LITTELLS LIVING AGE. Fifth Series, ?. July u, ~ 5 From Beginning, Volume LXXI. No, 2401. Vol. CLIXIVi. CONTENTS. THE GREAT EQUATORIAL FOREST OF AFRICA. By P. B. du Chaillu, MARCIA. By W. E. Norris. Part XI., THE LAW IN 1847 AND THE LAW IN 1889. By Lord Coleridge THE ROMANCE OF HISTORY. WILLIAM LITEGOW BROUGHT BACK FROM ELYSIUM, A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE, GREAT AND BIG, COURT FUNCTIONS, NOTES OF A PILGRIMAGE, KAFFIR HUMOR, Fortn:~hdy Review, Murrays Magazine, Contemporary Review, Temple Bar, Contemporary Review, Fortn:ghtlv Review, National Review, Murrays Magazine, Spectator, Time THE FAIRIES FLITTING, THE LAST WALK,. P0 E TRY. 2 1 NIGHTFALL, 2 IA MEMORY, 2 2 64 MISCELLANY, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LIT TELL & 00., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTIOi~. For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year,free of~oszage. 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, sB cents. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. 3 II 26 34 38 43 52 61 63 2 THE FAIRIES FLITTING, ETC. THE FAIRIES FLITTING. THE fairies are floating, flying away From bushy rath and from grassy dell; From the dark rings seen on the valleys green; But whither theyre wandering none can tell. In the dim blue haze, from the mountain spread Oer river and landscape at close of day; Through the amber furze; oer the shining pools, The fleet-footed fairy folk pass away. In the vapor floating oer marsh and moor, The bright clouds trailed oer the mountain height; In the white mist-wraiths on the silent lakes, Theyve taken their noiseless, secret flight. In the rosy dawn, in the cloudy dusk, They vanish, and with them the good old times; So we bid them farewell with regretful thoughts, With tender memries, and gentle rhymes. But where have they vanished? the small, bright folk, That never at matin or vesper bell Have knelt down to prayer, yet were blithe and gay Where have they vanished from hill and dell? Too frail to traverse the rolling seas, In the billows swell, in the tempests roar; Too light to sink to the underworld, Where the shadows of death lie brooding oer. Too feeble to reach heavens gates of gold; (Their wings are slight, though so light and fleet); Theyd fail in the blue, so cold and pure, And find no rest for their tiny feet. Perhaps they are still near the moated hill, The rank green grass, and the flower-sweet sod. May their sleep be soft on the earth, poor souls I Whose wings are too weak to ascend to God. Chambers Journal. M. E. KENNEDY. THE LAST WALK. WITH feeble, failing, faltering feet she trod Along the gardens grassy terraces, Through all the rush of sweet spring har- monies, - Hearing the low, clear summons from her God. The river sang along its willowed ways, The thrushes filled the air with wooing trills, And sweeping down the slope, the daffodils Flashed back again the noondays living blaze. The scent of violets, hidden in the green, Stole round her with the west winds kisses soft; The daisies glimmered pearl-like on the croft; The blackthorn buds peeped, cleaving sheaths between. The sweet, reviving miracle of spring, Instinct with life, pervaded earth and sky; While, Look on it, and leave it, thou must die, Her doom amid it all was whispering. I think the tears that, to the patient eyes, Dimmed all the glory of the April day, Though still her Saviour whispered, Come away Were looked on very gently from the skies. All The Year Round. NIGHTFALL. THE shades of evening lengthen, let us close The latticed window, and draw down the blind: These shadows seem as spirits, and the wind Moans in its wandering; mournfully it goes As some poor soul that grievous sorrow knows, Or homeward traveller fearful lest he find Beside his hearth the doom that haunts his mind, And oer his pathway its grim visage shows. As haunted houses are our haunted hearts, Wherein pale spirits of past sorrows dwell! Wherein, as players that play many parts, Presentiments their tragic tales foretell! Draw close the curtain, ay, shut out the night; The night is dark, let love then be our light, S. WADDINGTON. A MEMORY. No more those strips of springing wheat, Nor olive orchards silver-grey, Nor cypress~ crowning lucent hills Beneath the broad Italian day Shall I beholdbut arching lanes And cowslip fields and tender grass, And cool full streams with waving weeds Where cloudy shado~vs stoop and pass; And beechen woods and silent downs; And far away a moist blue rim Of distance, closing in a world Of pallid colors, vague and dim. But here or there, I bear with me One scene engraven in my heart: The still white bed, the patient face, The last long look before we part. Speaker. C. FELLOWES. THE GREAT EQUATORIAL FOREST OF AFRICA. 3 From The Fortnightly Review. THE GREAT EQUATORIAL FOREST OF AFRICA. BY P. B. DU CHAILLU. THE great forest of equatorial Africa, after having faded away from public at. tention for a quarter of a century, has once more come to the front as a subject of the most widespread interest, in conse- quence of the heroic exploits of Mr. Stan- ley and of his followers. I have been invited to give in the pages of the Fortnz~htly Review some of my experiences of this extraordinary region at the time when I, the first white man who had ever penetrated its recesses, journeyed thither, and I do so with the found that it was useless for me to attempt to force a way through the impenetrable jungle, and that in order to make progress it was necessary to follow the intricate and labyrinthine native tracks from village to village, and to abandon all hope of travel- ling in a straight line from point to point. Mr. Stanley, on the other hand, at the head of what was practically a small army, tied to time, and hampered by the re- sponsibilities of feeding his numerous followers, of transporting his valuable stores, and, above all, of fulfilling within a limited time his all-important mission, was compelled to force his way through obsta- cles which would have baffled a less strong man in a few days. more readiness in that my methods of ex- Once only during my explorations did I ploration were, from the necessity of the wish that I had a strong party, for then, case, entirely different from those of Mr. when there was no other alternative, I Stanley, and that my experiences conse- would have made my way by force. While quently represent in some respects a dif- in the country of the dwarfs, the gun of ferent aspect of the many-sided problem one of my seven followers went off acci- from that ~vhich he gives us. dentally, and killed one man and the sister I cannot but allude though it be but of the queen, and the natives naturally a passing allusion to the bitter storm of interpreted this as an attack, and retaliated incredulity and opposition which my nar- so fiercely that we all, including myself, rative at that time called forth in some were wounded, and obliged to beat a re- quarters the can-nibals, the dwarfs, the treat. mountains, the gorillas, the very forest This vast difference in circumstances itself, were ridiculed as fictions, or even must of necessity be reflected in our re- worse, of my own imagination. I felt all ports on the country, but I think the com- this very keenly at the time, and but for parison renders all the more striking the the staunchness and kindness of the many fact that Mr. Stanley has confirmed in all friends who stood by me, and encouraged its main features, so far as the scenes of me through evil report and good report, I our expeditions coincided, my narrative of could not have faced it, and ~vas content twenty-five years ago. to reflect that the truth in the long run I will, without further preface, proceed must prevail, to give some account of this great central My experiences differed from those of African forest. Mr. Stanley chiefly in these respects. I As the mariner approaches the western was travelling alone, at my leisure, and at coast of Africa above the river Campo, my own expense, accompanied only by situated 2~ north of the equator, and sails native porters, ~vho carried my stock of southward along the land as far as the necessaries and my collections. I had no Gaboon estuary or river, the southern very large company to feed, and no im- shores of which run in a parallel line with mense stores of valuables to transport and the equator and only a few miles north of to protect. I learned sufficient of the lan- it, he beholds all the way, reaching down gua ges and dialects of the region to enable to the waters edge, a dense, unbroken for- me to make friends with the natives among est, and far inland, several mountain ranges whom I resided. I was passed on from covered with trees to their very top. These tribe to tribe as a friend, learning their mountains are known under the name of customs, and so far as was possible for Sierra del Crystal. They are gradually a civilized man living their life. I soon lost to sight as one nears the Gaboon. 4 THE GREAT EQUATORIAL FOREST OF AFRICA. This immense wooded country, in which I passed several years (185659) when but a lad, and which I again visited in 186365, forms the outskirts of the gigantic equa- torial forest which I was the first to ex- plore and which has been entered, and in part traversed further inland, by the heroic stanley. The outer or western limit of this belt of forest-clad region is the very sea itself, for the roots of its trees spread to the beach. A grand and magnificent sight greets the traveller as he finds himself in this woody wilderness. I was awed by the majesty of the scene and lost in admiration of the wonderful vegetation which is ex- hibited. The silence of this forest, as one travels through it, is sometimes appalling. Mile after mile is traversed without even hear- ing the chatter of a monkey, the shrill cry of a parrot, the footstep of a gazelle or antelope. The falling of a leaf, the mur- mur of some hidden rivulet, the humming of insects, and here and there the solitary note of a bird, only come to give life and bring relief in the gloom of the vast soli- tude that surrounds you. The feeling which seizes you as you move along in the silent path is undescribable. Once in a while the silence is broken by the heavy footstep of the elephant, the grunt of some wild boar, or the light foot- steps of some other wild animals. Gigan- tic trees, rising to a height of two or three hundred feet and even more, tower over this sea of everlasting foliage like giants of the forest, ready to give the first warn- ing of the coming tornado or tempest which is to break the tranquillity of their domain. Under these enormous trees other trees of less size grow, under these again others still smaller, of all sizes and shapes, and finally a thick jungle. What a jungle it is? Often the eye tries in vain to pierce through it even a yard or two. Lianas, like gigantic snakes, stretch in profusion from tree to tree, and twine themselves round the stems or hang from their branches; thorny creepers, malacca- like canes, with their hook-like thorns rest- ing on the edge of the leaves; grass with edges as sharp as razors cling to your clothes, or cut deep into the flesh if they chance to touch any exposed parts; or at times pineapples run wild are seen by the ten thousand or aloes while on the bark of trees hang in large festoons vast masses of orchids. Trees covered with flowers, often of brilliant color and beautiful shape, relieve at certain seasons of the year the monot- ony of the dark green. Other trees and plants bear a bountiful crop of nuts, fruits, and berries of various sizes, colors, and shapes. The number of these fruit-bear- ing trees is very great; one of them spe. cially presents a most beautiful sight when bearing; from its trunk hang large bunches of olive-shape fruits of the most gorgeous red color, delicious to eat, though some- what acid. Ebony, bar wood, and the indiarubber vine are found in abundance, specially the indiarubber; but unfortunately the latter is becoming rarer every day, owing to the reckless waste ~vhich takes place in tap- ping them. The native, in fact, says to himself, If I do not take all I can, an- other will do it; the vine dies from exhaustion. Ivory, beeswax, a little gum copal, bar wood, ebony, a little palm oil, are the natural products found. South of the equator the monotony of the forest is broken along the seashore, and sometimes inland, by open prairies, till they again give place to the vast un- broken jungle. Several rivers water the land; their banks by the seashore are low and swampy, and covered with mangrove- trees as far as the brackish water goes. I said in Equatorial Africa The explorer finds here a region so densely wooded that the whole country may be de- scribed as an impenetrable jungle, through which man pushes on only by hewing his way with the axe. The forests, which have been resting for ages in their gloomy solitude, seem unfavorable for the increase of beasts which are their chief denizens. I wrote also Some of the slaves of the Apingi are brought from a distance to the eastward, which they counted as twenty days journey, and they in- variably protested that the mountains in sight from their present home continued in an unin- terrupted chain far beyond their own country. I thought it probable that the impene THE GREAT EQUATORIAL FOREST OF AFRICA. S trable forests of this mountain range and its savage inhabitants formed an in- surmountable barrier to the victorious southward advance of Mohammedan con- querors. South of the equator, at any rate in west Africa, they never penetrated. Hunger and starvation were continually before me, but when young and enthusi- astic these privations count for little. I had to feed on nuts and berries often for a long time together once for eleven days and the starvation ended by eating part of a leopard I had shot. Here I may observe that we had to depend for our food on our guns and the natural products of the forest. I carried no supplies of European provisions with me, but lived as the natives do from hand to mouth, for porters to carry provisions were generally not obtainable. Besides starvation there was often a still greater impediment to my advance. I had more than fifty attacks of fever, taking more than fourteen ounces of quinine besides arsenic, to cure myself, and many a time I lay in the forest help- less under a tree with but a kind Provi- dence watching over me. When well again, all the past starvation, diseases, hardship, home-sickness were forgotten the African forest, and its hidden treasure of natural history not yet discovered were once more smiling before me. This forest, so rich in berries, nuts, and fruits, is well adapted for the home of the ape. There lives the most powerful of all apes the gorilla a giant of strength, who roams to and fro in the great solitude as the king of the forest. The male comes and attacks man fiercely and without fear when disturbed in its haunts. One of my hunters was killed by one of these mon- sters, which, in its rage, bent the barrel of his gun, and then left him in his gore. Besides the gorilla there are other varie- ties of apes, or chimpanzees; among them the kooloo-kamba, the nshiego-mbouve, or bald-headed ape, the nshiego-kengo, and the nshiego, the latter being the well- known chimpanzee. One may form an idea of the age and continuity of this great forest when one reflects that such apes as are found there are only the sur- vivors of numerous species of a far past age. The roar of the gorilla is the most sin- gular and awful noise heard in these African woods. It begins with a sharp bark, then glides into a deep bass roll, which literally and closely resembles the sound of distant thunder along the sky, and fills the forest with its reverberations. Neither the lion, zebra, gnu, rhinoceros, giraffe, nor ostrich, nor the great number and varieties of antelopes so common in other parts of the continent, are known here. There are no tame cattle, no horses, no donkeys; in fact the only domesticated animals are goats and fowls and a species of sheep. The insect world is very abundant, scor- pions and centipedes, mosquitoes without number, and also a species of gnat, per- haps more troublesome than the mosqui- toes. Among the terrible flies are the ibolai, twice as large as our common fly; the nchouna, which inserts its proboscis so gently that often it gets its fill of blood be- fore you know you are bitten. Presently, however, the itching be gins, and lasts for several hours, varied at intervals by sud- den sharp stabs of pain which often last the whole day. The iboca, its bite is the most severe of all, and clothing is no protection from it; often the blood has run from my face or arm, so that one would think that a leech had been at work. The most dreaded of all is the elornay, a kind of wasp. The butterflies are at times extremely numerous, flitting along the path; their flight is as still as the forest itself. Of snakes there is great abundance; a few are harmless, but the bite of most of the species is deadly. There are tree, land, and water snakes. I have often seen the latter coiled up and resting on the branches of trees under water. These vary in size and in poisonous venom. There are cases where the man bitten dies in a short time. There are a great many species of ants, some of which are found in vast numbers. The most remarkable and most dreaded of all is the baskikouay, and is a most voracious creature, which carries nothing away, but eats its prey on the spot. It is the dread of all living animals of the for- est, the elephant, the leopard, the go. 6 THE GREAT EQUATORIAL FOREST OF AFRICA. rilla, and all the insect worldand man himself is compelled to flee before the advance of these marauders or to protect himself by fire and boiling water. It is the habit of the bashikouay to march through the forest in a long, regular line about two inches broad or more, and often miles in length. All along the line layger ants, who act as officers, stand out- side the ranks, and keep the singular army in order. If they come to a place where are no trees to shelter them from the sun, the heat of which they cannot bear, they immediately burrow under- ground and form tunnels. It takes often more than twelve hours for one of these armies to pass. When they grow hungry, at a certain command which seems to take place all along the line at the same time, the long file spreads itself through the forest in a front line, and attacks and devours all it overtakes with a fury that is quite irresisti- ble. All the other living inhabitants of the forest flee before it. I myself have had to run for my life. Their advent is known beforehand; the still forest be- comes alive, the trampling of the elephant, the fligh~of the antelope or of the gazelle, of the leopard, of snakes, all the living world, in the same direction where the other animals are fleeing away. I remember