of Les ~. scribing the general system of defence, he Blanches, and the fort of Qiromagny. speaks of the first, second, and third line Then, high up on the crest of the hill that of fortresses. It gives a more correct divides the valley of the Savomeuse from impression to speak only of two lines near the sources of the Moselle, we find the the frontier, and three strong points fort of Ballon de Servance. From this * Der n5chste deutsche-franzisische Krieg. Eine point the line of defences follows the upper milit5risch-politische Stuclie von C. Kiittschau, Oberat- valley of the Moselle, the forts of Ch~tean lieutenant a. D. Strasiburg, i886. -. Lambert, RupI, Parmont, Arches, and La THE MILITARY FRONTIER OF FRANCE. 35 Mouche, succeeding each other at inter- vals of four or five miles, so that their heavy guns can actually cross their fire at fairly long ranges. La Mouche is one of the outlying forts of Epinal. Epinal is the second of the strong places on the frontier. Unlike Belfort, which stands on the very border-line, it has some thirty miles of hilly ground between it and the crests of the Vosges, which mark the nearest frontier. It stands at the point where several small lateral valleys unite with the main valley of the Moselle. The city occupies both banks of the river, and the surrounding heights are crowned with forts, five in all, three to the north and east, and two to the south. The city has no inner enceinte, but could be rapidly en- trenched if necessary; but the forts, each in itself a small fortress, afford sufficient protection, and the space of ground they protect is ample enough for a very con- siderable force to find shelter under their guns. From the fort of Dogueville, which forms the northern bulwark of Epinal, to the southern forts of Toul, there is a gap in the line of defence, a gap no less than twenty-seven miles in width. Through this wide opening lies the way, by Neuf- chateau, to a number of good roads lead- ing to Paris or to Lyons. Neufch~teau, though so far left entirely without fortifi- cations, is clearly a place of some impor- tance in the French scheme of defence. It stands in the upper valley of the Meuse, and has about five thousand inhabitants. In 1870, its only means of railway commu- nication with the rest of France was a branch line to Chaumont. Now, although the place has absolutely no commercial importance, it is linked with the rest of the eastern railway system by no less than five lines. Colonel Kdttschau tells us that German military opinion looks on Neufch~teau as the destined headquarters of the French army of the east in the next war with Germany. It is curious to note how Neufch~teau stands just in the rear of the first great gap in the fortified frontier line. This gives some color to Kdttschaus theory. The system of works from Belfort to Epinal, which we have just described, forms the right or southern half of the first line. The left is formed by the line from Toul to Verdun. Toul is to the new fron- tier what Metz was to the oldits chief place of arms. Twenty million of francs, or about ~8oo,ooo, have already been ex- pended on its fortifications. It is sur:. rounded by a double circle of forts, the first line being fully four miles in advance of the body of the place; three forts placed well in front of the general line of defence, the forts of Frouard and St. Vin- cent, near Nancy, and the fort of Mano- villu, near Luneville, protect important railway junctions, and form serious obsta- cles to an advance along the valley which leads from the easiest passes of the Vos~ ges, those above Saverne. This is the line followed by the railway of the old dili- gence road from Strassburg to Paris; it is the great highway for the invasion of France. In the old days it was closed by Strassburg on the frontier, and Phalsburg in the pass of the Vosges. Now it is watched by Toul and its advanced, forts. The choice of Toul instead of Nancy, as the main point of resistance on this line, marks the tendency in the new plan to choose for the frontier fortresses places with a moderately large population, in- stead of great cities where the garrison would be encumbered with huge masses of non-combatants. Between Toul and Verdun there is a continuous line of strong forts. Five of them crown the heights on the right bank of the Meuse, to the north-west of the fortress ; three more, placed at wider inter- vals, bring us to the southern forts of Verdun. This place is important, because it stands almost within striking distance of the great German fortress of Metz. Ver- dun covers the road and railway by Cha- lons to Paris, the line on which Bazaine vainly tried to retreat in the second week of August, 1870. Verdun now forms a great entrenched camp, covered by a cir- cle of nineteen forts, most of them to the east of the place, looking towards Metz. On this side they are almost crowded to- gether. Then, north of Verdun, all forti- fication ceases. For a space of about twenty-three miles, between its outlying forts and the Belgian frontier, there is, so far as we are aware, neither a gun nor an entrenchment. The roads leading from Metz by Sedan and Mezi~res, and turning the left flank of the first French line, are left open to the Germans. This is the second gap in the barrier, and these two such marked intervals have certainly not been left unguarded without a purpose ervunsckte Einbruckstel/e, Colonel K6tt- schau calls themplaces where it is hoped the Germans will break in; or, simpler still, the openings of a trap. We shall see presently what he means. In the rear of this first line are the stra- tegical railways for the concentratiqn of the field army, with their central junction at 36 THE MILITARY FRONTIER OF FRANCE. Neufch~teau. In this same region we find stations obviously prepared for the rapid debarkation of troops, with extensive storehouse accommodation for supplies, and even rooms ready for the use of the ambulance corps. Fifty or sixty. miles behind the first line we find the second, or rather, the two groups of fortresses which form its left and right, the centre of the line of defence being apparently reserved for the main army of operation. On the right the fortresses are: (i) Besan~on, on the Doubs. The city stands in a deep bend of the Doubs. The citadel closes the gap between the two arms of the river, and at the other extremity of the place a strong fort forms a t~te-de-po;n beyond the river. An outlying circle of sixteen forts completes the defences. (2) Langres, at the head of the Maine valley, fortified by an enceinte and a circle of forts, with, to the eastward, a semicircle of forts so far thrown forward as to include within this advanced line seventeen vil- lages, thus affording cantonments for a large army. (3) Dijon, protected by a cir- cle of forts. Auxonne, in the valley of the Saone, is less completely fortified, and serves as a connecting link between Dijon and Besan9on. The left or northern group of fortresses is composed of (I) Rheims, defended by a circle of thirteen forts; (2) the two fort- resses of Laon and La F~re, which are linked together by a line of forts. Fur- ther, the strong fort of Cond6 protects the great junction of roads and railway lines at Soissons, to the rear of these three fort- resses. To the north-east of Laon Fort Hirson guards another important railway junction, close to the Belgian frontier and to the north of Mezi~res the towns of Rocroy and Givet are fortified by an enceinte; Givet is almost surrounded by Belgian territory, standing as it does at the northern extremity of the sharp salient angle in the French frontier, where the Meuse enters Belgium. Th ese two places are hardly capable of a prolonged defence. They are really outposts of the strongly fortified group Rheims-Laon-LaF~re. These works complete the double bar- rier of the frontier. Behind them lie the great p/aces darrnes of Paris, Lyons, and Lille. Since the war Paris has been sur- rounded with a new circle of forts placed so far in advance of the old line, that a bombardment of the city would now be impossible without the previous capture of several of the forts. Moreover, the extent of ground covered by the sixteen forts of the outer circle is so great that a complete investment is now probably im- possible. Versailles, the Prussian head- quarters during the siege of 187o71, is now converted into a huge outwork of Paris, and guarded by a semicircle of forts. Lyons forms the great rallying-point for the south. In the north Lille has been strongly fortified for the same purpose, and surrounded by a group of minor fort- resses Maubeuge, Landrecies, Cambrai, Arras, Bouchain, and Valenciennes. Of these, Maubeuge, on the Belgian frontier, is the most important. All the new fortresses are built on the modern polygonal system. The French engineers have at last definitely aban- doned the complicated bastioned fronts, to which they clung tenaciously long after they had been given up everywhere else. The chief strength of the defence now lies in the heavy batteries of the outlying forts. These and the detached forts which link together the fortresses ~of the first line, are large earthworks, mounting a considerable number of heavy guns, be- sides machine guns for the defence of the ditches, and quick-firing Hotchkiss can- non which are destined to do the work of the old wall-pieces and annoy the enemys working parties. The heavy guns are in many of the forts protected by iron shields; a few are mounted in revolving turrets of the naval type. All the forts have spa- cious bomb-proof quarters for the garri- son, and magazines capable of holding abundant supplies of ammunition. The garrisons are not large, generally from two to four companies of infantry, and enough artillery to work the guns. This elaborate fortification of the new frontier would seem to indicate that the French, taught by the experience of I87o, count upon standing on the defensive at the outset of the next war with Germany. Their army will concentrate in the rear of the first line of fortresses, and Colonel K6ttschau is certainly right in pointing out Neufch~teau as the destined head- quarters of ~he army of the revanche. In that case the Germans at the outset of the campaign will have before them two gateways into France, gates left open on purpose, one between Toul and Epinal, and full in front of Neufchateau, the other north of Verdun, between it and the Bel- gian frontier. To advance directly against the French front, and refuse to enter these open gates would be to run full against a strong line of heavily armed forts. On~ the other hand, to pass bet~veen Epinal and Toul and strike at Neuf chateau, would RICHARD CABLE. 37 be to fight with a line of communications and retreat menaced on either side by a considerable fortress, capable of shelter- ing a ~vhole corps darrnde within the cir- cle of its forts. Moreover, a French army defeated near Neufch~teau could fall back towards Paris until it had the two groups of the fortresses of the second line on its flanks, or even refuse battle until it was ~vell down the Meuse valley towards Paris, when the invaders would have the fort- resses of the second line on the flanks of their communications. If, however, the German commanders avoided the Toul- Epinal opening, and swept round from Metz to the north of Verdun, they would have to fight after forming front to a flank; i.e., as they faced the French field army, their line of communications would not be in their own rear, but would stretch away from their left along the frontier, and this line would f~irther be threatened by the garrison of Verdun. Moreover, their situation would so far resemble that of the French at Sedan that there would be a neutral territory in their rear. Thus, supposing the Germans began the cam- paign by advancing across their own fron- tier, whatever line they chose for their advance, the position of the French would be a strong one. But the condition we have indicated is a very important one If the Germans do not begin by advancing across their own frontier, i.e., the frontier of Alsace-Lor- raine, the position of affairs is very much modified to the disadvantage of the French. If the Germans boldly violate neutral ter- ritory, either in Switzerland or in Belgium, they can turn the flank of the French bar- rier of fortresses and forts. To advance through a mountain country like Switzer- land, and strike at the south of France, would not be a very likely plan for the Germans to adopt; but to enter Belgium and Luxembourg from the Rhine prov- ince would place them in an excellent position for an attack upon France. Metz and Strassburg, with the Vosges and the Rhine, would cover Germany from a French counter-attack, while the German columns issued from the Belgian Ar- dennes; and with their line of communi- cations stretching securely in their rear to Cologne, Coblentz, and the lower Rhine, they could await the attack of the French with confidence, while a special corps, with a strong siege-train, prepared to de- stroy or reduce the northern fortresses of either the first or the second line. Both lines are planned to meet an attack from the eastward; assailed from the north- ward, by an army based on Belgian terri- tory, they could probably be taken one by one. In such a campaign Verdun would, perhaps, be the first point of attack in order to clear the main road from Metz to the westward; the work of the field army would be to beat the French as they came up to the relief of the fortresses. But even on this supposition, the campaign would be a much less rapid one than that of 1870. Whatever happens, the wave of German invasion will not flow in so fast as in that disastrous year. This much, at least, the new fortresses have secured for France. But the weakness of the plan lies in the possibility of a flank attack across Belgian territory. Prince Bismarck has not such a respect for treaties as to hesitate about such an attack, if the mili- tary leaders saw any advantage in it. This much is certain; the Germans will hardly be content to walk quietly into the trap prepared for them, by choosing as their lines of advance the ervunschte Em- brucks/elle pointed out by colonel K6tt- schau. The alternative is a violation of Belgian territory, with or without the con- sent of the Cabinet at Brussels; for, despite the lavish expenditure on the Belgian ari~y, it is not in a condition to offer any serious resistance to a German invasion. A. HILLIARD ATTERIDGE. From Chambers Journal. RICHARD CABLE, THE LIGHT5HIPMAN. BY THE AUTHOR 01 ~ JOHH HEEEIH~,~~ COURT ROYAL. ETC. CHAPTER IX. ON THE TERRACE. JOSEPHINE lived in a condition of feud with her father. In her heart she repented of her rebelliousness; but when present with him, the antagonism broke out again, in spite of good intentions. She had nat- urally a good heart, truthful character, and abhofrence of meanness, but met at every turn with evidences of her fathers insin- cerity and self-seeking. This condition of warfare had imbittered her heart and sharpened her tongue. We begin life as believers, and end it as sceptics. We begin with trustfulness, and go on through every stage of disillu- sion into absolute mistrust. As children, we look up to every one; as old men, we look down on all. We expect this process 38 RICHARD CABLE. to take place within us; to find out one subterfuge after another, to discover hol- lowness wherever we tap, and dust behind every rind; and we are pleased at the in- genuousness of the young, who believe all things to be solid and the rind to cover richness. Josephine was brought up in an atmo- sphere so clear that no illusion was possi- ble in it. Her fathers conversation dis- pelled all faith in what is good and noble and real. His example was level with his opinion. He made no scruple to let his sister and daughter see the strings that controlled his movements, the hollowness of all his profession. Instead, therefore, of beginning life as a child with belief, she began with suspicion and distrust. She was drawn to Richard Cable and his household by the contrast he and it exhibited to her father and her own home. She stepped at once from the scenery of a theatre to natural landscape, from a hot- house to breezy open air. And as that which is true and wholesome always exer- cises attraction on a nature not wholly depraved, Josephine woke to conscious- ness of many fibres in her soul linking her to the Cable family, and to acknowledge a fascination which she could not explain. Her father did not forbid her to go to the cottage; perhaps he so completely disbelieved in her obedience, that he thought it useless to do so. Instead, he sneered and threw about insinuations which offended her, and stirred in her the spirit of opposition, which always slum- bered in her heart, waiting to be aroused. His remarks about Cable were so unjust and ungenerous, that she resented them indignantly; their injustice spurred her sense of fairness into assertion. The perverse tactics of Justin Cornellis re- coiled on himself. Had he forbidden Josephine to go to the cottage, she would have obeyed sullenly, and admitted in the end that he had ordered discreetly; but as he took the other course, she persisted in her visits against her better judgment. Aunt Judith exercised neither authority nor influence on the wayward girl. She was a lazy woman, ~vho believed in her brothers cleverness, and thrust all respon- sibilities upon his shoulders. So long as she was comfortable, all was well. The profitable was always right, and success was the sanction of conduct however tor- tuous. She reflected, in this, the general opinion, took her tone from what prevails. We heap scorn on Mrs. Grundy when she shakes her head over the gentleman who has a good cellar, and his lady who gives splendid balls; she is only listened to when she utters her doubts about the pro- priety of calling on that couple which drives a pony-chaise, and the grass-widow whose garden is too circumscribed for lawn tennis. Those who have difficulty in making both ends meet have every one picking at their frayed edges; but those, whose incomes are double-breasted are panoplied as in armor. When we reckon our income by hundreds, we scarce dare express an opinion; but when by thou- sands, we may calculate on our platitudes being regarded as words to be treasured. We return cold shoulder to him who, when we drop in unexpectedly, gives us a cold leg of mutton at dinner. A surgeon must put his groom in livery and drive a dash- ing turnout before he receives a fee. If he walks to see his patients, no one will give a fig for his opinion. I know a banker who stopped a run and averted ruin by putting his footman into red velvet breeches; no one supposed that the bank was tottering, when Jeames assumed new carnation inexpressibles. I wish, Josephine, said Mr. Cornellis, you would run across to the ilall and learn what has become of Mr. Gotham. I have not seen him these three days. He has not been here; and when I went to inquire, he was not visible; stupefied with opium, I suppose. Tell him that I will come over and have a game of billiards with him, if he be so inclined. Throw in a word about Aunt Judith, he added with a scornful laugh. Yes, and no, papa, answered Jose- phine. I will go, and I will say nothing about my aunt. She took her hat and went to the Hall. Mr. Gotham was in his garden, on the terrace, and the servant guided her to him. I have had the geraniums bedded out, he said. I like to look on. Do you see how my roses are coming out? Shall I tell papa you do not care for billiards to-day? asked Josephine, who was impatient to be gone. I do not know; I will consider. Stay a while, and talk to me. That will be bet- ter than billiards. I am a little easier to- day, and am enjoying the sun. These are very lovely grounds, are they not, dear Josephine? Very lovely. Hardly any one sees them. It will not do for me to allow people the run of them; they would pull off the branches, pluck the flowers, and trample the grass. Yet, I suppose, if I am going to stand for the county, I must do this, allow a free RICHARD CABLE. day for the public, and keep indoors all that day as a prisoner. I do not mind your walking here whenever you like. Thank you, Cousin Gotham. It has occurred to me, he said in a shy manner, twitching his head from side to side, that those children I saw you with the other day might like to see the grounds. Who were they? What were their names? 01), the seven little daughters of Rich- ard Cable the lightshipman. They are ~5~retty children. I peeped through the hedge as I was passing, and saw you surrounded by them. I thought I saw you peeping before I went into the garden. I peeped twice once before, once after. In fact, I heard the chatter of little voices, and saw something shining, under the leaves and thorn-boughs; and could not make out what it was, till I stooped, and then I saw it was the golden hair of little children sitting on the bank. After- wards, I heard you singing to them, and I peeped again. You like them, I pre- sume. What are their names? Cable. I mean their Christian names.~~ Mary, and Effie and Jane, Martha, Let- tice, Susan, and Bessie. I think that is the order, but am not sure. Effie and Jane are twins. Bessie Bessie Cable, murmured the old man, and he rubbed one trembling hand over the other. I wonder why she is called Bessie? After her grandmother. Has she dark hair and dark eyes like like her? No. All the children are fair, very fair. They remind me of a group of cher- ubs faces by Sir Joshua Reynolds. It is strange to find such beauty among persons so low in life, said Gabriel Gotham. Sit down, Josephine, on this garden seat by me sit and talk. I en- joy the sun; it does my neuralgia good, now that the wind is less cold and without east in it. I suppose that these children take after their father? I never saw their mother. You know she is dead. I know I I know nothing whatever about them. Is she dead? Oh, I did hear about it. She was a maid at the rec- tory, I fancy. Richard might have looked higher. He is a handsome man. He is not like his mother. She is a very fine old woman, so stately, with a grand way about her. I think Mr. Cable derives something in ljs 39 manner and his reserved way from her; but she is dark, and he is fair. Did you ever know his father? His father! Mr. Gotham started. There is some mystery about him. Richard Cable says he never saw him he deserted Mrs. Cable when he, Richard, was an infant. Mr. Gotham fidgeted. You see those little children occasionally, he said eva- sively. Perhaps it would please them to come into these grounds. I I will have the wicket on the sea-wall open, and you can bring them in some day, and take them about; and if they like to pick any of the syringa, or laburnum, or rhododen- dron, I shall not mind. It would be pretty would it not to put the laburnum chains about their little gold heads? No doubt it would please them. You will not say anything about this to Mrs. Cable; she might object. Take them out for a stroll on the shore, and you will find the gate unlocked. Give a push, and it will be open; then bring them in. I shall not be in the garden; I shall know nothing about their being here. No pre- cedent will be established. But say noth- ing to Mrs. Cable. XVhy not? She would have no objec- tions. I do not know; she would think it an intrusion. She might fear the chil- dren would do damage, and forbid it. I had rather you said nothino- to her either before or after. b I will do as you wish. When? This afternoon? No; to-morrow. I I think there are some empty nests in the Bankshian rose trailed against the terrace wall. If you look in, or hold up the little ones to peep in, they may perhaps find eggs there pink and white, almond and sugar. That would please them make them laugh, eh? I am sure it would. I shall not be here; I shall be in my room. I shall perhaps hear them laugh, and it will divert me, especially if I am in pain at the time. But I shall not appear. My green ja/ousies will be down. If I appeared, I might seem to sanction the intrusion, and there is no knowing where invasion would stop. I should have all the parish coming here to pull up my bulbs, and pluck my roses, and break the statues and vases. I do not like the pub- lic; it is boisterous, and leaves traces where it romps of sandwich papers and empty ginger-beer bottles. When grounds are thrown open to it, the public is noisy, 40 RICHARD CABLE. and I cannot bear noise. I suffer acutely in my nerves. There is a long nerve ex- tending from the temple to the foot But there; I will not speak of that. It begins to twitch and shoot the moment I allude to it. Richard Cable is a fine man, a handsome man. Look at this standard rose, Josephine. Do you know what it is? General Jacqueminot, a hybrid perennial. It is a superb rose. Do you know on what it grows? On wild-brier stock. It is budded. Below the bud, the root, the stein, are all wild, vulgar, hedge dogrose. I should think Richard Cable was a bud- ded rose; we know the stock is common, but consider! What a man the father must have been, to have such a tall, stal- wart, handsome son! You do not know Greek, Josephine, or you would under- stand what I mean when I say c~nax an- drdn a king of men. I dare say. It is a pity his father does not see him. Cable is a man to be proud of; he is not only a fine man, but he is a true and good man. The children are pretty children, are they not? Like Reynoldss angels, you said. They are very pretty, unusually pretty children. They do not take after their grand- mother; Mrs. Cable is dark. But perhaps their mother was fair. Oh, their mother was nothing, a very common sort of creature. If they do not take after their grandmother, it must be after their grandfather. He must have been possessed of great personal beauty when he was young. To this Josephine made no reply; she was not interested in the question as to the appearance of the unknown grand- father. There is, I hear, a good deal of high quality, self-respect, and sterlincr ooodness in Richard Cable. He is a thorough man. He could not have had that from his mother, who is only a common woman. Why not? She is a superior person. I like her; she is so dignified. He has not her eyes and hair. Rely on it, he draws also his moral and mental qualities from the other side. What a man that father must have been! I do not think it, or he would not have deserted him. Mr. Gotham kicked the gravel about with his toes, first with one foot, then with the other, and worked a hole with his stick among the shingle that covered the terrace. What does your father think of Rich- ard Cable? he asked at length. Papa! Oh, he calls him a lout and a booby. He does not like him? No he has taken a prejudice against him; why, I cannot tell. I suppose he has done something to testify to Richard Cable his gratitude for the services he rendered you? He offered him a ten-pound note, and Richard refused it, I am glad to say. You are glad. Why? Because papa should have given him either a great deal, or nothing at all. Cable deserves something for his goodness to you, his care and his kind- ness. He deserves a great deal; but he is too proud or too much of a gentleman at heart, to accept anything, offered as my father offered it. Mr. Gotham considered a while, still working a hole in the ground with the end of his stick. He looked slyly out of the corners of his eyes at Josephine, and then down at the burrow he was making. It is no concern of mine, said he after a while. But for the sake of something to talk about, we will pursue the subject. I suppose Cable has his ambitions. What is he going to do now? Go on with his duties as lightshipman, or take to some other line of life? Nothino else offers. The ship will be replaced; I suppose a better one than that old cut-down tub. But I fancy Rich- ard would rather take to something which did not withdraw him so much from home. I heard him one day say that if he only had a boat of his own, he would be a fish- erman. Why should he not have a boat? He cannot afford one. Boats are ex- pensive. Why should not you give him one? I ! Josephine almost started to her feet, she was so astonished at the proposi- tion. Yes, you. Why not? He saved your life. You feel indebted to him. Give him what would make him happy. Do not ask him if he will have it and give him an opportunity of declining; make it his. But Mr. Gotham her handsome face was flushed as she turned it to him how can I? I have no money that ~ is to say, of course I shall have my moth- ers money some day; but my father is trustee, and my guardian, and would noV let me have the sum for the purpose. VALENTINE VISCONTI. 4 Nothing would please me better than to give this surprise and gratification to a kind, good man. But it is not of any use proposing it to my father; he would not hear of it; he would cover me with ridi- cule, jeer at the suggestion, and dismiss it. But I suppose that when of age, you can claim your money to do with it what you will? I do not know. I am of age next month; but it does not follow that I shall get my money if I ask for it. I am not going to have a lawsuit for it with my father. I will make a suggestion, Josephine, said the old man, still working his stick, and working it faster. I have money at my disposal which I am ready to lend you for this purpose. You shall borrow it of me, giving me an acknowledgment, and you shall buy Richard a ship. There is a new and beautiful little cutter being built by Messrs. Grimes and Newbold. She is very nearly ready for sea. What do you say to buying her and fitting her up with everything necessary, and pre- senting her to Richard Cable? My father will never allow it. Jo- sephines face was burning, her dark eyes sparkling. Do not say a word about it to him. The arrangement is between you and me. I think with you that some fitting acknowl- edgment should be made to Richard. He was right to refuse ten pounds. The world will cry shame on your father and you unless something be done for your preserver. Do not bring me in. I lend you the money; I do nothing more. I am ignorant of the purpose for which you borrow itit is a business transaction. But Josephine hesitated. She was pleased with the idea, yet something in her cautioned her not to close with the proposal. But, Mr. Gotham she colored deeply will not people con- sider it odd? Will it not give occasion to talk? People will suppose your father has in this way recompensed Cable. They need not know that he has nothing to do with it, any more than they need know that I have helped in the matter. The talk will be that Mr. Justin Cornellis has done the right thing, and done it hand- somely. Do not let it get wind that he offered ten pounds; that would make talk, and talk not pleasant to hear. Folk would say he valued you cheaply. You shall buy the boat of Messrs. Grimes and New- bold, and name her. What shall she be named the Bes- sie? The Bessie! Mr. Gotham shrank back. No on no account the Jo- sephine. From The Fortnightly Review. VALENTINE VIScONTI. IN TWO PARTS. PART I. I. VALENTINE VIscoNTI, the origin of greater wars than Helen, was born in the Abbey of Pavia, in the year 1366. Her grandfather, Galeazzo Visconti, had left Milan rather suddenly in ill health, poi- soned, as he believed, by his brother, who was co-tyrant with him of Lombardy. He had designed a safe and splendid castle for himself in Pavia. While it was still unfinished Valentine was born in the hos- pitable old Certosa there. Galeazzo Visconti had taken with him from Milan his wife, Blanche of Savoy, his little daughter lolanthe, and his mar- ried son Giangaleazzo, with his wife Isa- belle. These last were the parents of Valentine. When she was born her mother was sixteen and her father fifteen years of age.* At her nativity there were, ~ve are told, incredible rejoicings; for the pride of Galeazzo Visconti was gratified by the birth of a grandchild, who was no less the granddaughter of a king of France. The mother of Valentine was that little French princess who, six years ago, had been sold into Lombardy to help to raise the golden millions of her fathers ransom. John the Good had received for his daugh- ter the sum of five hundred thousand golden forms, a sort of inverse marriage portion, the price of a royal alliance. But Galeazzo had not paid for barren honor only; Isabelle had brought her husband the county and the title of Vertus in Champagne. Though the little girl had gone weeping into Italy, her tears were soon dried. She had left a devastated and ruined country; she came into a land of sumptuous tyranny, of riches and mag- nificence. Life was easy at Milan and at Pavia, where Galeazzo was busied with his new university, where Giangaleazzo a timid, intellectual, orderly creature spent day after day in his study full of Corio on different pages puts the date of the birth of Giangaleazzo as 1352 and 1343. The firat date, 1352, agrees with the account of Galeotto del Caretto and the deed of majority in Corio. 42 VALENTINE VISCONTI. enormous parchment ledgers, directing the staff of secretaries who copied into them his accounts, his memoranda, and copies of his correspondence. Priests and friars from the old Certosa, professors of law and learning from t~te new college, learned men like Philippe de M~zi~res, visitors from so far away as England, France, or Cyprus these were the guests of the palac~. Gradually the stately home echoed with childrens voices. Valentine was horn in 1366. One brother grew strong and playful at her side; another died in babyhood. When the third was born, in 1373, Isabelle died, and a few months after her baby followed her. The immense castle of Pavia was very quiet now. Isabelle was dead, and her baby; lolanthe, the girl-widow of the Duke of Clarence, had married, in 1372, the Marquis of Monferrat. There were only the old Visconti and his wife, and the stu- dious young Count of Vertus and his two little children. He, at least, did nothing to make the palace livelier, for he had a constant horror of being murdered. Guards and double guards watched the narrow portals, and let nothing in that was not familiar and secure. It was quieter still when, in 1378, Ga- leazzo Visconti died. He had been a terrible old man; cruel, unscrupulous, scholarly. It was he who obtained from the emperor, Charles IV., in 1361, the privilege to found the University of Pavia, and he who protected it by an edict threat- ening with heavy punishments the Mi- lanese who dared to study in another school. And he it was, also, who threw alive into a fiery furnace two priests who came to him on an unwelcome message; and who, with his brother Bernab6, had poisoned their third brother, co-heir and co-tyrant with them in Lombardy. They had divided his share, Galeazzo taking Piacenza, Pavia, the west to Novara, and as far as Como in the north; while Ber- nab6 possessed the rich province of the east. Both ruled alike in Milan. Both should have been equally powerful. But Galeazzo had left all his share to the sole Count of Vertus, and he, too, had only one son to follow him, whereas the signory of Bernab6 was strengthened and divided by eleven turbulent and violent young sons. Valentines father remembered the fate of his uncle. He kept very quiet, sur- rounded himself with priests and guards, ate of no dish before a score of stewards tasted of it, and dissimulated his ambition. This he did so well that the timid Count of Vertus became a byword and a laugh- ing-stock in the house of Bernabb. Al- though the young man had taken care to obtain from the emperor investitures wtrich conferred upon him absolute au- thority; * although by his judicious pro- tection of the people he made himself the desired deliverer of the unhappy Milanese, still Bernabb and his children could not take their kinsman seriously. And the better to lull their suspicions, in 1380 the young Count of Vertus came a-courting to the noisy Castello di Porta Giovio, where Bernab6 kept house with such of his nine- and-twenty children as still remained in Milan. It was a great riotous house full of voices, full of splendid young men in armor (Palamedes, Lancilotto, Sagramoro), full of beautiful women and fair young girls with lovely names (Achiletta, Verde, Damigella), and not less radiant for their easy familiarity with evil. One of these dangerous maidens, Caterina, the Count of Vertus took to be his second wife. In the next year, in 1381, on~the fourth of October, his boy, Astorre, died. Valentine was now his only heir, for during the first eight years of their mar- riage Caterina Visconti had no children. Valentine was fifteen years old, of an age to be dowered and married. Her father, however, kept her at home with him, teaching her many things too much, some people said, for they thought her as wise as Medea. She could invent posies; she could read not only Italian books, but Latin, French, and German. Into what- ever court she might hereafter marry, she would be not only the daughter of the Duke of Milan, but his diplomatic agent. I do not know if she could speak English, but in those years of warfare the English were often at Milan, and Valentine when a little girl had seen (a brilliant, sudden vision) her English iincle of Clarence, who had died so strangely at Alba, and was buried at Pavia. She was a scholarly maiden, possessing of her own no less than eleven books; more than her grand- father, King John, had ever owned in his royal library at Paris. And she could write as well as read a clear, excellent hand, of which the signature still exists in the Paris archives. Froissart in later days remarked on the frequent letters that ~.- she wrote to her father, Madame Valen- tine wrote him all she knew., Tn, spectabilisque Azo, natus tuns. . . auctori- tate, bayli5, nec non Regi~ Potestatis plenitudine, tam ordinari~ quam absolute, etc., Feb., 1380. Luenig. De Ducatu Mediolanense, in the Codex Italia Diplo.. mat icus, No. xxvii. See also Investiture of Asti, s383 to Giangaleazzo (vos et heredes vestri) in the A rckives Nationales, K. 53, dossier 22. VALENTINE VISCONTI. I do not think she was beautiful, for not a record of the fact remains, but certainly she was beautifully attired. The catalogue of her gala dresses is a thing to wonder on: scarlet, and silver, and cloth of gold, and rich embroidery; cloths of peacock green and mulberry color; tissues of netted pearls. And she had as many pearls, diamonds, sapphires, and balass- rubies as any princess in a fairy story. She wore them sewn all over her caps, round her girdles, encircling her young throat, and showered broadcast across the bro- cades and embroidery of her gowns. With all this, at sixteen, and with the subtle sweetness of the natural Lombard grace, it is not necessary to be beautiful. In 1382 some guests came to Milan, who marvelled at the magnificence of these Viscontis, who talked much with Valen- tines father, and who spread abroad the tale of his daughters wisdom and her splendor. They must also have impressed on the mind of this young girl the strength, the beauty, the wealth of France. And they must no less have spurred the silent and vigilant ambition of her father; for in the late May of 1382, along the straight, vine-bordered roads of Lombardy, four thousand men rode together tobethe guests of Milan. They were all mounted on beautiful chargers caparisoned in silk and precious metals; they were all clad in suits of burnished armor; light aigrettes floated from their helmets. They seemed the army of Xerxes, ~vrote the Monk of St. Denis; their beasts of burden went slowly under loads of gold and treasure. Those that beheld them, astrologers and prophets, read in the future the records of their fabulous glory. In truth they were a host of heroes. Knights like the Count of Savoy and the Count of Potenza went In the ranks. At their head rode a tall, square-shouldered man, with fair locks beginning to grizzle, and a handsome countenance. He was magnificent in his cloak of woven gold and lilies. This was Louis of Anjou, king of Sicily, setting out for Naples to conquer his new king- doin. A kingdom in Italy! It was the dearest vision of the age. The kingdom of Adria, a dream never realized; the kingdom of Naples, a phantom eluding for two hun- dred years the eager grasp of France. In the subtle mind of Giangaleazzo Visconti, a third, a vaster kingdom, was already taking shape a kingdom dead and bur- ied for near five hundred years the kingdom of Italy! But to gain Italy it was first necessary. 