well the first time I met these bashikouays in their attacking raid. I knew not then what was in store for me. I was hunting by myself all alone, when suddenly the forest became alive in the manner I have described above ; a sudden dread seized me; I did not know what all this meant. Some convulsion of nature was perhaps going to take place. I stood still in the hunting path, resting on my gun, when all at once, as if by magic, I was covered with them and bitten every- where. I fled in haste for dear life in the same direction the animals had taken, and the middle of a stream became my refuge. Their manner of attack is an impetuous leap, instantly the strong pincers are fas- tened, and they only let go when the piece gives way. They even ascend to the top of the trees for their prey. This ant seems to be animated by a kind of fury, which causes it entirely to disregard its own safety and seek only the conquest of its prey. Sometimes men condemned to death on account of witchcraft are made fast to a tree, and if an army of hun- gry bashikouays passes, in a short time only his bare skeleton remains to tell the tale. The power and the knowledge of the white man extended but a few miles from the coast, and the interior was a terra in- cognita. To ascend the rivers, to acquaint myself with the superstitious customs and mode of life of the black tribes who had not hitherto been visited by white men, to hunt in the great forest, make natural history collections, to explore the country, were among the chief objects I had in view. In that great forest I travelled, always on foot, and in every direction, and unaccompanied by any white man, more than ten thousand miles; I shot, pre- served, and brought home more than two thousand birds, many of which were new species; and more than two hundred quad. rupeds twenty of these were also new species; and more than eighty skeletons, and some hundred and twenty skulls. All these had to be carried on the backs of my followers and carefully packed and pro- tected from the heavy rain. What terrific weather and dangers often attended us in our marches may be seen from the fact that the rainy season near the seashore lasted nearly nine months, and the mountains actually seemed to have been the home of rain. In October the fierce tornado began, ma king the mighty forest tremble to its base; and often the old giant trees, unable to stand its force, fell, carrying everything before them. The loud crash of a hundred trees upon which it fell filled the forest. The tornado is followed by terrific thunder and most vivid lightning, and many a time, for several consecutive hours, there was no cessation even of a few seconds, and tor- rents of rain incessantly descended till morning. In the morning, at the dawn of daylight, we all crot up, food was cooked, we took a scanty breakfast, walked or travelled till noon, rested or cooked our food for about an hour, and then on the march again until nearly sunset. When we halted for the night the first thing to be done was for the men and women to gather firewood, large leaves to roof our sheds, and cut sticks for the building of these sheds, for I had no tent with me, it being impossible to carry heavy baggage through the forest. All these were so plentiful in the forest, that all ~vere generally collected in less than half an hour. Some running little rivulets were close by, so that we could get our water. Then we built great fires and made ourselves comfortable, and were always careful to build the fires in such a manner that the rains of the night would not extinguish them. A long part of the evening was generally spent by me in THE GREAT EQUATORIAL FOREST OF AFRICA. preparing the skins of birds and animals I had shot. In order to explore the country my duty was first to make friends with the chief and people of the seacoast, and to learn their language. Then after a while these people would take me to the people of the next tribe; here I would make friends again and try my way further and get new porters; one language or a dialect would carry me through three or four tribes, then I had to stop and learn another dialect. There are no beasts of burden; man, or woman rather, is the only beast of burden. Paths lead from one village to another, consequently from one tribe to another; sometimes some of these are little used on account of war and enmity between villages or tribes ; then they can hardly be seen and are almost at times quite lost in the jungle, so the utmost caution and all the skill of my men was necessary in order that we should not lose our way. In addition to these there are paths lead- ing to plantationswhich come to a sudden termination and hunting tracks. Woe to the man who loses his way! Many of the villages are small and they are often far apart, so that no party of several hundred men could traverse the country without bringing famine, and find- ing themselves famished for want of pro- curing sufficient food; hence they would have to take the food by force, and their advance would be heralded by the war cries and the hostility of the natives as they made their appearance, and one bloody conflict after another would be sure to happen. The advice of my old friend King Quen- gueza, of which I often proved the truth, ran thus Now listen to what I say you will visit many strange tribes. If you see on the road or in the streets of a village a fine bunch of plantains with ground nuts lying by its side, do not touch them, leave the village at once; this is a tricky village, for the people are on the watch to see what you will do with them. If the people of any village tell you to go and catch fowls or goats, or cut plantains for your- self, say to them, Strangers do not help themselves: it is the duty of the host to catch the goat or fowl and to cut the plantains, and bring the present to the house that has been given to the guest. When a house is given to you in any village, keep to that house, and go into no other; and if you see a seat do not sit upon it, for there are seats which none but the owners can sit upon. But, above all, be- ware of women! I tell you these things that you may journey in safety. The food of the country is maize, sweet potatoes, plantains, yams, cassava (ma- nioc), pumpkins, and ground nuts. The two first do not go far inland. Man is comparatively scarce in this great wilder- ness; the population is divided into a great number of tribes; I have myself been among thirty-five of them. The tribes are subdivided into clans. The people in many parts of the country live in an almost permanent state of war. Polygamy and slavery are well-estab- lished institutions; most men own slaves, but the slaves must belong to some other tribe; no raids are made upon villages for the single purpose of procuring slaves. The children of slaves are not slaves, but form a class of their own. Parents in many cases, with the consent of their re- spective families, can sell their children. The more powerful a man is, the more slaves and wives he possesses. Idol wor- ship, the belief in good and evil spirits, in the power of fetiches, and of incantation, are prevalent everywhere. But there is a curse probably greater than slavery itself; it is the belief of the people in the power of witchcraft. Woe to the man who is believed to be a wizard, or to the woman who is supposed to be a witch; nothing but the ordeal of drinking the mboundou can expiate the crime, and fortunate in- deed are those who pass safely through this ordeal, for this mboundou is a most powerful poison. The most characteristic point about the negro tribes I have met is their great eagerness and love for trade. The fortu- nate or unfortunate man who kills an ele- phant and lives far inland has to wait a long time, often several years, before he gets goods in exchange for his ivory. The tusk either comes down the river or by the paths which lead from one village or tribe to another, and the journey takes a long time. Trade is carried on by barter in the following manner: The tribes along the seashore are succeeded by one tribe after another in the interior. Each of the tribes claims the right of way, and assumes to itself the privilege of acting as go-between or middle-man to those next to it, and charges a heavy commission for this office, and no infraction of this rule is permitted. The lucky owner of a tusk is obliged by the laws of trade to intrust it to some man he knows in the next tribe nearer the coast. This one in turn forwards or takes it to the next chief:or friend. So the ivory often passes through a dozen hands or more before it reaches the coast. But this is only half the eviL Although the producer 7 8 THE GREAT EQUATORIAL FOREST OF AFRICA. trusts his ivory, this trade is carried on entirely on credit, and no securities are given. The ivory of the coast is said to be the finest obtained in western Africa, and is or was very plentiful in the days I speak of, about one hundred thousand pounds coming from the Gaboon alone yearly. Many of the ivory tusks find their way from the interior to the seashore from a long distance. Now when the last black fellow disposes of his tusk of ivory to the white merchant, he retains, in the first place, a very liberal percentage of the return for his va/uable services, and transfers the remainder of the goods to the next man or tribe in the series. He, in turn, takes a commission for his trouble in the transaction and passes on what is left, and so, finally, a very small re- mainder is handed to the fellow who killed the elephant, and the amount he receives is a very small one compared with the goods received on the coast. Slaves are sold in the same manner. Each man generally waits for the proceeds. The creditor in such case lives with the debtor; he is an honored guest, and while waiting, the host gives him one of his own wives a hospi- table custom in this part of Africa, which a man is always expected to observe towards his visitors. Whenever I entered a vil- lage, the chief always made haste to place a part, often alt his wives, at my service. Time is literally of no account to an Afri- can. A friends village is as jolly a place as any village of his own country, and perhaps in a few months his goods would come. So the days go on pleasantly. Among the most curious tribes or people I discovered in that great forest were the cannibals and the dwarfs. The cannibal tribes with which I came in contact were the Fans and the Oshebas. They are the finest, bravest-looking ne- groes I saw in the interior, and eating human flesh seems to agree with them, though I afterwards saw other Fan tribes whose members had not the fine air of these mountaineers. The strangest thing about the Fans is their constant encroachments upon the land westward. They were much lighter in color than any of the coast tribes, strong, tall, and well-made, and evidently active. The men were almost naked, and wore no cloth about the middle, but instead, the soft inside bark of a tree, over which in front was suspended the skin of some wild-cat or other animal. They had their teeth filed, which gives the face a ghastly and ferocious look, and some had their teeth blackened besides. All the Fans wore queues. Their hair or wool was drawn out into long, thin plaits; on the end of each stiff plait were strung some white beads, or copper or iron rings. Some wore feather caps, but others wore long queues made of their own wool and a kind of tow, dyed black and mixed with it, and giving the wearer a strange appearance. The women, who were even less dressed than the men, were much smaller than they, and, with the exception of the inhab- itants of Fernando Po, who are called Boobies, I never saw such ugly women as these. These, too, had their teeth filed, and most had their bodies, like those of the men, painted red, by means of a dye obtained from the bar-wood. They car- ried their babies on their backs in a sling or rest made of some kind of tree-bark and fastened to the neck of the mother. The king was a ferocious-looking fellow whose body was painted red, and whose face, chest, stomach, and back were tat- tooed in a rude but very effective manner. The queue of Ndiayai, the king, was the biggest of all, and terminated in two tails, in which were strung brass rings, while the top was ornamented with white beads. Brass anklets jingled as he walked. The front of his middle-cloth was a fine piece of genetta-skin. His beard was plaited in several plaits, which also contained ~vhite beads, and stuck out stiffly from the face. The queen was nearly naked, her only article of dress being a strip of the Fan cloth, dyed red, and about four inches wide. Her entire body was tattooed in the most fanciful manner; her skin, from long exposure, had become rough and knotty. She wore two enormous iron anklets iron being a very precious metal with the Fan and had in her ears a pair of copper ear-rings two inches in diameter, and very heavy. These had so weighed down the lobes of her ears that I could have put my little finger easily into the holes through which the rings were run. All the Fan villages are strongly fenced or palisaded, and by night a careful watch is kept. They have also a little native dog, whose sharp bark is the signal of some one approaching from without. The villages are as a rule neat and clean, the streets being swept, and all garbage except, indeed, the well-picked bones of their human victimsis thrown out. Signs of cannibalism, in piles of human bones, mixed up with other offal, thrown at the sides of several houses, were seen everywhere. The villages consisted mostly of a single THE GREAT EQUATORIAL FOREST OF AFRICA. 9 street from six hundred to eight hundred yards long, on each side of which were built the houses. The latter were small, being only eight or ten feet long, five or six wide, and four or five in height, with slanting roofs. They were made of bark, and the roofs were of a kind of matting made of the leaves of a palm-tree. The doors run up to the eaves, about four feet high, and there were no windows. As blacksmiths they very far surpass all the tribes of this region who have not come in contact with the whites. Their warlike habits have made iron a most necessary article to them; and though their tools are very simple, their patience is great, and they produce some very neat workmanship. These cannibals have a great diversity of arms. I saw men armed with cross- bows, from which are shot either iron- headed arrows, or the little, but really most deadly, poison-tipped arrows. These are so light that they would blow away if simply laid in the groove of the bow. To prevent this they use a kind of sticky gum, a lump of which is kept on the under side of the bow, and with which a small spot in the groove is lightly rubbed. The handle of the bow is ingeniously split, and by a little peg, which acts as a trigger, the bow- string is disengaged, and, as the spring is very strong, sends the arrow to a great distance, and, light as it is, with great force. They are good marksmen with their bows, which require great strength to bend. They have to sit on their haunches, and apply both feet to the mid- dle of the bow, while they pull with all their strength on the string to bend it back. The larger arrows have an iron head, something like the sharp barbs of a har- poon. These are used for hunting wild beasts, and are about two feet long. But the more deadly weapon is the little, insig- nificant stick, not more than twelve inches long, and simply sharpened at one end. This is the famed poison-arrow a mis- sile which bears death wherever it touches, if only it pricks a pins point of blood. The poison is made of the juices of a plant which was not shown me. They dip the sharp ends of the arrows several times in this sap, and let it get thoroughly dried into the wood. It gives the point a red color. The arrows are very carefully kept in a little bag, made neatly of the skin of some wild animal. They are much dreaded among the neighboring tribes, as they can be thrown or projected with such power as to take effect at a distance of fifteen yards, and with such velocity that you cannot see them at all till they are spent. Over their shoulders was suspended the huge country knife, and in their hands were spears and the great shield of ele- phant-hide, and about the necks and bodies of all was hung a variety of fetiches and greegrees, which rattled as they walked. The Fan shield is made of the hide of an oldelephant, and only of that part which lies across the back. This, when dried and smoked, is hard and almost as impen- etrable as irOn. The shield is about three feet long by two and a half wide. Some bore on their shoulders the terri- ble war-axe, one blow of which quite suf- fices to split a human skulL Some of these axes, as well as their spears and other iron-work, were beautifully orna- mented with scroll-work, and wrought in graceful lines and curves which spoke well for their artisans. The war-knife, which hangs by the side, is a terrible weapon for a hand-to-hand conflict, and, as they explained to me, is designed to thrust through the enemys body; they are about three feet long. There is another huge knife also worn by some of the men. This is over a foot long, by about eight inches wide, and is used to cut down through the shoulders of an adversary. Then there is a very singular pointed axe, which is thrown from a distance. When thrown it strikes with the point down, and inflicts a terrible wound. The object aimed at with this axe is the head, and they use it with great dexterity. The point penetrates to the brain, and kills the victim immediately; and then the round edge of the axe is employed to cut off the head, which is borne away by the victor as atrophy Many of the men wore a smaller knife but also rather unwieldly ~vhich served the various offices of a jack-knife, a hatchet, and a table-knife. The spears, which are six to seven feet in length, are thrown with great force and great accuracy of aim. They make the long, slender rod fairly whistle through the air. Most of them can throw a spear effectively to the distance of from twenty to thirty yards. In the midst of this great forest I dis- covered, in the year i86g, some of the dwarf or pygmy tribes. I had heard of these people for the first time in the Api ngi country, under the name of Ashoun- gas; amoug the Ashangos they are called, however, Obongos - From the loose an~ THE GREAT EQUATORIAL FOREST OF AFRICA. exaggerated descriptions I had heard, I been newly made, for the branches of had given no more credence to the report trees of which they were formed had still of the existence of these dwarf tribes than their leaves on them, quite fresh. We to that of men with tails, who had stools approached with the greatest caution, in with a hole in them for their tails to be order not to alarm the wild inmates, my put through, or to the stories