43 to be secure in Milan. While his guests rode on triumphantly to famine and disas- ter, the Count of Vertus elaborated his plan. When the king of Sicily, wrapped in a remnant of homespun daubed with painted yellow lilies, lay dead in his un- conquered kingdom, defeated in his grave at Bar Giangaleazzo Visconti ruled su- preme in Lombardy. He had plotted so well that one sole death secured this change. On the 6th of May, 1385, Giangaleazzo had secured the person of his uncle, and had sent him with his dilettissirna amante to the castle of Trezzo. Giangaleazzo, no less skilled in poisons than his father, had him poisoned there, and buried him in Milan in a sep- ulchre of splendid marble. He then caused himself to be proclaimedj sole lord of Lombardy. If any questioned his pro- ceedings, he could produce the investiture of Wenzel, granting him absolute author- ity and final judgment. The children of Bernabb were stupefied and did qot rebel; most of the sons went to fight in the ranks of Sir John Hawkwood; and the people of Milan hailed the Count of Vertus as a deliverer. He taxed them heavily, indeed, but without disorder; and his police were so excellent he used to smile and say, I am the only robber in all my provinces. Giangaleazzo was now master of a great domain, immensely rich, three-and-thirty. He meant to go far. In 1386 he sent to Pope Urban, demanding the title of king of Zialy. Urban refused, and in future the Ghib- elline Count of Vertus confined his re- quests to the emperor, or else to the anti-pope at Avignon, who asked nothing better than to make himself a party in Italy. But first of all, Giangaleazzo began to conquer his kingdom. Verona, Padua, Pisa, Siena, Perugia, Assisi, Bologna, Spoleto, fell like ninepins before his gath- ering force. Florence began to tremble. Foreign countries began to talk of this new conqueror, of his force, his wealth, his one young daughter. Clement, the pope of Avignon, among others, perceived that with Anjou in the south and Visconti in the north, a great Gallic party might be formed in Italy. Clement was at once the creature and the patron of the kings of France. In the end of 1386, while the Milanese messengers stHl were in the sad- dle arranging a marriage between Valen- tine and the emperors brother, suddenly the governor of Vertus arrived at Pavia. He brought a message from the king of France, the young Charles VI. The king .demanded the hand of Valentine for his 44 VALENTINE VISCONTI. only brother, Louis, the Duke of Tou- raine. This was an important step. The two first children of the king of France had died as soon as they were born, and Louis was still the heir to the crown. Valentine, six years after her fathers second mar- riage, was still his only child. It was current in France that the Count of Ver- tus turned to his daughter and said, When I see you again, fair daughter, I trust you will be queen of France. H. VALENTINE was a very wealthy heir- ess; she brought hack to France nearly all her mothers dowry, four hundred and fifty thousand golden forms and the county of Vertus in Champagne. In ad- dition to this she took into the kingdom a freight of golden ornaments and jewels, and the county of Asti in Lombardy, with a yearly income of nearly thirty thousand golden forms. The county of Asti comprised a whole province of towns, villages, and castles. Thirty signories ~vere in its fief; forty- eight villas paid homage to the Count of Asti; Brie and Cherasco, two large towns in Piedmont, belonged directly to him. In the politics of those times few things are more striking than the singular light- mindedness with which a king of France bestows upon a Lombard adventurer a county in the very heart and centre of his own kingdom, or the confidence with which an Italian conqueror hands the key of his position to a wealthy neighbor. The situation of the French at Asti turned out to have the very gravest political con- sequences. It assured them Savona in 1397, Genoa in 1396, and a century of wars about the Milanese. For this se- cure footing in Lombardy gave a point of reality to their vision of an Italian kingdom, and made the subtraction of Italy from the empire appear not only de- sirable but possible. On the other hand, it familiarized Italy with France. Hence- forth the Italian princes, in any dispute among themselves, would call in the pro- tection less of the king of France than of the powerful Count of Asti. But at first the Lombards did not like it. I Lombardi, says Corio, furono di mala voglia. What they really dreaded was the succession of Valentine to Milan. This is too complicated and intricate a question to dispose of here. I will only say that the Italians believed that in some fashion Giangaleazzo had secured Milan to his daughter, in case he sho~d have no sons, or (as actually happened), all his sons should die childless.* In later days the kings of France affected to believe in the existence of an actual deed given to Louis and Valentine t by Clement VII., the anti-pope at Avignon. No trace of such a deed, I believe, exists at present, and yet it is very probable it may have once existed. Certainly in 1387 Clement sent a similar privilege securing the suc- cession to Asti ; ~ and in the summer of 1389, immediately on the arrival of Val- entine in France, her husband went to visit the pope at Avignon. Few things seem more probable than that in such a moment Clement, anxious at all costs to strengthen France in Italy, should have granted the deed. But I have sought for it in vain in Paris, and M. Maurice Faucon, in his two years mission, found nothing in the archives at Milan, nothing at Turin, nothing at Asti, nothing at Venice. It would seem that this often-quoted papal investiture either never gxisted or was destroyed. The careful ledgers of Gian- galeazzo, where the least account was entered, and the archives of the house of Orleans are equally barren of it. But still it seems certain that at some time and in some manner the succession of Val- entine to Milan was clearly established. For when the usurper, Francesco Sfor- za, succeeded to Milan, his first care was to destroy the will of Giangaleazzo.~I This he probably accomplished on the 26th February, 1452; but, unknown to him, a copy of the will was taken. More than fifty years later, in 1496, the juris-consult Jason del Maino wrote to his kinsman, Ludovico ii Moro, I have found a copy of the will of Giangaleazzo Visconti in the house of Messer Dominico Oliari, notary of Pavia. Keep it safe or destroy it. it would be of great importance to the Duke of Orleans against your excellency, for it provides that should the sons of Gian- galeazzo die without male heirs the suc- cession shall pass to one of the sons of Madame Valentine. This chance-found * See Corio. Le Historie Milanese, p. 260. t Archives of Simancas. Calendar of State Papers, Louis XII. to the Duke of Norfolk, Nov. 26, 1514. Corio appears to believe the deed was granted by U~ ban. ~ MSS. Archives Nationales, K. 5~4, dossier 3. ~ Clement was so anxious to establish the French in Italy that in 1382 he pledged all the estates of the Church to raise funds for Louis of Anjou. Arch. Nat. J. 495. II Archivio Storico Lombardo. Anon 9, fasc. 2 (1882). The documents (previously unpublished) are quoted. Maurice Faucon, Le Manage de Valentine Vis- conti. See Archives des Missions Scientifique. et Litt6raires, s& ie iii., vol. 5. Also Osia, Doc. diplom. trattati dagli Archivii di Milano. VALENTINE VISCONTI. 45 evidence of a will destroyed is the most explicit bequest of Milan to the sons of Valentine. But in all the three Imperial investitures to Giangaleazzo their claim is tacitly recognized. Even the unfriendly investiture of 1396, which bestows the state of Milan on any son of any son, legitimate or illegitimate, of Giangaleazzo, includes in the last resort the sons of his daughter (descendentes Iwi, eorumque de- scendentes masculi). III. IN April, 1387, Valentine of Milan was married by proxy and parole to the Duke of Touraine. The bride was twenty-one, the bridegroom just sixteen; but as Juve. nal des lJrsins remarked, Assez caut, subtil et sage de son aage. In a merely political marriage there is no lovers haste. It was not till the 3rd of June, 1389, that the lord of Milan sent his married daugh- ter to her home in France. Valentine took away with her an escort of knights, a burden of gold and gems, the possession of Asti, and the promise of Milan. She had in her caskets three hundred thousand pearls of price, beside the pearls upon her gala dresses. Her plate was valued at more than one hundred thousand marks in Paris. Her jewels, ornaments, and tapestries were estimated at nearly seven hundred thousand golden forms. Giangaleazzo had found nothing too costly or too radiant for his only daughter. When at last he let her go, he rode with her out of the gates of Pavia, saying never a word of farewell, looking not once into her beloved face, lest he should fall a-weeping. In the saddest hour of her tragic and melancholy life, Valentine remembered with tears that silent parting. It was the 17th of August, 1389, accord- ing to the dates of the Monk of St. Denis, when Valentine rode into Melun to meet her bridegroom. The king was there as well as alt the court a court full of kins- men for Valentine. The king and her husband were both her first cousins, and so was the young king of Sicily; the Dukes of Burgundy and Bern were her uncle~. She was also distantly related to the kings young wife, Isabel of Bavaria; for generations the princes of Bavaria had married the daughters of the rich Visconti. The jealousy and suspicion of the queen must have been the earliest greeting of Valentine at Melun. Queen Isabel was the idol of the court. Radiantly beautiful, eighteen years old, she was not satisfie& with the devotion of her husband. Charles VI. was a gentle, kindhearted, stalwart young man, at two-and-twenty already rather bald, clear of eye and cheek, gen- erous, slow-witted, unapt to state and dignity. He was lovable and sweet in temper; he emitted, like an odoriferous flower, the ingenuity of his perfect char- acter, writes the anonymous Monk of St. Denis. But at his side, more brilliant and more eloquent than he, rode the first knight of chivalry, the kings only brother, Louis, Duke of Touraine. This young man was eighteen years old, extremely handsome, so witty and so wise that in the University of Paris there were no doctors ~vho were proof against his bonne rndmoire et belle loquelle. Often at night, in the H6tel de St. Paul at Paris, he and the young Marshal Boucicault would sit into the grey hours of the morning, devising and arguing the nature of the soul, or making rondels, songs, and ballads. Other days and nights were spent in less inn& cent amusements; for the beautiful Duke of Touraine was so irresistible a lover that popular fancy endowed him with a magic wand and an enchanted ring, making him absolute master of all women. None the less though in a knight it were more noble to succor than enslave fair ladies the duke was considered (a woman has pronounced it) the very refuge and re- treat of chivalry. And the charm of his youth and beauty, of his rhetoric and laughter, of his gentle manners and bril- lian4 knightliness, still exhales from the dusty pages of Christine de Pisan and J uvenal des Ursins. These two loved him. But the hostile Monstrelet, the crit- ical Monk of St. Denis, the unenthusiastic Froissarteven these contribute to the testimony of his enchanting presence. I have said that Louis was held to pos- sess an unearthly ring, a magic wand, of desire. For a perfect knight he had put them to strange uses. He had fascinated with his wand; he had bewitched with the circle of his ring, the young wife of his brother, the beautiful Queen Isabel. And he was the bridegroom of Valentine Vis- conti. Queen Isabel was at Melun to greet her new kinswoman. We can im- agine with what critical eyes she ran her over. Valentine, though not beautiful, was a novel and irradiating vision in her veil of gems. She was wise too; she could talk with her husband over the poems he made, the verses of Lord Salis- bury, the romances of Wenzel of Luxem- bourg or of Maitre Jean dArras, all the literature of the court., She could argue 46 VALENTINE VISCONTI. with him, this subtle Lombard, in the tenuous and fanciful dissertations that he loved. Queen Isabel could not endure to see this stranger, by reason of her splen- dor and her novelty, become the centre of attraction. The marriage festival was scarcely over when Isabel persuaded her husband to ordain a greater festivity for herself. She had been married four years, she was known by sight to every clerk in the Rue St. Denis, yet the king, obedient to her behest, proclaimed the royal entry of the queen into Paris. This Paris that Valentine entered as a stranger was a beautiful city. The streets and bridges had been largely rebuilt by. her uncle, Charles the Wise. Between the new Bas- tille and the river he had raised an im- mense royal palace, the H6tel de St. Paul. Close at hand stood the Palais de Tour- nelles, the great hotel of the king of Sicily, the H6tel Clisson, and the H6tel de Boh6me, where the Duke of Touraine sometimes lived. A little farther off (in the Rue de Turbigo) the castle of the Duke of Burgundy still rears its out-dated menace. On the left bank of the Seine another group of palaces surrounded NOtre Dame. At the extremity of the city stood the Louvre. Rebuilt by Charles the Wise, it was endowed by him with a library of nine hundred and ten volumes (chiefly illuminated missals, legends, miracles, and treatises on astrology). There a silver lamp burned always day and night in the service of students, to whom the library was ever open. Paris was a beautiful city; but it seemed a paradise upon the occasion of the royal entry. The Rue St. Denis was draped from top to bottom in green and crimson silk scattered with stars. Under the gate- way angels sang in a starry heaven, and to the sweet sound of instruments little chil- dren played a miracle. There were tow- ers and stages raised along the streets, where the legend of Troy and other pleas- ant matters were enacted. There were fountains also flowing with milk or flow- ing with claret. Maidens stood beside them in rich chaplets of flowers, and out of golden cups they gave the passers-by to drink, and sang melodiously the while; up and down this magic city went the citizens wives and daughters in long robes of gold and purple. The citizens themselves were clad in green, the royal officers in rose- color. But all these splendors paled and dwindled when the royal procession came in sight. In the middle, in an open litter, sat the queen, the beautiful, smiling idol of the feast; she was dressed in a down of silk sewn over with French lilies worked in gold. Behind her, in painted cars, went the great ladies of the court. Only the Duchess of Touraine had no litter; Val- entine rode on a fair palfrey, marvellously caparisoned; she went on one side of the queens litter among the royal dukes. The people of Paris, says Froissart, were as anxious to see the new duchess as the queen, whom indeed they had often seen. For Madame Valentine was immensely rich, the daughter of a great conqueror, and she had only just come out of Lom- bardy, a mysterious country where wonder- ful things came to pass. What impression did Valentine make on the people of Paris, pressing and craving to see the foreign duchess? Which of her gala dresses did she wear? The scarlet one sewn thick with pearls and diamonds, with a cap of pearls and scarlet for her dusky hair? Or the robe of gold brocade with sleeyes ~nd head- dress of woven pearls? Or a flashing crown of balasses and sapphires, and a dress of scarlet sewn with jewels and em- broidered with pale-blue borage flowers? In any of these this splendid Italian stran- ger must have appeared to the burghers of Paris as a vision of southern luxury, of mysterious outlandish enchantment. At least it is certain that never after they looked upon her as a mere mortal woman. Just at that season every one was reading the M~lusine of Maitre Jean dArras. Valentine of Milan with her fairy splen- dors, her subtle wisdom, her Lombard traditions Valentine, with the Visconti snake on her escutcheon, must have seemed to these Parisians much such an- other mysterious serpent-woman, another M~lusine. For the Italian character, never fanatic and yet so prone to spiritual passions; seldom bestial, yet so guilty of unnatural vices Italy has ever been a mystery, a hateful enigma to the practical French; and of all Italians the Lombards, the border people, are most unlike their Gallic neighbors. A century later, whe,n the French poured into Italy, no blazing mountain of Vesuvius, no wonderful Vene- tian city swimming in the seas, no antique and glorious ruins of Rome, so much as- ~ tonished the foreign soldiers as the learned and subtle ladies of Lombardy. Those later chroniclers who have been in Italy relate with wonder their fables of ecstatic virgins, and gifted women ~viser than their sex; they have seen one Anna, a woman forty years of age, who never eats, drinks; or sleeps, and who bears on her body th~ mystical wounds of Christ, breaking out VALENTINE VISCONTI. andbleeding afresh on every Friday. In Milan, a demoiselle Trivulce, de son grant jeune aage, wrote letters in Latin and was eloquent in oratory; elle estoit aussi poeticque (adds the author of La Mer des Chroniques ) et s~avoit moult bien disputer avecques cleres et docteurs. And also she was virtuous, so that her holy life seemed a thing to marvel on. At Venice, Maitre Nicole Gilles encountered a certain virgin Cassandra, the daughter of Angelo Fideli, a maiden expert in the seven liberal arts and in theology, all of which matters she expounded in public lectures. At Quiers, near Asti, a daughter of Maitre Jehan Solier, jeune pucelle, received the king with a public and most eloquent oration. Learned and subtle and virtuous as these Lombard ladies were, enthusiastic and spiritual as were many of their countrymen, yet this strange Italy, where the women taught the men, where Jesus Christ in Florence was the official head of the republic, inspired a strange dread and horror in the French. Like men in an enchanted country they feared what might lurk behind the shows of things. Above all, the French could never rid themselves of a haunting suspi- cion of poison poison and sorcery, un- derhand and terrible weapons, such as these frank and passionate Gauls asso- ciated with the subtlety and wisdom of the people they had conquered. And yet, says Commines, I must here speak some- what in honor of the Italian nation, be- cause we never found in all this voyage that they did seek to do us harm by poison, and yet, if they had chosen, we could hardly have avoided it. This attitude of suspicion towards Italy, of reluctant admiration, characterized the French of i4~4. It is quite as signifi- cant of the French to-day; and in 1387 the same distrust was there, but sharper, more anxious, and the same wonder, but intensified. Valentine, the Italian, seemed to these alert, honest, practical Parisians a marvel of strangeness and wisdom; but these attributes suggested to them chiefly a fatal potency for evil. And in truth there was in Italy a wick- edness such as for another hundred years should not penetrate into France. The Italians were a nation of secret poisoners; and the French bourgeois vaguely guessed that this splendid young lady was ac- quainted with a world terribly different from their ingenuous and turbulent Paris. No need for turbulence in Italy. Valen- tines father poisoned the uncle who in his turn had poisoned his own brothe;1 47, And Giangaleazzo, who, as Corio relates, had been nearly poisoned by Antonio della Scala, disposed of that enemy by the self- same means. The Florentines * said he paid his official poisoner a hundred forms monthly. These were the traditions of the new duchess. Thus, after all, Queen Isabel played but the second part in the pageant of her ,en- try. Soon, however, she learned to spare her jealousy of the Italian a jealousy which on that holiday kept her sick in her chamber, while Valentine danced with Touraine and the king in the royal ball below. But Valentine was no rival of the beautiful, bright little queen; she was a strong, ambitious, and devoted woman, never vain and never timid. From the first she lavished on her boyish husband that passionate devotion of an elder woman which asks no return from the radiant young creature she adores. She did not grmxlge Louis the love of Isabel; but the strangest thing happened; .Valentine united with her rival to push the fortunes of Touraine. These two women were ever together, ever scheming, and plan- ning the welfare of the criminal lover of the one, the unfaithful husband of the other. An unnatural league ; but it served to make Touraine strong. For Valentine and Isabel alike had the ear of the king. Charles VI., a little slow, a little dull, neglected in his court, be- trayed by his wife for his more brilliant brother this gentle, kindly, unimportant creature was irresistibly drawn to his sis- ter-in-law. My dear sister, my beloved sister, the words were ever on his lips. Valentine, like him, was set aside; like him she suffered. She, too, was patient and gentle; but she was strong, she was prudent. A great heavy lad, over-boyish for his years, loving jests and disguises, hating ceremony, and only very dimly feel- ing the wrongs that perplexed him, the king of France sought from the sweet and quiet Italian her protection no less than her compassion. In 1390, at Montpellier, the king could not support his absence from her. I am too far from the queen and Madame Valentine, he said to his brother. Let us ride post haste to Paris. Unaccom- panied, and for a wager, they rode all the way, four nights and nearly five days in the saddle. A little later the physicians said that such violent exercise as this hal unsettled the feeble reason of the king. * Lamansky, Secrets de 1 Etat de Venise, pp. x~ 59. 48 VALENTINE VISCONTI. For some time the king had been ailing with a hot fever. He was, says the Monk of St. Denis, strange, languishing, and bewildered. When, in the summer of 1392, the French invaded Brittany, the dukes, his uncles, conjured him to remain at home. But Charles was not to be per- suaded. He started with them upon the ft~cr journey. lon& ~ a1~u1ng the 5th of August, near the town of Mans, after some hours of riding in ar- mor under a beating sun, the royal party passed the lepers village. A beggar, a leper, dressed in rags, the outcast of the world, the lowest human thing, came out and accosted the young king of France: Go no farther, noble king, they betray you! The king was startled, and though the royal guards interfered they could not at once shake off the loathsome prophet. Clinging to the kings hr idle, the leper cried again, Go no farther, noble king, they betray you! They betray you! Louis and Isabel, his nearest and dearest, what else did they? The king said noth. ing. About an hour afterwards, suddenly, the king set upon his brother, his spear a-tilt, as hunters hunt a stag. The more distant of the royal party thought the king had spied a hare or a hart in the forest. Then, as the truth dawned, there was a dreadful scene. Cries, wounds, men fall- ing from their horses, and a fanatic mad- man, who was still a sacred and irresisti- ble presence! The king of France was furiously and murderously mad. Four men were slain, others saved themselves by simulating death. Orleans (he had just exchanged his duchy of Touraine for Orleans) fortunately was not hurt at all. For four days the kings frenzy lasted, with fits of delirium and lapses into deathlike exhaustion. The most cruel part of his sickness was the evident anguish of his spirit. Will no one pluck out of my heart the dagger that my fair brother of Orleans has planted there? the poor mad youth would cry; and he would mutter to himself, I must kill him! I must kill him! It was useless to in- struct the people that there is no reason in the sick hatred of a distempered mind. Nor would they find sufficient motive in the rumored unfaithfulness of Isabel with Louis. They sought a darker, a more subtle explanation, and their suspicions were fostered, for political ends, by the enemies of Orleans the faction of his uncle, the Duke of Burgundy. For when the king recovered from his frenzy his mind remained weak and. dis abled. It was necessary to hand over to his uncles for a while the direction of affairs. This made the strongest of them, Philip, Duke of Burgundy, more than ever strong; he was in fact, if not in form, the regent. Against his rule one voice was ever raised in protest; the voice of the young, ambitious brother of the king. Louis of Orleans was now twenty-one years of age; through his marriage and the gifts of the king he had become for- midably rich; through the weakness of the king he was formidably powerful. He was the nearest to the throne and he de- sired the regency. But the people sus- pected Orleans; he had too much to gain by the death or the incapacity of his brother. The people, in their passionate pity for the gentle monarch they adored, began to hate and fear the queen and Or- leans. In later days they did not scruple to declare their misgivings, but at first they dared not directly accuse the queen, they would not directly acct~se the young, beautiful Louis, their pride from his child- hood, eloquent, religious, gay, slow to anger. With Juvenal they found him beau prince et gratieux; and like Christine they accounted him, en ces jeunes faiz et en toutes choses tr~s-avenant car il aime les bons . . . nul fellonie ni cruaut~ en luy. But he was young; he had been led away (Juvenal finds the phrase for them) by the means of those who were near to him.... He had strange youthful follies that I will not de- clare. . . - There were those about him, young people, who induced him to do many things he had bettei~ have left un- done. This vague and mysterious excuse is the veil of a terrible accusation. The people began to say that the Duke of Orleans was a sorcerer. The king mad; the kings brother a wizard! There was a contagion of horror in France. Many nobles and poor peo- ple, writes the Monk of St. Denis, be- gan to change and sicken with the same strange malady that had attacked the king. The fanatic terror of supernatural evil spread and deepened. Things, at that critical season, fell out unfortunately for Orleans. On the 29th of January, 1393, there was a wedding fes- ~ tival at the H6tel de St. Paul for one of Queen Isabels German maids of honor. The bride was a widow, and thrice a widow; therefore a subject for the gro- tesque license of the age. At night, in the great hall among the dancers, suddenly there burst in a company of six satyrs~ dressed in tight linen vests, with flakes of PERUGIA, 49 tow fastened with pitch upon their backs. These hideous merry-makers sprang and danced about the bride, with leaps and gestures, in a sort of diabolic frenzy. Five of them were chained together, the sixth disported loose. The sixth was the king. Stung by some unlucky madcap prompting, Orleans took a flaming torch from its bearer, and held it close to the face of one of the maskers to see who he was. A flake of fire from the torch dropped among the tow and pitch. Up and down the hall, dancing a wilder and more terri- ble saraband, the flaming s atyrs ~vent. Two were burned to ashes, two died of their burns in agony, one saved himself by leaping into a water-butt. The king was rescued by the Duchess of Bern, who wrapped him in her mantle. But the dan- ger and the fearful spectacle had upset his tottering reason. The king was mad again. The people were furious against Or- leans. Had Charles been burned, his brothers life must have answered for it; for the people loved the king. The party of Burgundy the popular party did not hesitate to accuse the unfortunate young duke of a fiendish plot to murder his brother. It was in vain that Louis raised a magnificent chapel of marble in the Church of the Celestins, to expiate his involuntary guilt. The people mur- mured that the Duke of Orleans -went too often to the Celestins. It was said he went there every day. So much devotion was uncanny in so wild a liver. Charitable souls like Demoiselle Chris- tine declared in vain, Cest impossible que son ame et ses mceurs nen vaillant mieux. Charitable souls are rare. The mass of the people did not hesitate to say that Louis visited the Celestins the better to conspire with a certain monk there an old counsellor of his fathers one Sire Philippe de M~zier~s. This person was acknowledged to be wise, experienced, able, and a man of science, according to the age. He was a monk, too, but the crowd doubted of his religion, for it was common rumor that he said there was no truth in sorcery. Let him say it! Sire Philippe de M& i~res was none the less no judicious companion for the Duke of Orleans. The sire had lived too long in Lombardy: a country, as Juvenal de- scribes it, where they practise magic and the casting of spells. About the same time a malignant rumor grew in France concerning the father of Valentine. People said the seigneur of Milan had asked the French ambassador LIVING AGE. VOL. LVIII. 2968 - - for news of the king. He is very well, replied the Frenchman. Whereupon the Visconti grew pale, and staggered. He is the devil ! he said, with great admira- tion; or, according to another version, Diabolicum recitas et quod est impossi- bile You tell me a diabolic thing, and one that is impossible! The king cannot be well! Now, it was generally known in Italy that the Duke of Milan, like every other successful prince or State, was a secret poisoner. But in France a more terrible and a yet more hateful accusation was rumored against him. The people began to whisper that the Duke of Milan was a wizard. A. MARY F. ROBINSON. From Macmillans Magazine. PERUGIA. CURSED is he who removeth his neigh- bors landmark. These are words which many of us no longer care to hear in church; to some of us it seems that these words, and others like them, are not suited to the solemnity, the serenity of that sacred place. They are words which, Mr. Jesse Collings and his friends would tell us, are vain and useless, for no land- marks are left; the greater landlords have moved them all long ago. They are words which, perhaps, when Mr. Chamberlain and his friends have had their will, and we are a pastoral people again, may have once more some reason for their public and solemn utterance. But they are also words which all lovers of old towns and old buildings must often have upon their lips, or at least in their minds, as they see the havoc of restoration, or the ruin of modern improvements aiding the work of time and decay. One age is too fond of destroying the work of another, of removing its landmark; and our own age, if it has been the most restoring, has, possibly, been the most destroying as well. Few places, few buildings, indeed, have escaped restoration, or ruin, or de- struction. Perugia has been singularly fortunate in avoiding their worst evils, and it is this good fortune which seems to constitute half its charm. And this most interesting old city is, perhaps, not as well known, as much visited, as it de- serves to be. There are not many places of its size, even in Italy, which are more full of art, of beauty, and of associations, than the capital of Umbria. Nature, too, 50 PERUGIA. aids it as ~vell as history. It stands on a long ridge of hill, at the foot of which the Tiber flows, yellow and poplar-fringed as it sweeps through the Umbrian plain. The town still preserves, on the whole, its medi~val look, with some touch, also, of its classical descent. The mediawal walls surround it, and within them the circuit of the Roman walls can yet be traced. At the entrance of one steep street there is a massive gateway of plain, gigantic masonry (a relic, they say, of Etruscan rule) and on the span of the arch we read Augusta Perusia a legend which speaks to us of the beginning of the empire. One side of this old town gate supports a loggia of the Renaissance; and by the Roman wall, of which it forms a part, there winds a steep, rough, med. keval footway, half stair, half slope, to some desolate, but more modern, palaces. It is this close mingling of the ages which is the charm, the characteristic of Peru~ia. Its neighbor, Assisi, is far more med- i~val; but though it has a Roman portico above ground, and a forum beneath, it has not much of the Renaissance. Gubbio, a little farther off, is most medi~val in its look, and very full of the Renaissance in its decoration and detail; but its classicism is not mingled with these, it gives no character to the appearance of the town. Assisi is always reminding one of St. Francis, or of Dante and Giotto, and the thirteenth century. Gubbio speaks, too, of that flowering-time of the Middle Ages, and of the dukes ,of Urbino. But at Pe- rugia it is impossible to forget Etruscans, Romans, medkeval burghers, Baglioni no- bles, and the art of the Renaissance; they are all confronting us at every turn. The ages here have, no doubt, destroyed a good deal, but they have had some respect for each others landmarks they have left a good deal. An antiquarian seeker will have that formula of commination, Cursed is he who reinoveth his neigh- bors landmark, less often on his lips than he is wont to have in historical towns. The streets of Perugia are narrow, wind- ing, and steep. Little cave-like shops open on to them; the shopman, often a workman too, busy at his trade, may be seen within, and his wares generally over- flow and cover the scanty pavement. Above, on clear days, is the deep blue sky; and the whole effect the dark, shady street, the darker shops, the tall houses, the clear sky overhead is most Italian. The streets, narrowas they are, are crossed by passages yet narrower; and down these picturesque vistas of quaint architecture are visible, vignetted often against a landscape as blue as the back- ground of an early Tuscan painter. All the smaller streets lead, after more or less winding, to the main thoroughfare, the Corso Vannucci, which lies along the ridge of the hill, and in which are the chief buildings, the Duomo and the Mu- nicipio. Passing through the Arch of Augustus, and following a steep, narrow street, such as I have just described, the explorer will cross the little Piazza Ansidei, and take a small vaulted foot-road; this will lead him to the south side of the Duomo, and if he keeps under its wall to the western door, he will find himself by the statue of Julius the Third. The figure is of bronze, and is on a high pedestal. The pontiff, in cope and tiara, is seated on a throne, with his right hand raised in the act of bless- ing. The folds of the drapery, as the cope falls from the outstretched arm, are very fine; and the whole pose of the figure is noble and dignified. The Duomo is on the right.. Outside, like so many Italian cathedrals, it is un- finished; but the west entrance is a good specimen of Italian Gothic; and the north side, with its exterior pulpit (said to have been used by St. Bernardino of Siena) is irregular and picturesque. The whole fabric is raised by several steps above the level of the piazza. Inside, the building wants the grace and lightness of the great northern churches, of Amiens, or Salis- bury, or Westminster; and it has not the severe beauty of the cathedral of Flor- ence; but it leaves an impression of breadth, height, and spaciousness. Some of the pillars are of very beautiful veined marble, and there are two rich Renais- sance chapels at each side of the nave. But all that can be done to lessen its dig- nity and vulgarize its beauty has been done; decorations which should be severe, are tawdry; furniture which should be simple, is gaudy; and the church is spoilt. Perhaps, to English men, the most inter- esting object in it is the tomb of Innocent the Third, the liege lord and protector of King John, the foe and condemner of the Great Charter; the pope who, from the standpoint of matured feudalism, looked ~ at the assertion of an English freedom more venerable than his own system, and thought it new, audacious, and dangerous to religion and order. The north wall of the Duomo forms one side of the great piazza, and opposite to j.t is the Municipio. Between them stands PERUGIA. the fountain of Nicholas and John of Pisa. It is formed by three tiers of basins, two of marble and one of bronze. The marble ones below are polygons, richly sculp- tured; the uppermost is a shell of bronze, from which nymphs and griffins rise and pour water. This fountain is a beautiful specimen of the art of the thirteenth cen- tury. The Municipio is one of those buildings which are common enough in Italy, or France, or Flanders, but which are too uncommon here. If we put London aside, it is very rare in England to find fine municipal buildings of any historical in- terest; Exeter has an old town-hall, and so has Coventry, but these are neither large nor imposing; they do not add much to the character of the towns. In Worces- ter there is a fine guildhall of Queen Annes time; and Windsor, unless I mis- take, has a building of the same period, though inferior to the one at Worcester. But it is, I think, impossible to find in any of our English cathedral towns, municipal buildings which can compare with the ecclesiastical ones. We have but to think of Florence or Siena, of Bruge s, Louvain, or Poictiers, to see how true, unfortu- nately, this is ; if we think of the cathe- drals and town buildings in these places and in Salisbury, we shall realize the dif- ference. However, to return to Perugia. The Municipio, there, is a fine old building of the thirteenth century. the sort of buildino~ we lono- for in Salisbury, quite the worthy of fountains beneath it and of the Duomo opposite. Its chief entrance, arched and beautifully enriched with twisted moulding, is terraced above the piazza on a graceful staircase. Over the arch are two large heraldic monsters with fetters of iron beneath their feet, to com- memorate the triumph of Perugia over a rival city. The general appearance of the building is not very unlike that of some of the Venetian palaces, though it has not quite the lightness of the latter. Inside, on the ground floor, there is a large open ball, from which a severely plain staircase leads to the middle stories, which are still used for town business, and to the upper floor, where the picture gallery is. In this a great deal of interesting work from private galleries, churches, and country places round has been gathered together. There are some frescoes, by Bonfigli, which give a capital idea of Perugia as it was in its best days, and some specimens of early art, which show us how painting advanced by slow degrees to P erugino. -. 