of the Sa- Ashango guides holding up a bunch of padi, or cloven-footed men. beads in a friendly way. and shouting, The first positive proof I had of the Do not run away, the spirit has come veracity of the natives in this part oc- with us to give you beads; but all our curred in the following manner: While I care was fruitless, for the men, at least, was traversing the wild forest of the were gone when we came up. Their flight Ashango country we came suddenly upon was very hurried. We hastened to the a cluster of most extraordinary diminutive huts, and luckily found three old women huts, which I should have passed by, and one young man, who had not had thinking them to be some kind of fetich- time to run away, besides severalchildren, houses, if I had not been told by my the latter hidden in one of the huts. guides that ~ve might meet in this district The little holes which serve as doors to with villages of a tribe of dwarf negroes, the huts were closed by fresh-gathered who are scattered about the Ishogo and branches of trees stuck in the ground, Ashango countries and other parts fur- showing that the owners were absent, and ther east. The huts were of a low and no one ~vas permitted to enter. oval shape; the highest part that near- The color of these people was a dirty est the entrance was about four feet yellow, much lighter than the Ashangos from the ground; the greatest breadth was who surround them, and their eyes had about four feet also. On each side were an untamable ~vildness about them that three or four sticks for the man and struck me as very remarkable. In their woman to sleep upon. The huts were whole appearance, physique, and color, made of flexible branches of trees, bent and in their habitations, they are totally almost into a circle with both ends fixed unlike the Ashangos or other tribes in the ground, the longest branches be- amongst whom they live. The Ashangos, ing in the middle, and the others succes- indeed, are very anxious to disown kin- sively shorter, the whole being covered ship with them. They do not intermarry with large leaves, with them; but declare that the Obongos So far as my experience goes they are intermarry among themselves, sisters ~vith scattered through the great forest. At brothers, doing this to keep the families times several of these villages are situated together as much as they can. The small- near each other. Sometimes I could see ness of their communities, and the isola- that a village had just been aban~doned, tion in which the wretched creatures live, while others were inhabited, but the people must necessitate close interbreeding. were all out on hunting or fishing expedi- Their foreheads are exceedingly low and tions or excursions. narrow, and they have prominent cheek- These dwarfs were afterwards seen by bones; but I did not notice any peculiarity the German explorer Schweinfurth who in their hands or feet, or i~ the position kindly mentioned me as their discoverer of the toes, or in the relative length of subsequently also by Dr. Junker, and their arms to the rest of their bodies; but lastly by Mr. Stanley. their legs appeared to be rather short in The dwarfs were very shy with me, and proportion to their trunks; the palms of I had great difficulty in approaching them; their hands seemed quite white. The hair but on one occasion we suddenly came of their heads grows in very short, curly upon twelve huts of this strange tribe, in tufts, like that of the bushmen of South a retiied nook in the forest, scattered with- Africa, to whom they seem closely related out order, and covering altogether only a this is the more remarkable as the Ashan- very small space of ground. When we gos and neighboring tribes have rather approached them no sign of a living crea- long and thick hair on their heads, which ture was to be seen, and, in fact, we found enables them to dress it in various ways; them deserted. with the Obongos the dressing of the hair Leaving the abandoned huts, we con- in masses or plaits, as is done by the other tinued our way through the forest; and tribes, is impossible. The only dress they presently, within a distance of a quarter wear consists of pieces of home-made of a mile, we came on another village, com- cloth which they buy of the Ashangos, or posed, like the last, of about a dozen ill- which these latter give them out of pure constructed shelters. The dwellings had kindness, for I observed that it was quite MARCIA. II a custom of the Ashangos to give their own worn denguis to these poor Obon- gos. The Ashangos and other tribes like the presence of this curious people near their villages because the Obongo men are very expert and nimble in trapping wild ani- mals and fish in the streams, the surplus of which, after supplying their own wants, they sell to their neighbors in exchange for plantains, and also for iron imple- ments, cooking utensils, water-jugs, and all manufactured articles of which they stand in need. The woods near their villages are so full of traps and pitfalls that it is danger- ous for any but trained woodsmen to wan- der about in them; I always took care not to walk back from their village by night. The Obongos never remain long in one place. They are eminently a migratory people, moving from place to place when- ever game becomes scarce, But they do not wander very far; that is, the Obongos who live within the Ashango territory do not go out of that territory they are called the Obongos of the Ashangos those who live among the Njavi are called Obongo-Njavi and the same with other tribes. Obongos are said to exist very far to the east, as far, in fact, as the Ashangos or their slaves have any knowl- edge. I was surprised at the kindness, almost the tenderness, shown by the Ashangos to their diminutive neighbors. The Obongo language is a mixture of what was their own original language and the languages of the various tribes among whom they have resided for many years or generations past. The tallest dwarf I saw was ~ feet and 1 inch in height. The 4 others varied from 4 feet ~ inch to 4 feet 7~ inches. I measured a woman 3 feet 9 inches, but this was a great exception. From Murrays Magazine. MARCIA. BY W. E. NORRIS. AUTHOR OF THXRLBY HALL, ETC. CHAPTER XXI. WILLIE IS TOLD HOW HE STANDS. IF there is one thing that women enjoy more than another, it is making a man who loves them thoroughly angry and un- happy. Perhaps, therefore, the exhilara- tion which Marcia felt while she and her son were being drawn up the zigzags of the St Gothard Pass in a travelling car- riage was not to be accounted for wholly and solely by the causes to which she was pleased to ascribe it, and it may be as- sumed that she was both sincere and mendacious when she exclaimed, What a blessing it is to have shaken off those outsiders! Now our holidays will begin again.~ Willie concurred in the sentiment with- out being fully persuaded of its genuine- ness. For some time after he and his mother had once more established them- selves at a high level above the sea he scrutinized the daily arrivals with appre- hension; but his fears were not justified by events, and if Marcia entertained some unacknowledged hopes, these also re- mained unfulfilled. After all, she did not much care. Her friend was probably affronted, but he would recover himself in due season, and for the time being Willie had certainly a prior claim upon her. Archdale was his own master, and could see her whenever it might suit him to seek her out; but her poor boy had, for the present, many masters, one of ~vhom kept a school which reassembled early in Sep- tember. So she placed herself unreserv- edly at Willies disposition, and visited all the places which he expressed a wish to visit, though some of these were not very comfortable, and they were quite happy together untiLthe shadow of the inevitable parting began to fall upon them. Geneva, which had been the scene of their reunion, was also that of their severance. They lept up their spirits as well as they could until the last evening, when Marcias tears were no longer to be restrained. Oh, how dreadful it all is!, she ex- claimed. If I were going to seeyou again at Christmas I shouldnt mind half so much; but my turn wont come round until Easter, and the Easter holidays are so short! The boy looked down, not trusting him- self to speak. He was of an age at which the male creature of northern blood is supposed to have given up crying forever; yet he could not look forward into the future without sensations which brought him within perilous distance of disgracing his incipient manhood. At length, how- ever, he regained self-command enough to ask: Wont you come home any more then, mother?~ Dont call me mother! exclaimed Marcia. You have taken to it lately, and I dont like it. Let me be mummy still when we are alone, and when no one can hear us or laugh at us for being child- ish. No, dear; England isnt home to me 12 MARCIA. now, and perhaps it never will be again. Florence is more my home than any other place; but no place can be really home without you. It would break my heart if I thought you looked upon your fathers house as your home. As far as that danger went, her heart was likely to remain whole, and so Willie assured her. He had not yet seen his fathers house, nor had he the slightest wish to make acquaintance with it. He would prefer spending his holidays at Blaydon, he said, unsatisfactory though Blaydon was as a holiday resort. It had, however, been arranged that he should pass a night in Keppel Street on his way back to school, and Marcia, when she put him into the train, could not refrain from giving him a word of caution, between her sobs, which was perhaps superfluous. You need not say anything to your father about our having met Mr. Archdale and Mr. Drake, she said. I dont think he likes them very much. Willie nodded. He thought it fair to add on his own score, Mr. Drake isnt such a bad sort, you know. Thus Marcia was moved to laughter as well as tears, and the last impression of her which her son carried away when the train moved out of the station was that of a lovely woman whose emotions were no more under her control than those of a child, and for whom his love was rapidly becoming akin to that which is the prerog- ative of childhood. Willie was a boy like other boys, and his master did not consider him at all precocious; yet he ~vas able to take his mothers measure with tolerable accuracy. She might do things which are not generally esteemed to be quite right, he thought; but she would never do wrong intentionally, and though the whole world should unite in condemning her, he at Least would always be upon her side. And, indeed, he never swerved from that resolution, not~vithstanding the trials to which it was subjected in after years. At intervals during thelong journey he rehearsed the conversation which he might expect to have with his father, and made up his mind as to what he would say and what he would leave unsaid. Amongst other things, he intended to mention that, in his opinion, his mother required some- body to take care of her. Suppose she were to fall ill all alone there in Italy? Or suppose some ruffianly foreigners should have the audacity to insult her? Eventually he himself would be in a posi. tion to afford her the protection of which she stood in need; but for the present somebody surely ought to replace him. The poor little man really thought that these sage suggestions might pave the way for a possible reconciliation. But when he reached Charing Cross his eyes searched the platform in vain for the tall, stooping figure which he had expected to descry there. Instead of it, he pres. ently became aware of the ponderous form of Sir George Brett; and Sir George, who was clad in black from hat to boots, looked strangely solemn. He said, in a subdued voice very unlike that in which he was wont to address the world at large, Come away with me, my boy; the ser- vants will see to your luggage. You are to sleep at my house to-night. Willie was frightened, without quite knowing why. He glanced interrogatively at his uncle, who, however, avoided meet- ing his eyes, and vouchsafed no further explanation until they had seated them- selves in the brougham which was waiting for them. Sir George did not half like the task which had been delegated to him by his ~vife; but, to do him justice, he never shirked unpleasant duties, and he set to work upon this one with such delicacy as Heaven had granted him. After clearing his voice and blowing his nose noisily, he began, My boy, I have bad news for you. Your poor father has not been himself for some weeks past; latterly your aunt and I have become uneasy about him, and now our worst fears have been well, yes; I may say that they have been more than verified by events. Is he dead?~ asked Willie, in an awe- struck voice. Yes, my boy, he is dead, answered Sir George, looking away and repressing a strong inclination to stop the carriage and jump out. If the question is put to me point-blank, what other answer can I make? I cant tell a direct falsehood about it, you know. This expostulation was perhaps ad- dressed rather to the absent Caroline than to his interlocutor, who received the star- tling intelligence with a composure which Sir George was not quite sure whether to admire or to be shocked at. It was a com- fort that the boy did not stuff his fists into his eyes and howl; but at the same time some display of filial affection and sorrow would have been appropriate. As a mat- ter of fact, Willie had never been able to feel much love for his stern, reticent father; but in any case there would not have been room in his mind at that first moment for other emotions than amaze- MARCIA. 3 rnent and incredulity. After he had been briefly informed of the accident which had occurred, and after he had confused his uncle a little by inquiring what connection there was between that accident and his fathers state of health, his thoughts natu- rally turned to his mother, and he asked whether she knew what had happened. She knows by this time, Sir George replied I telegraphed to her as soon as I could get her address, which, however, I was not able to obtain immediately. I have as yet received no reply. Decency, added Sir George, compelled me to tele- graph; but er I scarcely anticipate that she will think it necessary to return to this country. Willie abstained from further questions. Had he shown more curiosity he probably would not have heard that his uncle and aunt differed from the coroners jury, be- cause Sir George was both a prudent man and in some respects a merciful one; but certainly no effort would have been made to conceal from him the low esteem in which his mother was held by the relatives of her late husband. Perhaps he guessed as much, and for that reason kept silence. Sir Georges gloomy town house looked gloomier than usual; for the blinds were drawn down, and the furniture was swathed in brown holland, and the stair- carpets had been taken up. We shall go down to Blaydon to-mor- row afternoon, Sir George said. Your aunt has not accompanied me to London; she has of course been greatly upset by this terrible business, and it would not have been safe for her to incur the fatigue of the journey. But she begged me to give you her love and to say that she hopes to keep you with her until until a proper interval has elapsed and you can return to school. Dinner, for which Willie had very little appetite, was served with due solemnity in the vast, dimly lighted dining-room. In the course of the meal it transpired that Mr. Bretts funeral was to take place on the morrow; also that a telegram had ar- rived from Geneva. As I supposed, observed Sir George, your mother does not intend coming to England. And I am bound to say that I do not see what good purpose could have been served by her doing so. Of course she couldnt have been here in time, said Willie, feeling that he ought to stand up for his mother, who, it seemed, was being accused of a callousness which was only to be expected of her. In time for the funeral, you mean? Well, no; nor perhaps, under the circum- stances, would it have been desirable for her to attend, even if she had been able to do so. I am glad, however, that it is in your power to pay that last tribute of re- spect to your fathers memory. The late police-magistrate had been a man to whom tributes of respect were doubtless due, and many people must have thought so, for his coffin was followed to the grave by a long string of legal celebri- ties. None of these gentlemen would have described themselves as his friends; but they had been well acquainted with him, they had held a high opinion of his pro- fessional ability and personal integrity, and as most of them had outstripped him in the race for success, they had no reason to speak of him in other than flattering terms. Not even the presence of so large and honorable a concourse, however, could prevent the obsequies, which were, solem- nized in wind and driving rain, from being mournful and forlorn in the extreme. A solitary wreath, sent up from Blaydon by Lady Brett, reposed upon the coffin; but nobody else had happened to remember a custom which has now become universal, nor did any tears fall into the dead mans grave. Willie, who was made to walk alone as chief mourner, looked pale and a little scared, but did all that he was told to do, and was patted encouragingly on the shoulder by sundry elderly gentlemen, who probably wished him to understand that they sympathized with him, although they had not any appropriate remarks at command. The boys mind was busy (as the minds of boys mostly are) with reflec- tions and speculations vhich would have caused great astonishment to his unimagi- native uncle, had he given utterance to them; but he held his peace, and when the melancholy ceremony was at an end, Sir George, with a sigh of relief, put him into the brougham which was in attend- ance, saying, Now well drive straight to the sta- tion; the express will get us home in plenty of time for dinner. He added, in what he intended to be kindly accents, Blaydon will be your home now, you know, Willie. That this was no mere figure of speech was explained to him later in the day by his aunt, who said, It was your poor dear fathers wish that we should treat you as our own child, and I hope you know that his wishes will always be sacred to us. You must try to be a good boy and grow up into a good man, as he was. Then you will understand, although you may not under- 4 MARCIA. stand it yet, that Providence overrules all things for the best. Willie quite intended to be as good as the frailty of human nature would permit him to be, and was not concerned to dis- pute the beneficent wisdom of Providence. At the same time he felt no great inclina- tion to regard Blaydon as his home or his uncle and aunt as his parents; besides which, he remembered what others ap- peared to have forgotten, that one of his natural parents was still living. I shall sometimes go to mamma in the holidays, shant I ? he asked. Lady Brett sighed and made the sort of answer which her Majestys ministers usually make when inconvenient questions are put to them. Your uncle will do what is right and what is for your good, she replied. It is time to dress for dinner now. Now, was it right and was it for Willies good that he should be allowed to see any- thing at all of the wicked woman who, for his misfortune, was his mother? Lady Brett was decidedly of opinion that it was neither the one nor the other, and she expressed herself in unequivocal terms to that effect during a conjugal conference which was held the next morning after the post had come in. The post had brought Sir George a letter from Marcia to which exception could not very well be taken. Marcia, who evidently wrote under the influence of strong emotion, said she was quite aware that she had not been a good wife. She did not expect her husbands relations to absolve her or think kindly of her; she only begged them to believe that she had been grieved as well as shocked by the news of his tragic death, and that if it had been possible for her to foresee how near his end was, she would never have left him. In other words, was Lady Bretts comment upon this confession, she is sorry to have made an unnecessary scan- dal now that she has obtained her release. You need not trouble yourself to defend her, George; nobody denies that she is pretty, and nobody doubts that a pretty woman will be pardoned by any man, how- ever advanced in years he may be. My dear Caroline, returned Sir George, with some asperity, Marcias beauty has no more to do with the matter than my age. The question which I have to consider is whether her conduct, so far, has been such as to justify my forbidding all communication between her and her child. Her conduct, so far, has been almost as bad as it could have been; but I dare say it will be worse before long. I know for a fact that that man Archdale followed her to Italy, and I believe that they have since met in Switzerland. I suppose she will marry him now, if he will consent to marry her. I am not, I hope, uncharita- ble, but it is our duty as Christians to dis- charge the task ~vhich has been intrusted to us in a Christian manner, and how can we hope to do so if our efforts are to be perpetually undermined by the influence of such a woman as that? I certainly un- derstood from what you told me, George, that poor Eustace ~vished the boy to be removed from his mothers reach, and that you yourself only consented to act as his guardian upon the condition that you were to have undisputed control over him. Sir George scratched his ear and an- swered, Yes, yes; but it isnt such a simple affair as you think. You and I may have our own opinion of Marcia; you and I may be convinced that she is morally responsible for Eustaces death; but we cant prove anything of the sort, and al- though perhaps I have a legal right to separate her from the boy against her will, the fact remains that I shall most likely get intoa deuce ofthat is, into a very disagreeable row by insisting upon my right. I should be more inclined to wait a~bit and see how things go. It is not iiiiprobable that she may cut the knot of the difficulty of her own accord before lono By marrying that artist, you mean? Exactly so. The artist, we may as- sume, will not be anxious to be saddled with a stepson, and I should think that Marcia will not be such a fool as to ruin the lads prospects. She will have to choose between providing for him and let- ting me provide for him, you see. In that case, observed Lady Brett musingly, I have no doubt that she will be selfish enough to give him up. Peoples ideas of what constitutes self- ishness and unselfishness are apt to differ; but it was, at all events, certain that no credit for virtue of any kind would be allowed by Caroline to her sister-in-law, and Sir George was glad to avoid further discussion. He ~vanted an heir and had resolved that Willie should be his heir; but he did not want to have more fuss about it than could be helped. He took an early opportunity of saying to Willie not unkindly, yet with a certain dry- ness of manner which he always used in- stinctively in treating of business affairs: It is right and proper that you should MARCIA. 5 know how you stand. Your father has nominated me as your sole guardian. That is to say that until you reach the age of one-and-twenty I shall manage your small property for you and you will be entirely subject to me. You will not, I think, find me tyrannical. I shall en- deavor to do my duty, and I hope that you will endeavor to do yours Willie did not reply; but as his de- meanor plainly showed that he had some observation to make, his uncle said en- couragingly, Well, speak out, my boy; what is it? I would rather not be subject to any- body except my mother, answered Wil- lie, looking down. Quite natural, returned Sir George, with generous toleration ; but you must remember this: it was your fathers deci- sion, not mine, that you should be taken away from your mother, and that your home should be with us. He had reasons for so deciding which you are not yet old enough to understand, but which will be explained to you later if you wish it. Per- sonally, I may say that I think them sound reasons. Willie was quite old enough to under- stand them. What he did not understand, and what he was chiefly anxious to find out, was the extent to which he was hound by his fathers decision. Shant 1 be allowed to go to my mother when she wants me? he asked, a little tremu- lously. I am not prepared to say that, an- swered Sir George; I must be guided by circumstances. Anything that I can con- scientiously do to gratify you I will do; but you now know what your position is, and your best plan, believe me, is to ac- cept it without murmuring. Willie abstained from murmurs; but as for accepting his position, that he felt could only be done subject to certain mental reservations which it seemed inex- pedient to state. He will give no trouble, thought Sir George, with inward satisfaction. CHAPTER XXII. MARCIA YIELDS. A WOMAN who has found it impossi- ble to live with her husband may be shocked, but can hardly be grieved by the intelligence that she has become a widow, and Marcia Brett, if she had been in any way logical or consistent, must have re- joiced in the recovery of her liberty, while deploring the melancholy event which had been the means of restoring it to her. Consistency, however, was not a salient feature in her character; so that she shed a good many tears over the death of the man whose name she bore and whom she accused herself of having treated some- what harshly and ungratefully. Eustace had been exceptionally provoking, there was no denying that; yet she supposed that, after his fashion and within the lim- its of his capabilities, he had been at- tached to her. Now that he was dead and gone, it was not very difficult to see his side of the case, or to admit that if he had been an unsatisfactory husband, he had also had an unsatisfactory wife. If I had only been patient enough to bear with him a little longer! Marcia ex- claimed again and again with genuine contrition. But it must be confessed that this peni- tent mood did not survive the blow in- flicted upon it by a business-like letter from Sir George Brett, in which the testa- mentary provisions of his late brother were distinctly set forth. That these in- cluded no provision for herself did not make Marcia angry; she had her own for- tune and had not expected it to be in- creased. But she was very indignant, and perhaps very pardonably so, at the custody of her only child being denied to her, and it was in no measured terms that she wrote to protest against so monstrous an ar- rangement. Sir George, who was anxious to keep the peace, pointed out in a formal but not discourteous reply that he was bound to obey his brothers instructions. Whether those instructions were wise or the reverse it was not for him to say; he would only mention that he was not pre- pared to set them aside. Perhaps he might take the liberty of adding that, in his opinion, Mrs. Brett ~vould be ill-ad- vised were she to provoke a conflict which could not but end in her discomfiture. Thus was initiated a correspondence which was briskly sustained during many weeks, although there was little save reit- eration on both sides to keep it alive. Re- iteration, however, often succeeds where argument would be of no avail, and by the time that Marcia had once more settled herself in Florence for the winter, she was beginning to admit what she had not been at all disposed to admit at the outset, that Sir George was a formidable antagonist. Apparently he had the law on his side. That, of course, only showed how brutal and unjust the law is apt to be; still, its brutality and injustice cannot be amended in any given case without an act of Par- i6 MARCIA. liament. Then again there was the pros. of bygone days had evidently forgotten pect at which this wealthy banker had her; even Laura Wetherby wrote in a more than once hinted, that his ward stiff, formal fashion which indicated dis- ~vould in all probability be his heir. Per- approval. Though what she can find to sonally, Marcia set little store by wealth; disapprove ot in me now Im sure I dont but she had seen too much of the power of know, thought Marcia. And of course money to despise it, and she naturally it was not strange that, at such a moment hesitated to deprive Willie of the very of dejection, her thoughts should revert best substitute for happiness that has ever to the man whom she loved and whom it been discovered. And after all, she re- was no longer an offence against any law, flected, a boy is not like a girl; the fondest human or divine, to love. The strange of parents cannot keep him always under thing was that she had thought so little their wing; perhaps it does not so very and so seldom of him since her husbands much signify whether this house or that is death. Possibly she cared more for Wil. called their home, since in reality the lie than she did for himthe point was greater part of their lives must be spent one on which she had never felt quite pos. elsewhere. So at length she yielded a itive but, at all events, her anxiety about sort of dubious assent to the decree which, Willie had hitherto driven him out of her as she was given to understand, was unal- mind, and only now, when she was grad. terable, merely stipulating that she should ually familiarizing herself with the idea retain the right of seeing or sending for that her life must henceforth be divided her son as often as he should be free to from Willies, did she begin to wonder at obey her summons. Sir George, perceiv. Archdales prolonged silence. ing that victory was now within his grasp, He might have written, she mused. civilly declined to make any such conces- But perhaps he didnt know where to sion. You must surely be aware, he write. wrote, that I should fail in my duty ~vere Then suddenly there flashed across her I to comply with your demand. I can a suspicion which caused her heart-strings say no more to you than I have already to contract painfully. Flirting with a mar- said to the boy himself; namely, that I ned woman is generally considered to be must be guided by circumstances. So far a dangerous sort of amusement; but do as it may be in my power to oblige you, I not most men affirm that a flirtation with shall be glad to do so; but I can make no a widow is more dangerous still? Arch. bargain, nor can I relinquish in any degree dale, it was true, had once told her that he the authority which has been conferred loved her, and although he had never re- upon me. peated the declaration with his tongue, he It was on a sultry autumn evening that had repeated it many and many a time Marcia wandered out to the Cascine with with his eyes. Nevertheless, she knew this discouraging missive in her pocket. that no word in the English language is So far as she was concerned, Florence more frequently misused than love, and was at this time a desert; for she had a hot flush overspread her cheeks as she made very few Italian acquaintances, and recalled the mixture of prudence and au- the English visitors, who to her repre- dacity which had always characterized sented the society of the place, had not Archdales relations with her. The most yet put in an appearance. She sat down humiliating thought of all was that she on a bench beneath the trees and gazed at had not contrived to keep her own secret. the yellow Arno, and felt utterly lonely Evidently he had taken frio~ht and evi- and miserable. At no previous period of dently she had only herself jo blame for her life had she been deprived of the sol- his alarm. Oh, if he would but come ace of sympathy; there had always been here 1 she ejaculated inwardly. If he somebody to whom she had been able to would but give me the chance of convinc- confide at least a part of her troubles and ing him that I am not quite so easily won grievances; there had always been plenty as he imagined l of people willing and eager to console her Her aspiration was gratified with dra- when she had been out of spirits. But matic promptitude; for the very next in- now, through no fault of her own, she stant somebody, who had approached seemed all of a sudden to have become an noiselessly across the grass, placed his outcast. Willie was drifting away from hands upon the back of the bench and her; he would drift farther and farther exclaimed, At last I have found you, away as the years went on that was an then! I knew it must be you, though I inevitable process which she could not re- never saw you wearing an ugly bonnet tard nor his uncle accelerate; the friends before. Marcia was too much taken by surprise to preserve her dignity, and before she could stop herself she had told Mr. Arch- dale how glad she was that her solitude had been broken in upon by the unex- pected advent of a friend. I dont know why you call my bonnet ugly, though, she added; it is of the shape that every- body is wearing now.~~ It is ugly because it is black, an- swered Archdale, seating himself beside her. You are right, I suppose, to dis- play the conventional signs of mourning; but I know they cant imply any real grief, and I hope you will soon lay them aside. Marcia was honestly shocked by the flagrant bad taste of this speech. I dont think you quite understand, she answered. Of course my husband and I were not upon good terms; but it does not follow that I am quite such a wretch as to rejoice at his death. Well, said Archdale imperturbably, I dare say you are kind-hearted enough to be sorry. I admire you for it, though I really cant pretend to share your senti- ments. We have all got to die some time or other, and, for my part, I am sincerely glad that Mr. Bretts time has come. You will admit that he treated you abomina- bly. Well, Marcia was certainly of that opinion; but she abstained from express- ing it. By way of changing the subject, she inquired what had brought Mr. Arch- dale to Florence, and was gratified to learn that for some weeks past he had been seeking her high and low. I had no means of finding out where you were, he said; it was only as a sort of forlorn hope that I decided to push on here. You may imagine how delighted I was when I called at your old address and was told that you had returned. You havent been home since I saw you, I suppose? I have no home, answered Marcia sadly. One thinks of England as home; but I dont know whether it will ever be home to me again. Everything has been taken from me even my own boy She was very nearly bursting into tears at this point; but she controlled herself, and presently narrated the story of her wrongs, to which her companion listened patiently, though without much apparent sympathy. ii am afraid you will call me hard- hearted, he observed at length; but I must confess that I see very little reason to regret an arrangement which will make LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXI. 3642 MARCIA. 