5 No doubt there are better Peruginos elsewhere than Perugia now possesses. In Florence there are better ones, and, for color, we have a better one in the Na- tional Gallery; but to understand Perugino it is necessary to studyhim here, with the Umbrian people round, and the Umbrian country and coloring at hand. It is usual to speak of Peruginos work as artificial, mechanical, soulless; but when it is seen in his own country and among his own people the truer epithet for it will be real- istic. His backgrounds give the flat, thinly timbered character of the Umbrian valley, or the receding ridges of the Urn- brian hills, blue or bro~vn as they are sun- lit or in shadow; and the types of his people may still be seen in Perugia or about the country-side. Besides the I~eruginos, there is a set of delicate little l)ictures by Fra Angelico; and near them hangs a painting by Boc- cati, one of those tender medi~val works which are full of devotion and ,of nature. The Madonna and Child are enthroned and attended by a group of saints; in- closing them all is a ring of angels, bright, dainty, young-eyed, who are singing or playing on instruments of music. Their figures lean on a marble terrace, and all of them, Madonna, child, angels, and saints, are embowered in cypress-trees and flow- ers. Near the Municipio is the Cambio, the old chamber of commerce, and in its hall are some frescoes by Perugino and his pupils. Perugia is worth a visit for the sake of this alone. The walls of the Cambio are interesting, not only on ac- count of Perugino, or on account of their workmanship, but because they show us very perfectly that strange mingling of spirits which the Renaissance produced. Sybils and prophets, saints, heroes, and virtues cover its walls, and do honor to two great frescoes of the Nativity and Transfiguration. But on the ceiling the Greek gods reign, as they are represented by the planets we name from them; not, indeed, as we see them in the severe repose of real Greek ~vork. but treated with a medi~val, fantastic touch very for- eign to the Greeks but characteristic of the lightness of early Renaissance. The chapel of the Cambio is also rich with frescoes, but restoration and repainting have hidden much of the masters work. From the Cambio the Corso leads past the new Prefettura to a terrace bright with flowers and planted with aloes. From this a wall goes sheer down to the hillside which slopes away, still downwards, to the broad space on which the cattle-fairs are 52 PERUGIA. held and the soldiers drilled. On the and handkerchiefs, and the beasts making edge of it is a large old church, and from the journey lively with their jingling bells. that the ground falls away to the station The face of the town itself is changed. beneath. Beyond, the hills rise again, All down the Corso are booths and stalls, ridge behind ridge sweeping back into a which spread away into various side far blue distance, where higher, bolder streets. In the market-place, under the mountain-lines are faintly seen. To the shadow of the Duomo and the Municipio left, Assisi gleams white on the flanks of is a noisy crowd of cheap-jacks and quack- Monte Soubasio, a bare, bleak, round- doctors. The fountain of the Pisani is topped hill, and from the foot of this the circled round with pottery and china. valley of the Tiber stretches away to the The statue of Julius looks down on bales horizon. The river winds through a broad, of wool. The theatre is open for the week, flat valley, and flashes here and there as and during my visit a Miss M~ry, as she the sunlight catches it, while it seems as called herself with an attempt at our En- though it could never find an outlet glish Mary, was giving a wondrous enter- through the gates of the hills which pro- tertainment. tect and close the valley. The Corso is thronged with buyers and A few fragments of Roman sculpture onlookers, and noisy with the voices of are built into the wall which supports this competing sellers. At one stall, just un- terrace on the Assisi side. Passing these, der St. Bernardinos pulpit, is a man in a and following a low-lying street by St. large fur robe, with stentorian lungs prais- Dominico and the barracks to the Porta ing scissors and patent needle-threaders. Romana, a road leads to the Church of Near him a rival with a trumpet is selling St. Pietro. This is part of a Benedictine knives, and at each sale he blows a tern- monastery, now suppressed, and in the ble blast of triumph. At d third stall, a sacristy are five very beautiful heads of man, who has improvised a turban, scarf, saints by Perugino. The view from a and waist-belt from his gaudy wares, is small balcony, hung high in air behind selling bright - colored handkerchiefs. the choir, is extremely good. Just oppo- Round a fourth is gathered a knot of keen- site the church are some shady gardens, eyed but rather frightened peasants, who ilex-grown and cool, from which there is are watching some experiments in elec- another pleasant view of Assisi. Past tricity. Above all other noises is the St. Pietro, too, is the road to the Etrus- shrill, perpetual scream of inflated blad- can tomb of the Volumnii, near Ponte St. ders, which blow a whistle as the air Giovanni. This tomb is ~vell worth a visit, escapes froni them. Some plain steps lead down to an entrance But amid all this, the dead are not for- in the solid rock, where maidenhair grows gotten. On the evening of the day before thick; a stern, carved portal guards an their first vespers are sung in church and almost church-like excavation, with nave, cathedral. Then, in the cemetery, which chancel, and side chapels. These vaults is on a hilltop just beyond the city walls, are full of sculptured urns, in which the the graves are visited, and on each is ashes of the Voluninian family were laid. placed a lighted lamp, some tombs being Perugia is in many senses a city of the favored ~vith as many as five or six. Early dead. Its streets are quiet now and still; on the morning of the second of Novem- power has left it, and its trade is small. her a solemn mass of requiem is sung, and Everything in it points to the past. In the cathedral rings ~vith the stern, sweet this, as I said, it is kinder to us than most tones of antiquated music, as eternal rest historical places, it has moved fewer of its and everlasting light are begged for the landmarks. And, oddly enough, to fit in departed. At times the burying-place is with all this, its chief time of rejoicing is as busy as the fair, for everybody during what is called the Feast of the Dead, that the day goes to pay a visit to the grave of is, the great cattle-fair, which is held on some well-loved lost one. All Souls Day. The feast is indeed a Feast of the Dead; This is the peculiar holiday of Perugia and, somehow, the shadow of the dead and its people. All classes share alike in seems to abide always in this Umbrian the rejoicing. From their country villas city. A peculiar sweetmeat is sold here the great Perugini families go to spend a called dead mens bones; a thick, sweet few days in their palaces, which are usu- paste, of the consistency of marrow, en- ally all still and silent. The peasants cased in a sugar covering of the shape flock in from the country-side in a long and color of human leg-bones. Besides procession, with oxen and mules and don- this delicacy there is another eatable keys; the women gay with bright shawls which savors of the grave, a small biscuit A BRUSH WITH CHINESE PIRATES. made of bean-flower, a dim relic possibly of far-off Etruscan funeral rites. This is called the cake of the dead. It is strange that this old human dwel- ling-place should fill with the bustle and turmoil of life only on the Feast of All Souls; that its one time of rejoicing should be the octave of the dead. And yet it is not strange; for above all other places of medi~eval Italy, Perugia has been the home of violence and bloodshed, The Duomo has been flooded with the blood of murdered men; faction fights have strewn its streets and palaces with corpses; its chronicles are filled with lam- entation and mourning and woe. Family feuds were fiercer and more deadly here than in other places. It is fitting, then, that the living should come together here to pray that the dead may rest in peace. On reading the past one may cease to wonder that the great day in Perugia should be the Feast of the Dead. ARTHUR GALTON. From All The Year Round. A BRUSH WITH CHINESE PIRATES. PIRACY on the high seas is now, fortu- nately, a crime long since dead among European nations. We must go back to the early period of Marryat and Cooper, if we desire to know of the atrocities and iniquities committed by the hordes of law- less ruffians who used to infest the sea at the beginning of the present century, and carryon their merciless business of butch- ery ~nd plunder. Our brethren in the Celestial Empire, however, are slow to 1e- move evils, and piracy with them seems to die hard. Reports occasionally reach this country of some European vessel be- ing attacked in Chinese waters by the natives; but, fortunately, owing to the extreme cowardice usually displayed by the attacking party, these attempted dep- redations do not often lead to any serious result. The China Sea is, principally, the happy hunting-ground of these dastardly pirates; and nature seems to have adapted it spe- cially for that particular purpose. The China Sea is, in many places, exceedingly shallow; strong currents sweep along its course; while numerous islands, with wooded creeks, dotted here and there, afford capital shelter and points of ob- servation for piratical junks to lie in ambush, until some unsuspecting mer- chantman shall heave in sight. Vesse~ 53 in traversing these seas, except during the season of the monsoons, have often to contend against dead head-winds or calms that last for days and days. During these periods, sailing-ships have frequently, if in proximity to land, to cast anchor, to prevent being carried ashore by the vari- ous swift and conflicting currents, and at such times present capital opportunities for the marauders of the seas to carry out their nefarious designs. Although the Chinese pirate is, as a rule, a most abject coward where Euro- peans are concerned, he is, at least, capa- ble of striking terror into the hearts of his countrymen; and a couple of pirate junks, mounting but a single two-pounder gun between them, have been known to blockade a port of four thousand inhab- itants, and to plunder every ship that passed. ln another case, a pirate gang of five hundred, who had yielded to a rush of twenty or thirty bluejackets, had pre- viously defied a native force of- one thou- sand five hundred troops and forty ~var junks. Directly, however, a small gun- boat, manned by Europeans, appeared upon the scene, their career was at an end. Chinese piracy is, at times, almost a business. A pirate merchant, in the wholesale way, will infest certain villages on the seaboard or islands. He will keep fifteen or twenty junks, with a correspond- ing retinue of ruffians, and when he has secured his plunder, he stores it in safety. A pirate in a small way of business, hav- ing once made a good haul, will divide the spoil, and then his followers immediately disperse, for fear of an attack from another gang. The old saying of doo- eat doo- applies with striking force to the trans- actions of these plunderers of the China Sea. An old traveller in the East tells the following narrative of a brush he had with Chinese pirates, when on his way, in a na- tive junk, from Foo-choo-foo, by the mouth of the Mm River, to Chusan. The story is a fair sample of the cowardice displayed by these pests, when the slightest amount of defence is shown by the party attacked. We relate it in the travellers o~vn words. About four oclock in the afternoon, and when we were some fifty or sixty miles from the Mm, the captain and pilot came hurriedly down to my cabin, and informed me that they saw a number of ]an-dous right astern angl overhauling us. I ridi- culed the idea, and told them they imag- med every junk they saw to be a pirate; but they still maintained that they were so, and I, therefore, cQnsidered it prudent 54 A BRUSH WITH CHINESE PIRATES. to be prepared for the worst. I got out of my bed, ill and feverish as I was, and care- fully examined my firearms, clearing the nipples of my gun and pistols, and putting on fresh caps. I also rammed down a ball upon the top of each charge of shot in my gun, and put a pistol in side pocket, and patiently waited for. the result. By the aid of a small pocket telescope, I could see, as the nearest of the five junks ap- proached, that her deck was crowded with men. I then had no longer any doubts regarding their intentions. I knew per- fectly well that, if we were taken by the pirates, I had not the slightest chance of escape, for the first thing they would do would be to knock me on the head and throw me overboard, as they would deem it dangerous to themselves ~vere I to get away. At the same time I must confess I had little hope of being able to beat off such a number, and devoutly wished my- self anywhere rather than where I was. The scene around me was a strange one. The captain, pilot, and one or two native passengers, were taking up the boards of the cabin floor, and putting their money and other valuables out of sight amongst the ballast. The common sailors, too, had their copper cash, or Isien, to hide, and the whole place was in a state of bustle and confusion. When all their more valuable property was hidden, they began to make some preparations for de- fence. Baskets of small stones were brought up from the hold and emptied out on the most convenient parts of the deck, and were intended to be used instead of firearms when the pirates came to close quarters. This is a common mode of defence in various parts of China, and is effectual enough when the enemy has only similar weapons to bring against thei~ but on the coast of Fo-kien, where we now were, all the pirate junks carried guns, and, consequently, a whole deck-load of stones could be of very little use against them. During the general bustle I missed my own servant for a short time. When he returned to me, he had made such a change in his appearance that I did not recognize him. He was literally clothed in rags, which he had borrowed from the sailors, all of whom had also put on their worst clothes. When I asked him the reason of this change in the outward man, he told me the pirates only made those prisoners who had money, and were likely to pay handsomely for their ransom, and that they would not think it worth their while to lay hold of a man in rags. -. I was surrounded by several of the crew, ~vho might well be called Jobs comforters, some suggesting one thing and some another, and many proposed that we should bring the junk round, and run back to the Mm. The nearest pirate was now within two hundred or three hundred yards of us, and, putting her helm down, gave us a broadside from her guns. All was now dismay and consternation on board our junk, as every man ran below except two, who were at the helm. I expected every moment that these also would leave their post, and then we should have been an easy prey to the pirates~ My gun is nearer you than those of the jan-dous, said I to the two men; and if you move from the helm, depend upon it I will shoot you. The poor fellows looked very uncomfortable, but, I suppose, thought they had better stand the fire of the pirates than mine, and kept at their post. Large boards, heaps of old clothes, masts, and things of that sort which were at hand, were thrown up to protect us from the shot, an~ as we had every stitch of sail set, and a fair wind, we were going thouoh the water at the rate of seven or eigh~miles an hour. The shot from the pirates fell considerably short of us, and I was therefore enabled to form an opinion of the range and power of their guns, which was of some use to me. Assistance from our cowardly crew was quite out of the question, for there was not a man amongst them brave enough to use the stones which had been brought on deck, and which, perhaps, might have been of some little use when the pirates came nearer. The fair wind and all the press of sail we had crowded on the junk proved of no use; for our pursuers, who had much faster sailing-vessels, ~vere gain- ing rapidly upon us. Again the nearest pirate fired upon us. The shot this time fell under our stern. I still remained quiet, as I had determined not to fire a single shot until I was quite certain my gun would take effect. The third shot which followed this came whizzing over our heads and through the sails, without, however, wounding either the men at the wheel or myself. The pirates now seemed quite sure of ~ their prize, and came down upon us,ihoot- ing and yelling like demons, at the same time loading their guns, and evidently de- termined not to spare their shot. This was a moment of intense anxiety. The plan which I had formed from the first was now about to be put to the proof; and if the pirates were not the cowards AN UNINTENTIONAL TRIP TO NORTH BEMINI. which I believed them to be, nothing could save us from falling into their hands. Their fearful yells seem to be ringing in my ears even now, after this lapse of time, and when I am on the other side of the globe. The nearest junk was now ~vithin thirty yards of ours; their guns were now loaded, and I knew that the next discharge would completely rake our decks. Now, said I to our helmsmen, keep your eyes fixed on me, and the moment you see me fall flat on the deck you must do the same or you will be shot. I knew that the pirate who was now on our stern could not bring his guns to bear upon us without putting his helm down, and bringing his gangway at right angles with our stern, as his guns were fired from the gangway. I therefore kept a sharp eye upon his helmsman, and the moment 1 saw him putting the helm down I ordered our steersmen to fall flat upon their faces, behind some wood, and at the same time did so myself. We had scarcely done so when bang, bang, went their guns,~ and the sl~t came whizzing close over us, splintering the wood about us in all directions. Fortunately none of us were struck. Now, M, now they are quite close enough, cried out my companions, who did not wish to have an- other broadside like the last. I, being of the same opinion, raised myself above the high stern of our junk, and while the pirates were not more than twenty yards from us, hooting and yelling, I raked their decks, fore and aft, with shot and ball from my double-barrelled gun. Had a thunderbolt fallen amongst them they could not have been more surprised doubtless many were wounded and proba- bly some killed. At all events, the whole of the crew, not fewer than forty or fifty men, who a mo- ment before crowded the deck, disap- peared in a marvellous manner. Another was now bearing down upon us as boldly as his companion had done, and com- menced firing in the same manner. Hav- ing been so successful with the first, I determined to follow the same plan with this one, and to pay no attention to his firing until he should come to close quar. ters. The plot now began to thicken, for the first junk had gathered way again and was following in our wake, although keep- ing at a respectful distance, and three others, although still further distant, were making for the scene of action as fast as they could. In the mean time, the second was almost alongside, and continued rak- ing our decks in a steady manner with 55 their guns. XVatching their helm as be- fore, we sheltered ourselves as well as we could; at the same time, my two fellows, who were steering, kept begging and pray ing that I would fire into our pursuers as soon as possible, or we should be all killed. As soon as they came within twenty or thirty yards of us, I gave them the contents of both barrels, raking their decks as before. This time the helmsman fell, and doubtless several others were wounded. In a minute or two, I could see nothing but boards and shields which were held up by the pirates to l)rOtect themselves from my firing; their junk went up into the wind for want of a helms- man, and was soon left some distance behind us. The foregoing does certainly not say much for Chinese native courage, either by the attacking or defending party. To cast the burden and peril of defence en- tirely upon one man, while hi~ comPrades slink below out of harms way, seems strange to Western ideas of honor and courage. It is, however, truly typical of this extraordinary race. Actual fighting and real danger they shun as one would the plague, and it is only when the ma- rauders of the sea can overwhelm their opponents simply by sheer force of num- bers, that they are ever successful in their evil designs. If it were arranged for a few smart European gunboats to be con- stantly plying up and down the China Sea, and their commanders were given powers to deal summarily with all rascals caught in acts of piracy, there is but little doubt that the pirates of Chinese waters would soon be extirpated. From Chambers Journal. AN UNINTENTIONAL TRIP TO NORTH BEM IN I. DOUBTLESS, many persons would find it difficult to make an intentional trip to this island, so the reader may expect that an unintentional one was attended with some grave difficulties. The writer, his wife, their four young children, and their female domestic servant, were desirous of proceeding to Mobile, Alabama, with the idea of betterincr themselves, into which folly they had been seduced by a friend, who, having casually rushed through some of the Southern States, and listened to the highly colored accounts as to the future of that dismal land, had strongly advised 56 AN UNINTENTIONAL TRIP TO NORTH BEMINI. them to go South. Mobile was the place of all others for the emigrant with some capital. So to Mobile we intended going; hut difficulty the first no steam- ers ran to that charming city, notwith- standing its great attractions; and as the same friend knew of a small steamer, largely owned hy another friend, going to New Orleans, only one hundred and forty- nine miles from Mobile, we were advised to go by the Flexible, as we will call her. She was a small, flush-decked, screw steamer, commanded by a genial Yankee, who had once been a ships cook, and had risen; and, like many such, never seemed sure of his position. The crew was a regular scratch one, and ere we left the Mersey on that dreadful November 13, i88i, the captain had threatened to shoot the second mate. We were the only pas- sengers, and, with the crew, numbered thirty-nine persons. When our pilot left us at Queenstown where we stopped from very early on the r~th till the i8th, owing to bad weather his remark was not cheering: Well, good- bye, Mr. B; I wish you had a better ship. The horrors of that winter voyage in that staunch but most ill-found little steamer were very great, and paterfa- milias, though never seasick before, suc- cumbed, after playing stewardess to his wife, four children, and servant, a stew- ardess being unknown on the Flexible. Captain H was very kind to our boys, and gave them the run of the ship, including chartroom, etc. After we had been about fourteen days at sea, the cap- tain suddenly discovered we were short of coals; water we had been very short of for some time, as we lost sic hundred gallons by damage to a deck-tank, during one of our frequent gales, and he at first thought of putting into the Azores, but afterwards thought he could, by economy of fuel, reach Nassau, in the Bahamas. We used all available wood on board; but head-winds, and the main feed-pipe of the boiler being indisposed, delayed us, so that when near Abaco, we had only twenty. four hours coal on board, and the captain spoke of burning the boats. We were shaving all points among the numerous islets in this group very closely, and it was remarked to the captain how rapidly the water was shallowing; and in about ten minutes, with a considerable shock, the poor little Flexible was hard and fast aground on the Moselle Bank, so named on account of her Majestys ship Moselle having been wrecked there. It is needless to describe our feelings wh~ii we were told that the islands we saw three miles off were the Beminis, and inhab- ited by professed wreckers. We were slowly bumping up and down on the hard rocky reef; and after trying all sorts of ways by anchors and hawsers to ge tus off, and all failing, paterfamilias suggested putting on all steam and trying to rush over the point of reef where we were fixed. Captain H consented; and the result was we got fixed more firmly; and we think it greatly to the credit of the captain that he never said 1 told you so or any- thing like it to paterfamilias. In a short time, about sixty small craft came out round the point of the reef that shelters the landing- place of North Be- mini; and two hundred and fifty out of the three hundred male population came out to us, and kindly offered to get the Flexi- ble off, if the captain would agree to pay them the small sum of thirty thousand dol- lars. Then began a very anxious time for poor pater. So far ~re were safe enough. There was no sea running, only a gentle swell, that lifted the stern of our vessel up and down, whilst the bows re- mained firm; but there was not a white man on the island; and two hundred and fifty niggers are not nice companions within a boats length of a disabled vessel, the crew of which were mostly tipsy, grog having been served out pretty freely as an inducement towork harder in trying to float the ship. The captain had asked pater to read his books on ship-law as to whether he might ormight not throw over the cargo; and as boats Were near, pater gave it as his judgment he could not jetson the cargo. By this time the short day of these lati- tudes was over and there was~nonioon. The captain, thinking no gale would spring up during the night, turned in. The chief officer and some of the crew would nomi- nally keep watch, but actually they all went to sleep; and in a short time pater on deck and two stokers below were the only ones awake on the Flexible, and though most of the negroes in the boats appeared to be asleep also, yet it was a time of great anxiety, as Capen Kelley, the chief of the wreckers, had said: Now, capen, dont git cross; all capens git cross when der ships go aground. Much better pay de money, capen, and we not touch one pertater out of the ship. But if you stop where you are, ship soon go to pieces, and den we git the cargoany- how; and we feared a raid from them at any moment. Mater went to lie down and slept; but both she and the servant did AN UNINTENTIONAL TRIP TO NORTH BEMINI. 57 not undress, for fear of the sudden need of leaving the ship. In the morning, another trouble arose the steward, or rather the cook who acted as such, was riled with pater, who had politely resented his drunken intrusions, and, being still far from sober, several times threatened to kill pater, who took his belongings on to the ships bridge and gave notice he would shoot any one who came up. Things mended later on, when the capen of the blacks and our captain agreed on terms for lightening the ship. The contract was drawn up by pater, and was for thirteen thousand instead of the thirty thousand dollars originally asked. Then the niggers swarmed on board, and passing forty-five tons of cargo into their schooners and cat.boats, the Flexible once more floated off, and then moved slowly nearer the island; and a Yankee schooner, the Julia A. Ward, coal-laden, of Phila- delphia, for New Orleans, let us have two hundred tons of anthracite coal, which did not draw in our furnaces, so that four miles an hour was our best record to the end. The colored magistrate, as he was called, wished us to go on shore and give him an account of the wreck, that he might get his fees from Nassau for sending in his account thereof. Captain H was not very sure of his orthography, etc., and asked pater to do it for him, and pater also was invited ashore, and went. As we had been now four weeks at sea and pater had never been on a tropical island, he gladly accepted the invitation. One of the large island boats, rowed by twelve stout blacks, took us the three miles to the landing-place, as, though we were only about two miles from the island then, we had to circumnavigate the reef which projects across the narrow strait dividing North from South Bemini, and which strait, sheltered by the reef, forms a most excellent harbor for the schooners and smaller craft of the island. These black rowers then started a chant, of a more Anglican than Gregorian tone, the music of which was prettier than the words, though this is not high praise, the words being, Oh, I wish I was in Mobile Bay -~ Sally, get round the corner; Loading cotton all the day Sally, get round the corner; and with this cadence we got round the corner of the reef, and ran ashore on the brilliantly white sandy beach; and the captain and pater were hoisted on -to the backs of two stout niggers and car- ried ashore under the cocoanut palms, bananas, etc. North Bemini, in the British West Indies, has a population of about five hun- dred; and South Bemini is not inhabited, but is a sugar-brake, chiefly belonging to one family, who row across to cultivate it. There are a few goats on the islands, but no cows, and only two horses, used to work a sugar-mill. Meat they get about once every fourteen days from Nassau, when a trading-schooner comes; but ad- verse winds affect the food-supply, and when we were-there, the expected schooner was ten days overdue. Captain Kelly, in his delirium of delight at the thirteen-thousand-dollar bargain and potent rum doses, said to pater from the deck of the Flexible ere he went ashore, You see dat cokernut grove? Pater replied in the affirmative. You see dat bananer plantation and dat house and sugar-brake? It is.all yours; I give itall to you! - The captains chief man, Newton, was superior to him in all but stature. When first this man came on board the Flexible, he was very drunk, and said to pater: Im a mighty fine man. Im drunk now; but when Im sober, Im mighty fine man. Then turning to Kelly, he said: Capen Kelly, tell this genlernan what a mighty fine man I am! Kelly grunted something in acquies- cence, and his deputy chief wrecker seemed satisfied. The Flexible was there from Friday till Sunday evening, so that we saw much of the people; and, as this was the first time we had been introduced to the African race in numbers, they greatly interested us. The children were queer little peo- ple, and a source of great amusement to the young folks of the party, save to our baby, who hated the blacks, and showed it, as babies can. It was settled that Kelly and Newton should come with us to New Orleans, so that they might get the thirteen thousand dollars, and not let the Flexible escape them. While lying off the Beminis, our boys much amused Captain H by working out by the fiagbook the signals: We are in want of clean linen can yog recoin- mend us to a laundress? which was ac- curate, as we had been now getting on for five weeks at sea, and our linen had been calculated for three weeks at the outside. What the Beminis want pater was in- formed by Newton was a man with cap- ital, who would set up proper works for AN OLD FRENCH HOUSE. the sugar-boiling; but the attractions of these two small islands are not great, though, after the horrors of Alabama and Mississippi, they seem quite pleasant.. After a voyage of six weeks, we landed at New Orleans, and the same night went on to Mobile, at which most detestable mud-flat we stayed six weeks, meeting with kindness from many people and being fleeced by others; and finally we settled at Pascagoul a, where, what with mosqui- toes, swindlers, and abject ruffians, we had a sad time. From The Spectator. AN OLD FRENCH HOUSE. I. SOMEWHERE down in the west of France, stands the once splendid Chateau de G. To this day, it is twenty miles from a railway; and its park and lands, growing chiefly heather and fir-trees, are hemmed in by one of the great forests of that country, its loneliness and remote- ness would be something terrible if it were not for the presence of the little town which nestles under its protection, or did so once, for those days are over; but there is still a very friendly feeling be- tween the great house and the town. The tall iron gates of the cour dhonneur open into the square. This was not always the case; but the town has crept nearer to its great sad neighbor, and the avenue which parted them has gradually disappeared. The present Chateau de G is not very old, though it has known change and trouble. Like many other great French houses, it was rebuilt by its owner in Louis XV.s reign, on the site of the old feudal castle whose dismal strength had been made quite a useless mockery by Richelieus reformations. In these days, the nobles, rebuilding their houses, had no object in their minds but pleasure and splendor, and G is a specimen of a type that has been common in France ever since that time. The house is a great, oblong mass of building, with a suite of immense rooms on the ground floor, and a long corridor above, with bedrooms open- ing into it. These rooms, as well as those below, were constantly made to open into each other throughout the whole length of the house, an arrangement which, to our modern minds, makes them very uncom- fortable. There is a great hall of white stone, with two high doorways opposite each other, approached by flights ofsteps from the outside. The great staircase and its balustrade are also of white stone; the corridor and bedrooms, and the great open space in the middle of them, are paved with red tiles, polished brilliantly. Outside, there are buildings to lodge a large household of servants, great stables, greenhouses, gardens, and then a stiff walled park laid out in avenues and alleys, charmilles, they call them, with straight, formal walks in all directions. Thea comes the wild open land, hilly and varied without being beautiful, and then the great dreary forest bounding all. No doubt the Comte de G fur- nished his splendid new house with all the taste and beauty of the time; but these glories soon came to an end; aiid the only trace of them is the wood-panelling of the walls, delicately carved, and painted light grey, in the pale, shining, shivery style Louis XV., which was still to be seen a short time ago. For since the one great agony of its youth, the life of the house has been monotonous; after the Revolu- tion, one old lady ruled there for more than sixty years. The Comte de G was swept away in the Revolution; he left no son, and for many years none of his family revisited the place. None, at least, of flesh and blood ; for a Seigneur de G of a former century appears to have been always there. Then, and for long after, he kept the good people of the country awake on stormy nights by his wild chase tearing through the drives of the forest. Some old people of the present day have actually heard the shouts of the huntsmen, the baying of the dogs, but no one seems to know what dark deed it was which would not let this sezg~neur rest in his grave. At the Restoration, the Marquis de C came back with other emigrants to France. He was nephew and heir to the Comte de G, but his heritage was not supposed to be worth much, as most of the G estate had been confiscated and sold as biens nationaux. He was a middle- aged man, grave, dreamy, studious, in bad health, and very eccentric, an old bachelor in fact and in all his ways; but I suppose, like the other d;nz ris, the return to France was a fresh beginning of life for him; at .~ any rate, his was one of the marriages that were at once joy fully arranged on all sides. He married a beautiful girl of eighteen, who, like himself, had just re- turned to France with her family. They had lost most of their fortune, like every- body else, or perhaps, being people of great distinction, they would hardly have AN OLD FRENCH HOUSE. 59 thought Monsieur de C a desirable husband for their eldest daughter. How- ever, the marriage took place, without a question of love on either side, but seem- ingly without the risks that usually attend such an arrangement. For the Marquise de C was a remarkable woman. Her mother, a pattern of goodness, had brought her up to be like hersdf. A faithful and devoted wife to the eccentric marquis, she passed through a long life with only one fault, if it can be called so, a sternness and severity, a passion for duty for dutys sake, which, though it may have added greatness to her own character, made life a dismal and anxious business to all those round about her. If she had not been a devoted Catholic, one would have callod Madame de C a stern Calvinist; but, no doubt, extremes meet. The type of woman must always be rare in France, though one knows examples of it at the present day; this hinders one from at once referring to her sad and stormy childhood as the explanation of Madame de Cs character. Not long after his marriage, the mar- quis bethought himself of the Chateau de G, which he had inherited from his uncle, and he and his wife made an expe- dition to see it. They found it inhabited by a colony of poor people. Nobody pre- tended that they had any right there; but they had drifted in by degrees from the town and the country round, and had taken possession, one by one, of the great deserted rooms. Perhaps the Revolution may have left a little furniture there, which helped them to establish themselves per- haps they had only the stately ceilings above, and the cold, shining floors below. Anyhow, they had behaved very well, and had treated the place, inside and out, with marvellous respect; even the carved pan- elling of the walls was uninjured, and the trees in the park had not been cut down for firewood. Still, one does not wonder much that the marquis turned away in dis- gust, determined to sell the place; it seemed impossible that he should ever live there. rhe scene is dramatic and picturesque in its way; a crowd of brown faces and rags peering through the stately doors, crouched about the great stone staircase; the owner, a fanciful man at all times, walking out in a sort of sick horror on the broad steps in front, turning his back upon it all; and his beautiful young wife, well, she does not turn away like him, but looks up and down and round with the quick imagination of a girl, and sees what a noble house it is, though vilely used, and says, perhaps only to herself at first, Mais non / it shall not be sold. We will restore it and live here. And she lived there for sixty years. A strangely colorless, formal existence it seems to have been, especially after the death of the marquis, whose deep interest in new books and new diseases must at least have supplied something to talk about. He left one son, who grew up, in spite of his surroundings, an accomplished and charming man. He might have been everything to his mother, who adored him; but, unfortunately, she found it her .duty to make his life with her unbearable. She tried to arrange it with almost mo- nastic severity, forbidding all amusements, making rules for the employment of every hour. This, in such a house and neigh- hood as G, would have been too much for the most resigned disposition, and it ended by making the young Marquis de C a wanderer on the race of the earth. Knowing what the chateau was in later years, we can guess what it was then, shut up within its great walls and gates, ruled by old servants more formidable than their mistress, in whose life one day was like another, all parcelled out by peremptory clocks and bells. It was al- most an unpardonable sin to leave a mark on any of those floors, parquet, red tiles, or fine slabs of white stone, all pol- ished till they were as slippery as ice, and dangerous to walk upon. The furniture, in the style of the first empire, gave no comfort or homelike feeling to the im- mense, high rooms; tables and chairs, ugly and tasteless, stood stiffly against the walls, and the narrow, chintz curtains of those tall windows were a ghastly mockery. It was not much wonder that the son of such a house developed a passion for travelling. He wandered all over the world, coming home every two or three years to visit his mother, who spent his long absences totally alone. One cannot imagine that, the gloom of the chateau was much deep- ened when at last he came home only to die; and then his short story was told, and there was nothing left of him but his books, his drawings, his piano, the curios- ities he had brought from abroad, and his tomb in the cemetery on the hill behind the town. One of the allies in the park led to a solitary bench, from which there was a view of the cemetery and of his grave; every day, at a certain hour, for 6o SNOWSTORMS ON THE HILLS. all the rest of her long life, the poor mar- quise used to go and sit there. The his- tory of that life, with its companions and occupations, cruelly broken in upon as it was by the war of 1870, seems to me too curious to be forgotten. E. From St. Jamess Gazeite. SNOWSTORMS ON THE HILLS. NONE but those who have been caught in them can form any idea of how terrible are mountain snowstorms. Blinding, be- wildering, both men and animals quickly succumb to them. Clouds and banks of snow rush hither and thither in opaque masses; the bitter hail and sleet seem to drive through you. A few moments after the storm breaks, every wrap you may have at command is soaked through; the cold is intense; and a sense of numbness soon takes possession of the whole body. Twice have I narrowly escaped death when out on the northern mountains in winter, suddenly finding myself at the close of a short afternoon enveloped in a blinding storm. Once, after long expos- ure, I owed my deliverance to a search- party of shepherds; on the second occa- sion I was saved by the intelligent fidelity of a brace of fox-hounds. Those who have been overtaken in this manner have not always been so fortunate; and some terrible deaths have occurred among the higher hills in winter, as the follo~ving stories will show. Half-way down this grey stone wall, on its near side, is a sad green spot; and besides it ~ve have thrown up a loose cairn. The snows had fallen thickly for many days; all the deep holes ~vere filled up, and the mountain road was no longer to be seen. The wall-tops stood out as white ridges on the otherwise smooth surface. Only the crags hung in shaggy snowy masses, black seams and scaurs picking out the ravines. Nature was sombre and still; it seemed as though her pulse had ceased to beat. The softly winnowed snowflakes still fell, and not even the wing of a bird of prey moved in the cold, thin air. it had gone hard with the sheep. Hundreds were buried in the snow, and would have to be dug out. They sought the site of the old wall and fell into deep drifts; but the hardy, goat-like Herdwicks instinctively climbed to the bleak and ex- posed fell-tops, and in this was their safety. To relieve the sheep that had as yet es- caped, hay was carried to the fells; each shepherd having a loose bundle upon his back. It was thus, with three dogs, that we toiled up the gorge by an undefined trail parallel to the buried fence. Soon it began to snow heavily, and the sky sud- denly darkened. The dogs that were in front stopped before some object. They whined, ran towards us, and gave out short, sharp barks. With a kind of in- stinctive dread we followed them as they led us towards a granite boulder; and on its lee side lay something starkly outlined against the snow. Dead!,~ we whis- pered to each other. There was no trace of pain over the features nothing but~ rigid quiet. The icy fingers grasped a pencil, and on the snow lay a scrap of paper. It contained only two words This day ~ then stopped. We buried the body next morning in the little moun- tain cemetery. Whence he caine or whither he went none ever knew. A few of the dead mans belongings; trifling enough, are thrust in a hole in the old barn, for her whom we still expect to come for them one of these days. In our summer fishings, one of the spots to which we used to resort was a quaint cottage in the beautiful vale of Duddon the same that Mr. Wordsworth has im- mortalized in his series of sonnets. The cottage stood hard by the stream, and in it lived a widow woman, the daughter of a hill statesman. During trout time the house was embowered in greenery. De- liciously cool was its whitewashed porch and clean sanded floor, a great tree stand- ing over all. In the grate of her parlor in summer, ~vhere Mr. Wordsworth often used to sit, she invariably had a thick sod of purple heather in full bloom. Here many anglers came and drew from their holds the pink-spotted trout. The dipper and the kingfisher darted by the door, and those who drank in the quiet and pastoral peace of Duddon never forgot it. The woman of the cottage, by great industry and exertion, had reared and settled com- fortably in life a large family. She was respected by all about her. Out of her small means she gave away almost as much food and home-brewed ale as was sold by any country inn of the district. For one in so limited a sphere her life was almost an ideal one; and yet her end was terribly sad. She left home one wintry afternoon to visit a sick relation in Eskdale. At this time pedlars of whom the wanderer of The Excursion~~ 4 THE BURIAL OF THE JEWS OF SPITALFIELDS. 6r is a type were common in remote coun- try districts; and one of these offered to convey her in his gig to Eskdale over the Birk Moor road. At the end of this he was to take her up at a stated time. It happened that she was too late for the traveller, but walked onwards, supposing that he was behind and would overtake her. On the sixth day after this, the clergymans daughter from Eskdale cas- ually called at the poor womans cottage. It then became known that she had not been seen at Eskdale, and a band of dales- folk at once set out to search the fells. The body of the poor creature was found only forty yards from the road, her hands and knees terribly lacerated and her dress torn. These showed that after losing the power of walking she had struggled on- wards, no one knows how far, upon her hands and knees. She had taken out her spectacles, as was thought, to assist her in seeing her way through the blinding mists. These had prevailed for a week, and to them must be attributed the fact that her body lay so long, undiscovered by the mountain road. Some sweetmeats tied in a handkerchief, which she had carried for her grandchildren, were found near the spot where she died. Easdale is one of the most picturesque glens among the Cumbrian mountains a spot made by nature for herself, as some of the Lake poets have it. With its tarn, its ghyll-contained waterfall, and the fact of its being placed among the splin- tery peaks of the Borrowdale series, it constitutes a wildly charming spot at every season. Here upon the snow, many years ago, was played out a cruel tragedy indeed. A poor, hard-working peasant and his wife, named Green, were returning from Langdale late on a wintry evening to their home in Easdale. A terrible storm overtook them on the way, and, be- coming exhausted, both died in it. Mean- while six children were snowed up in their cottage, where, without help, they re- mained several days. Fully appreciating their situation, but as yet ignorant of the fate which had befallen her parents, a little lass of nine assumed command at home and exhibited unusual forethought and care in meeting the home wants of her brothers and sisters. After a time she made her escape from the snowbound cottage, and told the hill farmers and shepherds how her father and mother had not yet returned. A search-party was or- ganized; and after three days the bodies were discovered upon the hills, at a short distance from each other. From The Pall Mall Gazette. THE BURIAL OF THE JEWS OF SPITALFIELDS. [FROM A CORRESPONDENT.] January 22. YESTERDAY the curtain fell upon the last act of the mournful tragedy at Spital- fields. In the bleak and dreary enclosure known as the West I-lam Cemetery lie the seventeen Jews and Jewesses whose life was crushed out of them on Tuesday, done to death by the fatuous cry of some panic.stricken fool. Captain Shaw can put out a fire, but not all the hose-pipes in the metropolis can control a panic when it has once set in. It was almost amusing to see the strange mixture of grief and greed in the Lane ~yesterday as the little burial parties wound out of the greasy labyrinth of Whitechapel into the main road on their way to West Ham. While the eag was conscious of the noisy chaffer- ing of the barrowmen, the eye could not fail to notice the haggard fa& es of the mourners, who were gathered in groups, discussing in strident tones the circum- stances of the disaster. The Jews were out in strong force in the Whitechapel Road, and took a keen and sympathetic interest in the funeral; red-eyed women encased in tawdry finery, women with flabby jowls, faces rouged and powdered, hair towzled and unkempt, their shapeless figures encased in shabby furs and thread- bare velveteens, every hat carrying a nod- ding plume, of which an undertaker would be proud. The men were even stranger- looking, clad in indescribable garments, from the tattered overcoat of a modern Fagin to the reach-me-down finery of the East-end exquisite. But as one left the Whitechapel Road, and reached Stratford the trail soon lost itself, and it was only after some trouble that one was able to find the approach to the largest of the six Jewish burial-grounds of the metropolis. As one approached the simple gates the sounds of wailing and mourning caught the ear, and the little burial hall of gal- vanized iron was surrounded by a sorrow- ing community of Jews and Christians. The cemetery covers an area of eleven acres, about a third of which seems to be already occupied. Row after row of carved slabs stand up erect, like so manylines of soldiers, representing a generation of dead Solomons and Jsaacs, the Hebraic inscrip- tions looking strange to the English eye. Now and then a sunbeam caught the golden circlets at the head of the tombs, affording a melancholy and momentary re 62 THE BURIAL OF THE JEWS OF SPITALFIELDS. lief to this terribly desolate resting-place. IViuch has been written of the last rites paid by the Jews to their dead. Did not the watchers wash the dead women and clothe them in ceremental robes? Were not the males enshrouded in robes of atonement, invested with those bands of leather called phylacteries, and clad in fringed praying-robes? Then the under- takers screwdriver hid away the tawdry frippery of the tomb, and the red soil now hides them from the world forever. Each of the ten ceremonies that were performed yesterday was painful even for the mere sightseer to witness, and the demonstra- tive chorus of grief with which each body was accompanied to the graveside, con- trasted strangely with the pathetic reserve to which Christians are accustomed. The coffin is brought into the tiny synagogue and laid down on the floor. It is crowded with mourners, who, if they have a~sumed no outward sign of their sorrow, replace it by the loudness of their uplifted voices. Admission is free. A bright fire is burn- ing in the stove; on the two forms ranged along the sides of the room, for it is noth- ing more, lie the black-covered books con- taining the forms of the Jewish burial. The officiating priest stands by the coffin and chants in a wild sobbing incantation The psalm in Hebrew, his voice rising and falling in minor cadences ~vhich make the ceremony very striking. The crowd which fills the little wooden buildino~ chants a sort of response, until the halT is full of wailing, which gives a semi-barbaric air to the ceremonial. But the scene is rendered doubly impressive when the stout-built, thick-lipped young Jew who is standing by the coffin gives way, and wails aloud with griefeyes half closed, mouth open, hair dishevelled, clothes disarranged, intoxi- cated with sorrow and passion. It is his sweetheart of seventeen who is contained in the black-covered coffin. Next week she was to be his wife. Then there is a sudden move, the coffin is put on the bier, and carried through the narrow doorway. Thence it is accompanied to the grave by the crowd, disorderly it is true, but loud in their wailing and the gnashing of their teeth. The poor fellow is supported by his friends, shouting and foaming like one in an epilepsy. And so at the side of the rude grave. The crowd keeps time to the chant, which is repeated at the grave. The seventeen victims sleep side by side, with but a narrow partition of soil be- tween them, and as one coffin is put down another is ready to take its place. In three minutes the young Jew hears the sound of half-a-dozen ~vi1ling shovels, and is led off fainting by his friends. The priest, a man, of middle age, with small eyes and black beard, wearing a tall hat and a black gown, then returns to repeat the offices for the dead, and so on. The function contrasts strangely with our own service, and jars on the unaccustomed ear. The burial service reads backward, or, to put it in another way, you begin on the last page and read forward. The Hebrew version is on the right hand page, the English translation on the other. There are, it was explained to me, two forms, one for Fridays, one for the other days. As the coffin is lowered into the grave the priest cries, May he come to his ap- pointed place in peace. On returning to the hall the priest again prays. Then it is customary on quitting the ground to pluck some grass and say, And they shall blossom forth from the ruins like the grass of the earth. Others say, God remembereth that we are bUt dust. Then those who have taken part in the inter- ment wash their hands in receptacles made for the purpose. A curious Jewish funeral custom was mentioned the other day which may be worth mentioning; though I did not see it put into practice yesterday. When a funeral procession arrives at the cemetery gate the ground- keeper announces: Enter and bury your dead; but there is no room for any one else; the deceased is the last ~vho can be buried here. This would be palpably ridiculous in the case of West Ham, where there must be five or six acres to spare. The same writer (in the 7ewish Chronicle) gives yet another, which is even more curious: I recollect (he says) a burial custom of exactly similar import that used to be practised when I was a boy in one of our provincial congregations, and may, for aught I know to the contrary, flourish still. It was, I believe, introduced from Poland. Whenever a funeral took place in the Jewish cemetery, a small locked padlock was thrown into the grave and the key cast as far off as possible. On one occasion that I remember the grave was not filled up until some one was de- spatched for and brought the forgotten ~ padlock. The meaning was that the in- satiable maw of the grave was now locked, and the key lost, never to be found. Alas! alas! how often since then have I seen the all-devouring tomb reopen; when, oh when, will Death be swallowed up for ever? THE FAWCETT MEMORIAL. 63 From The Medical Press. SUDDEN CHANGES OF TEMPERATURE. EXPERIENCE leads us to anticipate cer- tain definite results in the production of disease from marked and sudden varia- tions in temperature. If a north wind sends down the thermometer from seventy degrees to forty deorees in the course of a day it would not ~e unreasonable to an- ticipate an increase in the number of cases of disease of the respiratory organs, rheu- matism, etc. The more abrupt the fall the greater will be the effect. Yet with a knowledge of these facts our civilized existence is one continual series of expos- ure to such changeschanges greater in extent and more sudden than any which occur from natural causes. Instead of a day, the result of leaving a warm room for the streets may be to affront a difference in temperature of forty degrees or more, and even within the limits of the same house it is possible to pass, metaphorically speaking, from Greenlands icy mountains to Indias coral strand. Of course it will be urged that certain precautions are taken with the view of obviating the risks attending such abrupt changes of temper- ature, but it will be found on inquiry that they are as a rule quite illusory. Who dreams of putting on an overcoat on going to the closet or fetching any object from another and unwarmed room? On leav- ing the house, it is true, persons possessed of average prudence take the trouble to put on an extra coat or shawl. By so doing they do protect the outside of the body, but they leave unprotected the naked sur- face of the lungs, a delicate and easily irritated organ, very inadequately provided with means of self-defence. Even natures resources, whereby the equilibrium of heat is maintained, are apt to break down when one inspiration is at seventy degrees and the next at thirty degrees. Nature, as a rule, does not allow of an abrupt reversing of the gear; her movements are pendu- lum-like, and adjust themselves, accurately it may be, but slowly, to the vicissitudes of life. In a natural state of existence, which may be assumed to be a savage one, such changes are impossible, or at least improbable, and hence, as we advance in civilization, so the bad results of an arti- ficial condition of existence become ap- parent. of Another danger to which our habits living expose us is that which accrues from local disparity of tempera- ture, when, for instance, to use the same simile, our bodies are in India and our feet and legs in Greenland. Here the mechanism is somewhat different, but the result is at least as detrimental. Begin- ning at the inflamed eye which is caught by looking through keyholes, we get to the neuraloic affections which may attack any part o~ the body exposed to the action of a draught. Although the cause may be local, the effect is by no means necessa- rily so; indeed, in a large proportion of cases the result of such localized exposure is to give rise to constitutional ailments, it may be, of the most serious character. The bad effects of rapid changes of tem- perature are by no means confined to transition from heat to cold. Very often, indeed, the converse change, from cold to heat, is the starting-point of a series of complaints which cold alone had failed to induce. This is a matter of common ex- perience in armies on the march in winter. Entrance into a warm room from an out- side temperature below freezing-point is not uncommonly followed by a sensation of suffocation and malaise, which takes some little time to wear off. Much can be done by care and attention to ward off part of the harm which might otherwise accrue from the causes alluded to. Inside the house the warmth should be more equally distributed, so as to avoid undue change of temperature on traversing cor- ridors or passages; this involves struc- tural arrangements which are not within the reach of everybody, but excellent re- sults follow even the employment of a stove in the hall. Outside, not only should additional clothing be resorted to, but no air should bepermitted to reach the lungs except after having been warmed by pass- ing through the nose ~. little contrivance by which nature remedies, within certain limits, alterations in the temperature of the respired air. For this reason singing in the streets on cold nights, and even talking, is undesirable. The most robust are amenable to these influences, to some, if not to the same, extent as the more delicate, and cannot brave them with im- punity. In cities, especially where fog and cold go together, the maxim should be to keep the mouth shut and the ears open. From The Saturday Review. THE FAWCETT MEMORIAL. IT is almost as difficult to find the Faw- cett Memorial in Westminster Abbey as, according to Theodore Hooks ballad, It used to be to find the London University. 64 THE FAWCETT MEMORIAL. It stands under a little window in the most expended on the most minute portions of remote corner of the baptistery, so high this work, its extraordinary beauty of de- that even on a bright day it is needful to tail, and its reverent sympathy with the get up on a chair to make out the details character and history of the noble Gothic properly. But it is well worth the diffi- fane which it adorns, are worthy of the culty of search. It is a new departure in highest praise. public sculpture, and Mr. Alfred Gilbert, As we turn from examining this exqui A. R. A., deserves no small praise for so site little monument, the grandeur of the bold and so successful a revolt acrainst proportions of the Abbey is felt with b monumental conventionality. The posi- peculiar vividness. This is not the usual tion which, as ~ve have said, is a little effect of gazing at the sculpture which is too high is due to the exigencies of the placed there, and as we pass between the architecture. The monument fills one of huge white statues of our recent states- the original arches; and, if the sculptor men, we cannot help asking ourselves how had not been hampered with some Eliza- soon these pompous works will be removed bethan woodwork below, his work would to the green outside, which is their fit and seem in all respects like a natural gro~vth proper l)lace. We believe that it was in of the building, as sculpture combined Chantreys days that the vicious custom with architecture always should look, of making statues for the Abbey over life- The monument consists of three por- size first came into fashion. The ambi- tions, one above the other. The topmost tion of sculptors now seems to be to make contains a dark bronze bust of Fawcett, in each figure a little larger than any before, high relief, against a gold ground. The and as we glance into Poets Corner we second consists of a frieze of seven small see the new Longfellow bust, enormous, figures, in the round; and the.third is an like the head of a river-god. The answer inscription, on a vermilion surface, sup- made to an objector always is, that unless ported by corbels with winged figures. the size of the figure is exaggerated, the On one of these corbels is a profile of statue does not tell, as though the pri- Fawcett, and on the other his coat of arms. mary object in all such cases were to gratify The whole work glows with color. The the ostentation of the sculptor. The fan- figures, which are in bronze, are some of tastic and grotesque groups of the last them left in their natural tone, while others century have their obvious faults, but they have a patina of gold, sometimes dim and do not err by the preposterous immodesty pale, sometimes darker or brighter. In of the Victorian statues. Perhaps the certain cases the figure is gilded, and the lowest mark of contempt for the Abbey drapery or attributes bronze. Sympathy, itself is to be found in connection with a for instance, is represented as a light gold work of Gibsons, where the observer may figure of a nude woman, encompassed by note that part of the architectural decora- a network of dark-bronze vines. The tion has been knocked away, simply be- figures of the frieze are Brotherhood, an cause it presumed to throw a shadow over old man seated, with sheaves of corn and the modern sculptors precious figure. It a reaping-hook; Zeal, a female saint; Jus- is satisfactory to think that such sacrilege tice, a most picturesque and Diireresque as this could hardly take place to-day, and figure, with scales and ample drapery; we draw attention to Mr. Gilberts modest Fortitude, in the centre, a young knight and beautiful monument as being, we hope, in full armor; Sympathy; Industry with the herald of much sculpture of a kind her beehive; and another conception of appropriate to the Gothic splendors of the Brotherhood. The amount of invention Abbey. THE FORTIFICATIONS OF PARIs. In view all below the ground, and they form such a ~ of a possible, not to say probable, war between wide circle about the city that it will hardly be Germany and France, it will be interesting to possible to besiege it in future~ If it took consider the extent of the fortifications in and three hundred thousand Germans to encircle around Paris since 1871. A new line of forts the old line, it ought to require an almost in- far outside of the old ones has been erected. calculable force to invest the new. The walls In all twenty-four forts have been built, and of Paris have been demonstrated to be useless, these contain all the improvements of modern and the French do not rely on them in any way warfare. Their barracks and magazines are as a means of defence. United Service Gazette.

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. Fifth Series, No. 2233. April 9, 1887. 5 From Beginning, Volume LVIII. 4 Vol. CLXXIII. CONTENTS. THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. Part III. RICHARD CABLE, THE LIGHTSHIPMAN. Part VII. THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON, A TERRIBLE NIGHT AN OLD FRENCH HOUSE. Part II., INCIDENTS OF THE EARTHQUAKE, JUBILEE YEARS THE SUFFERINGS OF THE CLERGY, . . Spectator, JACK FROST, . To PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON, A NOCTURNE For na~irhtty Review, Chambers ~ourna4 Nineteenth Century, Murrays Magazine, Spectator, Saturday Review, Chambers 7ournal, P 0 E T R Y. .6~ MARCH MEADOWS, ONLY A WEEK, 128 MISCELLANY PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL & CO., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EIGHT DoLiAss, remitted directly to the PuMishers, the LIVING AGE will be ptsnctoally forwarded for a year,jree ofjlostage. Remittances should be madehy hank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. -. Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, s8 cents. I. 11. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. 67 87 95 107 119 121 123 126 66 66 JACK FROST, ETC. JACK FROST. HA! ha! Jack Frost, Is Ihe frontier crossed That divides us from Autumns domain? Are we far on the road To your icy abode Oer the track of your wintry plain? Whose leafless trees All elbows and knees, All crooked, and crank, and cropt, Seem struck of a heap in the act of a leap, Surprised by your breath in a dance of death, And all fast glued in the gaunt attitude They last had chanced to adopt! Ho! ho! Jack Frost, Have you rudely tossed To the winds our sylvan fleece? Bold thief of the wood You shall make it good With the folds of your snow pelisse. For the gold and bronze Of the Autumn fronds, Whose tints you would not spare, You shall pay full score of snowflakes hoar, Compound for the crime with glistning rime, You shall trim the meads with crystal beads, And crisp the morning air. Our gable-heights Your stalactites In fringes shall festoon, You shall lay the lake Or I much mistake With a polished floor full soon; Each bough you stripped Shall be bravely quipped In a coat of sparkling cold Each hedge you scour a fairy bowr, Your morning breath a silver wreath, Your starlit night a crown of light You shall pay us back fourfold! Temple Bar. WALTON HOOK. TO PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. SWEET poet, thou of whom these years that roll Must one day yet the burdened birthright learn, And by the darkness of thine eyes discern How piercing was the sight within thy soul; Gifted apart, thou goest to the great goal, A cloud-bound radiant spirit, strong to earn Light-reft, that prize for which loud myriads yearn Vainly light-blest the seers aureole; And doth thine ear, divinely dowered to catch All spheral sounds in thy song blest so well, Still hearken for my voices slumbering spell With wistful love? Ah! let the Muse now snatch My wreath for thy young brows, and bend to watch Thy veiled transfiguring senses miracle. D. G. RoSS~TTI. A NOCTURNE. FROM THE GERMAN OF REINICK. EARTH in heavenly rest is sleeping, Moon and stars their watch are keeping Where a garden, bright with flowers, Slumbers through the midnight hours. Good-night! There, wiTh moonbeams shining oer it, Stands a cottage, and before it, On a leafy linden spray, Sings a bird its tender lay. Good-night! Good night! In her bower the maid lies dreaming Of the flowers around her gleaming, Heavens own peace within her breast, Angels, watching, guard her rest! Good-night! Good-night! Cassells Magazine. A. L. MACKEcHNIE. * MARCH MEADOWS. A THICK white mist lies heavy on the vale heavy, and soft, and cold; on either hand, Ghosts of themselves, the trees and hedges stand, Nor black nor green, but vaguely dull and pale; And in the clotted air, our lambs weak wail Is stifled; and a silent spectral band Of cattle moves across the shadowless land, Wherein all forms are blurrd, all voices fail. Ah me, how like is this our stern sad spring To lifes yet sterner autumn! Such a mist, So cold, so formless, from the Lethe- stream Rises and spreads, and blots out everything That we have keenly loved and warmly kissd; Till we too are but figures in a dream. Academy. M. ONLY A WEEK! ONLY a week, since you and I Just kept each other company; Ah! sweet old phrase of every day, Such as we use in earnest play, Touching the heart-chords tenderly. Now, sullen looks the stranger sky On the slow hours that weary by~ How long since we two wooed delay? Only a week! Could any graceful subtlety The pasts sweet careless magic try To teach the present to essay The joy that ~vent with you away? That asked to be, to live, to die Only a week! All The Year Round. 66 THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. 67 From The Fortnightly Review. THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. PART III. RUSSIA. IN two previous articles it has been shown how Germany and Austria from the fear of a Franco-Russian alliance, how England from preference for peace and want of sufficient motive, and how France from the real peacefulness of the majority of its electors, are unlikely to begin a war. There remains Russia, the country which, intensely patriotic but not yet very sure of its position in the world, ridiculed as bar- barous, and therefore very sensitive, and ruled by an autocrat of uncertain temper, is alone in a position to provoke a conflict. Willitdoso? There appeared lately in a number of Russian newspapers some remarkable ar- ticles on the same question on which I am writing herethe present position of the great powers. These articles, indeed, teach us nothing except the arrogance, or the consciousness of strength, of Russia, which scarcely seems to care what other powers may or may not do, and the ex- traordinary ignorance which prevails among even the best-informed real Rus- sians in the empire. I say real Russians, because there are at St. Petersburg a num- ber of able and highly cultured persons who are in the Russian service, and have no illusions upon the subject, but are either not of Russian race or are so much in touch with foreigners through constant travel or long residence abroad that they have ceased to share the more dangerous among the illusions of their countrymen. Unfortunately, however, it is the Russian emperor who governs Russia, and not these gentlemen. Some of them, as for example MM. de Giers, Jomini, and Vlan- galy, are occasionally consulted by way of form, but their private opinions do not receive official sanction or become that policy of the Russian Empire which in public (and most conversations at St. Petersburg may be looked upon as public) they defend. To justify what I have said about articles in the Russian journals, let me quote the doctrines of one from the Novoe Vrernya upon The Western Pow- ers and Russia. The phrase the west- ern powers does not apply only to Great Britain and France, the meaning which it used to bear, but it includes live powers, or what we style the two central and the two western powers, with the addition of Italy. The writer states that if Prussia has managed to make an apparent German unity towards the exterior, it must be re- membered both that German Austria is not yet included within Germany, and that there is no internal unity even among the kingdoms that are included. South and Catholic Germany, he declares, detests Prussian and Protestant Germany more than ever, and the southern States will seize the first opportunity to throw off the hegemony of Prussia, and once more make Austria supreme in the German Empire. Schleswig-Holstein too is a serious weak- ness to the empire. Germany.is hated by Austria as well as by France, she suffers internally from socialism, she has alien- ated Great Britain by her colonial policy, and she could not even depend on Italian friendship unless she were williAg to help Italy to take away from Au~tria the Tyrol, the Trentino, and Trieste itself, and this she will not do. Germany therefore is absolutely isolated. The emperor and Prince Bismarck himself will die before German unity has made a step, and the only chance they have of maintaining themselves lies in a Russian alliance. A somewhat flattering picture this, indeed, of what Prince Bismarck has done for Germany! The ~vriter passes on to Aus- tria. Austria desires to regain leadership in Germany, she refuses to become a Slav power and insists on remaining German, she is waiting only for the death of Prince Bismarck, but is too wretchedly weak to harm Russia. Turning to France, the writer points out that she has quarrelled with England and stands alone, whilst his glance at England, as might be expected, reveals to him the impossibility of her defending either her colonies or her trade, the danger that she incurs from Ireland, and the certainty that she will put up with anything rather than fight. The conclu- sion of the article, of course, is that Rus- sia alone among the powers is quiet, strong, and really great, that if she gave 68 THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. to Germany her alliance she could wipe out Austria from the face of Europe, and force France to remain at peace. If, on the other hand, she chooses a French alliance she can destroy Germany, whilst the destinies of England are in her hands, inasmuch as she could easily deliver India from the British yoke. The writer thinks it laughable to suppose that Russia will ask the consent of any power to settle the Bulgarian question in tfie sense which she may prefer. it is hardly necessary to indicate the weak points of this article, and I shall have occasion to deal with the strong points, and to reveal the grain of truth that it may contain, in demonstrating the immense power of the Russian Empire. That with which I am here concerned is only to show in what a fools paradise those Russians live who really direct the external policy of their country the emperor himself and the leading journal- ists, who, however, it must be observed, are themselves powerless, except through the immense influence of one of them, the autocrat of the Moscow Gazette. I am aware that much that I say in the course of this article will produce protest, for while I shall offend those who believe in the moderation or truth of Russia, I shall, on the other hand, displease those too patriotic persons, if there be such a thing as an overdose of patriotism, who dislike Russia so much that they cannot recognize either her power or the patriot- ism of her people. All that I shall try to do in this, as in the other articles of this series, is to ascertain facts, and the exact bearing of the facts with which we have to deal. I address myself to those, if there be such in these days, who are free from party prejudice, from prejudice personal and national to those, in short, who try to see things as they really are. The fact upon which it is necessary to insist in considering the position of Rus- sia is that she has of all the European powers by far the largest homogeneous population. There are about as many Great Russians, speaking the same lan- guage, without any dialects, as there are real Germans in all Germany. In ad- dition to these there are millions upon millions of closely connected Russians of other Russian tribes, of which the fourteen millions of Little Russians are the most numerous and the best known, furnishing as they do the picked men of the Russian Guards. Some care- less observers are apt to make seriously an exactly opposite statement, namely, that there is such a diversity of races under the Russian flag that Russia must be bound but loosely together, and be always at the point of tumbling to pieces. No doubt there are great numbers of pic- turesque peoples of various races, tongues, customs, and religions who are under the Russian rule. Travellers affect their prov- inces, and are rather repelled by the uni- form black dulness of Russia proper; but all those peoples bear to the mass of the Russians only about the same numerical and political importance as the sotnias of Persian, Armenian, Georgk~n, Mingrelian, Circassian, Bashkir, and LTralian Cos. sacks, who figure in the emperors body guard at a great review at St. Petersburg, bear numerical and military importance to the fifty or sixty thousand men of the guards who are upon the field, No doubt the Fins of Great Finland and the Samo- yeds of northern Siberia, and the Sarts of central Asia, and the yellow-faced and slit-eyed Kalniucks of Astrakhan, the Golden-Horde Tatars of Kazan, the Tur- comen of the Caspian steppes, the Indians of Baku, the Tchuvassi, Vatiki, Mordwa, and other Asiatic Fins upon the Volga, and countless other tribes and peoples who might be named, differ very greatly the one from the other, and all of them from the Russians; but on the whole they do not form a weakness to the Russian Empire, and their existence within its con- fines does not detract from the essential fact that there are some sixty millions of Russians who speak virtually one tongue. This nation, numerically the superior of any nation except the Chinese, and China is not yet organized for modern war, is ( also more religious and more patriotic as a body than is any of the other great powr ers of Europe. The accuracy of this remark will be contested, but hardly I think by those who know Russia well. The Russians are as religious at the least as are the people of the English colonies RUSSIA. 69 or of the United States, and they are as patriotic as the citizens of the latter coun- try. In the union of patriotism and of religion they present, I know no country in Europe which can approach them, al- though they may be rivalled by the people of the United States. We have here ob- viously, from the facts which I take to be admitted by careful observers, in Russia a power which, by the very nature of things and apart from any movement which she may make, is formidable in the highest degree. There are some fossil politicians in England who still think that Russia is weakened by the existence of a Poland. Poland died in 1863, and died forever. The men who, either in their own persons or in the persons of their ancestors, have illustrated literature by their genius, and countless battle-fields by their splendid courage, may refuse to rec- ognize the extinction of their country; but the Poles, considered as an anti-Russian force, were an aristocracy, in the best as well as in the common sense of the word. The Polish peasantry, though often led by them against Russia, were never anti- Russian to an t~npurchasable degree, and a large portion of the Polish peasantry have now become as attached, through agrarian legislation, to the Russian Em- pire as the German peasantry of Alsace were to France by the agrarian legislation of the Revolution. At the time of the Crimean War Poland did not rise; but looking to what afterwards happened in 1863, it is impossible to say that it might not have been roused. Poland could now no longer be raised against the Russians; and in spite of the fairly successful at- tempts which have been made by Austria to conciliate the Galician Poles, there are Slavonic subjects of Austria who could far more easily be raised against the dual monarchy than any Polish or other Sla- vonic subjects of Russia could be raised against the tsar. It is difficult for us to realize the attraction of Russia for some of the weaker members of the Slavonic races. Where, as once in Servia and lately in Bulgaria, Russia has had a com- paratively free hand, she has often alien- ated Slavonic feeling; but where Slays have been the subjects of another grea.t power, and especially where they are sub- jects of Hungary and Austria, Russia is to them a friend on whose power they build their hopes. The Ruthenians of the dual monarchy are so many Russians lost within its boundaries. There is no similar German or other colony lost in Russia, for what aliens there are are too few and too much dispersed. Some think that Russia is weakened by the German element in the Baltic provinces. Here, again, those who think so are behind the times. The Baltic provinces were never German, so far as the peasantry are concerned. A German aristocracy, with German traders in the towns, ruled over a peasantry of the Esthonian, Lettish, and Lithuanian races. To this l)easantry the Russians, with all their despotic measures against the landowners and against the German tongue, have come as deliverers: Because Russia is very violent in her language and in her acts, we too often fail to see how a peasantry which an aristocratic govern- ment or a government of political econo- mists could never win, is won overby her to her rule. The Moscow men failed in Bulgaria, but in Poland they ~ucceeded, and in the Baltic provinces, too, their methods and their policy have not been found wanting, and it is probable that the problems that have so long perplexed this country in her relations with Ireland would have been solved in a week by Samarin, or Miliutin, or Prince Tcher- kassky. Some are disposed to think that Nihil- ism constitntes a great danger to the Rus- sian Empire, weakening not only her offensive but even her defensive force. There can be no doubt that in Russia, in spite of the recent sO-called cadet and staff conspiracy, the general belief of the best informed is that at this moment Aus- tria and Germany have more to fear from socialism than Russia has from Nihilistic conspiracies. I shall have to return to the subject generally when I come to my Austrian paper; but as regards Russia I may say that my latest information leads me to agree with Russian writers upon this point. There can be no doubt, I think, in the mind of any reasonable observer, as to the 70 THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. real and lasting strength of Russia; and the question which it is more interesting to consider is in what manner that strength is likely to be used. Russia is, though old in some senses, politically as young a country as the United States, andhas not yet by any means passed the growing period. She is strong even while growing fast, but will be still stronger in her prime. In considering her power let me, in the first place, protest against the action of those Englishmen who allow themselves to be scared out of a policy which a short time ago they thought right and wise. The fact that a number of gentlemen have come to realize the strength of Russia has led them to begin to declare that they were quite wrong a few years ago in say- ing that this country ought to keep Russia out of the Balkan Peninsula and away from Constantinople, and out of Herat and away from the Persian Gulf ; and that on the contrary England should em- brace her with open arms and enter upon an alliance with the power which a short time ago they were declaring to be their countrys mortal foe. No doubt it is im- possible to maintain the principles of Lord Beaconsfields speeches of i8~8; and it is really a useless waste of time to examine how completely the so-called settlement of that year has broken down. All that has happened was prophesied by clear- sighted observers at the time. Sir Samuel Baker then stated that our policy might terminate in a friendship between ihe Russians and the Turks to the detriment of British interests and to the confusion of the assumed protectorate. He was alluding to the Asia Minor Convention and the appointment of military consuls throughout the Turkish Asiatic provinces, and his prophecy has come true to the letter. In 1878 we were told that England had restored to Turkey the greater por- tion of her provinces, but eastern Rou- melia was counted into what was restored and Bosnia and Herzegovina were not counted into what was taken away, so that the inquiry need hardly be pursued. We were told that our action had not only re- stored her provinces to Turkey, but had insured the reform of their administration. No one I suppose can imacr progress has been made bine that much in that direction. We were told that Turkey bad been given in the Balkans an impregnable frontier; that the power, military and civil, of the sultan in eastern Roumelia was complete, and that it was absolutely necessary for securing the safety of Constantinople. All these considerations, however, ~w-ere thoroughly examined at the time, and the only extraordinary thing is that, even by a portion of the public, and even for a few months, they should have been be- lieved. The whole fabric of our policy in 1878 having sunk in collapse, we are now~ told by some of the same persons who were instrumental in misleading us on that occasion that Bulgaria is not a British interest, that Constantinople is not a Brit- ish interest, that the continued existence of the Turkish Empire is not a British interest, and generally, that nothing is a British interest which our own military unreadiness would make it difficult for us to protect by force of arms. Just as a large portion of the public refused to ac- cept the guidance of these gentlemen in 1878, SO it is possible that a portion of the public will refuse to accept their guid- ance now, and will insist on examining the question for themselves. XVhen we all but went to war in 1878 for the sultans supremacy in eastern Roumdia, ~nd were told that we had secured it, we soon found that we had only secured it upon paper, and we were then assured that the idea must be replaced by another. British pol- icy, we were asked to believe, had shifted, because circumstances had shifted, and the spirit of freedom found to exist in the Bulgarian race, and especially in eastern Roumelia, was to form the new bulwark against Russia a bulwark better than the Balkan line. But as soon as Austria declined our alliance, and Russia refused to make terms with the Bulgarians, then our instructors began to tell us that even Bulgarian independence was not a British interest, and it seems now to be generally understood that Constantinople itself is not to be defended by this country, unless Hungarian feeling should make Austria fight, and unless a scratch pack of other allies can also he obtained. Just as in the Belgian question, which I discussed in the first article of this series, and to which I shall return in the last, it is desirable that England at all events should know what she means and make up her mind, so toO in this question of the Balkans and of Constantinople. Not that the question is likely to be raised at present in an aggra- ~C vated form. The sultan, knowing that he is now deserted by the most influential men in both the English parties, and that Austria will not fight for him if she can help it, because she knows that she is not a match for Russia in a military sense, expecting also, at he does, a rising in Crete, a Greek advance upon Janina, and a rising in southern Macedonia whenever RUSSIA. 