7 your son a rich man some fine day. As for their forbidding you to see him, thats all nonsense; they will have to let you see him if you insist upon it. But, for the boys own sake, I shouldnt advise you to insist too often, and I should try to keep upon good terms with the banker. I quite understand that this is rather a wrench for you; only Oh, no, you dont understand 1 inter- rupted Marcia impatiently; you cant understand, and it was absurd of me to fancy that you could. I am sure you would be very sorry for me if I told you that I had been robbed of a few thousand pounds; but when you hear that I have lost all I care for in this world you almost congratulate me! Archdale looked hurt. Very likely he felt so; for in truth she had managed to wound his vanity, which was perhaps his most Vulnerable point. Oh, if that brat that boy, I mean is all you care for in the world, said he, you are very much to be pitied, no doubt. But I didnt know that he was; I hoped you had some slight feeling of regard for your friends. My friends, answered Marcia, recov- ering her equanimity when she perceived how greatly she had vexed one of them, havent gone out of their way to display any great regard for me ; my friends only remember my existence when it suits them to do so. I assure you that Florence is very far out of my way. At this moment three influential patrons of mine are cursing me by their gods because I have failed to keep the engagements which I have en- tered into with them. I think you know that I can no more forget your existence than I can forget my own ; so I need not reply to that charge. Well, if you like, I will admit that you are the solitary exception which proves the rule. All my other friends have de- serted me. I dont care a brass farthing about all the others, Mr. Archdale declared. But perhaps I do, observed Marcia, smiling. You said just now that you didnt. Mrs. Brett, do you remember what I said to you that evening in the Regents Park? Marcia rose hastily. Yes, she an- swered, I remember. One doesnt forget such things; but one doesnt always wish to be reminded of them. I must say good- night now; I didnt know how late it was. May I not see you home? i8 MARCIA. No, thank you; I would rather drive. Perhaps, if you would be so kind, you would walk on and find a carriage for me. I will follow you slowly. He did as he was requested, and having obtained permission to call upon her, let her depart without finishing the speech which he had begu.n. He was in no great hurry; he had made up his mind that he would ask her to marry him, and he did not think that he was in much danger of being rejected. As he sauntered back towards his hotel, he took credit to himself for having behaved in a thoroughly straight- forward and honorable manner. To be sure, he was desperately in love with Mar- cia; still one does not always go so far as to marry the people with whom one is desperately in love, nor, when one does so, can one always hope to escape the ridicule of ones associates. However, in this in- stance there was, happily, nothing that could provoke a sneer from the most cyn- ical of lookers-on. To marry a beautiful widow with I,soo a year of her own is scarcely to make a fool of oneself. Never since the world began has a man who was desperately in love troubled him- self to ask whether his neighbors consid- ered him a fool or not; so that it may be taken for granted that Archdales love for, Marcia Brett was not of a desperate de- scription. He loved her, however, as much as his nature would permit him to love anybody, and, as the old nursery rhyme so truly says, Don Ferdinando cant do more than he can do. Perhaps this selfish, easy-going artist had in him the makings of an excellent average husband, although he was probably better adapted to excel in the capacity of a lover. But if he was a trifle too cool and self- possessed at this critical moment of his life, the same accusation could not be brought against Marcia, who was driven homewards in a state of tumultuous mental disturbance. She could not feel satisfied with herself; for she had by no means done what she had intended to do. So far from having snubbed the man whom she loved, she had as good as told him that his declaration was only premature. Of course he would repeat it; and when he did so, it would be impossible to dis- guise the truth from him. She did not exactly want to disguise it from him; yet she was keenly alive to the fact that so prompt a surrender would give occasion to the enemy to blaspheme. It was,. easy to foretell what Carolines comments would be and how greatly Sir Georges case would be strengthened by the news that his ward was about to be saddled with a step-father. And so the struggle, in so far as there was any struggle, seemed to narrow itself into one between Archdale and Willie. She could not hear to give up either of them; but at the bottom of her heart she knew that she would be obliged to give up one or the other. She had arrived at no decision, and was in that fatal attitude of awaiting events which renders those who assume it so completely at the mercy of the first person who knows how to create events, when Archdale came to see her on the following day. So helpless was she that she had capitulated before his first attack was made, and her feeble efforts to prevent him from saying what he had resolved to say were as ineffectual as might have been anticipated. Of course I care for you, she con- fessed, half laughing, half crying. I suppose you have known that all along, and I dare say you despise me for it. Oh, I know what men are; you only value the things that you cant have. If I had any sense at all I should tell you to go away. Besides, I cant help feeling that it is horrid of me to listen to you so soon. Archdale professed himself quite unable to share that feeling of compunction. She had done herdutyand more than herduty. She had lived with thatdetestable old man until he had virtually driven her out of his house; she had never, during his lifetime, overstepped the limits of strict propriety and now that she was free, nobody whose opinion was worth having could dispute her right to follow the dictates of her heart. As to her unflattering estimate of mankind at large, all he could say was that, if it was accurate, he must differ very widely from his fellows. It was no hard task to persuade her that he respected as much as he loved her; but he had a good deal of resistance to contend against when he pleaded for an immediate mar- riage. I couldnt do it! Marcia exclaimed. I should like to ~vait at least a year, and I should like our engagement to be kept quite secret. It isnt only that I am afraid of Mrs. Grundy, though I dont pretend to be indifferent with regard to Mrs. Grundy; but if I were to do as you wish, that would simply mean cutting myself off from Willie altogether. These people are only too eager to find some excuse for separating us. They havent got one now; but they will have one as soon as they are able to say that I have married a second time within three months of Eustaces MARCIA. 9 death. Women who do such things are always called horrid women, and I am not sure that they dont deserve it Now Archdale was by no means blind to the importance of standing well ~vith Mrs. Grundy; but as for this threatened separation of mother and son, he really could not regard that in the light of a calamity. So he said: If you love me as much as I love you, Marcia, you wont trouble your head about the scandal-mon- gers. Whether you marry me now or whether you stay on here by yourself, peo- ple who have any interest in traducing you will manage to traduce you; you may be perfectly certain of that. You cant expect me to accept a sentence of a years banishment from you, and nothing else would be of the slightest use. It is far better to give people something definite to talk about; the worst that they can say of you is that you havent taken Mr. Bretts death very much to heart. Well, as they already knew that you were not on speak- ing terms with him, they cant very well magnify that into a crime.~~ By means of these and other arguments he carried his point in the end. Or else he carried it because he had to deal with an opponent to whom one argument was neither better nor worse than another. Marcia could not at that time have re- fused him anything that he begged for; added to which, she had quite realized ~vhen she accepted him that in so doing she was handing Willie over to Sir George and Lady Brett. She had taken the plunge; she had made the sacrifice; her chief de- sire now was to avoid thinking about it. Nevertheless, she did not enjoy writing a letter which had to be despatched to Farnborough a few days later, and of which some passages were rendered al- most illegible by reason of sundry suspi- cious blots and splashes. CHAPTER XXIII. WILLIE HEARS TOO MUCH. As one hurries along the road of life towards the grave yard which is our com- mon goal, one pauses every now and again to cast a backward glance over ones shoulder at the dim landscape of the past. It is a queer, confused sort of view that one obtains at such times; near objects look remote; distant ones stand out with unnatural clearness; not a few which ought to be visible have vanished alto- gether. But certain landmarks there always are (they belong for the most part to the first stage of the journey), of which every detail remains distinct up to the very end, and amongst these Willie Brett will never fail to count the arrival of that letter from Florence of which mention was made in the last chapter. It was a misty November afternoon; he had been playing football and was changing his muddy flannels in aroom set apart for that purpose. One of the boys flung a wet towel at him which, by a sad mischance, missed its aim and, catching the matron full in the face, wound itself round her head, so that for an instant or two her just indignation could only find vent in muffled sounds of which the meaning had to be conjectured. But when once her mouth was free she spoke, and her remarks were very much to the point. She was going, it appeared, to complain straightway of Master Brown for his ungentlemanly be- havior: And has for you, Master Brett, I dont believe but what youre just as bad as the rest of em. Settin gigglin there like a common ploughboy! You ought to know better and you so igh up in the school too! Oh, theres a furrin letter come for you, Master Brett, she added, fumbling in her pocket. Ere, catch old of it; and next time you ~vrite to your mar you can tell her that your manners isnt what they should be; though the Lord knows Ive taken trouble enough with you! Willie did not tear open the envelope at once, but presently carried it off to the schoolroom and, seating himself at the desk which was his property for the time being, threw up the heavy wooden lid, which he propped upon his head that being the nearest approach to privacy ob- tainable in the establishment. It was always understood that a boy who assumed this posture ~vas occupied with urgent pri- vate affairs and did not wish to be inter- rupted. Well, it was a very lucky thing that the schoolroom happened to be empty at that hour; for when he had finished reading what his mother had to tell him, Willie quite forgot his advanced age, and the sheet of paper which had already been besprinkled by the tears of a still older person received two more great drops. And although, perhaps, it was not very manly of him to cry, nobody will be in- clined to deny that he had something to cry about. He was not much surprised that his mother should be going to marrya man for whom he personally entertained no sentiments of affection; but he was a good deal surprised and not a little shocked to hear that the marriage was to take place so soon. Like St. Paul, he doubted the 20 MARCIA. expediency of second marriages in the Providence in his affairs, he had common abstract, and he had always supposed that sense enough to make the best of accom- people who had decided upon that ques- pushed facts. But his youth that joy- tionable step waited at least until they ous, unthinking period which rarely runs were out of mourning before taking it. out its natural course even with the most Of course, however, it was not so much fortunate of us had received its death. the unconventionality of the proceeding blow, and from being a merry, jolly sort of that distressed him as the conviction that, boy he became a somewhat serious one. in forming this new tie, his mother had His physical health, however, remained made up her mind to cast him off. The excellent; so that when Christmas came whole tone of her letter, which was apolo- and he betook himself to Blaydon for the getic and abounded in expressions of love holidays, Sir George was delighted to wel- and regret, showed that she recognized come an heir who looked as robust as the that as a necessity. She did not speak of last representative of a respectable family seeing him during his holidays; she did ought to look. not seem to look forward to any prospect I am going to send you to Eton at the of doing so; she even affected to believe beginning of the next half, was almost that he would be happier in an English the first thing that his uncle said to him. country-house, than she could have hoped Your future tutor has a vacancy in his to make him while wandering about the house, and from the reports that I have Continent. Only, she added, I hope sent him, he has no doubt, he says, about you will think of me sometimes; for you your getting into Upper School. Thats may be sure that I shall always be think- all right as far as it goes, and Im sure ing of you. I dont want you to neglect your opportu- The boy was hurt and disappointed, as nities of becoming a fair classical scholar; well he might be. He had not inherited but Im glad to hear that you are pretty his mothers jealous temperament, nor did good at games too. One kind of educa- he expect her to live solely for him; yet tion is suitable for one boy and another it was painful to him to know that he no kind for another. The chances are that longer held the first place in her heart, and you will never have to earn your own liv- scarcely less painful to read her abdication ing; so it is important that you should in favor of his uncle and aunt, whom he excel in athletics. By learning such ac- was enjoined to treat with submission and complishments you may form friendships respect. And you must not mind what with young fellows whose friendship will they say about me, Marcia had ju~dged it be valuable to you after your school and prudent to write; because they are sure college days are at an end. to be angry with me at first. They will A great many boys are sent to Eton come round in tirfle, I dare say. with no other object than that which Sir If they were angry, they refrained from George Brett so frankly avowed; and al- expressing their emotions by post. About though the object is seldom attained, the a week later Willie received one of the boys, it may be hoped, profit by their dry, carefully worded epistles which his temporary residence in a sort of aris- aunt was in the habit of addressing to him tocratic republic where class distinctions from time to time, and in the course of it meet with very little recognition. Willie occurred the following brief passage neither knew nor cared anything about News has reached us of your mothers that; but he was glad that he was about marriage to Mr. Archdale. I understand to be sent to a public school, and he had that she informed you of her intentions, certainly no reason to complain of his I hope, my dear Willie, that, young as you uncle and aunt, who did their best to be are, you know how certain it is that Prov- kind to him. Not much liberty was per- idence overrules all things for our good, mitted him, nor was hilarity a prominent and that you will not, therefore, rebel feature of life at Blaydon; still he had his against what may at first sight look to you pony, and the keeper was instructed to like a misfortune. take him out shooting, and he was told That was the only intimation that he that if at any time he should wish to invite had of the fulfilment of his mothers inten- one of his schoolfellows to spend a week tions. She did not write to him again, with him he might do so. nor did he know whether she had left Encouraged by these favors, he yen- Florence or not. Weeks passed away; tured, one day, to ask Sir George where he had his own methodical round of work his mother was and when he might hope and play to occupy him; if he placed no to see her once more; but the reply which great reliance upon the intervention of he obtained was by no means satisfactory. MARCIA. 21 Sir George frowned, threw back his head and answered, Your mother, to the best of my belief, is in Italy; I have made no inquiries and I do not propose to make any. I cannot tell you when you will see her, or whether you will ever see her again; but this I can say and I am very sorry to be obliged to say it you will never see her under my roof. The subject is a painful one; I must ask you to abstain from re- curring to it. The fact was that Sir George had been far more horrified than his wife by Mar- cias precipitancy. He had looked forward to her re-marriage as a highly probable event; but he had expected her to keep within the limits imposed upon widows by ordinary custom, and when he heard of what he stigmatized as a wanton violation of all common decency he was genuinely angry. Lady Brett declared that for her part she was not in the least astonished. She had never fallen into the ridiculous error of imagining that women are good because they are pretty; indeed her expe- rience would have led her, if anything, to quite the contrary conclusion. Still she was of opinion that good might come out of evil if the eyes of those who had hitherto believed in Marcia were now opened; and when Willie, after having been rebuffed by his uncle, made an appeal to her, she was able to take up her parable quite kindly. My dear, I condemn nobody; I am too conscious of my own shortcomings to pre- sume to judge others. But men are less merciful perhaps in some ways they are more just than we are, and I doubt whether your uncle will ever consent to receive Mrs. Archdale. He may be wrong in holding her answerable for your poor, dear fathers death; but I am afraid we cannot call him wrong when he accuses her of unnaturally heartless conduct. The most charitable thing that we can do is to say nothing about her. Under the circumstances, that seemed to be at any rate the most prudent plan to act upon, and Willie kept his thoughts to himself. He was ready, in case of his mothers demanding that he should be re- stored to her, to back her up to the utmost of his small ability; he was ready to run away from Blaydon or to attempt any other adventurous enterprise that might be re- quired of him; but obviously he could not take the first step. He must have some assurance that his mother desired his company before he could venture to thrust it upon her and her new husband. No such assurance reached him; but towards the end of January there came a very kindly invitation from Lady Weth erby, who wrote to say that her son was about to proceed to Eton and that, as she had understood that Willie was bound for the same destination, it would be pleasant for the boys to go down together. She hoped, therefore, that Sir George Brett would see no objection to his nephews spending the last few days of the holidays with them in London. Sir George, whose respect for the aristocracy of his native land has already been hinted at, hastened to return thanks in his nephews name and his own and to accept this friendly proposal on behalf of the former. I do not wish you to be a snob or a tuft-hunter, Willie, said hefor he thought that some such caution might be necessary your own position is quite good enough to entitle you to associate with anybody, and I dare say that you will eventually be better off than many young earls and viscounts. Nevertheless, I think that, in choosing your friends, you will do well to pay some regard to the matter of birth, and you may depend upon it that those who affect to despise birth are either silly or insincere. I should be glad to hear that you had made friends with young Lord Malton, who will inherit a very large fortune as well as an ancient title. It is probably no bad thing for the heir to a large fortune and an ancient title that he should be well kicked in the earlier part of his career, and it will be perceived that Sir Georges remarks were admirably adapted to secure for Lord Malton any advantage that may follow from that method of treatment. But Willie Brett belonged to the order of human beings who always make the best fighters; that is to say that his inclinations were quite peaceable. So he only said to himself that he hoped the other fellow wouldnt put on airs upon the strength of being an earl or a viscount or whatever he was; because in that case it would naturally become his (Willies) duty to knock such pernicious nonsense out of him. Happily, Lord Malton proved to be a fat, good-humored little boy upon whom no consciousness of his social impor- tance had as yet dawned. He extended a friendly welcome to the new-coiner, and, having ascertained that their tastes coin~ cided in certain essential particulars, gave him to understand that he might make himself quite at home. But indeed that was what every member of the establish. ment, from its head downwards, gave him 22 MARCIA. to understand. They were very kind to him, and Lord Wetherby taught him to p lay billiards, and Lady Wetherby took him to the theatre and to other places of amusement, so that he had more fun during the last three days of his holidays than in all the previous ones put together. He said as much to his hostess, who laughed and replied that if he had enjoyed himself he must come again. But I hope you dont dislike living with your uncle and aunt, do you? she asked, looking at him with wistful, moth- erly eyes; for she could not comprehend Marcias abandonment of the boy, and it seemed to her a most melancholy thing that he should be deprived of his natural home. I havent minded it so much this time, Willie answered. Theyre right enough when you know them; only they arent a bit like you and Lord Wetherby, you know. It doesnt do to speak to Aunt Caroline unless she speaks to you; and then if you make a mistake in grammar she lets you hear of it. I shouldnt like to live at Blaydon always. My mother will want me to go back to her some day, I should think, he added, coloring slightly. Shouldnt you think so? Oh, I am sure she must want you,~~ Lady Wetherby declared; but one cant always have what one ~vants, you see. The subject, in fact, was a somewhat difficult one to discuss, and Lady Weth- erby did not know the ins and outs of it; so she merely remarked: Your mother was one of my oldest friends, and I hope she hasnt forgotten me, though she has given up writing to me of late. Now I must go and dress, or I shant be ready in time for dinner.~~ But if information as to what had be- come of his mother, which Willie was most eager to gain, yet did not like to ask for in so many words, was not obtainable in that quarter, he accidentally heard what he wanted, and something more into the bargain, on the following morning. Malton had taken him round to the stables, and the two boys, after critically examining the horses, had entered an empty loose- box, when Lord Wetherby strolled in, accompanied by a friend who was staying in the house, and to whom he was saying, apparently in answer to some question, Oh, yes, I suppose hell come into a lot of money some fine day, poor little chap I As far as that goes, you may say that hes lucky; but its hard lines upon him to be thrown over by his mother. I always understood that she ~vas devoted to the boy; but women are qi.~eer creatures; theyll give up anything and anybody for the sake of a man whom theyre in love with especially if he dont happen to be worth much. That beggar Archdale is a clever artist; but hes about the laziest rascal and the coolest hand I ever met. He undertook to do some work for me and left it three-parts finished without so much as an apology, though he hasnt for- gotten to make me pay him pretty heavily on account. What ~vith that and what with his wifes money, he feels too rich to work at present, I take it. Somebody told me the other day that he had seen them at Cannes, where they were living on the fat of the land and having a fine time of it. That sort of thing will go on, I expect, until he has got to the end of the poor womans fortune, and tired of her face. Its a pity. Well, observed Lord Wetherbys friend, perhaps when her husband has had enough of her she will have had enough of him, and then she may remem- ber that she has a son. Perihaps; but I should doubt it; women invariably adore men who neglect them. Besides, old Brett, who has no children of his own, wont surrender the boy now. He has been appointed guardian, and I believe Mrs. Archdale consented to waive her claims. Lord Wetherby and his friend remained for a few minutes longer, talking about horses, and then left the stables without having discovered the involuntary eaves- droppers, of whom one had become very red in the face, while the other had turned rather pale. Malton displayed a discretion beyoyd his years by making no allusion to the conversation which they had over- heard, and Willie, with a dull pain at his heart from which he was not destined to be free for many a long day, tried to be- have as though nothing was the matter. It was a fortunate thing for the poor little man that the next week was such a busy and important one in his life. Dur- ing the period which immediately follows ones entrance upon a public school career there is no time for brooding and not very much for thinking. Willie had to famil- iarize himself with the manners and cus- toms of a place which had little in common with the Farnborough establishment; he had also to satisfy the curiosity of a great many young gentlemen who wanted to know what his name was, where he came from, and, in a general way, what was the good of him; finally, he had to pass an examination, the result of which he awaited MARCIA. 23 with anxiety. Only before he fell asleep at night had he leisure to reflect upon the perplexing crueity of fate. What had he done that his mother should cease all of a sudden to care about him? Why should she cease to care about him be- cause she cared more if she really did care more for somebody else? Had he been twenty years older, he could have answered the questions without difficulty, but perhaps also without truth. Being so young, and so unsophisticated, he could only assume that there must be some mis- take, which would be set straight ere long; because, after all, Lord Wetherbys asser- tions, ~vhen considered calmly, were in- credible. So he made up his mind that there was nothing for it but faith and pa- tience; and he took middle fourth, which was respectable, if not brilliant; and gradually he shook into his place;and formed friendships, and began to enjoyi life again. Nevertheless, he could not altogether free himself from that heartache which is so much more painful and so much more unnatural in boyhood than in later years. CHAPTER XXIV. A FRUITLESS APPEAL. AH, dear me! exclaimed Archdale, removing the cigarette from between his lips in order to heave a sigh, what a jolly place this world would be if one could do ones work by proxy! He ~vas reclining in an easy-chair be- neath the shade of a spreading ilex, and he looked as if he did not find this world such a very bad place to live in, notwith- standing its imperfections. Beneath him the blue Mediterranean stretched away to meet the sky; the Lerins Islands in the middle distance and the innumerable villas and hotels of Cannes in the foreground were basking under the rays of a sun which was like that of an English midsummer; upon a small table at his elbow stood two empty coffee-cups, and from the other side of it Marcia was contemplating him with happy and admiring eyes. Oh, but Cecil, said she, nobody ex- cept you could do your work. Quite so; thats just what I complain of. Work is a most abominable nuisance; but when it has to be done with ones own hands or not done at all one must endure what cant be cured. Therefore, he added, with another sigh, I suppose we had better hunt out Bradshaw and get our clothes packed and turn our faces towards London, like everybody else. Towards London! echoed Marcia, in somewhat dismayed accents. Do you really want to go back to London, Cecil? Not one little bit, my dear; I should like to stay where I am. But ones fellow- creatures are departing, and the mosqui- toes are arriving, and well, everything must come to an end, unfortunatety, in- cluding the happiest winter of ones life. But it need not end in a disagreeable way, returned Marcia quickly. I do so hate the idea of showing myself in Lon- don again! And I thought one of the advantages of being an artist was that one could work anywhere. Archdale shook his head and laughed. One can make a sketch anywhere, he an- swered, but painting a picture is another affair. Moreover, some of my pictures have to be painted upon other peoples walls, you see. I must confess that I have behaved quite scandalously to your friends, the Wetherbys. However, Ill make amends now; and theres just this to be said for me, that when I do work I work hard. Marcia could not but admit that her husband was in the right. She was too proud of him and too ambitious on his behalf to wish that he should drop out of sight, and she knew that reputations are more easily lost than maintained. At the same time, she shrank from the ordeal which a return to England must necessa- rily entail. She had done nothing dis- graceful; yet it was certain that many people would look askance at her. Her separation from Eustace had been an awk- ward circumstance; the haste with which she had married again was more awkward still; most awkward of all was the fact that her present husband had been com- promisingly attentive to her during the last season which she had spent in Lon- don. All this she had thought of before and had regretted because it was exces- sively painful to her to forfeit the respect of her acquaintances but latterly she had contrived to put away from her every thought and every memory that was of a nature to cause her pain. Her feeling, or what she imagined to be her feeling, was that any sacrifice made for Cecils sake was a joy. She had been perfectly happy with him so far; she had been convinced that for the rest of her life her happiness must be bound up in his, and that was why she had never even written to Willie since her wedding day. It was better, she had thought, to cut herself off altogether and finally from the past. She had been forced to choose between old ties and new ones, 24 MARCIA. and she had made her choice. For Wil- lies worldly advantage she had surely chosen aright. He was now to all intents and purposes an orphan who had been adopted by a rich uncle; as for herself, she was Marcia Archdale; Marcia Brett was dead and gone. But when she went out for a solitary walk that afternoon (her husband having an engagement at the Cercie Nautique which he declared that he could not possibly break) it was borne in upon her that one cannot change ones identity at will. For a month or two it may be possible to believe that there is only one person in the world whose weal or ~voe is of the smallest consequence; but this cannot be the truth, save in a few very rare instances, and it certainly was not the truth as regarded herself. Along the face of the hillside above Cannes runs a narrow, open aqueduct which supplies the reservoirs whence the town draws its drinking water. Thither Marcia climbed, and, after having walked for some little distance by its banks, seated herself upon the ground in a shady spot. Then she drew from her pocket a letter which she had not read more than a dozen times, because she had found that she could not do so without crying, and be. cause it is silly to cry when one is happy. However, the usual effect was produced upon her by the re-perusal of poor Willies reply to her announcement of her intended marriage. It was a composition upon which much time and pains had evidently been bestowed; there was nothing in It to hurt the feelings of the most sensitive of brides or widows; but that, of course, was just what rendered it so desperately reproachful. When Marcia read again the little formal, childish phrases, every one of which she already knew by heart, she felt that she had been attempting an absolute impossibility all this time. Oh, my own dear boy, she exclaimed, through her tears, I cant forget you, and I wouldnt if I could! I must see you again; I must tell you that I love you as much as ever, though I dare say you wont believe me. And so, that evening, it came to pass that Mr. Archdale was agreeably surprised to find his wife quite eager to make a start. He knew as well as she did that they were not likely to be received with open arms on their return to their native land, and he had expected her to oppose him in the matter; but as it was really essential that he should pass a few months in London, he was grateful to her for her ready assent, the cause of which he did not surmise. He flattered himself that her love for him had weaned her from all other affections; and this was not inexcusable on his part, seeing that she had repeatedly assured him that such was the fact. It was soon after Easter that they reached London and took up their quar- ters at an hotel in Cork Street which had been recommended to them. Eton boys get a months holiday at Easter, but that was a circumstance which Archdale had no special reason for remembering, nor did he understand his wifes anxiety to find out the exact date on which the vaca- tion was supposed to end. It all depends upon whose vacation you mean, he said. If you are think- ing of the smart people, I should say that you might look forward to seeing them in about a week. Oh, I havent time to see anybody! answered Marcia, somewhat disingenu- ously, although it was true enough that her leisure moments were few. They had agreed that they could not stand the discomfort and expense of an hotel for the whole season, and thus a process of house-hunting, the burden of which fell entirely upon Marcias shoul- ders, was inevitable. Her husband good- naturedly told her that any house which might suit her would be sure to suit him, so that there was no occasion for him to waste time which he could employ more profitably in his studio by accompanying her on her search expeditions. These were tiring and at first disappointing; but she ended by discovering a modest man- sion in South Kensington which seemed suitable for their purpose; and, on hear- ing her description of it, Archdale at once gave her the authority to close with the house agents offer. And I think, he added, the best plan will be for you to move in and get things straight as soon as possible. I wrote to Lord Wetherby the other day to ask when it would be convenient for him to let me finish my work at his place, and this afternoon I had an answer from him saying that I could name my own time. So, if you dont mind, Ill go now and get it over. I shall be back in less than a fort- night most likely, and I dare say youll be glad to have me out of the way while you are settling down and enoacrino~ servants and so forth. It was with mixed feelings that Marcia heard of this project. She had reasons of her own for being glad that her husband should leave London just then; but she did not quite like his leaving her at all, MARCIA. 25 and she was a little mortified by her exclusion from an invitation which she would have refused, had it been extended to her. Didnt Laura Wetherby ask me to go with you? she inquired. Well, it wasnt from her that I heard, you see. Lord Wetherbys letter was a sort of business communication, and as I didnt mention you in writing to him, I suppose he forgot that I am no longer a bachelor. Anyhow, I couldnt have gone; so it doesnt matter, observed Marcia, who nevertheless knew that neither Lord nor Lady Wetherby could really have forgot- ten her existence. But it was not of the prejudice and in- justice of these old friends for which, in truth, she had been fully prepared that she was thinking while she set about mak- ing the South Kensington house inhabita- ble. As she was fond of pretty things, she would probably have spent a good deal more time upon that process had she been less feverishly eager to put herself in communication with Sir George Brett, to whom, on the second day after Arch- dales departure for the north, she indited a lette? so humble in tone and so modest as to its request that she did not see how any man possessed of a human heart could answer it unfavorably. All that she asked was to be allowed one interview with her son; she left it to Sir George to say when and where the interview should take place; she disclaimed any wish to interfere with existing arrangements, and she promised that she would not say a sin- gle word to the boy which might render him discontented with his lot. This appeal she addressed to Blaydon Hall; the consequence of which was that she had to wait through two days of mis- ery and suspense for the following reply, which was dated Portman Square: MADAM, Circumstances have pre- vented us from moving down to the country this Easter; hence my delay in acknowl- edging the receipt of your note. I regret that I cannot see my way to comply with the suggestion put forward therein. Both Lady Brett and I feel that we ought not to sanction any meeting between you and one whom we now regard as our own child. We think that the tendency of such a meeting would be to unsettle his mind, and 1 am compelled to add that we do not think ourselves bound to stretch a point or to do a foolish thing for the sake of gratifying a mere caprice on your part. Rightly or wrongly, we consider that the step which you have recently taken is not compatible with the maternal affection to which you lay claim; the performance of what appears to us to be our manifest duty is, therefore, the less painful to us. Pain- ful it must necessarily be to us to decline all further intercourse with our sister-in- law; still we have the consolation of knowing that in doing so we are actuated by no resentful or unworthy motives. I will only add that our determination must be taken as final and unalterable, and that I am, Madam, Your obedient servant, GEORGE BRETT. The combination of George and Caro- line which was perceptible in every line of this dignified missive might have tickled Marcias sense of humor, if she had had any sense of humor to be tickled, and if she had not been far too disap- pointed and angry to be amused. As it was, she could only vituperate her broth- er-in-laws cruelty, and if there was one passage of his letter which struck her as being more cruel than another, it was that in which he had accused her of a lack of maternal affection. Such, doubtless, was the impression which he desired to convey to Willie, and such was the false impres- sion which it was not only her right but her duty to remove. By what means she was to achieve this legitimate object was, however, another question. Of course, she might write to Willie; only writing is seldom satisfac- tory, and written words are more easily explained away than spoken ones. Be- sides, she was dying to see her boy. She had made up her mind that she would be allowed to see him at least once, and to tell her that she must surrender that hope was like telling a starving man that he must not eat. One scarcely blames a starving man if he steals the food which is denied to him; so that Marcia may per- haps be excused for considering how she might effect a surreptitious entrance into Sir George Bretts house in Portman Square. But the longer she considered this the more impossible did it appear to her to attempt anything of the kind. She had not courage enough to dress herself up in some disguise; she had not imag- ination enough to invent a story which would insure her admission, nor had she any means of guessing at what hour Willie would be likely to be at home and his uncle and aunt out. Her one idea was to tip the butler and appeal to his compas 26 THE LAW IN 1847 AND THE LAW IN 1889. sion which perhaps was not