7 he is attacked, is forced to make terms triots, from M. Gravy down to M. Dru- with Russia, which practically means that mont; but probably neither M. Gr~vy nor his empire is to last his time. This habit even M. Drumont possesses that kind of of trying to make things last their time patriotic courage which would lead him to is common with the pashas. A Turkish get himself quietly killed for his countrys plenipotentiary once said to a represen- sake if he could well help it. The Rus- tative of one of the great powers, Why sians have a different sort of patriotism cannot the Greeks and Bulgarians keep from the patriotism of other European quiet a little? They will get all the tern- peoples there are few Russians who tory they want some day. Practically, would hesitate to die if their death could the sultan is forced to sit still whilst his help their countrys cause. Possibly this empire crumbles. He is only at this mo- may be a mark of barbarism; some pale- ment asked to let and he cannot pre- faced philosophers, I have no doubt, may vent it Russian influence come a little think it so; but it is a factor in the pres- nearer; nothing really under his rule is ent position of the European world. for the moment to be taken from him; Poland and the Baltic provinces and and he can persuade himself that after Nihilism may not be sources of weakness all he will be no worse off in any point worth counting; Russias real weakness than he was as early as 1879, when the is the absence, inevitable under an autoc- eastern Roumelian part of the Treaty of racy such as hers, of a trained upper and Berlin was seen to be a dead letter. middle class. The sharp contrast between There is nothing new in the friendship of the simple piety of the Russian peasant, Russia and Turkey. Russian troops held which makes of every meal a celebration garrison in Constantinople when it was of a sacrament, and his occa.sional out- menaced by the Egyptians under Me- bursts of drunkenness and violence, is hemet Au, and the two countries worked excelled by one still sharper between the cordially together under the auspices of piety of the peasants and the profound lvlahmoudoff in the winter of 187980. scepticism of th~e upper classes. I do not The Russians have been slow upon their speak of religious scepticism alone, but of way. Baron Blumberg, as long ago as that practical scepticism which thinks 1684, called Turkey that body con- nothing worth doing well for any cause, demned to death, which must very speed- and which while in Russia it is consistent ily turn to a corpse; but the corpse is with the use of patriotic language, and not yet laid out. The Russian advance, perhaps with the existence of certain pa- however, though slow, is sure. From time triotic sentiments, makes of the class to time she makes one long step further which is undermined by it a feeble instru towards her goal. ment for the purposes of the Russian At the time of peace with honor, fatherland. Lord Beaconsfield, speaking of the danger I said in the first article of this series of Russia gaining such a prize as Con- that in Russia there are only two men who stantinople such was the language of count but the second whom I named the instructions which he received, curi- counts in a double way, both as an mdi- ously enough, from Mr., now Lord, Cross, vidual of ability and as the editor of a puzzled the protocolists by alliteratively newspaper, which, in a sense, may be de- styling it the capture of Constantinople. scribed as the most powerful in the world, We shall have presently to consider the because it is all-powerful or nearly all- chances and the probable results of a l)owerful in one great empire. struggle between Austria and Russia, and The Russian press is only powerful also of a struggle between England and through Katkoffs power. The official and Russia; but it must, I think, be recog- semi-official papers say only what might nized that neither France nor Germany be expected of them, and, as a rule, do shares the view that the capture of Con- but mark time. The Moscow Gazette, stantinople by Russia is any danger to which asserts that there is no free press the world. In order to estimate the prob- in the world except the Russian, enjoys a abilities of a contest we shall have briefly freedom which is, however, personal to to consider the internal condition of Rus- itself or to its great editor. In constitu- sia, and to compare it in some degree with tional countries, it declares, the whole that of Austria, which will be further in- press is enslaved by party. The Moscow vestigated in the next article of the series. Gazette knows no party, for Russia knows I spoke just now of Russia as being, none that are worthy (or unworthy) of the above all, a patriotic country. France is name. It succeeds in doing what it pleases a patriotic country. Frenchmen are pa- in Russian home affairs; but although in 72 THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. foreign affairs its anti-German sentiments Pobedonostchieff, Count Tolstoi, and Kat- are contradicted by Le Nord and do not koff are men who are accused by the prevail, at all events it is allowed to utter reformers of being the somewhat preten them. tious exponents of an ignorant old Tory Katkoff counts as Katkoff, and counts obscurantism, but to a foreign observer also as the mouthpiece of the Moscow, or there is not much difference between a national party, which may better be styled Russian Liberal and a Russian Conserva- the Moscow group. This party is com- tive. In the English sense of the word, posed of a knot of men, who may have Liberalism is somewhat out of place in their differences, but who to the outside Russia. Parliamentarianism, so dear to us, world appear to hold opinions which are will probably never be fully adopted there, identical, because they are identical as and it mi~st be admitted that Russian pa- against the outside world. Those whom triotism holds it not so much in aversion 1 have named before Aksakoff, Sama- as in contempt. rin, Miliutin, and Tcherkassky, belong The one great weakness of Russia, the to a past generation, and now represent absence of a really trained middle or upper Moscow in the Elysian fields. Prince class, is intensified by a kind of proscrip- Vassiltchikoff, and others who could be tion, which is a result of autocracy. Half named, have continued their traditions, those men of ability that the country does but whether in the Conservative shade of possess are shut out of office because they, the Moscow Gaze/fe or in more Liberal not being in the least able to help them- journals, the expression of Moscow or selves, used to bow somewhat low before national opinion has always been substan- the lady who since the death of Alexander tially the same in questions which concern II. has been in foreign countr)es styled his the outer world. We talk of the Moscow widow; to whom, indeed, the imperial fain- party, but one great strength of Russia ily themselves, also because they could not lies in the fact, which I repeat, that it has help it, used to bow rather low in the late no parties. Russians nearly all agree, emperors lifetime. This proscription is with the exception of thos6 whose hand is in itself a consequence of the obstinacy of against everythingagree, that is, in a the tsar, who likes to be served by sub- large number of general views which are missive or by pliant men, but who in spite almost peculiar to Russia. Even the of his liking for pliancy does not himself Nihilists and all other Russians are at know how to forgive. M. de Giers, as one one upon some points, as, for example, of his colleagues once told an Englishman, in ridiculing Parliamentary government, who knew him well, stands at Atten- The dominant note with all is confidence tion, one thumb on the seam of his trou- in the future of Russia, and a pure pro- sers and the other at his cap, and says (the tective affection for the Slav races outside minister was speaking in French), Oui, the empire, provided they will look up to sire oui, sire. Russia, take their policy from Russia, and When we talk of spread-eagleism we profess the orthodox religion. The late are generally thinking of the United emperor was affected and controlled by States, but the real spread-eagleism is Moscow opinion, but the present emperor that, not of the American republic, but of shares it, which is a very different thing. the Russian Empire. The Russians habit- The present emperor is as national as was ually talk of the time when they will be Peter the Great; but, unfortunately, he masters of the whole world, and if, instead hardly shows Peter the Greats ability, of writing of the facts of our time, I were In a family where all the members have tempted to prophecy concerning the next been made by absolute power unlike other century I should have to admit that, if we men, he resembles rather, in the type of exclude America and Australia and con- mind, Paul and Nicholas than Alexander fine our thoughts to the Old World alone, the First or Alexander the Second. Both it is at least conceivable that their dreams the Alexanders were melancholy Germans should one day come true. The only for- as contrasted with the present obstinate eigner who is known to the Russian peas- and thoroughly Russian tsar. In spite of antry is the German, and the name for the fact that he was trained by men who German and for foreigner with the peas- knew Russia well, I fear that, like the antry is the same, and the hatred of the traditional Irishman, he might remark with dumb men, as they call their German truth that he himself knows nothing of his neighbors, is intense. The peasantry own country and still less of any other. know little of the English, and ifyou Those who surround, and mainly advise listen to their sentiments you discover him, are strongly conservative in tone. that it is their belief that one day there RUSSIA. 73 will be between them and Germany a war compared with which, their soldiers say, that of 1870 will be childs play, and that if Germany wins this will not be the end, but that war after war will follow until Germany is destroyed. This feeling is to some extent held in check by the Russian court, although one day they may take it up and use it; but court dislikes are turned for the present less towards Ger- many than towards Austria. We will con- sider presently the military strength of Russia as compared with that of her great neighbors. Russia, in spite of her enor- mous debt and its tremendous annual charge, is growing in power, and that power, great in itself, gains by being sur- rounded by the terrors that encompass the unknown. She has by far the largest army in the world, and, with a complete mobilization of her forces, has upon paper a force at once of four and ultimately of six millions of men. Some are inclined to think that the men will not be found when wanted, but great progress has been made. by Russia since 1878. Her artillery has as many guns as that of Germany or of France, her cavalry is perhaps more numerous than that of France and Ger- many together, certainly more numerous than that of Germany and Austria com- bined. This cavalry force is admittedly the best there is for that service to which cavalry in modern war is limited, if it is not to be destroyed on use. With mod- erate prudence the resources of Russia cannot but grow and grow, for Russia from many points of view is a young country, and Siberia, territorially consid- ered, is almost another United States. With her magnificent natural position, and with her unrivalled chain of fortresses upon the German frontier, Russia can always wear out German patience. It may be true, as Count Moltke says, that two hundred thousand men upon the Vis- tula, along with the German fortresses, might prevent Russia from invading Ger- many; but even in that case there would be two hundred thousand men withdrawn from the French frontier in face of a French army more numerous than the German, and they would not suffice to prevent Russia from crushing Austria. or holding Austria in check. It is a curious commentary upon the repeated protesta- tions of affection which have passed be- tween the emperors of Germany and of Russia during the last few years, that since 1870 K6nigsberg has been converted into an entrenched camp upon an enor- mous scale, that the forts of Thorn have been iron-plated and topped with. iron turrets, that Dantzic has been greatly strengthened, that Posen has been greatly strengthened, and that Ciistnin is being strengthened now, as is also Glogau - Russia, growing daily in military strength, sets in the scale against the Germans more than Austria can brincr to restore their equilibrium. It may be confidently asserted that it is now far too late for Germany to strike her possible enemies one at a time. For Germany to attack either France or Russia now would be madness if not suicide, and Germany will go on with her declarations of friendliness towards Russia although with a perfect willingness to see coalitions formed against the northern power. Prince Bismarck has one immense advantage in dealing with the Russians, this, namely, that he is face to face with the worst-informed of Euro- pean powers. The Russian emperor has some of the best-trained men in Europe at his back if he would use them, but they are retiring from business or growing old. One of them is not what he was when minister in China; another is not what he was when he settled certain private difficul- ties in the imperial family, which needed more tact and even ~visdom for their set- tlement than do the affairs of nationsl In the concerns of the po~vers blunders are repaired by the simple process of casting swords into the scale, and the most solid of arguments after all is based upon the adding together the troops and fortresses of allies, and deducting the troops and fortresses of the enemy. This simple plan of dealing with affairs of state is inapplicable to the affairs of courts, but Baron Jomini has an hereditary under- standing of the one class of considerations, and an inborn power over the other, which make of this Vaudois-Swiss bourgeois of Valangin the best ~foreign servant that wears the livemy of the Slav, whose very tongue he cannot speak. But he is old, and set aside for clerks and sergeants. Prince Lobanoff, who is a really great diplomatist, is allowed no power. Were I to say how great, I should fear to be read by M. Katkoff, or by M. de Giers, and to do the ambassador hurt by causing his patriotism to be suspected. M. Zinovieff, of the Foreign Office, is also a good man and also has no real power. Prince Bismarck, I repeat, is to be con- gratulated upon having to hold his own against the worst-informed of the powers. Austria could not exist at all, if she were not well-informed; with all her mixed na- tionalities, and with her servants of many 74 THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. tongues ,she is well-informed, as if by the law of her being; and Germany is well- informed, because it is her business to be well-informed, and she does all her busi- ness well; but Russia and France are by far the worst-informed of all the powers. The Russian emperor now reads nothing, whatever he may have read when only tsarevitch, and rejecting the advice of the men of ideas, who are suspected of the deadly sin of Europeanisin or Westernism, is advised by those who are mere sergeants by obedience and by discipline, and by the old Tory bureau- crats and pedants. Russia need only be pointed out as a country in which every foreign newspaper is tabooed. France, I am sorry to say, though she allows for- eign newspapers to enter freely enough in all conscience, is, for practical purposes, almost as ignorant. M. John Lemoinne may know, the Tern~s may know, M. Spuller may know, M. de Freycinet may know, but France as a country does not know, and the electors and the assembly are vain enough to suppose that they know better for themselves by natural lights than they could be taught by those who have been trained to teach or govern. So .greatly is the instability of govern- ments in France displeasing to Russia, that there have been dreams of late of bringing about an arrangement for a last- ing peace by a revival of the Three Em- perors League and the complete isolation of the French. This is possible rather than probable. In order that Russia should cease to menace Germany and Austria with France, it is necessary that Russia should be completely contented in all parts of the world, and it is difficult to see how Austria can willingly be a party to contenting her. There is no great love lost between the English Conservative Cabinet and the Bulgarian government. The most prominent member of the En- glish Tory party would count it a cheap way of pacifying Europe, if peace could be aided by the isolation of France, through letting Russia work her will in the Balkan neighborhood. Lord Randolph Churchill was one of the steadiest foes of Lord Beaconsfields foreign policy in 18778. On the other hand Lord Salisbury is not a man to throw away the possibility of a good alliance, or to leave Austria in the lurch, and he keenly sees the possibility of making an anti-Russian policy in the Balkans popular by using the popularity of the Roumanians and the Bulgarians. Moreover, there is an argument by which an anti-Russian policy in the Balkait~ can be recommended and which appeals to John Bull with peculiar strength. It is the breeches pocket argument. Every country annexed or virtually annexed by Russia is closed forever to our trade by means of heavily protective duties, al~ though, as I have shown in the case of Bosnia, I fear that I must admit that the same is very nearly true of our Austrian allies. Russia is really, it may be seen by what has been said, working her will on Bulga- ria by Prince Bismarcks help. Austria is hardly strong enough to resist. She is terrified at the prospect of a war with only an English alliance. She expects Prince Bismarck to back her policy at St. Peters. burg, and he himself is not strong enough to do so. From time to time the Russian emperor pretends friendship with France, or at all events shows France in the back- ground, in the way in which a fowler shows a dog to drive wild fowl here and there. There is not and there will not be a Russo-French alliance in advance of war, if then, but France is necessarily always ready. The less decided of the opponents in England of Russias Bulgarian policy (for it has in England not one single friend), extenuate it by a comparison with British action against Arabi in Egypt. Now, granting that Arabi represented Egyptian feeling as much as the Sobranje repre- sents Bulgarian, an assumption which the British government would deny, and put- ti~g out of sight the fact that the organ- ized government of Egypt was in part destroyed by Arabi, whereas in Bulgaria the regents have taken charge, by consent of the last prince, of the organized govern- ment of the country, yet, even so, no fair coml)arison is possible. An English Kaul- bars has yet to be discovered. In going to Egypt England did not act alone. The ultimate action taken was the consequence of the joint note, and the joint note was proposed to the English Cabinet in i88i by France; France moreover agreed to take part in the expedition, and would have done so had her Chamber been will- ing to vote the funds. When France re- fused to go, England applied to Italy, and ~ ltaly all but consented. England, in fact, moved with the unofficial approval of most of the powers, whilst all the powers, with- out exception, officially congratulated her on her success in restoring order in the country. From the moment when Great Britain, through Lord Salisbury, saved the prince of Bulgaria at the Constanti- nople Conference. it became certain that RUSSIA. 75 Russia would ultimately dethrone him. He was dethroned accordingly, but merely to dethrone was not sufficient to restore the Russian prestige-in Bulgaria, and fur- ther steps ~vere necessary. Prince Alex- ander had done nothing against the tsar of late, and nothing at all that has been proved, though I am aware of much that has been asserted. He had even been, perhaps, unduly submissive. But he had been independent, and Bulgarian indepen- dence, whether in tongue, in religion, or in the sphere of foreign affairs, is intoler- able to Russian patriots. I am one of those who are unwillingly driven into a position of hostility to Russia, for I have much sympathy with the aspirations of the Slav race in general, and even with those of the Russian people in particular. Strongly anti-Russian as I am, there are, as has already been seen in this article, many points upon which I have the high- est possible opinion of the Russians; but I must admit that the outrage to Europe of the Kaulbars mission, after the circum- stances of Prince Alexanders deposition, is tremendous, and I fear irretrievable. It is a death-blow to the smaller States, and the proclamation or consecration of the doctrine that might in the affairs of na- tions makes right. The Russian press is now openly claiming Bulgaria as virtually a province of Russia; its concerns are a matter of internal policy with which the powers have nothing to do; and resistance to orders from St. Petersburg is the same thing in Bulgaria as in Poland. Whether or no the Russian policy has been wicked, it certainly seems to have been foolish from the Russian point of view. There can be no doubt that the Bulgarians are alienated from Russia by that policy. They adored Russia, or rather the figure of the late emperor, before the Russians came, but they were alienated very soon. The governor of Bulgaria during the Rus- sian advance, the leader of the Moscow party himself, wrote during the war to one who was once the friend of himself and Samarin, and of both the Miliutins and both the Vassiltchikoffs, that the Bulga- rians would not commit what he called the folly of the Poles, but would resemble the Ruthenians of Galicia in welcoming the Slavonic headship of Russia. Now the Russians had this advantage in Bul- garia, that there was practically no reli- gious difficulty. No doubt there was a good deal of Protestant conversion; the English Quakers are loved by the Bulga- rians for the quiet good that they have done within that country, and there t~ much American Protestant influence, which has spread, through Dr. Wash- burns people, from Robert College; but, generally speaking, all Bulgaria is ortho- dox. At the same time it is democratic, and those who welcomed the Russian lib- ~rator did so with a strong belief that their local independence would be preserved to them. The Bulgarians, according to the majority of ethnographic writers, are not of Slavonic race, but I will at once admit that this matters little. They are as com- pletely Slavized as the Slays of old Prus- sia have become Germanized. If Prince Bismarck himself, like Justinian and Beli- sarius, is a Slav by race, he is as German in fact as Justinian and Belisarius were Roman. The Bulgarians undoubtedly came from what is now the heart of Rus- sia, and had their empire upon the Volga, from which they take their name ; but although when they came in the fifth cen- tury they were not Slays, by the eighth or ninth century they were almost as com- pletely Slavized as they are now. On the other hand the Russian governor of Bul- garia, and his young men from Moscow, who came with him failed to understand that the Bulgarians had not risen against the Turkish rule for the purpose of sub- stituting one sort of pashas for another. They gloried in the marvellous strength of Russian patriotism and the Russian desire for extension and for increase of strength, but they did not want them ex- erted at their own expense. The Rus- sians, on the other side, feel that Bulgaria is now, from some points of vie~v, so close to Moscow that absolutism in Russia is at stake if Liberalism is to prevail within Bulgaria. Russia is a country without a Liberal party. The old-fashioned Tories there are weak, and the empire ought to please Lord Randolph Churchill, for, be- ing without Liberals and almost without old.fashioned Tories, it is a sort of para- dise for a Tory-Democrat. The descend- ants of the Dekabrists are dead; the old Anglomaniacs and aristocratic Liberals are dead; and all the Russian politicians of the day belong to the Moscow national school, although some of them affect a Tory and some of them a pseudo-Liberal strain. I call it pseudo-Liberal when I remember their policy in the occupied provinces during the Turkish xvar, when they insisted that all opinion should be orthodox, and that all opinion should be subject to the emperors will. it was always certain that Russia could not easily absorb a Catholic population, and it was always doubtful if she could ever hope to 76 THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. absorb an orthodox population belonging seems as though there were a still greater to the Hellenic branch of the Eastern difficulty in Russias way in the uncon- Church, but the Bulgarians were not sup- querable spirit of independence of the posed to be endowed with so much love Roumanians, the Bulgarians, and the of independence and power of resistance southern Slays. Every attempt at coer- that they were likely to stand out against cion only makes them more permanently Russia. By doing so they have embarked, hostile to autocratic rule, and when the however, in a hopeless struggle in which opposite policy is pursued and they are the sympathy that is bestowed upon them left to themselves, they do not appear to is hardly likely to find expression in ac- repent at all. The possession of such tion. remarkable qualities of self-government There are some persons in England, b~ these small peoples has led many to haters of Russia, who believe that the try of late to force to the front in practical Bulgarians have nothing to do but to hold politics that which has long been one of out some time, atid that Russia will fall to the favorite dreams of political specula- pieces of herself or undergo some remark- tion. It may be considered to be the policy. able change. But even a great disaster of the more liberal elements in Enodish in foreign war, which alone would upset Conservatism and of the more prudent the established order there, would not in amongst English Liberals, to set up, if overturning it make much difference in there is a possibility of doing so, some external questions of this kind. Men kind of Balkan confederation. If, indeed, point to the assassination of the late em- a Balkan confederation, even with the sup- peror, or the acquittal by a St. Peters- port of Austria and of England, would not burg jury of officials and nobles of the in a military sense be strong enough to asssass~ns of the grand police master, hold its own against Russia, nevertheless, Count Trepoff, but the stone-throwing in any time that may be left to us, before spirit, the self-depreciation of the capital, Russia once again presses on, it may be and the occasional outbursts of violent possible to bring about, if not confeder- Nihilism are only the natural results of ation, at all events a cordial understand- the autocratic system. Like Malets con- ing. Certainly the Greeks, the Rouma- spiracy before the campaign of France, nians, the Bulgarians, and the Serbs are they reveal weakness, but their existence young peoples, worth helping to defend. is not inconsistent with that of a wide- One of the difficulties in the way of pro- spread patriotic feeling, or of the power to ducing anything like settlement in the make patriotic sacrifice. Balkan question, or, let us say, in the Cold comfort, I fear, all this for the Bul- European branch of the Eastern question, garians and for the weaker generally in ha~ been the existence of mutual jealousies the Balkan States and in the world out- or even hatreds. The Greeks dislike the side; and yet the Bulgarians have de- Austrians, partly because the Austrians served better things of us. By their wise were supposed to intend some day to go and prudent policy, and by the self-re- to Salonica, and so to cut greater Greece straint which has been exercised by the in half, partly because the Austrians were ~vhole people, they have on the one hand the protectors of Servia, and the Servians held their own, and on the other, made an claim some part of Macedonia and Albania, armed occupation difficult. Their spirit which the Greeks expected rather to come of independence was well known, but the to their share. On the other hand, al- ability which they have displayed in war though both the Greeks and the Bulgarians and in finance was somewhat of a surprise, were at various times somewhat pro-Rus- Russia believed that the withdrawal of sian and anti-Austrian, there was the most the Russian officers would disorganize violent hatred between these two races, them, and immediately afterwards they because Bulgaria had been promised in were successful in a very serious war. the Treaty of San Stefano many districts Through all the provocations of the Kaul- which are claimed as Hellenic by Greece; bars mission, and in the total absence of and because, in short, both peoples had, a supreme direction of their affairs, al- as indeed they still have, a longing for the though under a monarchic system, perfect same parts of Macedonia. order has never ceased to reign, nor the A confederation in the Balkan provinces taxes to come in with regularity. Verily, must mean the confederation of Greece, the Bulgarians deserve the thanks of all Bulgaria, Servia, and Roumania, of which free men in Europe. It used to be said Roumania, Greece, and Servia almost. by Russian officers that the road to Con- equally dislike Bulgaria. Such an arrange- stantinople lay through Vienna, but itnow ment seemed at first sight to resemble a RUSSIA. confederation between three not very friendly cats and an altogether hostile dog. The difficulties are still very great, but they are not so great as they were, for the dislikes are now distinctly less accent- uated. King Milan has even privately suggested a personal union between Servia and Bulgaria, thus raising questions which I will discuss in the next article of this series. Bulgaria, too, has appointed a diplomatic agent at Athens. Unless Hungary, with her anti-Russian policy, should prevent it, Austria would still look with disfavor upon a Balkan confedera- tion of the smaller powers, and would be inclined to join with Russia to prevent her own permanent exclusion from the Mediterranean coast, to which she does not at present desire to go, but from which she does not wish to be entirely shut off. By our action at Berlin ~ve cut the south- ern Slays in half by planting Austria be- tween Servia and Montenegro, an arrange- ment which does not seem likely to be permanent. The Austrian difficulty is, perhaps, the greatest difficulty which now remains in the way of confederation, and it is no difficulty in the way of the formation of a Balkan confederacy under Austrian headship. There is another incident, be- side the one just named, which shows that the relations of Greece to Bulgaria are better than they were. An arrangement had been concluded between M. Tricoupis and the Bulgarian government, before the deposition of Prince Alexander, for the delimitation on a map of the respectiye spheres of influence of Greece and Bul- garia in Macedonia. This dividing the skin of the beast before he is dead, which is as a rule imprudent, is perhaps neces- sary in the case of Turkey, to prevent those conflicts of interest, occasionally threatening even armed struggle in the field, which break out from time to time between the Greeks, the Servians, and the Bulgarians. Unredeemed Roumania is chiefly Austrian, and therefore we hear little about the completion of the unity of the Roumanian people, although, curiously enough, the majority of the Roumanian people live outside Roumania, but the other three principal States of the Balkan peninsula are bitterly at enmity among themselves about Macedonia Servians arrayed against Bulgarians, and Greeks against both. The troubles in Macedonia which were expected by Lord Salisbury in January last came, however, from none of these, but from Russia as he believed. The delimitation of the sphere of influence which had been arranged of course meant 77 an agreement in advance whether Bulgaria or Greece should conduct insurrections in particular villages whenever Turkey was in extrernis, and which should annex them whenever Turkey was extinct. There would not be much desire, it ap- pears, on the part of Greece to hurry mat- ters if once she had a clear agreement upon this point. The present Greek prime minister, at all events, would be content that Greece should wait for any number of years, provided that this ques- tion were not to be settled against her in the interval. Greece asks, of course, for that Janina which was promised hey by the p& wers and which is one of the chief cities of her people. She believes that Albania will gravitate towards her, al- though she is apprehensive both of Aus- trian and of Italian ambition in that quar- ter; but the point to which she attaches the most importance is delimitation in Macedonia, and then she will be content to wait a century if need be, for, as one of her chief statesmen lately said, ~A hun- dred years is nothing in the life of the Greek nation. Apparently the Greek dream of Constantinople is dead; at all events it is no longer put into words. As Balkan confederation is not likely for many years to come, or is not likely soon enough to be of effective value to stay the approach of Russia to Constan- tinople, we have to admit that if Russia is to be kept out of the Macedonian plain, Austria, with or without alliances, must bar her advance. Unfortunately Austria is not strong enough. As Austrians and Russians have not been tried the one against the other, it is impossible accu- rately to gauge quality, but roughly speak- ing it may be said that putting quality on one side the Russian army ought to be equal to the armies of Germany and Aus- tria combined. The Russian annual con- tingent of the regular peace army has risen to two hundred and twenty-seven thousand men, which is only slightly under those of Austria and Germany together. The Russian peace army is nominally in the present year eight hundred and forty thousand men, but, really, if we take into account the Cossacks permanently em- bodied, it amounts to eight hundred and ninety thousand men, whilst even the smaller figure exceeds the peace armies of Austria and Germany combined. The total force of trained men which ought to be easily and rapidly mobilized by Russia, considering the figures of her contingents and the character of her military system, is about four million as against two mil 78 THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. lion for Germany, and twelve hundred and fifty thousand for Austria. More slowly, if she has guns for them and guns if not in stock could probably be pretty easily obtained Russia could place six millions of men in the field. The power of Russia to realize in fact the promise of her paper figures has recently been de- nied, but the necessity of taking into account the Russian military movement which began after the failures of 1878 has not been sufficiently kept in mind. If we were to credit the figures given by the German government to the German Parliament in January last, we should be- lieve that these results were secured by Russia at a cost exceeding the annual charge of the united army budgets of Ger- many and of Austria, for the official Ger- man figures give 785,906,259 marks for Russia. But Prince Bismarck deceives the German Parliament by estimating the rouble at three shillings ~vhen it is worth less than two. It is the Russian gold or metallic rouble that is ~vorth a little over three shillings of our money. The silver rouble is the paper rouble, now worth but twenty-one pence three far- things. Colonel Rau, Marga, and most, if not all, of the authorities, except the Intelligence Department book, have made the same mistake, and reckon the rouble at from 3.75 francs to 3.50 francs. On the other hand, there is a large extraordinary military expenditure in Russia which it is not easy to find in the Russian budget, as, for example, a large part of the expendi- ture upon the Transcaspian Railway now being rapidly constructed by General An- nenkoff, and calls are made upon both the village communities and the provincial Zemstvoes for matters which in other countries would be at the charge of the State. In any case, however, the figure given by the German government as 785,- 906,259 marks, is the figure of the Rus- sian budget which should have been stated at 495,428,078 marks only (at the rate at which the rouble then stood; now less) a pretty considerable deception practised towards the German people. Men are cheap in Russia. By whatever test we take, excepting quality, which has not yet been employed, Russia ought to be from two and a half to three times as strong as Austria. The Russian trained cavalry is even stronger in proportion than are her numbers gener- ally. It outnumbers the trained cavalry of Germany and of Austria together, and is sometimes even said to be more than three times as numerous as that .Qf the dual monarchy, although Austria-Hungary is strong in cavalry, and has almost as large a cavalry force as France. It may be assumed that Germany will not only give no cause of offence to her tremendous neighbor, but will try to avoid being compromised by Austria or by En- gland. lf she had ever to intervene as against Russia she would try to do so when Russia was already weakened by a long struggle. There are no very proba- ble causes of war between Russia and Germany, except indeed the intensely bit- ter feeling between the two peoples, for Germany has ceased to concern herself with the Russification of the so-called German provinces of Russia, and is her- self engaged in the similar policy of Ger- manizing Prussian Poland. Russia is well protected by fortresses against a possible German advance whilst she might be en- gaged elsewhere, especially by the Polish quadrilateral, in which, of M6dlin, Dem- blin, and Terespol, the last-named is fa- miliar to us now as Brest-Litovsk, but the others are hardly recognizable at all under their new names. Russia has lately taken to the Japanese system of frequently changing the names of cities, just as the town council of Paris changes those of streets. Towards Austria Russia has till lately had virtually no fortresses, and the difference is instructive, for Austria is far more likely to be her enemy than Ger- many. Lutzk, now to be called Micha~lo- grad, and Dubno, old places of arms, are to be re-fortified, and there is a talk of an entrenched camp, but substantially the Russian frontier towards Austria is an open one, where, instead of fortresses, Russia has troops, especially a numerous cavalry. And yet it is on this frontier that she expects to have to fight. The meaning of this absence of fortresses upon one frontier and of their presence upon the other is, that in a war with Austria Russia expects to act on the offensive, assisted by a Ruthenian insurrection in Galicia; and so she no more fortifies her frontiers against Austria than she fortifies them against Turkey. On the other hand, it may be noted that she fortifies her fron- tier towards Germany, so as to be able quietly to attack Austria at her will. Rus-.~- sia proudly refuses to fortify her capital, a fact which would be significant of her consciousness of strength, were it not that Vienna also is virtually an open town, for the fortifications were stopped owing to the objections of the town council in 1867. The probabilities are that, in the event bf a war with Austria, Russia would be able RUSSIA. 79 to enter Galicia, along an open frontier of more than six hundred miles, and take Przemysl, and Lemberg, and Cracow, in spite of the fortifications now being pressed forward with feverish haste. Looking to the nature of the Polish cli- mate it is to be hoped that it will not be discovered when spring comes that snow- works form the bulk of the new fortifica- tions. The disposition of the Russian railways alone is sufficient to show plainly that she means to take the offensive. She has special reasons for occupying Galicia. She would be glad enough to keep it, because it is at the present time a gath- ering-place for disaffected Poles. She would easily gain popularity there, by giv- ing to the peasantry the lands of the Polish nobles, and thus could raise the Ruthenians. Galicia forms the road to- wards Vienna, where the Eastern question is to be settled. In the vast plains of Galicia two hundred thousand Russian cavalry would find a splendid field for war, and there they would be able to carry out against Austria those wonderful maneu- vres of the new dragoons with horse artil- lery, which the foreign officers, in m886, were not allowed to see. The Russian manceuvres of m886 were conducted by forces of forty thousand men at Krasnoe Selo (for the edification of the foreign offi- cers), and of one hundred and sixty-two thousand men, of whom nearly twenty thousand were cavalry, with five hundred and twenty-eight guns, between Wilna and Warsaw. Germany does not put two hundred and two thousand men with six hundred and fifty guns in the field at the annual autumn manceuvres. Austria is miserably equipped with fortresses and is trying in haste to repair her deficiencies in this respect. Austria in a Galicia war with Russia would have no special advantage that I can see, save one, that, namely, of being able to raise a splendid but not very large fighting body of aristocratic Poles from other lands to serve against the hereditary enemy of their race on behalf of the least unpopular of the three partitioning pow- ers. No doubt Germany, without actually appearing to move, would quietly collect troops on the Polish frontier and watch Russia, but it is doubtful whether she would be able to detain a very large force of Russian troops in Poland proper, except militia and garrison battalions. She could not prevent the loss of Galicia to Austria, though she might interfere to prevent the ultimate destruction of Austria as a power. A partial dismemberment of Austria,-by a Russian annexation of Galicia, Germany might not very much regret, because Aus- tria in Galicia protects the Poles, a course which is a permanent slur upon the action of Germany in this matter. But a further or really considerable dismemberment of Austria Germany could not permit, unless under downright fear of France. I have assumed that Italy would possibly not have the will, and that England and the small Balkan States, even if not divided amongst themselves or partly neutral, would not have the power to give effective assistance to Austria in the field. Italy would be to her a more useful friend than England or the Balkan States. I have already said, in a previous article, that Italy would not save Austria gratis; but it is not improbable that she might save or try to save her for a price, and although a curious fact, it is a fact, that Vienna is more likely to be saved from a temporary Russian occupation by Italy than by Ger- many. Russia is anxious to w~aken, and if she cannot really weaken, then, to ham- per Italy, and is not unacquainted with the prigin of the recent attacks upon Mas- sowah, a fact which the French press de- nies, but of which the Russian newspapers boast. It is certain that Italy regards the Russian policy in the Balkan peninsula as iniquitous, as harmful to European inter- ests generally, and as hurtful to Italian interests in particular, and that Italy would join a group of powers to oppose it by force. If opposition by force is im- possible, owing to the weakness or the fears of Austria, or even to the buying off of Austria by Russia, then Italy would join England in putting on the drag as much as possible. Whatever may be the feeling in Hungary, it must be admitted that Austria will put up with a good deal from Russia rather than fight. She has done so in the past; and to give a single example of humiliation out of many, I need only mention how at various times and on various questions she had to re- monstrate with the Bulgarian government in the days of the Russian ministers in Bulgaria, and received from the latter replies couched in terms of gross and intentional discourtesy. I have assumed that England would be unable rapidly to assist Austria in the field. In such a war our part, if we were drawn in, would probably be the same as in a single.handed war against the Rus- sians, namely, to defend India in central Asia, to try to raise China against Russia, and to adopt the policy of exhausting Russia by a very strong attack on Vladi 8o THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. vostock; but if Italy were with us, it is probable that we should be tempted by the possession of a formidable allied fleet to attack Russia in the Black Sea an enterprise in which we should undoubt- edly fail. The Russians expect to be attacked in the Black Sea, but a careful examination of the character of that sea, as well as of the Baltic, shows that not by the strength of her fleets, but by the nat- ural strength of her position Russia is in those directions virtually impregnable. There are some who think that the Ma- hometan population of the Caucasus might still be made use of against Russia, but this view is as obsolete a superstition as the belief in Poland. The Russian colo- nists of the Caucasus have now become Cossacks for military purposes, and Rus- sia has no more patriotic people than the Black Sea and the Caucasian Cossacks. Those who think that while India could defend itself upon the Helmund the troops from England, with a Turkish armyif the Turkish alliance were obtained should be thrown into the Caucasus in order to prevent the despatch of troops by the Caspian towards Herat, are proposing a course which the highest authorities reject. Colonel Malleson is the chief exponent of the view which I wish to combat. I know not which, indeed, it is that he pro- poses a landing at Anapa and march on Stavropol, or a landing at Poti and march on Tiflis. In the latter case we should be destroyed by fever, and in the former crushed by Russian numbers. Colonel Malleson seems to think that the Caucasus has not long been Russian. Stavropol and its district have been Russian since the seventeenth century, and Tiflis since i8oi. It is the Circassian highlands which alone held out against the Russians, and into them we cannot penetrate. Or does he wish us to repeat Hobarts 1877 experiment of a Soukhoum Kali landing? This is mere map-makers warfare. From Soukhoum Kali we could go nowhere, and our spies when sent into the mountain valleys would discover that the Circas- sians are gone and replaced by Kouban Cossacks. But even during the Crimean war the Caucasus did not rise, though Schamyl was in his home. The Jingo plan appears to be to march on Tiflis in winter, but the Vladikavkas military road, which I know well myself, is perfectly passible in winter for Russian troops, and even the G~ographie Militaire, which asserts that it is sometimes blocked by ice, admits that the interruption oicom munications does not average more than seventeen days a year. I cannot agree in the Yate or Malleson proposals, and feel that there is indeed no arguing with gen- tlemen who believe that we can make use of Persians against Russian troops. Whilst the Austrian military position, in spite of the desire of the emperor for military reform, is still weak, I cannot find words too strong to praise the politi- cal ability with which the Austrian Empire is being kept at peace and kept together. The Austrian Empire is a marvel of equilibrium. The old simile of a house of cards is exactly applicable to its situation, and just as in the exercises of acrobats, when seven or nine men are borne by one upon his shoulders, it ig rather skill than strength which sustains them; so if we look to the Austrian constitution, which we shall have to consider in the next paper in this series, it is a miracle how the fabric stands at all. At the same time it is impossible for Austria, although she can maintain her stability in times of peace, to impose upon either her Russian or her German neighbors as to her strength for war. Prince Bismarck is obliged, with whatever words of public and private praise for the speeches of the Austrian and Hungarian statesmen, to add the French and Russian forces together upon his fingers, and to deduct from them the Austrian and the German, with doubts as to the attitude of Italy, doubts as to the attitude of England, and contemptuous certainty as to the attitude of Turkey. If Austria could have presented Prince Bis- marck not only with an English alliance, but with an English, Turkish, and Italian alliance, he might possibly have allowed her to provoke a general war ; but with the difficulties attendant upon a concession of territory to Italy, except in the ktst resort, and with Turkey at the feet of Russia, it was difficult for Prince Bismarck to go further than to say for Austria, Fight by all means, if you feel yourself strong enough to beat Russia single-handed. France and Germany will see all fair, and you can hardl expect anybody effect- ually to help you.