such a bad idea, after all, seeing that Sir George ~vas a little bit too rich to be tipped, and that he apparently did not know the meaning of pity. But if there was a human being more destitute of pity than Sir George, that wretch was unquestionably his wife; and Marcia, who was well acquainted with Lady Bretts habit of driving slowly round and round the Park every day between the hours of four and six, thought it only pru- dent to deliver her first assault upon the citadel at a time of day when the mistress of the establishment was almost certain to be absent. Willie, it was true, would prob- ably be absent also; but the butler, at all events, would be at his post, and from that functionary useful information might be obtained. She set forth with some trepidation, yet with a determination not to be baulked of her purpose which was perhaps as ser- viceable to her as any definite plan would have been. By hook or by crook she meant to get speech of her son, and a mother who has formed a resolution of that kind is a difficult person to defeat. Sir George quite thought that he had de- feated her; but then Sir George labored under the double disadvantage of being a man and a rather stupid one into the bargain. From The Contemporary Review. THE LAW IN I& 17 AND THE LAW IN 1889. BY LORD COLERIDGE. THE following paper was written and delivered to the law students at Birming- ham early in last year; but I then refused to publish it, as it might be thought to refer to passing events and living men, at that time the subjects of personal and strong controversy. This reason against publi. cation, never one founded in fact, has by lapse of time, ceased to be of any avail; and as there are some who still desire to see the paper in print, it is not worth while on this score, and in so small a matter, any longer to object. Haste and incomplete. ness are much better objections; but these are beyond my power to remove or lessen, and I will say only that I am as fully aware of them as any reader can be. I wish to add that when the paper was written I had, of course, not seen the important and admirable paper of Lord Herschell on the duties and responsibili- ties of an advocate. MANY years ago, in 1877, my honored friend William Edward Forster persuaded me to go to see him at his Yorkshire home, and to deliver the prizes at a great meeting held at Bradford, which he then, and to the day of his death, represented in Parliament. He and I had to make speeches; and as it was an educational gathering, we spoke about education. About his speech I will say nothing, ex- cept that it seemed to me excellent and characteristic; but mine undoubtedly was weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable. Next day in a Lon.don newspaper there was an article on our speeches. Had the chief justice or Mr. Forster nothing t ogiveus but platitudes on education; an old and worn-out subject, on which neither of them had anything fresh to say; of which, in- deed, their knowledge was the knowledge of other men, long since assimilated by every one interested in the matter. If, now, they would have told us something about themselves, how they prepared themselves for their parts in life, how they got on in the world, how far and in what respects their career might be an example or a warning to other men; then, indeed, we might have listened, certainly with interest, possibly with ad~antage. Well, I remember saying to my friend, supposing we had taken the advice, we know, by experience, the article which would have followed. Who are these men who expect to interest us in their egotis- tical reminiscences? A second-rate poli- tician, a third-rate lawyer. Have they really the vanity to suppose that, beyond their own families and dependents, who must affect an interest they do not feel, any human being cares one farthing how they managed to achieve any position in the world, which, did very well without them before their appearance, and which will be hardly conscious of it when they disappear? So, no doubt, would our young gentleman, our daily oracle and monitor, have said, and not without reason. Twelve years have passed away, and one~ s sensibility to attack and criticism has become, or at least ought to have be- come, twelve years blunter. But I still think it would be unwarrantable presump- tion to occupy your time with a personal narrative, or to attempt to direct you into paths which I have trodden more by chance than choice, and which have as often led me away from, as towards, that earthly goal which all human life should aim at, success in some definite and hon- orable pursuit, chosen with prudence and followed with energy. Yet, without so THE LAW IN 1847 AND THE LAW IN 1889. 27 wasting your time, it may be that I may, necessity, altogether closed. The circuits not altogether uselessly, employ it by a occupied, not quite, but nearly, at the same sort of comparison between what the pro- time, the services of fourteen judges; and fession was when I entered it, and what it while the circuits went on there was no is now, by considering how far the out- work for common lawyers in London ex- ward changes in it are changes which cept at the Privy Council and in the House affect its real life, ~vhether or no they have of Lords. The circuits were great schools altered in any manner the principles of of professional conduct and professional conduct, which, as far as I know history, ethics; and the lessons learnt upon them no great and honorable lawyer has ever were to receptive minds of unspeakable questioned in theory, or defined in prac- value. The friendships formed on circuit tice. were sometimes the closest and most en I began my legal life in 1847, and at during that men can form with one that time the common law rested mainly, another; the cheery society, the frank though not exclusively, upon special manners, the pride in the body we be- pleading, and truth was investigated by longed to, the discipline of the mess, rules of evidence so carefully framed to the friendly mingling together on equal exclude falsehood, that very often truth terms of older and younger men, the les- was quite unable to force its way through sons to be learned both from leaders who the barriers erected against its opposite. were good and leaders who were bad by Plaintiff and defendant, husband and wife, the constant attendance in court which persons, excepting Quakers, who objected was the invariable custom, the large to an oath, those with an interest, di.rect amount of important and profitable busi- or indirect, immediate or contingent, in ness which was ~ransacted; all these the issue to be tried, were all absolutely things gave the circuits a prominent and excluded from giving evidence. Nonsuits useful place in the life of a common law- were constant, not because there was no yer, which, I am afraid, they are ceasing cause of action, but because the law re- to have, except in a few of the largest and fused the evidence of the only persons most populous counties. who could prove it. I do not speak of Such, in rude outline, was the bar when coancery, which had defects of its own, I joined it forty-two years ago. The sys- because I pretend to no more knowledge tem had its great virtues, but it had its of chancery practice than is picked up by great and crying evils; and they were a common lawyer who, as he rises in his aggravated by the powerful men who at profession, is taken into courts of equity that time dominated Westminster Hall, to examine a ~vitness or to argue a case and whose spirit guided its administration. upon conflicting facts. Questions as to The majestic presence of Lord Lyndhurst, marriage, and as to wills, so far as they re- a luminous, masculine, simple, yet most lated to personal property, were under the powerful mind, the very incarnation to an jurisdiction of courts called ecclesiastical, outward observer of courtesy and justice, with a procedure and principles happily of was departing from the bench; Lord Den- their own, and presided over by judges not man, high-bred, scholar-like, with a noble appointed by the crown. The admiralty scorn of the base and the tricky, was just jtrrisdiction, at all times of great, in time about to follow. The ruling power in the of war of enormous, importance, was in courts in 1847 was Baron Parke, a man practice committed to an ecclesiastical of great and wide legal learning, an admi- judge. Criminals, except in high treason rable scholar, a kind-hearted and amiable and in misdemeanor, could be defended by man, and of remarkable force of mind. counsel only through the medium of cross- These great qualities he devoted to examination. Speeches could be deliv- heightening all the absurdities, and con- ered, with the above exceptions, only by tracting to the very utmost the narrowness the prisoners themselves, and the system of the system of special pleading. The of writing speeches for the parties them- client was unthought of. Conceive a judge selves to deliver, a system of which, in rejoicing, as I have myself heard Baron questions of real property, the orations of Parke rejoice, at nonsuiting a plaintiff in - Is~us, and, in other matters, those of an undefended cause, saying, with a sort Lysias, Isocrates, and many even of De- of triumphant air, that those who drew mosthenes himself, are examples, this sys- loose declarations brought scandal on the tern never, I know not why, obtained in law. The right was nothing, the mode this country. of stating everything. When it was pro- Then, too, during large portions of the posed to give power to amend the state- year, the common law courts were, from ment, Good Heavens! exclaimed the 28 THE LAW IN 1847 AND THE LAW IN 1889. baron, think of the state of the rec- With the advent of Lord Campbell to the ord i.e., the sacred parchment, which chief justiceship, a great lawyer, not wed- it was proposed to defile by erasures and ded to the narrow technicalities, which he alterations. He bent the whole powers of thoroughly understood, but did not admire, his great intellect to defeat the act of came to the assistance of good sense and Parliament which had allowed of equitable justice. But for some time he struggled defences in a common law action. He laid in vain against the idolatry of Baron Parke down all but impossible conditions, and to which the whole of the common law at said, with an air of intense satisfaction, in that time was devoted. Even so very my hearing, I think we settled the new great a lawyer and so independent a man act to-day, we shall hear no more of equita- as Sir James Willes dedicated a book to ble defences! And as Baron Parke him as the judge to whom the law was piped, the Court of Exchequer followed, under greater obligations than to any judge and dragged after it, with more or less within legal memory. One of the obliga- reluctance, the other common law courts tions he was very near conferring on it of Westminster Hall. Sir William Maule was its absolute extinction. I have aided and Sir Cresswell Cresswell did their best in building up sixteen volumes of Meeson to resist the current. Cresswell was a & Welsby, said he proudly to Charles man of strong will, of clear, sagacious, Austin, and that is a great thing for any sensible mind, and a sound lawyer; Sir man to say. I dare say it is, said William Maule seems to me, on reflection, Austin; but in the palace of truth, baron, and towards the close of a long life, on do you think it would have made the the whole, the most extraordinary intellect slightest difference to mankind, or even I ever came across. He could split a hair to England, if all the cases in all the vol. into twenty filaments at one time, and at umes of Meeson & Welsby had been de. another could come crushing down, like a cided the other way? He repeated his hugesteamhammerofgoodsense,through boast to Sir William Erle. Its a lucky a web of subtlety which disappeared un- thing, said Sir William, as he told me der his blow. A great scholar, a very himself, that there was not a seventeenth great mathematician, who extorted, as I volume, for if there had been the common have been told by Cambridge men, a law itself would have disappeared alto. senior wranglership from examiners wed- gether, amidst the jeers and hisses of man- ded to the synthetic method, in spite of kind; and, he added, Parke didnt his persistent and indeed defiant use of seem to like it. the analytic; a great linguist, an accom- Peace be with him. He was a great plished lawyer, and overflowing with h u- lawyer, a man of high character and pow- mor, generally grotesque and cynical, but erful intellect. No smaller man could sometimes alive with a rich humanity. have produced such results. If he ever He was a somewhat disappointed man; were to revisit the glimpses of the moon his life was said hardly to court inspec. one shudders to think of his disquiet. No tion; he was certainly, with all his great absque hoc, no et non, no color, express or gifts, personally indolent. He was not a implied, given to trespass, no new assign- great judge, not because he could not, but ment, belief in the great doctrine of a because he would not be. He played with negative pregnant no longer necessary to his office. An utter disbeliever in the legal salvation, and the very nice ques- virtue of women, he was cruel to them in tion, as Baron Parke is reported to have court; but, with this large exception, there thought, whether you could reply de in- was nothing mean about him, nothing un- jurist to a plea of deviation in an action just; and anything like brutality or fraud on a marine policy not only still unsolved, roused his indignation and brought out all but actually considered not worth solu- the nobler qualities of his strangely com- tion! I suspect that to the majority of pounded character. Baron Parke was, my hearers I am talking in an unknown in a legal view, his favorite aversion.* tongue, and it is strange that in the life- Well, I have heard him say, that time of one who has not yet quite fulfilled seems a horror in morals and a monster in the appointed span of human life such a re~tsonino~ Now, give us the judgment of change, such a revolution in a most con- Baron Parke which lays it down as law. servative profession should be actually consummated. I must not indulge in any * Baron Martin thus spoke of Baron Parke in his feeble attempt to reproduce the men who judgment in Lord Derby z. Bury Improvement co bou missioners, 3 L. R. Exch. 533: He was without doubt tnen, nd in the fetters of this system, the ablest and best public servant I was personally ac- yet in spite of them, enlightened us by qusinted with in the whole course of my life. their intellect, instructed us by their learn. THE LAW IN 1847 AND THE LAW IN 1889. 29 ing, charmed and touched us by their elo- quence. Two alone remain of the great men of those times, Lord Bramwell and Sir Montague Smith, whom I mention, because they have, though living, entered upon the inheritance of their fame; the last, the most sensible, weighty, and saga- cious of men; the first, a great lawyer, a keen intellect, who has chosen to cloak the kindest and most generous heart that beats on earth under a garb of caustic but humorous cynicism. The rest are gone: Willes, the greatest lawyer, I should think, since Sir William Grant; Jervis, the quickest mind, the keenest, tersest, swift- est advocate; Kelly, who outlived his fame, but who was in his prime the not wholly unequal rival of Follett and of Campbell; Crowder, not much out of his profession except a kindly gentleman, but in it the greatest master of nisi prius I ever knew; Erle, whom I knew only as a judge, but whom I have heard in youth, and who was, in my opinion, by far the greatest advocate of his time; Cockburn, the accomplished scholar, the splendid orator; and Charles Austin, probably the most highly gifted of them all by nature, but who devoted his noble powers to mere money-making, and who would be, so fast does the world move, by this time forgot- ten but for the glowing eulogy of him to be found in the autobiography of John Stuart Mill. And with these men the system under which they flourished has gone to rest too. Parties are examined, husband and wife are heard, special pleading finds no refuge upon the habitable globe, except, as I believe, in the State of New Jersey, in America. Law and equity are concur- rently administered; marriage, wills, ad- miralty cases are dealt with by the profane hands of judges with not a flavor of eccle- siasticism about them, Of the adminis- trators of the new system, those ~vho made it, and those who now preside over or contend under it, the living and the lately dead, it is not for me to speak. Roundell Palmer, Mellish, Cairns, Blackburn, Charles Russell, Horace Davey, Henry James, John Karslake, who led A life too short for friendship, not for fame these and many more, whom I cannot even presume to catalogue, must wait for a bet- ter, a fitter, a younger man to commemo- rate as they deserve their many great and various merits. I do not think, however, that as English law has grown more just and reasonable English lawyers have grown less learned or more dull. There is one possibly impending change, as to which you have, I understand, been addressed here by the present solicitor- general, Sir Edward Clarke, whose opinion is favorable to it: I mean, the introduction of the American practice as to our profes- sion; the allowing the functions of the attorney and the functions of the barrister to be exercised by the same person. It is true that in the great cities of America, where there are firms of lawyers, the prin- ciples of natural selection send some of the firms into court and keep others in chambers, so that the practice a good deal modifies the principle. But the prin- ciple remains, and I believe the extension of it to England is not so very far off. Whether it will be a benefit or no I do not feel sure. I once asked Mr. Benjamin, who had h~d experience of both systems, which, upon the whole, he thought the best. He replied that the question could not be answered in a word. If, he said, you ask me which is best fitted for pro- ducing from time to time a dozen or a score of very eminent and highly culti- vated men, men fit to play a great part in public affairs, and to stand up for the op- pressed and persecuted in times of trouble and danger, I should say at once the En- glish. If you ask me which is best in ordi- nary times for the vast majority of clients, I answer at once the Amorican. This was very weighty and very impartial evi- dence, and, I think, if Mr. Benjamin was right, that what is clearly for the benefit of the vast majority of clients is certain to be established in the end. Without expressing any opinion whatever upon recent hotly controverted facts, which I cannot do, and which would be quite im- proper for me, if I could, I may say so much as this, that I