~ Prince Bismarck deals with foreign affairs on the principles upon ~ which they were dealt with by King Henry VIII. of England, when that king was pitted against the acutest intellects of the Empire and of France. His policy is a plain and simple policy, and not a policy of astuteness and cunning, and almost necessarily at the present time consists in counting heads. A good deal of indignation has been RUSSIA. 8i lately wasted in England upon the Turk. own in reversion. As I pointed out in the The Turk may be frightened by Russian second article of this series, the sultan pressure from the Caucasus, a territory may become a dependent, like the emir which, instead of being a military weak- of Bokhara. The Russians at this mo- ness to Russia, as the ill-informed sup- ment desire most a friendly Turkey, which pose, is in fact a splendid base for offen- will keep England out of the Black Sea sive operations; or the Turk may be in time of war. I grant to Colonel Malle- bribed by the promise of getting Bosnia son that the Russians themselves think back; but in reality his position is a very that we could harm them in the Caucasus painful one, for he is weak, and he would and keep them out of Asia Minor by cut- be between the hammer and the anvil4 ting their maritime suppJy-line across the whichever side he took, and would suffer Black Sea. The day to which they look about equally either way. No one who forward, in which they could prevent our knows the present state of the Turkish sending our troops to Kurachee by the Empire can suppose that Turkey could Suez Canal, in a war in which France was effectively deal with a Russian attack by not with them, and by their advances in Erzeroum and an insurrection in Mace- Asia could prevent our making the Eu- donia, not to speak of a rising in Crete phrates road, lies further in the future. and a permanent revolution in Arabia. We have now to consider the direct The efforts of the last war have left Tur- bearing upon English policy of the sub- key terribly weak;. and although in the jects which have come before us in this course of a few months, if they were article. England is free from engage- given to us, we could collect and ourselves ments; for that to Turkey as regards the arm and equip a Turkish army which Armenian frontier, is conditional, and the would prove a formidable force, the time condition has never been fulfilled. We would not be given to us, and long be- are free to select our alliances as we fore anything could be done Macedonia please. But we are so little prepared for would be in flames and Asia Minor would war that no power thinks our alliance be overrun, worth having for a short war, and it is the Bosnia attracts the sultan most. It is first days of a war that count at the pres- usual to say that his first consideration ent time. Making a virtue of necessity, is for his fears, but his Majesty has a there are many in England who begin no temper, too, and the loss of Bosnia is laid longer to regard Constantinople as a Brit- to Lord Salisburys account, and Lord ish interest of the first magnitude, al- Salisbury has never been forgiven. The though they still talk of joining Austria sultan has always maintained, to his inti- for the purpose of defending the indepen- mates, that he was led to assent to the Asia dence of the Balkan States. The Turks Minor convention under false pretences, disappearance, they say, should be as because he had not been told that England gradual as possible, in order to give time was going to propose at Berlin that Bos- to the Christian States to consolidate their nia should go to Austria, an alienation of interests and form a confederacy. Bul- his territory which the Russians had not garia would have gone to Russia of her- suggested in the Treaty of San Stefano. self, they think, as Servia has gone a long He says h~ had not been told that the ter- way towards Austria, if the Russians had ritory was to be taken, and that still less not foolishly alienated, by their autocratic would it have occurred to him that the fashions, the affections of the Bulgarian proposition was to be made by England people; but as they have done so we to the powers. It is a curious fact that should take advantage ot the sentiment, by giving Bosnia to Austria England and while we should allow Russia to work offended equally the Slavsand the Turks. her will upon Asiatic Turkey, we should Russia reassures the sultan as to the protect the young States of the Balkans. probability of war, and for the present Now Russia could reach Constantinople reassures him with some truth. In spite through Asia, not so directly, but more of the stories which have lately gone the surely and more safely than through round of the European press as to Rus- Europe. There is this additional danger sian mobilization on the frontier of Rou- to England in her going by way of Asia, mania, it is probable that Russia will no that she does not interfere with Austria, longer pursue the policy of tearing off and that, on the other hand, she does in- bits of Turkey, in order to set up small terfere with the canal route through Egypt. States which forthwith turn against her, If Russia were once to establish herself but will support Turkeys life-interest in in Palestine she could easily reach the that property which she regards as her. Suez Canal by land, and although the dis- LIVING AGE. VOL LVIIL 2970 82 THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. tances are great, if we look to what has dominance on the Conservative side of been accomplished by Russia in the Cau- the doctrine of the integrity and indepen- casus, towards Persia, in central Asia, dence of the Turkish Empire; and, in and towards China, in the last hundred short, he thought that in the days of Jin- years, we shall not feel that in the days of goism the English Conservative party had telegraphy and railroads such an advance gone mad. There can be no doubt that is in the least impossible. By whatever the old-fashioned ideas of English Polic{ route the Russians go, there are certain in the East are at a discount; and e - obvious drawbacks to this country at- though I do not myself agree in the novel tendant upon their possession of Constan- views which have lately been put forward tinople. The military value of the Suez with regard to the possession by Russia Canal, as I have shown before, may easily of Constantinople, it is impossible to deny be exaggerated, and so may the impor- that they have been stated with much tance, therefore, to us of our power of ability and by journals of great influence, passage in time of general war through and that they have weight with an increas- the Mediterranean. But there is one loss ing section of the public. Moreover, .the by a Russian occupation of the remainder English electors have a natural and a of the Turkish dominions which no British growing dislike to war. On the other government would willingly face. It is hand, I am inclined to think that a policy the loss of trade. In the Asiatic provinces which would risk the loss of a trade which acquired by Russia at the end of the last is almost exclusively English, namely, the Turkish ~var, where there used to be a foreign trade of Asia Minor, is not likely considerable British trade, there is now to be popular in the manufacturing centres none, for it has been killed by protective of the north of England. There are other duties. Russia at Constantinople would points which should be considered. If mean our exclusion from the Black Sea the Black Sea can be forced by our fleet, trade, except the wheat trade out of Rus- or entered through the permission of Tur- sia. Our commercial interests in Asia key acting as our ally, the Russians in Minor are very large, and they are abso- any future war with England will have to lutely jeopardized by a further Russian keep in the Caucasus a vast force which advance. There are many who declare would otherwise be available for service that they would be willing to bring about in Afghanistan and Persia. This would an Anglo-Russian alliance upon the terms be the case even though I should be right of giving Russia her head in the direction in my belief that we could not succeed in of Constantinople, on the understanding harming Russia in the Caucasus; she that our north-western Indian frontier certainly must and would guard against should be secured and our temporary hold the danger. The possession by Russia on Egypt regularized and made perma- of a magnificent military and naval base nent. lt is pointed out that the emperor within the Dardanelles would destroy our can have no great love for an alliance present power of using the Suez Canal, with French republicans and ex-friends even in a war with Russia in which France of Poland against his great-uncle and the was neutral, and would also make of the military monarchies of central Europe; pick of the maritime Greeks, who are now and that what this new policy on our part our friends, her servants. Russia once at would mean would be the adoption by us, Constantinople, our future hold on India under stress of circumstances, of the Rus- must be by the Cape route alone, and it is sian policy advocated by the emperor a long way round by the Cape to the Nicholas to Sir Hamilton Seymour. In points where we shall have to fight for the present state of parties in England, India the Helmund and the Persian where the pure Conservatives are unable Gulf. to obtain a clear majority, and where the The causes of difficulty between this Liberals are supposed to have more or country and Russia are worth examination, less pro-Russian sympathies, the opinions and those which have nothing to do witl~ of Lord Randolph Churchill become of the continued existence of the Turkis$i special interest, and he is supposed to in- Empire or with the possession of Con- dine in the direction which has just been stantinople are very numerous. One indicated. He used to hold that Lord standing difficulty between Russia and all Beaconsfields policy of 1878 was a mis- Liberal countries concerns the extradition chievous and foolish policy. He was op- of political offenders. The question has posed at the time of the Berlin Treaty to been very useful to Prince Bismarck in any attempt to reconstruct the Turkish the past, because he has always tried to Empire. He always ridiculed The pre- give full satisfaction to the Russian feel- RUSSIA. 83 ings upon this point, a satisfaction which never could be fully given by any other country. For many years this question prevented all chance of a Russo-French alliance, and maintained a close friendship between Germany and Russia; and were Nihilistic outrages to revive, the question once more would become acute, although it is slumbering at the present time. As regards ourselves, our laws have always been an enigma to Russian emperors since the days of Matveiefs creditors and Whit- worths special embassy. After 1848 the whole of the European powers united in making representations to us with regard to the proceedings of the foreign refugees, and from i8~i up to Mazzinis death, re- peated representations, often menacing, were addressed to us with regard to sup- posed incitements to assassination. The fall of Palmerston on the Conspiracy to Murder Bill was not encouraging to future ministers with regard to interfering with the right of asylum, and no more was the verdict of not guilty~ returned by the jury in the case of Dr. Bernard and the Orsini attempt to assassinate the em- peror of the French. The Russian gov- ernment in the last few years has made repeated applications to the governments of France and England for protection against Nihilist conspirators who made Paris or London their residence, but the English government has turned a deaf ear to the requests made for legislation. A subject which has done more to sep- arate the countries than the refusal to modify our law upon the subject of the extradition of political offenders has been the recent Russian action with regard to Batoum, and the confirmation given by that action to the English belief that Rus- sia will never be bound by promises, how- ever solemn. Those who pretend that Russias declaration with regard to Ba- toum was really a spontaneous act can never have read the orotocols of the Berlin Congress. The latter portion of Lord Beaconsfields speech upon p. 208 of the English blue-book, and the speeches upon the same and next page of the repre- sentati yes of Germany, Austro-Hungary, France, Italy, and Turkey, show that the whole of Europe took the view that Rus- sia had promised, rather than break up the Congress, to maintain Batoum as what Lord Beaconsfield called a commercial port for all nations~~ by the transforma- tion . . . of a disputed fortress into a free port. It is really idle for any friends of Russia to argue that a formal engagement has not been broken, indeed it is almost an insult to our intelligence that they should do so, and in the interest of Russia herself it would be wiser for them to ad- mit that Russia has violated a binding declaration, only the more binding in honor because it professed to be volun- tary in its nature. Similar bad faith has been shown from time to time by the Russians in central Asia, and has exasperated English feeling. The first of the marked instances of the disregard by Russia of her own assur- ances to us concerned, oddly enough, the occupation of Herat by Persia, an occupa- tion which forty years later an English Conservative government themselves pro- posed. The deceitful conduct of Count Simonich was imitated in the disregard of Prince Gortschakoffs assurances to Lord Clarendon in 1869 as to the evacuation of Samarkand, in the violation of the prom- ises made to Lord Granville as to the Khivan expedition, in the disregard of the memorandum communicated to Lord Derby in 1875 as to advance beyond the then frontier of the Attrek, and in the dis- regard of the repeated assurances with regard to Merv. The story of the succes- sive steps by which Persia has been made to quit the Turkoman desert and has come more and more under Russian influence will never be fully known, but we have learned at least one fact, that it is not prudent for England to enter upon a game of secret treaties. In 1878 the proposals made to Persia to occupy Herat were at once made known to Russia, whereas the secret articles by which the territory down to Sarakhs was ceded by Persia to Russia were never made known to us. The fact is that Persia does not believe that we both can and will support her against Russia, and Turkey has now only become another Persia in this respect. Afghanis- tan, which was going the same way, has been secured by a direct guarantee of her frontiers, a fact which is not encouraging to those politicians who object to entan- glements of the kind. Another cause of difference between Russia and Great Britain lies in the un- settled condition of the Afghan frontier question, which has for a long time made little progress. The boundary between the Heri-Rud and the Oxus has not yet been settled, and that on the upper Oxus is altogether in dispute, while Russia is giving trouble to the ameer by intrigue at Balkh and throughout Badakshan. The feeling in Russia against England is 84 THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. strong, but not of extreme strength. It is nothing like so strong as the popular feel- ing in Russia against the Germans. It is not so strong as the permanent aversion entertained in France towards the En- glish. Still as regards the armies and the upper classes of both countries, there can be no doubt about the mutual feeling. The national badge of Russia and of En- gland is the George and dragon, for St. George is a national saint of both the countries, but in Russia for the last fifty years the dragon has meant England, and in England for the last fifty years the dragon has meant Russia. As regards the military situation between the countries, its dangers are 1)0th exaggerated and im- perfectly appreciated here. The very same people will often be found to think that we could easily, if we would, act upon the terms of the Anglo-Turkish conven- tion and keep the Russians out of Turkish Asia Minor, that we could defend Con- stantinople, harry the Russ~ans in the Baltic and the Black Sea and the White Sea, and yet that Russia could invade India without much difficulty. It may be confidently asserted that they are wrong upon both these heads. England unas- sisted cannot keep Russia out of Turkey, she cannot get at her in Europe, but on the other hand she may feel assured that Russia is equally unable effectively to attack her in her Asiatic empire at the present time. It must be admitted that in the race for Herat Russia has undoubt- edly beaten us, and that therefore we must contemplate the possibility of the ultimate occupation of Herat by Russia. But as she came on towards India from Herat the tables would be turned. She would be further and further away from the country where her government was estab- lished or where the people were friendly to her rule, and she would plunge into de- files inhabited by hostile populations. It is a serious responsibility for a writer who is not a soldier to undertake to pro- nounce a confident opinion of this kind, for it is a point upon which the ablest and best-instructed soldiers differ. English officers as a rule maintain the possibility of a formidable Russian invasion of India, and on the other hand Russian officers as a rule deny that it is practically possi- ble; but it must be confessed that, whilst military writers generally take a pessimis- tic view of the prospects of their own country, the indications afforded by the writings of officers belonging to neither of the two countries make against my per- sonal view as set forth above. Foreign military writers, as a rule, do not so highly estimate the difficulties of a Rus- sian advance upon India as do the Rus- sians themselves. They maintain that forces advancing from the Oxus and from the Caucasus would meet at Sarakhs, and would easily -occupy Herat, and then bring the railway almost to Herat, before the English could have put forty thousand men at Quetta. Another Russian army would take the more difficult line of advance southward from Siberia through Balkh. They calculate that England, did she give up all idea of fighting in Europe and on the Pacific, and did she confine her atten- tion to the advance on India, would only be able to place another forty thousand men in the field at the end of three months from the declaration of war. These would be troops sent from England, and the cal- culations of foreign writers may from next month be affected by the promised reform in our arrangements~for the prompt mobilization of two army corps. The Continental writers assume that by the use of Goorkhas and other special native troops the native army could be kept quiet, that is, kept from turning aganst us in the field, and even used for keeping up com- munications, but that its quality is not good enough to allow of its being used against Russian troops. They assume that the English position in India being perfectly known to the Russians, while the Russian position in central Asia is not well known to the English, the Russians might be able by the use of money to pro- duce some troubles which might lead to railway and other difficulties upon the lines of communication. It is assumed also that the English concentration would take place on the Helmund or at Kandahar, and that the Russians could advance, with- out serious molestation either from the English or the Afghans, up to near that point. The Russian numbers in the Cau- casus being practically without limit, it is assumed that by the use of the steam tram- way which they are rapidly making to- wards their frontier over a very easy country the Russians could place any con- ceivable number of men upon the upper. Murghab, where they would be faced by-~- an English force of eighty thousand men with two hundred guns at Kandahar, if in- deed England can share two hundred guns from India and from England after the re- cent foolish reduction of artillery. Assum- ing that we were at war with Russia only, the troops would come through the Medi RUSSIA. terranean, but if we were at war as one of a coalition with a coalition in which either France or Italy was against us, this route could not be used, and they must come round the Cape. If we were trying to hold Egypt against France the whole of these calculations fall to the ground, inasmuch as the force which could otherwise be sent from England to India would have to be kept in the Mediterranean or in Egypt. The foreign observers assume that the na- tive army is not sufficiently trustworthy to allow those few regiments which are capa- ble of fighting against Russians to be sent out of India, but if the Goorkhas and the best of the Punjaub cavalry were to be sent to Kandahar the number of the army there must be diminished by an equal number of British troops left in India to take care of the communications and of the ordinary Sepoys. The Russian army ad- vancing from Balkh, which would bring with it light guns only, would occupy Cashmere and threaten the Punjaub suffi- ciently to require an increase in the Pun- jaub frontier force and in the garrison of Peshawur, but the main struggle would take place in the neighborhood of Kan- dahar. Foreign writers think that Russia, having in the eyes of the Indian people the advantage of the advance and of the attack against a power remaining on the defensive only, would have the sympathies of the Oriental population on her side. They assume that the Turcoman cavalry, which are excellent, and which, while ani- mated by strong Mahometan feelings, are now enthusiastically Russian, would mask the Russian advance with a force which would conciliate the native population. They believe that the Russian organiza- tion in central Asia has been a marvellous success, and that the native princes of India think that the Russians would re- spect the usages of the people more thor- oughly than we do. They assert that the late maharajah of Cashmere was, as might be expected, in Russian pay, a fact con- firmed by my own knowledge of recent Russian intrigue with deposed and exiled princes from the Punjaub. The whole of these views, though they are taken by many foreign writers, appear to me exaggerated. I believe in the su- perior popularity of England among the native princes to any which may be thought to be enjoyed by Russia. I doubt whether the Russians have more than a few hun- dred Turcoman cavalry ready for a long march; but, above all, I think that Russia would have, for a great number of years to come, far more difficulty in finding the enormous train which would be necessary for marching one hundred thousand men across from Herat to Kandahar than we should find difficulty in supplying an army of eighty thousand men at Kandahar, which would be sufficient to hold in check the advance of one hundred thousand Russians from the Caucasus and twenty thousand from Turkestan. The difficul- ties of obtaining camels and mules enough to move large armies in such deserts are largely, no doubt, money difficulties, but they are partly difficulties which even money will not meet, unless the money is spent for many years in advance in the formation of a permanent train upon an enormous scale. Real danger to India can only come after some revolution in Herat, or a dexterous use of Ayoub Khan, has brought Russia there as peacemaker, after years of possession of the Herat valley have restored it to its former fer- tility under irrigation, and Herat has been made a secure base for an advance, con- nected by railway both with the Caspian and with Turkestan. Herat will doubt- less be taken one day by a sudden rush, for though something in the way of fortifi- cation has been .done there of late, it is not properly protected by a sufficient num- ber of detached forts, and cannot stand. But the end will not be yet. The present ruler of Afghanistan, in spite of his long residence in Russia, never was pro-Rus- sian, and may be trusted in the event of a Russian invasion. He, if still on the throne, would ask us to supply his army with the newest arms, and would place a large force in line with us at Giriskh or Kandahar, as well as do something to defend Herat. He is a powerful and able king. But he has an internal disease; his end may be hastened by poison, and in any case he is not likely to live long. Herat lies out of the Afghan country, and is an Afghan post, a little in the air, which, with a mobilization, accom- plished on foot, which takes six months, the Afghan cannot efficiently defend. Our troops would reach Giriskh from England before the ameer would reach Herat from Kandahar or from Cabul. I shall, however, consider in the final paper of this series whether it has not become necessary for England to adopt a more modern military organization, which, without imposing upon her heavier mone- tary sacrifices, would enable her better to perform her obligations such as that defence of the Afghan frontier to which 86 THE PRESENT POSITION OF EUROPEAN POLITICS. she is now resolutely bound. In the great efforts which England would put forth in the event of war with Russia, an attack upon Vladivostock could only be a matter of time. Even if we had to pour the whole of our available forces into India to be sent up to Kandahar, the em- bodied militia and the new forces raised in England would within a few months give us troops for an expedition of the kind. Those foreign observers who doubt the possibility of our holding our own upon the Afghan frontier admitted the significance of our occupation of Port Hamilton, and have been amazed at its abandonment. The Russians, creeping down the coast after the annexation of the district round Vladivostock, and of the island of Saghalien and the archipel- ago between Saghalien and Kamschatka, were casting eyes towards the Corea. Port Hamilton was wisely occupied as a base from which, with or without a Chi- nese alliance, Russia could be attacked on the Pacific. No doubt the occupation of windy and desolate stations is a nui- sance to the navy in a time of peace; but to let Port Hamilton go, upon any prom- ises, unless with the clearest possible treaty understanding that it would at once be strongly fortified by China, and that China would continue to be friendly to ourselves, was, in face of the difficultly of successfully attacking Russia in other portions of the globe, simple madness. It is vital to us that we should have a coaling station and a base of operations within reach of Vladivostock and the Amoor at the beginning of a war, as a guard-house for the protection of our China trade and for the prevention of a sudden descent upon our colonies; ulti- mately as the head station for our Cana- dian Pacific railroad trade; and at all times, and especially in the later stages of the war, as an offensive station for our main attack on Russia. But it must be, of course, a defended station, and not one to which our fleet would be tied for the purpose of its defence. It is possible that Japan might be tempted, by the offer of Saghalien, which we could easily de- tach from Russia, to join us in the war, and her alliance would be useful. But that of China would be essential, and whether she required to be guaranteed in the possession of our conquests in the Pacific and on the Amoor, or whether she asked for upper Burmah, her alliance ought at all hazards to be secured. China and England have identical interests in Asia, and they are menaced by Russia in an equal degree. They trade together to an extraordinary extent, and are more closely allied by trade than are any other two countries in the world. Surely these considerations point to a permanent alli- ance between the countries. England could have no objection to the increase of German influence in China; but the test of the success of English influence at Pekin will be found from time to time in the choice of Sir Robert Harts suc- cessors. The conclusion, then, to which we come is, that such is the patriotism of the Rus- sian people, such the certainty that in the event of war Nihilism would disappear, and every Russian support the policy of his tsar, such the defensive strength of Russia in Europe, such her offensive power from the Caucasus towards India, that not only is xvar with Russia to be deprecated as a terrible calamity, but that it would strain the powers of the British Empire to the utmost. At the same time I hold, as will have been seen, that even in a single-handed struggle we should ultimately win; that we should be able, although only by a tremendous effort, to hold our own in the neighborhood of Kan- dahar, to prevent insurrection in India, and to check invasion; that we could not unassisted save Turkey, if Turkey were menaced in the war; that as against other powers we could not hold Egypt or save the Mediterranean route; but that, hold- ing India and the Mauritius and the Cape, we could carry the war into the enemys country on the Pacific and destroy, at all events at any time during the life of those now living, Russias power on the Pacific, and, indeed, probably tear away the Pacific provinces from her empire. With all respect to Lord Randolph Churchill, this hardly seems the time for reducing the defensive power of the em- pire. It was with Lord George Hamilton that at Christmas last he had his sharpest struggle. Now Lord George Hamilton was unduly optimistic in his recent speeches. The defences of the empire have for some time past been played with a little by the two great parties in the State. Taking the navy for example, when the ~( Liberals are in, the Tories declare that the fleet is non-existent, but the moment their turn comes the Tory first lord in- forms us that the British navy is equal to any three navies in the world. So too with the occupation of Port Hamilton and the fortification of our coaling stations RICHARD CABLE. 87 generally. But the navy is not the only part of our warlike services which even Liberals should have in view. We may dislike the fact as much as we choose, but we are not now an island power. By the, in my opinion, unfortunate prolongation of our Egyptian occupation we have in- creased our military responsibilities, and even without that occupation they were none too light. Even disregarding the Anglo-Turkish Convention, as it is gen- erally admitted we must, our responsibili- ties are still very great. The defence of India we cannot disre- gard; and the defence of India of itself will, as I have shown, in the opinion of foreign observers, prove too much for us; and in the opinion of qualified English military judges at all events tax our powers to the utmost. There is cause for anxiety in the still unsettled condition of the central Asian frontier question, on which Parliament has been kept in the dark since the appearance of Central Asia, No. 5, of 1885. No. 6 was laid on the table and was ordered to be printed, but it was, I believe, afterwards withdrawn, and Parliamentary curiosity seems to have been confined to quarters nearer home. The Russians are at this moment strongly entrenched at Zulfikar and at Akrobat, and the boundary is still unsettled. War, however, not between England and Russia only, but war generally it may be hoped is likely to be avoided. No sufficient cause has been shown for the coming upon Europe of so terrible a calamity; but war will not be made less likely by our weakly yielding to the other powers upon such questions as those of the violation of en- gagements to us in the case of the New Hebrides; and the interests of the empire will not be best promoted by attempting to save sixpences upon the artillery or upon the navy. With regard to the army, we should be led too far in the present article if we attempted at this point to discuss the principle which ought to pre- side over its reorganization. This may be left by me for treatment in the last article of the present series, that on the position of England. It is enough for the present to say that the reduction at the beginning of February of the British horse artillery is not only the death-knell of British intervention for the preservation of Belgian neutrality, but constitutes in itself an increase of the standing tempta- tion to Russia to attack us in Hindostan. Horse, or any form of field artillery is the most difficult of all arms to improvise un- der pressure. From Chambers Journal. RICHARD CABLE, THE LIGHT5HIPMAN. BY THE AUTHOR OF MEHALAH, JOHN HERRING, COURT ROYAL, RTC. CHAPTER X. JACOBS LADDER. You have been a long time at the Hall, said Mr. Cornellis, when his daugh- ter returned with a heightened color. Have I? I did not know I had been absent any considerable time. The hour and a half must have passed very agreeably. You do not usually find the society of that old imbecile entertain- ing; nor he yours sufficiently pleasant to make him care to detain you. Perhaps, he added with a sneer, you have been elsewhere. I have not been elsewhere, papa. And pray, what has kept you all this while? We have been talkino Does he want me to play billiards with him? Josephine considered a moment, then laughed, and said: Really, papa, I do not know. I forget. If he told me, I do not remember. Your conversation must have been mightily engrossing, if you cannot recall an answer to a message. What was it about? You desire me to tell you? 0 no, answered Mr. Cornellis in his cold, contemptuous tone. If I were to insist, and you were indisposed to comply, you would tell me lies. Josephines cheeks flushed. She had some difficulty in controlling herself suffi- ciently to say in a subdued tone: Do I generally tell you lies, papa? I do not know. I do not care to in- quire. I dare say you do, when asked inconvenient questions. Josephine walked up and down the room. Why, papa, do you always im- agine evil of me, and of every one? It is enough to make one bad. Is the world full of nothing but swindlers and liars and hypocrites? Angels do not tenant earth here. Nor devils either. Perhaps not a generation which is a mixture of both; but the gravitation is downwards. Did you ever hear of any one flying off into angel-tenanted space? No, my dear; we keep our feet planted on the earth, and are insensible to cen- trifugal action, but alive to that which is centripetal. 88 RICHARD CABLE. Papa, do you remember that man on the pier at Walton with an apparatus by means of which he pretended he could see through a brick? What of that? He did nothing of the sort. You ex- plained it as an optical deception, con- trived by a series of mirrors hid in the apparatus. Those who peeped through the spyglass thought they saw through a brick, but they did nothing of the kind. Right; it was a deception. Well, I believe you are equally de- ceived when you assert that you see through every one you come across. Mr. Cornellis bit his lip. He turned testily to his daughter and said: You need not pace the room as if you were still striding the deck of the lightship. She d& sisted at once, and left the room. She went out of the house, through the garden gate, upon the sea-wall, and walked there. The tide was out; a wide expanse of mud showed, and the mud exhaled its usual unsavory steam. Gulls made a clat- ter over it, collecting food; a heron sailed up and flew away as Josephine approached where it fed. The tears were in her eyes. She was hurt by her fathers remark that she would answer him with lies. She knew his ways of thinking and speaking; she had rebelled occasionally heretofore; her conscience had acquired fresh sensi- tiveness of late, and she shook off his ugly scepticism, as false to human nature. She had seen a true man, had met with genuine, unselfish love, and had felt the charm it exercised. She began to suspect that there was a poetry and picturesque- ness and music in the moral sphere as well as in mere external nature. She had been taught by her father, or had gathered from his conversation, scorn for the weaknesses of humanity, and now, with genuine sur- prise, perceived that there was infinite pathos and beauty in those very weak- nesses. The willows were quivering in the light wind, the leaves slenderly attached to the stem fluttered and flickered with a breath their vibration exposed their silver lin- ing. At one moment the trees stood dark against the sky, then a feeble puff sweep- ing over the mud-flat, brushed up the leaves, and converted the whole tree into a tree of snow exquisitely beautiful, a very tree for fairyland. Josephine did not walk up and down the sea-wall, lest she should seem to be pacing a deck; she felt in her heart her fathers sneer. Accordingly, in- stead of pacing to and fro, she walked along it, and came, unintentionally, to the willows and the dike, and looked into Cables garden. Thence she heard chil- drens voices. She went to the bridge, crossed the water, and entered the garden. She was drawn on by an invincible attrac- tion. She saw a ladder set against the side of the house, a short ladder, for the cottage was but one story high, and Rich- ard Cable was above the ladder on the roof, pruning the vine. He had his foot on the topmost rung, but rested his body on the trellis; and as he lopped off a young shoot with leaves and tendrils, he stooped with it to his little Mary, who sat just below her fathers foot on a lower bar; and she stooped and handed the cluster of leaves to Eflie, who sat a stage lower; Effie handed it to her twin sister, and Jane to Martha, and she to Lettice, and Lettice to Susie, and at the bottom sat Mrs. Cable with the baby, and insisted on the tiny hands receiving the cool, beau- tiful leaves from the little sister. The pretty children were thus on steps of the ladder one above the other,with the even- ing sun ~n their shining golden heads and white pinafores, and their smiling faces and dancing blue eyes. Presently, Cable called for some tying- bast, and the baby was made to hold it to Susie, who received it and raised her arms over her head, when Lettice bowed and took the bast and passed it in like manner above her head to Martha, ~vho in similar style delivered the bast to Jane, and so to Effie, and Effie likewise to Mary, and Mary to her father. The children were seated as masons on a ladder, when load- ing a scaffold. Josephine stood where she had crossed, looking at the picture. It strangely moved her, it was so beautiful a picture of peace- ful happiness. She did not know whether she had been observed. She hoped that she had been unobserved, and drew back. She would not break the happy chain, dis- turb the simple pleasure, by her appear- ance. She went back over the plank to the farther side of the moat, where were the willows, and walked on. She felt very lonely, more so, after hav- ing witnessed this simple domestic inter- lude, than before. She thought of her father. What would have been his re- mark on what she had witnessed? The thought of him took the poetry out of the scene. She seated herself on the wall, built of chalk blocks brought from Kent by sea. Southernwood sprouted from the chinks, and fescue-grass; and sea-lettuce, now vividly green, pushed up its juicy fronds. She pulled some blades of grass RICHARD CABLE. 89 and bit the wiry stems. She contrasted her life with that of Cable. His was direct, real, and transparent. Hers was twisted, artificial, and clouded. There was not a spark of sincerity in it. Her whole course of education had been di- rected towards making her false. She had been taught accomplishments, not because, in music, in history, in knowledge gener- ally, there was anything worth pursuit, but because it was necessary for her to be acquainted with sufficient to fill her place in conversation without exposing igno- rance. She took a sprig of white southern- wood between her hands and rubbed it, and was suffused with the strong odor from the bruised leaves. The tide was running in along a chan- nel between the sea-wall and the mud- banks, sweeping along with it fragments of sea-tangle, little green crabs, and vari- ous small shells. She pulled off her stock- ings and shoes and put her foot down into the running fresh water. She still bit the fescue-grass, musingly, looking into the tide as it curled about her delicate foot. It was a pleasure to be alone, and free to do as she liked; to sit, if she chose, with one foot in the water instead of two. She was startled to hear a step behind her. She looked round, and drew up her foot. Richard Cable was there. Miss Cor- nellis, I saw you pass our gate. As you did not come to us, I have come to you. 0 Mr. Cable ! she always called him Mr. to his face, only Dickv when speaking of him to her father I did not like to interrupt~you whilst you were prun- ing your vine. I was giving my pets a lesson, he said. A lesson! Of what sort? A double lesson to take their sev- eral seats and sit there content; and to form a part of the great chain of life, each assisting and assisted by the other. What! exclaimed Josephine, with a tinge of her fathers sarcasm in her tone. Delivering a moral lecture to the in- fants! No, he answered. May I stay here a moment by you, miss? I said nothing to them. They take in these ideas natu- rally. Did you see how they were all of them, dear mites! on the ladder, and me at top, passing things up and down? It is not necessary for me to give a lecture on it. They couldnt understand it now if I did; but afterwards, when each takes her place in the social scale, shell maybe remember how she sat on the ladder, and will pass good things down to those be- low, and will also hand up what is due to those above. It is a picture of life, miss. You are a moralist, Mr. Cable. I dont know that, Miss Cornellis ; but I have time to think aboard my ship, and turn things about in my head, and so I see much that escapes others who are ia active work and have no leisure for con- sidering. In autumn, when the grapes are ripe, I shall be on the trellis again, and all the children on the ladder. Then I shall pass down the bunches; and the first bunch Mary will deliver to Effie, and Effie to Jane, and so down to baby, and not one of them will touch a grape. Then the next will go down like to Susie, untasted by allthose above, and the third to Lettice, and the fourth to Martha, and the seventh and last to Mary. I need not give a word of teaching about it; they learn of them- selves that the strong and the older, and those high up, must stoop to help the weak and the young and the lowly. It comes of itself, without words. I do not know that your picture is a true parable, said Josephine rather bit- terly. I think that on the ladder of life we are all plundering the grapes and up. setting each other, to secure our seats, and the first touch of the clusters. The children will not do that; they see their father above them. Then Richard Cable said in a lower tone, with great gen- tleness in his voice: Excuse me, Miss Cornellis; I came to you now because, whilst I was up the ladder about the vine, I saw at one moment all the seven pairs of blue eyes looking up to me and then I thought of something you had said aboard the stranded boat, and I came down after you to tell you about it, for what you said troubled me. What was that? asked Josephine. Do you remember saying that you had no trust, no faith; nothing and no one to look up to? I may have said it. I do not remem~ her. I do. It hurt me to think it was pos- sible; and when I saw all the little eyes on the ladder looking up to their father I thought of a pair of brown eyes that were not uplifted. Excuse me, miss. He stood up, and without another word walked away along the sea-wall. Then Josephine let down her foot again into the water and stirred it in the trans- parent stream, and thought. Her face was grave, and the muscles about her mouth worked, and every now and then twitched convulsively. She sat on till the tide, ris 90 ing higher, drove her from where she sat; then she put on her stockings and shoes again, and walked slowly along the sea-wall homewards. As she passed the garden of the Cables she looked into it without stopping. The children, Richard, were no longer there. The shadows of the great willows fell athwart the garden, cool and gray. She went on to her own home, and in and to her own room. There she saw her jacket thrown on the bed; her soap, which after she had last washed her hands, had slipped off the marble top of her stand, lay on the floor where it had fallen. Her comb was on the pincushion, her brush in the window, one of her walk- ing-boots on the hearthrug, the other on a chair. She was angry, and went to the bell to summon the maid and scold her for neglect. But it occurred to her, as she had her hand on the rope, that her father was expecting company to dinner. The household was not large, and the few servants were required to bestir them- selves and make a show. Anne was cleaning the plate; she was parlor-maid, ladys maid, and butler all in one. Anne must lay the cloth, have the silver and glass inexcellent order, answer the door, dress the table with flowers, and bring in dinner. How could she also attend to Josephines room? On the ladder, on occasion, we must stoop and help each other, said Jose- phine, letting go the bell-pull, half pout- ing, half smiling, and bending to gather up the fallen piece of almond curd soap. I know what I will do I will do more on the ladder. I will go down and ar- range the flowers in the glasses for the table. Whilst she was thus engaged, her father came into the dining-room. Papa, she said, ~vill you, or shall I, decant the wine? I will do it. We must not have the cheapest. The rector pretends to know good from bad; but he is an impostor. His son, who is in the army, may have a more cultivated taste, and detect rubbish, so we must have some decent wine for him. Is anyone else coming? The rectors wife that is all. I do not want a large party to-night. Dress becomingly, and show your best manners. When I bring out my inferior xvines, you may wear what you like, and be rude. Behave yourself to-night; lay yourself out to please. To please whom? The rector? No; his son, Captain Sellwood.~ And pray, papa, why should I make an effort to please him? Because I always thought he admired you. He is heir to a good fortune; and it is important that you should not let him slip through your fingers. Josephines brow reddened, and her eyes sparkled with an angry light. Mr. Cornellis looked coldly at her, and said: Do not put on stage attitudes and attempt heroics. I have invited the fain- ily here solely on your account. If you do not provide for yourself, I will not pro- vide for you. I have no particular eagerness to fish for husbands; I have no taste for that sport. It is high time, Josephine, that you should understand your position. I am nearly at the end of my means. There is my mothers fortune, said the girl, with a shrug of the shoulder and a toss of her head. Dissipated, my dear. How dissipated? It is mine. I was left trustee with full power to expend what was necessary on your main- tenance and education. That has not exhausted it. It matters not how it is gone gone it is. Then, said Josephine bitterly, you misstated the situation, papa, by the use of a wrong possessive pronoun, when you said that you were nearly at the end of your means; you should have said you had come to the end of my means. I am not going to excuse myself to you, Mr6 Cornellis said. Your educa- tion, dress, and caprices have cost much money. The little fortune your mother left Papa, exclaimed Josephine, I al- ways heard that my mother was well off. Then you heard wrong. Her relations were displeased with her for marrying me, and she got nothing but what could not be kept from her. A good deal of that went before she died. Not all there is surely the princi- pal. The principal has been going like old Stilton. There is not much left; and be- fore it is known that you are portionless, ~ you must secure a husband. Under false pretences? You would not blurt out to every one that we are on the eve of a financial col- lapse? I am not going to argue with you. A woman is usually keen-witted in such matters. He left the room with quick steps to get the wine. RICHARD CABLE. RICHARD CABLE. 9 Josephine had been arranging white gardener had been detected selling his lilacs and forget-me-nots in a little opal pears and grapes to a fruiterer at Walton, glass vase. Her hand trembled so that he shrugged his shoulders and said it was she shook out the flowers and they fell on human nature, lectured him, hut did not the white cloth. She tried to pick them dismiss him. When he heard that some up and put them in, but could not do so; of his Sunday-school teachers had got into and as Anne then entered, she held out moral scrapes, he said: It is human na- the flowers and vessel to the girl, and, with ture; we must find substitutes; ~ and averted face, said, Finish doing this for when Mrs. Sellwood showed him lumps me, Anne. Then she ran up-stairs. of alum in the bread, he laughed, and Her cheeks were burning, her eyes hot, said: Millers and bakers are human her temples throbbing. She was angry beings! and would not take away his as well as distressed. Her father had custom. On Christmas day, his clerk robbed her, and had acknowledged it with was tipsy, and put in his amens wrong. effrontery. Not only so, but he told her After all, said the rector, it is human this coolly just as company were expected nature to rejoice on this day; we will pass to dinner. She must bury her wrath and it over. humiliation in her heart, and appear with His son, Captain Sellwood, was home a smiling face, affect a careless spirit, and from India, a handsome, ox-eyed man, use her efforts to entrap a man into an with light hair, but dark eyelashes, a man engagement, letting him believe her to be with an inexpressive face, and solemn, the mistress of a handsome fortune. inscrutable eyes. He was not a man of She leaned her elbows on the window- words. He sat listening to conversation, sill and looked over the garden out to sea. twiddling his moustache and ~sharpening The tide was in, the bay was full of blue it to needle-points, with his great, gloomy water. The sun had set; a still, sweet eyes on the speakers, moving them from evening closed in the day. She saw a one to the other, as they interchanged flight of white and brown winged fish- talk, but saying nothing himself. Some mg-boats coming in with the wind and considered him stupid. This was not the tide. The sailors were returning to their case; he had plenty of intelligence, but homes with their spoils, to spend a quiet he was not a talker. Ladies condescended Sunday with their wives and children and to him, and tried to draw him out on the parents; they were returning with light subject of India; but though he could consciences; they had earned the bread speak on Indian topics, he felt that he for all the mouths that depended on them. was condescended to when India was It was otherwise in Rose Cottage. There, brought on the carpet, and he left India thought Josephine, the father, instead of lying there. laying by for his child, has wasted her He felt keenly his inability to sparkle fortune, and then bids her go forth and in society; the consciousness came on fish for herself with the net of fraud. him in spasms. When such a spasm of Her chin rested in her hands; her brows consciousness came on, he uncrossed his were knit; her lips quivered. No tears legs and put the right leg over the left; at came into her eyes. Was there ever, the next spasm, he put the left leg over she said, a more miserable, forlorn girl the right. Some people, as already said, than I? What I said to Richard Cable is declared that Captain Sellwoods silence true. I have no one to whom I can look arose from stupidity; others said, from up. My ladder is lost in cloud. liver; others, again and these were in the right that his father had talked him CHAPTER xi. down. The rector was a ready man in conversation, and fond of hearing his own voice. At his own table he monopolized MR. CORNELLIS could make himself an the conversation, and this had affected agreeable host, and he took pains that the captain when he was a boy, and had evening to make it pass pleasantly to his made of him a listener, not a speaker. guests. The rector was a florid man, a He had a ~vondering admiration for light gentleman of good family, easy-going, gen- badinage and small joking, for he was erous, never harsh in judging any one, wholly incompetent to attain to sportive- perhaps too ready to make allowances for ness. the shortcomings of his parishioners. Mr. Cornellis took in Mrs. Sellwood; He, like Mr. Cornellis, knew the weak- and the rector gave his arm to Aunt nesses of human nature, but made a dif- Judith; therefore, Josephine fell to the ferent use of his knowledge. When l~js captain. She screwed up her mouth. She THE SELLWOODS. 92 RICHARD CABLE. was not pleased, both because he was a Josephines aunt had been well during the dull partner and she was not in a humor preceding winter. to talk; but also, and chiefly, because she The jovial rector was in full flow of talk knew her fathers intentions, and her about parish matters. Iv& no right to spirit rose in rebellion against him and be here, he said; I ought to be in prison his schemes. with hard labor for a month. Instead of It is with dining as with virtue, said improving my parishioners, I demoralize Mr. Cornellis. We should love eating them. What do you think is my last ex- as we love virtue, for its own sake, not for perience? I parcelled out my glebe so what it may advantage us. You will have that some of the laborers might have fields Sauterne with your fish, captain tell me and keep cows. I thought it hard that your opinion of it. I flatter myself it is they should not have something to supple- good. Captain Sellwood bowed and said, ment their earnings on the farm. I even Very nice, but in such a toneless way lent a couple of them money to buy cows. that Cornellis was unable to discover what John Harvey was one, and he has got a his real opinion was. Cornellis always month for it now. made much of his wines, talked of their How so, rector? age, bouquet, and brand, as if he had a Because he has been stealing mangold first-rate cellar; whereas he had no cellar and turnips through the winter to feed his at all, only a cupboard in the coal-hole cow with, from Farmer Barons, with whom where he kept a few dozen, and got his he worked. Barons thought his mangold wine in as he wanted it. But by talking was going, and so set a policeman to about his wine, and telling stories con- watch; then Harvey was caught. He cerning the way in which he picked up argued that his cow must nQt stgrve, and this lot and that lot at sales or from old that he had not the land or capital to till friends, he had acquired the credit of being root-crops for her, and that I was to blame not only a connoisseur, but of giving first- for letting him have the cow. He was rate vintages at his table. once an honest man; I had converted The Sauterne on this occasion was him, with the best intentions, into a thief. good. It was not always so; but this He is let off pretty easy, said Aunt evening Cornellis did his utmost to catch Judith. the captain for his daughter, and did not That is not all. The farmers who withhold his best either in eating or in employed the other men that have cows drinking. He used to say that Zriny, ban have given them notice to leave their ser- of Croatia, when he went against the vice, so they will be thrown out of situa- Turks, put purses full of gold under his tions and lay the blame on me. belt, so that if he fell, the enemy might Is it not usually the case, said Jose- hold his body in esteem; thus would all phine, that when we seek to do good we the world esteem the man who put good blunder into mischief? Therefore, it is dinners under his waistcoat. The rector best to let men go their own wretched way and his son would hardly suspect their for themselves. host to be on the verge of bankruptcy Captain Sellwood turned and looked at when he gave them so excellent a repast. the girl fixedly; his great eyes said noth- But the captain, though he liked a good ing, but he wondered in his heart that one dinner, was not a man to lay store by it, so young should speak with such want of and, perhaps, after the spiced dishes of feeling. India, he preferred plain English roast and I dbnt agree with you, Miss Jose- boiled joints to any entremets, however phine, said the rector. It is human to delicate. He would have preferred a seat err. We do not see things from all sides opposite Josephine, where he could have at once, and so we make mistakes. Some looked at her, instead of a place at her suffer; but we learn lessons, and correct side, ~vhere he was obliged to talk to her. our mistakes. His observations came at intervals, and We should try our experiments on had no connection with each other. He ourselves, not on others, said Josephine. said something about the weather, then You have been practising on the peasant, was silent; and after ten minutes asked and the result is that the peasant has to Josephine if she painted now; when she suffer, not you. said that she did not, he fidgeted with his I beg your pardon; I suffer also. I napkin, wiped his moustache, listened to shall not see back the twenty pounds I what his father and Miss Judith were lent for the cow. talking about, and then inquired whether It seems to me that you good people are always making plans for the bettering of others, and all your plans when carried out aggravate the evil. Leave the poor and suffering alone, to work out their problems for themselves. The great ox eyes of the captain were again on Josephine, and they annoyed her. She was determined, if possible, to to bring some life into them, so she said: I believe in living only for self. Every animal does it. Why not we? We in- volve ourselves in a tangle when we begin to consider others, and get no thanks for our pains. Let us all fight our own way, and slap each other in the face if he per. sists in encumbering our path. I want help from no one, and will give no help to any one.~~ My dear Josephine, said her father in a tone of sad reproach, but with eyes that expressed anger, you are talkino at random. Not a bit. I have well considered the law of existence. That is my law, simple, straightforward, and successful like, yes, like the way of the sea-nettle in the tide. I do not think, my dear, said the rector, that it is a way that will draw after it a wake of love and light. I speak what I think and feel, said Josephine, disregarding her fathers warn- ing glances, encouraged by perceiving some expression in the ox eyes of the captain, like a cats-paw of wind in a quarry pool. No, my dear, said the rector, with a cheery smile on his red face; I wont allow that you feel and think this, though you say it. Neither will I admit for a moment your likening yourself to a sea- nettle. To a cactus, if you choose that has on it needles. A girl sometimes puts forth a bristle of sharp and piquant speeches; but it is not human nature, any more than it is cactus nature to produce only stings the flower bursts out in the end, large, glorious, beautiful, and we for- get all about the bristles as we stand over and admire the flower. Josephine went on maliciously: Mrs. Sellwood has been most kind to that boy Joe Cudmore. Yes; he is crippled with rheumatism, and bedridden. She has spent hours in the dirty cot- tage and the insufferable stuffiness of the sick-room teaching the boy to read. Well yes, said the rector. It was so sad to see the poor fellow confined to his bed with nothing to relieve the te dium. -. 93 And with what result? He can read. Exactly. I was in the cottage the other day. We wanted the mother to come and char for us, and I found him devouring the police intelligence. You have roused in him a hunger for criminal biography. He reads his Bible too. I saw his Bible; you gave him one, with red edges, and the edges stuck to- gether. It had not been read. What chance has the story of Abraham against that of Rush who murdered a household? That boy longs to recover the use of his limbs that he may emulate the glorious deeds of burglars, or at least of pick-pock- ets. You paint things in extreme colors, said the rector, a little discouraged. And the schools, continued Josephine I know how enthusiastic you are about them. The education given there has unfitted all the young peo4Ae for the work required of them, or has given them a distaste for it. The farmers complain that of the rising generation, not one lad understands hedging; and their wives that the girls will have nothing to do with milking cows and making butter. I remember, said the rector in an apologetic tone he was unable to deny that there was truth in Josephines words I remember some years ago there was not a man or woman in my congrega- tion who could use the Prayer-book and Hymnal. And now, said Josephine, that they can use them, they value them st little that the fires in the stove are lighted with the torn pages out of them; and the road between the school and church is scat- tered with dishevelled sacred literature. Then the captain said: Am I to un- derstand that you think no attempt should be made to do any good to any one? To any one except ourselves yes,~~ answered Josephine. You would in India allow suttees to continue, and Juggernauts car to roll on and crush bones forever unobstructed? Why not? Is not India becoming over-peopled, and the problem springing up, what is to be done with the overflow of population? I think, said Mr. Cornellis with sup- pressed wrath, I will ask you, rector, to return thanks. No, said ~he rector; I am not going to say grace on such a sentiment. My dear Miss Josephine, we must not shirk a duty because it opens the floor to a prob RICHARD CABLE. .94 RICHARD CABLE. lem. It is the very fact that we are meet- ing problems which duty insists on our solving, that gives a zest and purpose to life. We make our blunders well, that is inevitable; it is human to err; and our sons profit by our experience and avoid our mistakes. A child makes pothooks before it draws straight lines, and strums discords before it finds the way to harmo- nies. We must set an ideal before us, and aim for that; we may go wrong ways to work, but with a right heart; that will excuse our errors. When the ladies were in the drawing- room, Mrs. Sellwood took a 16w chair before the fire, and in two minutes was asleep. The rectors wife was an excel- lent woman, who rose every morning at five, made her own fire, did her accounts, read the lessons for the, day, and gardened, before the maidservants appeared. But it is not possible for the most energetic person to burn the candle at both ends with impunity, and she made up for her wakefulness in the morning by sleepiness at night, and invariably dozed off after dinner, wherever she was. This was so well known by her hosts, that she was generally allowed to go off quietly to sleep and have her nap before the gentle- men came from their ~vine. Aunt Judith made no attempt to keep her guest awake; when she saw her nod- ding, she drew Josephine into the conserv- atory, and said: My dear, how cameyou to speak as you did at table? You fright- ened the captain, and shocked his father. I am glad I produced some effect on the former, who seems to me to have inherited his mothers somnolence. But, Josephine, you know that Cap- tain Algernon Sellwood has long been your admirer, and you are doing your best to drive him away. Let him go. I shall breathe freely when he withdraws his great dreamy eyes from me. My dear niece, I must be serious with you. He is a man worth having; he will have about fifteen thousand a year on the death of his aunt, Miss Otterhourne. He is a fine man, and belongs to a family of position. You could not expect to do bet ter than take him. I speak now as your aunt, full of interest in your welfare. I must remark that your extraordinary and repellent manner this evening is not one to attract him to your feet. You are tri- fling with your opportunites, and before you are aware, you will be left an old maid. I do not care. An old maid can go her own way, and a married woman can- not. No, my dear; an old maid cannot go her own way, unless she has a fortune at her disposal. Can I? I am helpless, bound to helplessness. I do not follow a husband; I have to follow your father. Remember, you have not a fortune. Your father has told you that misfoi~tunes have fallen on us, and your money is gone. Have you made up your mind not to take Algernon Sellwood, if he offers? I dont know; I have not thought about it. Do not take the matter so lightly. I am seriously alarmed about you so is your father. Sooner or later, we shall have to give up our establishment, and disappear into some smaller place, and cut our expenses down to a low figure. It is not pleasant to have to pinch and clip. What stands in your way? You have never shown yourself so perverse before. Upon my word, I- believe your head has been turned ever since that un- fortunate affair of the lightship and Cable. Do not mention him, said Josephine abruptly. Who? Algernon Sellwood? No; the other Richard Cable. Why not? Because when you do, I see what a man ought to be, and the captain pales into nothing before him. Whether Al- gernon Sellwood has brains and heart, I do not know; he is to me a doll that rolls its eyes, not a man with a soul. What do you mean, Josephine? gasped poor Aunt Judith. Gracious powers! you do not hint at such a pre- posterous folly as that As that, what? Speak out! As that I really cannot speak it. As that I have lost my heart to Rich- ard Cable, the lightshipman, the widower, father of seven little children? No; I have not. Now, are you satisfied? I am not such a fool as you take me for. Aunt Judith drew a long breath. it would be impossible for you to marry be- neath you and to such a man! Beneath me! Above me. We are all being dragged down. It is my fate ~ never to have one to whom I can look up, whom I can call my own. There come the gentlemen.~~ As she and Aunt Judith entered the drawing-room through the French window, Mrs. Sellwood woke up, was wide awake,,, and said: Yes buttered eggs! I said so, Miss Cornellis, buttered eggs! THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. 95 Been asleep, dear? asked the rector, tapping his wife on the shoulder. No, Robert. I have been talking to Miss Cornellis about buttered eggs. Not even closed your eyes? I may have closed them to consider better, but I have not been asleep. I have been giving a receipt for buttered eggs.~~ From The Nineteenth Century. THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. Mv friends from Babylon the great are very good to me in the summer-time. They come in a delightful stream from their thousand luxuries, their great social gatherings, their brilliant talk, and their cheering and stimulating surroundings; they come from all the excitement and the whirl of London or some other huge city where men live, and they make their friendly sojourn with us here in the wil- derness even for a week at a time. They come in a generous and self-denying spirit to console and condole with the man whom they pity so gracefully the poor country parson relegated, as Bishop Stubbs is pleased to express it, to the comparative uselessness of literary (and clerical) retire- ment. I observe that the first question my good friends ask is invariably this: What shall we do and where shall we go to-morrow? It would be absurd to suppose that any man in his senses comes to the wilderness to stay there, or that there can be anything to do there. A man goes to a place to see, not the place itself, but some other place. When you find yourself in the ~vilderness you may use any spot in it as a point of departure, but as a dwelling-place, a resting-place, never! Moreover I observe that, by the help of such means of locomotion as we have at command, the days pass merrily enough with my visitors in fine weather. But as sure as ever the rain comes, so surely do my friends receive important letters call- ing them back, much to their distress and disappointment. If the weather be very bad obstinately bad or if a horse falls lame and cannot be replaced, or some equally crushing disaster keeps us all con- fined to the house and garden, my visitors invariably receive a telegram which sum- mons them home instantly even at the cost of having to send for a fly to the near- est market town. Sometimes, by a rare coincidence, a kindly being drops in upon us even in the winter. He is alweys genial, cordial, and a great refreshment, but he never stays a second night. We keep him warm, we allow a liberal use of the shameful, we give him meat and drink of the best, we flatter him, we cod- dle him, we talk and draw him out, we show him things, but he never stays over that single night; and when he goes, as he shakes our hands and wraps himself up in his rugs and furs, I notice that he has a sort of conflate expression upon his countenance; his face is as a hydrid flower where two beauties blend. One eye says plainly, I am a lucky dog, for Jam going away at last, and the other eye, beaming with kindliness, sometimes with affection, says just as plainly, PoLr old boy, how I do pity you! Well! this is a pitiful age; that is,itis an age very full of pity. The ingenuity shown by some good people in finding out new objects of commiseration is truly admirable. It is hardly to be expected that the country parson should escape the general appetite for shedding tears over real or supposed sufferers. But it strikes some of us poor forlorn ones as not a little curious that our grand town friends never by any chance seem to see what there is in our lot that is really pathetic or trying. How often do you ,give it meat? said a blushing, i~ild-eyed, lank-haired young worthy in my hearing the other day. Lawk! sir, that dont have no meat, answered the laughing mother, as she hugged her tiny baby closer to her bosom. Never have meat? How dreadful 1 Just so! But it is not only ludicrous, it is annoying to be pitied for the wrong thing; and though I am not inclined to maintain the thesis that we, the soldiers of Gods army of occupa- tion, who are doing outpost duty, pass our lives in a whirl of tumultuous and deli- cious joy, yet, if I am to be pitied, do let me be pitied intelligently. I cannot expect to be envied, but surely it is not such a very heavy calamity for a man never to catch a sight of Truth or the World, or to find that there is not such a thing as an oyster-knife in his parish. Moreover, side by side with the pity, there is a large amount of much more irritating and ignorant exaggeration of the good things we are supposed to enjoy. We do not, I admit, hear quite so often as formerly about fat livings and valu- able preferment, nor about the rectorial mansion with a thousand a year; but we hear a great deal more about such abulous lands of Goshen than we ought to hear. There is always a disposition to represent 96 THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. our neighbors as better off than ourselves, and whereas the salaried townsman knows that his income, whatever it may be, is his net income which he may count upon as his spending-fund to use as he pleases, when he hears of others as receiving or entitled to receive so many pounds a year, he assumes that they do receive it and that they may spend it as they please. The townsman, again, who moves among the multitude and every hour is reminded of that multitude pressing, as all fluids do equally in all directions, hears, and sometimes he knows, that the clergy in the towns have immense claims upon their time and are always on the move in the streets and courts. They are always about, always en ividence. If a man has only to minister to a paltry seven hundred, what can he have to do? He must be a drone. Moreover the aforesaid townsman has .read all about those country parsons. You can hardly take up a novel without finding a sleek rector figuring in the volumes. These idealized rural clerics always re- mind me of Mr. Whistlers nocturnes. The figures roll at you through the mists that are gathering round them. The good people who try to introduce us to these rev- erend characters very rarely venture upon a firm and distinct outline. The truth is that for the most part the novelists never slept in a country parsonage in their lives, never knew a country parson out of a book. A year or two ago my friend X. was dining in a London mansion. Whos that? said a lady opposite, as she ducked her head in his direction and looked at her partner. X. turned to speak to his partner, but could not help hearing the scarcely whispered dialogue: A country parson, did you say? Why, hes tall 1 And their voices low with fashion, not with feeling, softly freighted All the air about the windows with elastic laughter sweet. It was quite a surprise to that lady nov- elist that a country parson could be tall! Many men are tall policemen, for in- stance. But only short men ought to be country parsons. Why! we shall hear of one of them being good-looking next! When any class of men feel themselves to be the butt of others, they are apt to be a little cowed. They hold their peace and fret, and if they resent their hard treat- ment and speak out, they rarely do them- selves justice. Very few men can come well out of a snub, and the countryman who is not used to it never knows what to reply to offensive language. Yet worms have been known to turn, not that I ever heard they got any good by it; they cant bite, and they cant sting, but I suppose it comforts them to deliver their own souls. Poor worms! Yes! you may pity them. But if the country parson has his trials, how may he hope to be listened to when he desires to make it clear what they are? Where shall he begin? Where should he begin if not by pointing to that delicate nerve-centre of draped humanity, exquisite in its sensitiveness, knowing no rest in its perpetual giving out of force, forever hun- gering for renewal of its exhausted re- sources, feeling no pain in its plethora and dreading no death save from inanition to wit, the pocket? Touch a mans pocket, and a shudder thrills through every fibre. The country parson has a great deal to complain of at the hands of t1~ose who will persist in talking of him as an exception- ally thriving stipendiary. It is one thing to say that in all cases he gets more than he deserves; it is quite another to p~t forth unblushingly that his income is half as much again as in fact it is, and his out- goings only what the outgoings of other men are. Logicians class the su~pressio yen among sophisms; but would it not be better to call that artful proceeding a fraud? Drink fair, Betsy, whatever you do! said Mrs. Gamp on a memorable occasion. Yes, if it is only out of the teapot. I. With regard to the income of the country parson, it may be laid down as a fact not to be disputed, that hardly one per cent. of the country clergy ever touch the full amount which theoretically they are entitled to receive. In the case of parishes where the land is much subdi- vided, and where there are a number of small tithepayers, it would be almost im- possible for the clergyman personally to collect his dues; he almost invariably em- ploys an agent, who is not a likely man t~ do his work for love. Even the agent can rarely get in all the small sums that the small folk ought to pay. Even he has to submit to occasional defalcations, and to ~ consider whether it is worth whije to press the legal rights of his employer too far. Moreover, the small folk from time imme- morial have expected something in the shape of a tithe dinner or a tithe tea, for which the diners or the tea-drinkers do not pay, you may be sure; this constituted a not inconsiderable abatement on the sum THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. 97 total of receipts which ought to come to hand at the tithe audit. Taking one year with another, it may be accepted as a moderate estimate that the cost of collecting his tithe plus bad debts in some shape or other amounts to six per cent., and he who gets within seven per cent. of his clerical income gets more than most of us do. But the law allows of no abatement in respect of this initial charge; and because the law takes up this ground, the world at large assumes that the nomi- nal gross income of the benefice does come into the pockets of the incumbent. The world at large is quite certain that nobody in his senses makes a return of a larger income than he enjoys, and if the parson pays on 5001., people assume that he does not get less from his living than that. The world at large does not know that the parson is not asked to make a return. The surveyor makes up his books on the tithe commutation table for the parish, and on that the parson is assessed, whatever he may say. II. For be it known it is ~vith the sur- veyor or rate-collector that the parsons first and most important concern lies. Whatever he may receive from his cure, however numerous may be the defaulters among the tithe-payers, however large the expense of collecting his dues, the parson has to ~ay rates on his gross in- come. The barrister and the physician, the artist or the head of a government department, knows or need know nothing about rates. He may live in a garret if he likes; he may live in a boarding-house at so much a week; he may live in a flat at a rent which covers all extraneous charges. I suppose we most of us have known men of considerable fortune, men who live in chambers, men who live in lodgings, men who live in college rooms, who never directly paid a rate in their lives. Our lamented~ H., who dropped out recently, leaving 97,0001. behind him, invested in first-class securities, was one of these languidly prosperous men. I do detetht violent language on any thubject what- ever, he lisped out to me once. I hope I thall never thee that man again who thtormed at rate-collectorth tho. What ith a rate-collector? Doth he wear a uni- form?~ But a country parson and all that he has in the world, q~a country parson, is rata- ble to his very last farthing, and beyond it; the fiction being that he is a landed proprietor, and as such in the enjoyment of an income from real property. It is in vain that he pleads that his nominal i-n- LIVING AGE. VOL. LVIII. 2971 come is of all property the most unreal; he is told that he has a claim upon the land, and the land cannot run away. It is in vain that he plaintively protests that he would gladly live in a smaller house if he were allowed he does live in it, chained to it like a dangerous dog to his kennel. It is in vain that he urges that he cannot let his glebe, and may not cut down the trees upon it that he is com- pelled to keep his house in tenantable re- pair, and maintain the fences as he found them. The impassive functionary ex- presses a well-feigned regret and some guarded commiseration; but he has his duty to perform, and the rates have to be paid poor rates, county rates, school- board rates, and all the rest of them; and paid upon that parsons gross income such an income as never comes, and which everybody knows never could be collected. You may say in your graceful way that a parson does not pay a bit more than he ought to pay, and that he may be thankful if he be allowed to live at all. That may be quite true I dont think it is, but it may bebut there are some things that are not true, and one of them is, that the gross income awarded to the country par- son on paper gives anything approaching to a fair notion of the amount of income that comes to his hands. And if you are going to pity the country parson, do begin at the right end, and consider how you would like to pay such rates as he pays onyour gross income. III. But when the country parsons rates have been duly paid, the next thing that he is answerable for is the land-tax. The mysteries of the land-tax are quite beyond me. If I could afford to give up three years of my life to the uninterrupted study of the history and incidence of the land- tax, I think, by what people tell me, I might get to know something about it, and be in a position to enlighten mankind upon this abstruse subject; but as I really have not three years of my life to spare, I must needs acquiesce in my hopeless ignorance even to the end. Only this I do know, that, whereas t~e country pArson is called upon to pay eightpence in the pound for income tax, he is called upon to pay nearly ninepence in the pound for land tax; at any rate, I know one country parson who has to do so. Let the land-tax pass it is beyond me. But how about the income tax? As I have said above, in the case of all other professions except the clerical, a man makes his return of income upon the available income which comes to him after 98 THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. deducting all fair and reasonable office ex- f~enses. But for the crime of clericalism, the country parson is debarred from mak- ing any such deductions as are permitted to other human beings. Many of the good livings in East Anglia have two churches, each of which must be served. A man cannot be in two places at once; and the laws of nature and of the Church being in conflict, the laws of the Church carry it over the laws of nature, and the rector has to put in an appearance at his second church by deputy in other words, the poor man has to keep a curate. If he were a country solicitor who was compelled to keep a clerk, he would de- duct the salary of the clerk from the prof- its of his business; but being only a country parson, he can do nothing of the sort; he has to pay income tax all the same on his gross returns. A curate is a luxury, as a riding-horse is a luxury; and the only wonder is that curates have not long ago been included among those super- fluous animals chargeable to the assessed taxes. IV. Perhaps the most irritating of all imposts that press upon the country par- son is that to which he has to submit be- cause the churchyard is technically part of his freehold. in many parts of the country a fee is charged for burying the dead. In the diocese of Norwich there are no burial fees. The right of burying his dead in the churchyard is a right which may be claimed by any inhabitant of the parish; the soil of the churchyard is said to belong to the parishioners; the surface of the soil belongs to the parson. This being so, the parson is assessed in the books of the parish for the assumed value of the herbage growing upon the soil, and on this assumed value he is accordingly compelled to pay rates, income tax, and land tax. Of course the parson could legally turn cattle or donkeys into the churchyard to disport themselves among the graves; but happily that man who should venture to do this nowadays would be thought guilty of an outrage upon all decency. Who of us is there who does not rejoice that this state of feeling has grown up among us? But the result is that the churchyard, so far from being a source of income to the parson, has be- come a source of expense to him in almost all cases. Somebody has to keep the grass mown, and see that Gods acre is not dese- crated. Few of us grumble at that; and some who have large resources pride themselves on keeping their churchyards as a lawn is kept or a garden. - ~ut it surely is monstrous when everybody knows that the churchyard, so far from bringing the parson any pecuniary bene- fit, entails an annual expense upon him which is practically unavoidable it is monstrous, I say, that the parson should be assessed upon the value of the crop which might be raised off dead mens graves, and that he should be taxed for showing an example of decency and right feeling to those around him. Well! But why dont you appeal ? My excellent sir, do you suppose that nobody ever has appealed? Do you sup- pose that very original idea of yours has never occurred to any one else before? Or do you suppose that we the shepherds of Arcady find appealing against an as- sessment, made by our neighbors to relieve themselves, before the magistrates at quarter sessions is a process peculiarly pleasurable and particularly profitable when the costs are defrayed? We grum- ble or fret, we count it among our trials, but we say, After all, if is only about five shillings a year. Anything for a quiet life. Let it go! So the wrong gets to be established as a right. But it is none the less a wrong because it continues to exist, or because in coin of the realm it amounts to a trifle. Was it Mr. Midship- man Easys nurse who urged in excuse of her moral turpitude in having an infant of her very own, Please, maam, it was suck a little one? The grievance of having to pay rates on the churchyard may be in one sense a little one. But when it comes to being charged rates upon the premiums you pay upon your insurance policies, some of them the fire insurances being com- pulsory payments, and upon the mortgage of your benefice effected in your prede- cessors time even the sneerer at a sen- timental grievance could hardly call such charges as these not worth making a fuss about. In many a needy country parsons household the rates make all the differ- ence whether his children can have butter to their bread or not. It must be obvious to most people from what has been already said and much more might be said that unless a country( parson have some resources outside or any income derivable from his benefice, he must needs be a very poor man. Our people know this better than any one else,~ and it is often a very anxious question on the appointment of a new incumbent whether he will live in the same style as that which his predecessor maintained. 2~HE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. 99 Will he keep a carriage, or only a pony chaise? Will he employ two men in the garden? Will he put out his wash- ing ?* Will his house be a small local market for poultry and butter and eggs? Will he farm the glebe or let it? How many servants will he keep, and will the lady want a girl to train in the kitchen or the nursery from time to. time? Such questions as these are sometimes very anxious ones in a remote country village where every pound spent among the in- habitants serves to build up that margin outside the ordinary income of the wage- earners, and which helps the small occu- piers to tide over many a temporary em- barrassment when money is scarce, and small payments have to be met and cannot any longer be deferred. Let me, before going any further, deal with a question which I have had sug- gested to me again and again by certain peculiar people with dearly beloved theo- ries of their own. It is often asked, Ought clergymen ever to be rich men? Is not a rich clergyman out of place in a country parsonage? Does not his wealth raise him too far above the level of his people? Does it not make him sit loosely to his duties? Does not the fact of a country parson being known to be a rich man tend to demoralize a parish? Lest it should be supposed that the present writer is one of the fortunate ones rolling in riches, and therefore in a man- ner bound to stand up for his own class let it be at once understood that the pres- ent writer is a man of straw, one of those men to whom the month of January is a month of deep anxiety, perplexity, and depression of soul. Yet he would disdain to join the band of whining grumblers only because one year after another he finds that he must content himself with the corned beef and carrots, and cannot by hook or by crook afford to indulge in some very desirable recreation or expense which the majority of his acquaintance habitually regard as absolutely necessary if existence is to be endured at all. No! I am very far indeed from being a rich man; but this I am bound to testify in common fair- ness to my wealthier br& thren in the min- istry of the Church of England, that if any impartial person, with adequate knowl- edge of the facts, were asked to point out the most devoted, zealous, unworldly, and practically efficient country parsons in the diocese of Norwich for let me speak as * This is s matter of very great importance in hun- dreds of country parishes, where the washing of the rectory frequently suffices to maintain a whole family. I do know he would without hesitation name first and foremost some of the rich- est of the clergy in the eastern counties. Do you desire that your son should begin his ministerial life under a man of great ability, sound sense, courage, and religious earnestness, a man who never spares himself and will not suffer his sub- ordinates to sink into slovenly frivolity and idleness, then make your approaches to Lucullus, and you will have cause to thank God if the young fellow serves his apprenticeship under a guide and teacher such as this. He will learn no nonsense there, and see no masquerading, only an undemonstrative but unflinching adher- ence to the path believed to be the path of duty, and a manliness of self-surrender such as can only arouse an enthusiasm of respect and esteem. I)oes our own correspondent wish to see how a score of infamous hovels can be changed into a score of model cottages which pay interest on the cost of their erection, and which in half-a-dozen years have helped perceptibly to raise the tone and tastes and habits of the population till it really looks as if some barbarians could be civilized by a coup de main Ylet him pay a visit to the parish of our Rev- erend Hercules, only one of whose many labors it has been to cleanse an Augean stable. It will do him good to see the mighty shoulders of that rugged philan- thropist, him of the broad brow and the great heart and the deep purse, always at work and always at home, about the very last man in England to be suspected of belonging to the sickly sort of puling vis- ionaries. Do you want to meet with a type of the saintly parish priest, one after holy George Herberts heart, one with hardly a thought that does not turn upon the service of the sanctitary or the duties that he owes to his scattered flock? Come ~vith me, and we will go together and look at one of the most beautiful village churches in the land, on which our devout Ambrose has spent his thousands only with deep grati- tude that he has been permitted to spend them so and with never a word of brag or publicity, never a paragraph foisted into the newspapers. And as we pass out of that quiet churchyard, trim as a queens parterre, 1 will show you the witidow of that little study which Ambrose has not thought it right to enlarge, and if he be not there, be sure we shall find him at his school or by the sick-bed of the poor, or inquiring into some case of sorrow or sin where a kindly band or a wise word may 100 THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. peradventure solace the sad or go some way to raise the fallen. What country parson among all the nine hundred and odd within this Un- wieldlv diocese has lived a simpler or more devoted life than our Nestor ytpcov t7riryttra N~om~p he who for more than threescore years and ten has gone in. and out among his people, and doing his pastoral work so naturally, so much as a matter of course, that no one thinks of his being a rich man, except when those tow- ering horses of his stop at our lowly por- tals and have to he corkscrewed into our diminutive stables? And who knows not of thee, Euerges, treasurer and secretary and general main- stay of every good work, the idol of thy people and their healer, the terror of the impostor, and the true friend of all that deserve thy helping hand and purse? or thee, too, Amomos, who after thirty years of work as an evangelist in the city, spend- ing there thyself and thy substance all the while, hast now betaken thee to the poor villagers, if haply some little good may yet be done among the lowly ones before the night cometh when no man can work? But do not such well-meaning gentle- men as these demoralize the poor?~ Oh dear yes ! of course they do. It is so very demoralizing to help a lame dog over a stile. It does so pauperize a broken- down couple to whom the poor-law guar- dians allow three shillings a week and half a stone of flour, if you give th~in a sack of potatoes about Christmas time. It corrupts and degrades Biddy Bundle to bestow an old petticoat upon herwhen she is shivering with the cold, and it takes all self-resriect and independence from the unruly bosom of Dick the fiddler to offer him your old hat or a shabby pair of trow- sers. The truest, wisest, most far-sighted and most magnanimous charity is ~to let Harry Dobbs have an order for the house~~ when he is out of work and short of coals Harry Dobbs, who set himself against all the laws of political economy, and married at eighteen, when he had not the wherewithal to buy the chairs and tables. So we country parsons are a de- moralizing force in the body politic for- sooth, because we cannot bear to see poor people starve at our gates. We have been known actually to give soup to a reckless couple guilty of twelve children; actually soup! And we have dropped corrupting shillings into trembling bands only be- cause they were trembling, and distrib- uted ounces of tobacco to the inmates of the Union, and poisoned the souls of old beldames with gratuitous half-pounds of tea. And we counsel people to come to church, when they would much rather go to the public house, and we coddle them and warm them now and then, and instead of leaving them to learn manliness and independence and self-reliance on twelve shillings a week, we step between them and the consequences of their own im- providence, and we disturb the action of the beautiful laws of the universe, and where we see the ponderous wheels of Juggernaut just going to roll over a help- less imbecile who has tripped and dropped, we must needs make a clutch at him and pull him out by the scruff of the neck, and tell him to get up and not do it again. And all this is demoralizing and pauper- izing, is it? Out up on you! you miserable prigs with your chatter and babble! You to talk of the parsons narrowness and his bigotry and his cant? You to sneer at him for being the slave of a super.stition? You to pose as the only thinkers with all the logic of all the philosophers on your side, all the logic and never a crumb of com- mon sense to back it? Bigotry and intol- erance and cant and class jealousy and scorn that refuge for the intellectually destitute and the blustering coward where will you find them in all their most bitter and sour and hateful intensity, if not among the new lights, the self-styled economists? And we have to sit mum and let brainless pretenders superciliously put us out of court with a self-complacent wave of the hand, as they give utterance to perky platitudes about the clergy pau- perizing the working-man. No, Mr. Dandy Dryskull. No! this gospel of yours, a little trying to listen to, is being found out; ours will see the end of it. You preach Sir Andrew and his love of law, And we the Saviour and his law of love I I, for one, hereby proclaim and declare that I intend to help the sick and aged and struggling poor ~vhenever I have the chance, and as far as I have the means, and I hope the day will never come when I shall cease to think without shame of that eminent prelate who is said to have made it his boast that he had never given ~ a beggar a penny in his life. I am free to confess that I draw the line somewhere. I do draw the line at the tramp I do find it necessary to be uncompromising there. Indeed I keep a big dog for the tramp, and that dog, inasmuch as he passes his happy life in a country parsonage that dog, I say, is not muzzled. THE 2~RIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. I0I But dont you get imposed upon? Dont you get asked to replace dead horses and cows and pigs and donkeys, that never ~valked on four legs and no mortal eye ever saw in the land of the living? Of course we do! Is it a prerogative of the country parson to be duped by a swindler? Oh, Mr. Worldly Wiseman, were you never taken in? Never I Then, sir, I could not have you for a son-in-law! As for us we country parsons we do occasionally get imposed upon in very absurd and contemptible fashion. Some- times we submit to be bled with our eyes open. A bungling bumpkin has managed to get his horses leg broken by his own stupidity. We know that the fellow was jiggling the poor brutes teeth out of his mouth at the time, or the animal would never have shown himself as great an idiot as his master. But there stands the master horseless, with the tears in his eyes, and we know all about him and the hard struggle he has had to keep things going, and we say to ourselves, I won- der what would happen to me if my horse dropped down dead some fine morning. Who would help me to another? and what then? So we pull out the sovereign, and give the fellow a note to somebody else, and that is how we demoralize him. Or another comes at night time and wants to speak to us on very particular business, and implores us to tide him over a real difficulty and What! do you mean to say you lend fellows money? Yes. I mean to say I have even done that, and very, very rarely repented of it, and I mean to say there are men, and women too, to whom I would lend money again if I had it; but it does not follow that I could lend it to everybody, least of all that I could lend it to you, Mr. Worldly Wiseman. Try it on, sir! Try it on! and see whether you would depart trium- phant from the interview! Moreover, the country parson has al- ways to pay a little just a very little more than any one else for most things that come to his door. The market has always risen when he wants to buy, and has always suddenly fallen when he wants to sell. The small mans oats are invari- ably superior to any ones when he has a small parcel to dispose of to the parson. As to the price of hay, when the parson has to buy it, that is truly startling. I never see half a rood of carrots growing in a laborers allotment, but I feel sure I shall have to buy those carrots before Christmas, and sorry as I am to obsetve how rarely any fruit trees are ever planted in a poor mans garden, I reflect that per- haps it is just as well, for already the damsons and the apples that besiege the rectory are almost overwhelming. I never ask what becomes of them, but it is mor- ally and physically impossible that they should be eaten under this roof. But, my. dear, you must buy Widow Coe s damsons; nobody else will, you know! This is what I am told is considering the poor people. That is our way of putting it. You, Mr. Worldly Wiseman, you call it demoralizing them. Then, too, the country parson is ex- pected to encourage the local indus- tries. I wonder whether they make pillow-lace in Bedfordshire as they used. If they do, and especially if the demand for it in the outer world has waned, the. country parsons~ wives in that part of England must have a very trying time of it. Once, when I was in the merry twen- ties, a dirty old hag with an 9vil report, but no worse than other people except that she was an old slut, knocked at my back door and asked to see the lady shepherd. Mrs. Triplet was a Mormon- ite, at any rate her husband was; and it was credibly believed that Mrs. Triplet herself had been baptized by immersion in a horsepond in the dead of night, dressed as Godiva was during her famous ride, and seated, not upon a palfrey, but upon a jackass. How Triplet could ever have been converted to a belief in polygamy with his experience of the married state, I am entirely unable to explain. But Mrs. Triplet came to our door and asked for the Lady Shepherd. It was a delicate piece of flattery. She must have thought over it a long time. Was not the parson the shepherd? a bad one it might be, a hireling, a blind leader of the blind, but still a shepherd. Then his wife must needs be a shepherdessand she did not look like itor a sheepno! that wouldnt do at all or the shepherds lady and shepherds dont have ladies; or happy thought ! the lady shepherd. Accordingly Mrs. Triplet asked for the Lady Shepherd. Mrs. Triplet in former times had been a tailors hand, and in that capacity had made a few shillings a week by odd jobs for the Cambridge tailors in term time; but she had married, and now she lived too far away in the wilds to be able to continue at her old employment, and being a bad manager she soon had to cast about for some new source of income. In the more comfortable cottages in the eastern counties you may often see laid 102 THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. out before the fire a mat of peculiar con- struction which sometimes looks like a small mattress in difficulties. It is made from selvage s and clippings, the refuse of the tailors workshop; these strips of cloth are cut into lengths of two or three inches long by half an inch wide, and are knitted or tightly tied together with string, the variously colored scraps being ar- ranged in patterns according to the genius and taste of the artist. The complex struc- ture when completed is stuffed with the clippings too small to be worked up on the outside, and the mass is then subjected to a process of thumping and stamping and pulling and hammering till at last there exudes yes! that is the correct term, whatever you may say a lumpy bundle, which in its pillowy and billowy entirety is called a hearthrug. The thing will last for generations, it never wears out, and it takes years of continuous stamping upon it before you can anyhow get it flat. It was one of these triumphs of industry that Mrs. Triplet desired to turn an honest penny by. Would her ladyship come and look at it in situ? Now the lady shep- herd is a woman of business, which the shepherd, notoriously, is not, and if she had gone alone no great harm would have come of the interview; but on that un- lucky day the shepherd and his lady re- solved to go together. That is a course which no shepherd and shepherdess should ever be persuaded to follow. Two men will often help one another when associated in a difficult enterprise; two women will almost always do better to- gether than single-handed, but a man and a woman working together will always get in one anothers way. On the occasion referred to the quick-witted old crone saw her chance in a moment, and commenced to play off one of her visitors against the other with consummate skill. From a hole beneath the narrow stairs she dragged the massive structure, and slowly unfold- ing it before our eyes commenced to stamp upon it in a kind of hideous demon dance, gazing at it fondly from time to time as if she could hardly bear to part with it. In those days the fashion of wearing gay clothing had only just gone out among the male sex. For, less than forty years ago, we used to appear on state occasions in blue dress coats and brass buttons, and at great gatherings you might see green coats and brown ones, mulberry coats and chocolate ones, and there was a certain iridescence th~Lt gave a peculiarly sprightly look to an assembly even of males in those days, which has all passed away~now. Hence when Mrs. Triplet displayed her exhibit we found ourselves gazing at a very gaudy spectacle. IFhere, lady! And I made the pattern a~ myself, I did. Manys the night Ive laid awake thinking of it. Ah! them bottle-greens was hard to get, they was; gentlefolks has give up wearing greens. But that yaller rose, lady. Aint that a yaller rose?~~ For once in her life the lady shepherd lost her nerve. Spasms of hysterical laughter wrestled within her, and her flushed face and contorted frame betrayed the conflict that was raging. How would it end, in the rupture of a vein or in shrieks of un- controllable merriment? The shepherd was in terror; he stooped to the foolishest flattery; he went as near lying as a shep- herd could without literally lying; but comedy changed to tragedy when from his lean purse he desperately plucked his very last sovereign, and giving it to that guileful old sorceress, ordered her to bring that hearthrug to the parsonage without delay. Next week the very next week came a pressing offer from another parish- ioner of another of these articles of home manufacture; next month came a third, though the price had dropped fifty per cent. which was accepted with exultant thankfulness. There was positively no stopping the activity of the new industry; until, before three months were over, six of these fearful contrivances had been all but forced upon us, one of them travelling to our door in a donkey-cart and one in a wheelbarrow the lady shepherd being told she might have them at her own price, and pay for them at her own convenience only have them she must; the makers could by no means take them away. Well, but you had nobody but your- selves to thank. How could you be so weak and silly? That may be very true. But do not our trials our smaller trials become so just because we have only ourselves to thank for them? We in the wilderness are exposed to temptations which go some way to make us silly and soft-hearted. Somehow, few of us are certain to keep our hearts as hard as the nether millstone. r I do not pretend to be one of the seven sages; what I do say is that we country parsons have our trials. It is, however, when the country parson has to buy a horse that he finds himself tried to the uttermost. Day after day, from all points of ~the compass, there ap~ pear at his gate the cunningest of the cunning and the sharpest of the sharp; THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. 103 and if at the end of a week the parson has not arrived at the settled conviction that he is three parts of a fool, it is im- possible for him to dispute that the whole fraternity of horsey men feel no manner of doubt that he is so. Now, I dont like to be thought a fool; not many men do, unless they hope to gain something by it. The instinct of self-preservation or the hope of a kingdom might induce me to play the part of Brutus; but in my secret heart I should be buoyed up by the proud consciousness of superior wisdom. When, however, it comes to a long line of rogues one after another for days and days without any collusion continuing to tell you to your face, almost in so many words, that you certainly are a fool it really ceases to be monotonous and becomes, after a while, vexatious. The fellows are so clever, too; they have such an envia- ble fluency of speech; they are possessed of such a rich fund of anecdote, such an easy play of fancy, such a readiness of apt illustration, and such a magnificent com- mand of facial contortion, expressive of the subtlest movements of the heart and brain, that you cannot but feel how im- measurably inferior you are to the dullest of them in dialectic. But why should a man, when he asks you to try his charger, bring it round to the doorstep, tempting you to get up on the off-side? what does he gain by it? Why should he tell you that this hoss was a twin with that as Captain Dixie drives in his dog-cart? Why should he assure you, upon his sacred honor, that that Roman nose will come square when the horse gets to be six years old they always do? or that you always find bay horses turn chestnut if theyre clipped badly? These men would not try these fictions upon any one else; why should I suffer for being a country parson by being told a long storywith the most religious seriousness of that there horse as Mr. Abel had, that stopped growing in his fore-quarters when he was two and went on growing with his hind-quarters till he was seven that hoss that they called Kangaroo, cause hed jump anything anything under a church tower, only you had to give him his head? I used to get much more irritated by this kind of thing when I was less mellowed by age than I am; and I have learned to be more tolerant even of a horse-dealer than I once was. In an outburst of indignation one day, I turned angrily upon one of the fra- ternity, and said to him, Man! how can you go on lying in this way; why wont you deal fairly, instead of always trying to take people in? The man was not a bit offended indeed he smiled quite kindly upon me. Lor, sir, do you suppose we never get took in? I am fully per- suaded that horse-dealer thought I was going to try the confidence trick with him. I am often assured by my town friends that the loneliness of my country life must be very trying. I reply with perfect truth that I have never known ~vhat it is to feel lonely except in London. Some years ago one Sunday afternoon I was compelled to consult an eminent oculist. When the cab drove up to the great mans door in Cardross Square, his eminence was at the window in a brown study, with his elbows leaning on the wire blind, the tip of his nose flattened against the pane, his eyes vacantly staring at nothing. When we were shown into his presence, the forlorn and desolate expression on that forsaken mans face was quite shoclZing to the nerves. A painter who could have re- produced the look of aimless and despair- ing woe might have made a name forever. When people talk to me of loneliness I always instinctively recall the image of that famous oculist in the heart of Lon- don on a Sunday afternoon. Ever since that day I have never been able to get over a horror of wire blinds. Happily, they are articles of furniture which have almost gone out now, but they used to be fearfully common. Even now the Lon- doner thinks it de rz~ueur to darken the windows of his sitting-room on the ground- floor; and in furnished lodgings you must have wire blinds. Why is this? When I ask the question I am told that you must have wire blinds; if you didnt, peo- ple would look in. In the country we never have wire blinds, and yet nobody looks in; therefore you call our flfe lonely. But loneliness is not the simple product of external circumstances it is the out- come of a morbid temperament, creating for itself a sense of vacuity, whatever may be a mans surroundings. To sit on rocks, to muse on flood and fell, To climb the trackless mountain, etc. I suppose we all know that wishy- washy stuff, so there is no need to go on with the quotation. What is trying in the country parsons life is its isolation. That is a very differ- ent think from saying that he lives a lonely life. The parson who is conscientiously trying to do his duty in a country parish 104 THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. occupies a unique position. He is a man, But the wine was Gilbys, and not his and yet he must be something more than best. These are the people who demor- man, and something less too. He must alize our country villages. They intro- be more than man in that he must b~ free duce a vulgarity of tone quite indescrib- from human passions and human weak- able, and the rapidity of the change nesses, or the whole neighborhood is wrought in the sentiments and language of shocked by his frailty; he must be some- the rustics is sometimes quite wonderful. thing less than man in his tastes and The people dont like these come-and- amusements and way of life, or there will go folk, but they get dazzled by them not- be those who will be sure to denounce withstanding; they resent the airs which him as a worldling who ought never to have the footmen and ladies maids give them-. taken orders. If he be a man of birth and selves, buf nevertheless they envy them refinement, he is sure to be reported of and-think, Theres my gal Polly shed as proud and haughty; if he be not quite be a lady if she was to get into sich a a gentleman, he will be snubbed and house as that! When they hear that the flouted outrageously. The average coun- ladies up at the hall play tennis on Sunday try parson and his family has often to bear afternoons, the old people are perplexed, an amount of patronizing impertinence and wonder what the world is coming to; which is sometimes very trying. Even the boys and girls begin to think that their the squire and the parson do not always jolly time is near, when they too shall get on well together, and when they do submit to no restraint, and join the revel not, the parson is very much at the others rout of scoffers. The sour Puritan snarls mercy, and may be thwarted and worried out, Ah! theres your gentlefolks, they and humiliated almost to any extent by a dont want no religion, they dont and powerful, ill-conditioned, and unscrupu- we dont want no gentLefolks! For your bus landed proprietor. But it is from the sour Puritan somehow has always a lurk- come-and-go people who hire the country ing sympathy with the socialist pro- houses which their owners are compelled gramme, and its honey and nuts to him to to let that we suffer most. Not that this find out some new occasion for venting is always the case, for it not unfrequently his spleen at things that are. But one and happens that the change in the occupancy all look askance at the parson, and in- of a country mansion is a clear gain so- wardly chuckle that he is not having a cially, morally, and intellectually to a pleasant time of it. Our reverends been whole neighborhood when, in the place took down a bit, since that young gent at of a necessitous Squire Western, and his the hall lit his pipe in the church porch. cubs of sons and his half-educated daugh- That aint seemly, says parson. Dunno ters, drearily impecunious, but not the about that, says the tother, but it seems less self-asserting and supercilious, ~ve nice. Chorus, half-giggle, half-sniggle. get a family of gentle manners and culture Do not the scientists teach that no two and accomplishments, and lo! it is as sun- atoms are in absolute contact with each shine after rain. But sometimes the new- other; that some interval separates every comers are a grievous infliction. Town- molecule from its next of kin? Certainly bred folk who emerged from the back this is inherent in the office and function streets and have amassed money by a new of the country parson, that he is not quite hair-wash or an improvement in sticking- in touch with any one in his parish if he plaster. Such as these are out of harmony be a really earnest and conscientious par- with their temporary surroundings; they son. He is too good for the average hap- giggle in the faces of the farmers daugh- p --go-lucky fellow who wants to be let ters, ridicule the speech and manners of a I one. There is nothing to gain by insult- the laborers and their wives, and grumble ing him. Hes that pig-headed he dont. at everything. They cannot think of walk- seem to mind nothing only swearing at ing in the cfirty lanes, they are afraid of him! You cannot get him to take a side cows, and call children nasty little things, in a quarrel. He speaks out very unpleas- and their hospitalities are very trying. ant truths In public and private. He Come, my boy. Have a cut at the occupies a social position that is some- venison. Dont be afraid. You shall have times anomalous. He has a provoking a good dinner for once; shant he, my knack of taking things by the right handle. dear? and as much champagne as you like He does not believe in the almighty dollar, to put inside lou! It was a bottle- as men of sense ought to believe; and he nosed Sir Gorgious Midas who spoke, and is usually in the right when it comes to a his lady at the other end of the table gave dispute in a vestry meeting because he is me a kindly wink as she caught my eye. the only man in the parish that thinks of THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. 105 preparing himself for the discussion be- forehand. This isolation extends not merely to matters social and intellectual it is much more observable in the domain of sentiment. A rustic cannot at all un- derstand what motive a man can possibly have for being a bookworm; he suspects a student of being engaged in some im- pious researches. To hear that there reverend of ours in the pulpit you might think we was all right. But, bless you! he aint same as other folk. He do keep a horoscope top o his house to look at the stares and sich. Not one man in a hundred of the labor- ers reads a book, and only when a book is new with a gaudy outside does he seem to value it even as a chattel. That any one should ever have any conceivable use for a big book is to him incomprehensible. If I might be so bold, sir, said Jabez, an intelligent father of a family with some very bright children who are wonerful forard in their laming, If I might be so bold,might Lask if youve really read all these grit books? No, Jabez; and I should be a bigger dunce than I am if I ever tried to. I keep them to use ; theyre my tools, like your spade and hoe. Whats that thing called that I saw in your hand the other day when you were working at the draining job? You dont often use that tool, I think, do you? XVelI, no. But then we dont get a job o draining now same as we used. I mean to say as a man may go ten y ears at a stretch and never lay a drain-tile. Well, then, how about the use of his tools all this time? Jabez smiled, slowly put his hand to his head, saw the point, and yet didnt see it. But, lawk sir! thats somehow different. I cant see what yow can dz~ wi a grit book like this here. It was a massive volume of Littr~s great dictionary, which I had just taken down to consult; it cer- tainly did look portentous. Why, Jabez, thats a dictionary a French dictionary. If I want to know all about a French word, you know, I look it up here. Some- times I dont find exactly what I want; then I go to that book, which is another French dictionary; and if . I saw by the blank look in honest Jabezs face that it was all in vain. Want to know all about French words? Why you aint a-going to fix no drain-tiles with them sort o things. Now that du wholly pet me aywt, that du. I think no one who has not tried pain- fully to lift and lead others can have the least notion of the difficulty which the country parson has to contend with in tl~ extreme thinness of the stratum in which the rural intellect moves. Since the schools have given more attention to geog- raphy, and since emigration has brought us now and then some entertaining letters from those who have emigrated to furren parts, the people have slowly learnt to think of a wider area of space than here- tofore they could imagine. Though even now their notions of geography are almost as vague as their notibns of astronomy; I have never seen a map in an agricultural laborers cottage. But their absolute ig- norance of history amounts to an incapac- ity of conceiving the reality of anything that may have happened in past time. What their grandfathers have told them, that is to them historyeverything be- fore that is not so much as fable ; it is not romance, it is a formless void, it is chaos. The worst of it is that they have no curi- osity about the past. The same is true of their knowledge of anything approaching to the rudiments of physical science; it simpl9 does not exist. A belief in the Ptolemaic system is universal in Arcady. I suspect that they think less about these things than they did. That there old Gladstone, lawk! hes a deep un he is! Hes as deep as the pole-star, he is! said Solomon Bunch to me one day. Pole-star? I asked in surprise, Where is the pole-star, Sol ? Lawks! I dun- no; Ive heerd tell o the pole star as the deep un ever sin I was a boy! it is this narrowness in their range of ideas that makes it so hard for the towns- man to become an effective speaker to the laborers. You could not make a greater mistake than by assuming you have only to use plain language to our rustics. So far from it, they love nothing better than sonorous words, the longer the better. It is when he attempts to make his audience follow a chain of reasoning that the orator fails most hopelessly, or when he comes to his illustrations. The poor people know so little, they read nothing, their experience is so confined, that one is very hard put to it to find a simile that is intel- ligible. Young David stood before the mon- archs throne. With harp in hand he touched the chords, like some later scald he sang his saga to King Saul ! It really was rather fine plain and simple too, monosyllabic, terse, and with a musical sibillation. Unfortunately one of the worthy preachers hearers told me after- wards with some displeasure that he didnt hold wi David being all sing-song- ing and scolding, hed no opinion o that. ro6 THE TRIALS OF A COUNTRY PARSON. The stories of the queer mistakes which our hearers make in interpreting our sermons are simply endless, sometimes almost incredible. Nevertheless, no in- vention of the most inveterate story-teller could equal the facts which are matters of weekly experience. As yow was a saying in your sarment, tarnal mowing wont du wirout tarnal making you mind, that! yer ses, an I did mind it tu, an we got up that hay sur- prising! Mr. Perry had just a little mis- conceived my words. I had quoted from Philip van Arteveldt. He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. Eter- nity mourns that. Not many months ago I was visiting a good, simple old man who was death- stricken, and had been long lingering on the verge of the dark river. Ive been a-thinking sir, of that little hymn as you said about the old devil when he was took bad. I should like to hear that again. I was equal to the occasion. The devil was sick the devil a saint would be; The devil got well not a bit of a saint was he! [It was necessary to soften down the lan- guage of the original!] Is that what you mean? Yes! it was that. Well Ive been a-thinking as if the old devil had laid a bit longer and been afflicted same as some on em, hed a been the better for it. Aint there no more o that there little hymn, sir? The religious talk of our Arcadians is sometimes very trying trying I mean to any man with only too keen a sense of the ludicrous, and who would not for the world betray himself if he could help it. It is always better to let people welcome you as a friend and neighbor, rather than as a clergyman, even at the risk of being considered by the unco guid as an irreverent heathen. But you are often pulled up short by a reminder more or less reproachful, that if you have forgotten your vocation your host has not; as thus: Ever been to Tombland fair, Mrs. Cawl ? Mrs. Cawl has a perennial flow of words, which come from her lips in a steady, unceasing, and deliberate mono- tone, a slow trickle of verbiage with never the semblance of a stop. Never been to no fairs sin I was a girl bless the Lord nor mean to xcept once when my Betsy went to place and father told me to take her to a show and there was a giant and a dwarf dressed in a green petticoat like a monkey on -an or- gan an I ses to Betsy my dear theys the works of the Lord but they hadnt ought to be shewed but as the works of the Lord to be had in remembrance and dont you think sir as when they shows the works of the Lord theyd ought to begin with a little prayer?