think they have ap- preciably hastened the advent of the change. There is one consideration, the weight of which has lately been much increased, which in my judgment makes strongly in its favor. No doubt can exist in any re- flecting mind that the prejudice, which, it is useless to deny, exists against the honor and morality of the profession, arises mainly from the supposed conflict be- tween the rules of the profession and the first principles of ethics. It is said, and it is believed, that statements and con- duct, which honor and morals would condemn, are sanctioned by the principles of our profession. That men in all times belonging to our profession have done things as advocates, which they would disdain as men, I sorrowfully yet freely 30 admit. But this is to say nothing against the profession itself. Some clergymen preach things they entirely disbelieve, some soldiers and sailors violate the laws of war and of honesty, some traders cheat, some professional witnesses fence with scientific truth, of which they ought to be the impartial guardians. This only shows that in all professions, however noble, however sacred, men are to be found whose conduct is not guided by the moral code, I will not say of the New Testament, but of Aristotle or Cicero. More is heard of the shortcomings of lawyers, because their acts come home so closely to what Lord Bacon calls mens business and bosoms, because they practise in the light of day, and before the face of men. I deny alto- gether that their principles are different from those which guide men of honor in any other calling. We practise in courts of law, we contend for legal results, to be arrived at according to legal rules. In criminal courts men are punished not for sins, but for crimes; some sins, amongst the ~vorst men can commit, are unpun- ished and unpunishable by human tribu- nals. Crimes even are not punishable till they are proved, and they can be proved only according to rules of evidence which are rules of law. Mu/a/is mutandis, all this is true of civil issues tried in civil courts. Now, these are the tritest plati- tudes, and yet they are habitually forgot- ten or disregarded in the discussions which arise about the morality and honor of lawyers. Grant, what no believing reader of the New Testament can deny, that advocacy is a lawful calling, grant that what a man may honorably say and do for himself an advocate may say and do for him, not more not less, and I ask for no further concession, and I desire to be judged by no other rule. A man in a court of law may rightly and honorably contend that by law an estate belongs to him, a debt is due to him, damages should be paid to him, a crime has not been committed by him. By legal means he contends for legal right, by the same means he repels legal wrong; and what he may do or may not do for himself an ad- vocate may do or may not do for him. A man may not lie for himself, neither may his advocate for him; a man may not de- liberately deceive, or accuse a man of a crime of which he knows him to be inno- cent, or devise, or ~vithoutcareful inquiry and reasonable belief disseminate, a slan- der, and neither may his advocate. Now, I think it cannot be denied that the English system greatly increases the temptation to do these things by dividing the responsibility for them. A man makes a deadly attack upon the character of another, which turns out to be un- founded. He says he followed his instruc- tions. Granted that he did; if he took reasonable care to inquire into the nature of the evidence and the character of the witnesses, he is no more to be blamed than any man who repeats something to the discredit of another which he has heard upon authority, which he knows, or has satisfied himself, to be unimpeachable. But if he makes no inquiry, the mere statement in the brief is absolutely no ex- cuse whatever, and he deserves the scorn- ful condemnation of all honorable men. There ought to be, there can be, no doubt about this. If it were otherwise our pro- fession would not be the profession of a gentleman, and would deserve all the hard things its enemies ignorantly say of it. Think for a moment. What a counsel says in court, if at all relevant to the in- quiry (some authorities carry it even fur- ther), is absolutely privileged; so that the subject of a slander so made is entirely without redress. If what I say is not sound, it follows that, according to the rules of our profession, an unscrupulous attorney, making no inquiry, may instruct a counsel to utter an atrocious slander; the counsel so instructed may, without inquiry, utter and enforce it; and the sub- ject of it, however foul the slander, and however absolute his innocence, may stand for the rest of his life, as Thackeray says of Addison, stainless but for that, but bleeding from that black wound a wound which cannot be healed, because he can neither force the man who stabbed him to withdraw the weapon, nor yet to meet the man whom he has stabbed in fair and equal fight. A man, indeed, not dead to honor and good feeling, will withdraw an accusation the moment he discovers he has made it on evidence which he cannot trust, and withdraw it as openly as he made it, tendering such amends as hearty regret can frame for having been misled into it. This was the common practice when I was young; I do not doubt it is the com- mon practice now; but I have read argu- ments to show that an advocate may indeed thus act if he thinks fit, but that there is no rule of his profession binding him to do so. I cannot myself conceive a worse enemy to the profession than he who maintains this; I cannot conceive anything more likely to lead, and which would more justly and surely lead, to the THE LAW IN 1847 AND THE LAW IN 1889. 3! THE LAW IN 1847 AND THE LAW IN 1889. imposition of some legal curb on that free ought not to be difficult to follow. Our speaking of the advocate, ~vhich, when profession does not stand outside Chris. restrained by the ordinary rules of honor tian ethics; and the rule, rightly and sen- and morality, is almost the most precious sibly interpreted, that we should do to right which a free people can possess. It other men what we should wish in like is obvious that, outside the court, an ad- case other men should do to us, is as good vocate (unless he is forced to speak by for us as for the rest of mankind. I am assaults on his conduct) had far better be very sure that no man of character will silent as to personal attacks which he has question this, and I am also sure that if made in it. Excuses which may be made ever, in time past, present, or to come, for the language of an advocate in the any such man is supposed to have acted discharge of his duty have no force what- otherwise, it can and will be only because ever as to what he may say when he is not the facts relating to his conduct are maccu- performing it. Then he is like any other rately stated, have been imperfectly appre- man, subject to the same rules, liable to hended, or are altogether misunderstood. the same condemnation if he breaks them. But as we value our honor and love our It is no part of his duty out of court to profession let there be no paltering with deal in defamation; the public and soci- these principles, and no hesitation in con- ety justly look on him then just as they demning any departure from them. look on any other gentleman, and if he is There is one step further still, which found to bear false witness against his I will illustrate, withholding names, by neighbor, upon instructions which he has an instance which I heard myself. In not verified, and which may possibly have a divorce bill, before the creation of misled him, he must not only submit to the the Divorce Court, and heard, therefore, disapprobation of all honorable men, but in the House of Lords, there was clear to the still heavier reproach that he has evidence that a woman resembling the done something to let down the character incriminated wife had been seen in a of a great profession and to justify the compromising position with a young groom slanders uttered against it by its enemies. in the stableyard of a noblemans castle. I do not, as I have said, so understand The attorney knew that the wife herself the rules of our profession. I have lived was the woman, and he suggested this to amongst those who did not so understand the counsel, but said that there was a maid, them. Within my own experience Cress- whom I will call Rose, upon whom suspi- well, Thesiger, Crowder, Cockburn, Bo- cion might plausibly be thrown. Suspi- vill, Karslake, Collier, Holker, Honyman cion, happily unsuccessfully, was thrown (I will not, speak of living men, and I upon Rose by the counsel, who actually speak only of instances I have known; I told the story himself; and when some- doubt not there are hundreds of others), what roundly taken to task for it, calmly these men have withdrawn from cases observed ihat he had followed his in- sooner than persist in attacks which they structions, but that he always felt that it found to be groundless made upon instruc- was rather hard upon Rose. I thought tions which they discovered had deceived then, and think now, that this conduct was them; in some cases had been intended infamous, and that, in his case at least, it to do so. Sir Alexander Cockburn once was true that a man in a wig and gown said that a man who behaved otherwise had done that which if he had done with- deserved to be branded as a criminal con- out those appendages, most honorable men spirator, and on an occasion which has would have said with Henry the Fifth become historical he qualified the perhaps We would not die in that mans company; too loose generality of a dictum of Lord Brougham, by saying that an English ad- or, with Horace vocate should maintain his clients cause Vetabo sub . . - isdem -per frs but not ~er nefas; with the Sit trabibus fragilemve mecum, sword of the soldier, not the dagger of the Solv at phaselon. assassin. These are the rules which I believe ruide the conduct of all honorable (I would not sleep under the same roof men in ~ur profession from the highest to with him, or go to sea with him in the the lowest; these are the principles which same boat.) no man who respects himself will ever Now, ~vhatever one may think of the violate in practice; and by which, if his counsel, it is plainly inconceivable that if practice were questioned, he would not he had been attorney as well as advocate, for a moment hesitate to have it judged. and had himself heard the confession of These principles are plain and simple, and his client, he would have descended to 32 such almost incredible baseness as to put upon another what he knew from his client she had done herself. Let me say that this was an exception, and that I have lived my life amongst men as incapable of it as Bayard, and who would have con- demned it as sternly as St. Paul. While, therefore, I am not insensible to the many advantages of the present system, the comfort of which to the advocate I en- joyed for six-and-twenty years, I cannot shut my eyes to the many countervailing benefits to be found in the American prac- tice if and when it is ever introduced into the English courts. Here, then, my words have end. Too long and yet desultory and superficial. Forgive their imperfections, accept them as a poor token of good-will from an old -judge to youthful students, from one at the end of his career to you who are at the beginning of yours, from memory to hope, from winter to the spring which will surely and very soon replace it, from one who has had much more success than he de- serves, and who wishes you to succeed at least as well and to deserve it better. From Temple Bar. THE ROMANCE OF HISTORY. WILLIAM LITHGOW. WILLIAM LITHGOW was, in the spring of the year 1609, a young Scot of six-and- twenty; the possessor of a wiry frame, a slender patrimony, and a burning eager- ness to see the world. It came into his head to make a pilgrimage on foot about the globe. At a period when no traveller ever thought of crossing Hampstead Heath without his pistols, it was certain that a pilgrim journeying among the dens of Cretan bandits, or steering with a cara- van across the deserts to Jerusalem, would not fail to meet adventures. Nor was Lithgow at all the man to pass in peace through lands of infidels and Papists. He was a burning Protestant, with his creed at his tongues end, and ready to his credit be it said to be its martyr. For the rest, he was a man of generous heart and daring courage, but with a head as rash as Harry Hotspurs. He took his life into his hand, and started. He got as far as Rome without disaster; but there he began the series of his perils by coming very near to being burnt alive. The brazen image of St. Peter in the great cathedral moved him to proclaim his indignation at what he called idolatry. The Inquisition sent to seize him, and would assuredly have doomed him to the stake and faggot, but for a brother Scot named Robert Moggat. This man, a servant in the palace of the aged Earl of Tyrone, smuggled Lithgow to a garret in the palace roof, and there for three days kept him hidden, while the hue and cry went up and down the streets. On the fourth night, at midnight, the two stole out together to the city walls, where Lith- gow, with the help of his companion, dropped in safety to the ground, and escaped into the darkness, laughi ngathis baffled foes. Alas! though he little dreamt it, there was a day to come, though yet far distant, when the Holy Office was to turn the laugh terrifically against him. He made his way to Venice, stepped aboard a ship for Corfu, and thence set sail for Zante. Qif Cape St. Maura a sail was spied; it was a pirate Turk in hot pursuit. The captain put it to the vote among the passengers whether he should fight the ship or strike his colors. Every voice but Lithgows was for pulling down the flag and buying off the Turk with ran- soms. But Lithgow had no money for the purpose, and nothing was before him but the prospect that the Turk would sell him as a slave. He therefore gave his vote for fighting; he called upon the company to pluck up spirit, to quit themselves like men, and the Lord would deliver them from the thraldom of the infidels. Cap- tain, crew, and passengers took fire to- gether at his words; they rushed upon the pikes and muskets, loaded their two can- non to the muzzle, and received the pirate with such fury that he durst not try to board. When, however, darkness parted them from their assailants, their plight was evil; seven men were killed, a dozen more were wounded, Lithgow had a bullet in his arm, the ship was leaking through the shot-holes, and a tempest was begin- ning to howl fiercely. It seemed as if he had escaped from slavery only to be drowned by shipwreck. But, by great good luck, the tempest drove them safely into Largastolo Bay At Zante a Greek surgeon took the bul- let from his arm, and he resumed his ~van- derings. But he was soon in new disaster. As he was walking through a solitary re- gion on the way to Canea in Crete, four bandits, armed with cudgels, sprang upon him from a thicket. In spite of Juvenals authority, the empty pilgrim does not al- ways sing before the thief. It was not till after they had stripped and cudgelled him THE ROMANCE OF HISTORY. WILLIAM LITHGOW. 33 that the rogues discovered that his whole possessions consisted of t~vo groats. With the good-nature of contempt they let him go; and, penniless and smarting, he dragged his way for thirty-seven miles to the next village. There he endeavored, by the help of signs (for he knew nothing of the language), to beg a supper and a lodging of the natives. But among the simple villagers of Pichehorno, a stranger - was a sheep among the wolves. They were preparing, without more ado, to plant a dagger in his heart, when a woman, more friendly than the rest; informed him of their purpose by a signal. He took to flight, and racing for his life into the dark- ness, gained the shore, and plunged into a cave among the rocks. There, fam- ished, aching, and in peril of his life, he lay concealed till daybreak. In the grey of morning he crept out, and made his way in safety to Canea. Again adventures were before him. While he was in the town, six convict-galleys put into the bay from Venice. One of the prisoners got leave to come on slore, at- tended for precaution by a keeper, and shackled with a heavy ankle-ring. Lith- gow, who was as curious as a monkey, entered into conversation with the culprit, and soon learnt his story. He was one of four young Frenchmen who had been present at a duel between a friend of theirs and a Venetian signor for the love of some fair lady. The signor fell; the guards came down upon the duellists, who fled for refuge to the French ambassadors. Except himself, they all escaped; he stumbled in the street, was seized, was dragged before the Signory, and was con- demned to pull a galley-oar for life. The Frenchman chanced to be a Prot- estant. Lithgows soul took fire with sympathy. He began to scheme to set the prisoner free. He borrowed from his laundress, who was an old Greek woman, a gown and a black veil. Then he treated the keeper to strong drink until he rolled upon the ground, struck off the captives irons, dressed him in the gown and veil, and sent him with the old Greek woman past the sentries at the gate. Lithgow, with the prisoners garments, met them in an olive-grove outside the city; and thence the Frenchman fled to a Greek monastery across the mountains, which was appointed as a place of sanctuary for all fugitives from justice, and where a man-of-war from Malta touched at intervals to take away the refugees. The Frenchman was secure; but not so his deliverer. As Lithgow was re-entering LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXI. 3643 the city, he met two English soldiers of his acquaintance, who were rushing out to warn him. The captain of the galleys, with a band of soldiers, was seeking for him up and down the streets. The danger was extreme; but by good fortune it so happened that the smallest of the city gates was guarded by three other English soldiers. These five men, who presently were joined by eight French soldiers, formed a little troop, and with Lithgow in their midst marched up the streets towards the monastery of San Salvator. The gal- ley-soldiers, who were on the watch, rushed furiously upon the party; but too late. While the swords were flashing in the hurly-burly Lithgow slipped into the mon- astery, and ~vas secure. Here he stayed until the galleys sailed. He shared the lodging of four monks as jolly as Friar Tuck. Wine was flowing all day long; and every evening after sup- per Lithgow was compelled to dance with one or other of his boon companions, while all four drank until they dropped upon the floor, and snored till morning. Dur- ing the five-and-twenty days that he re- mained there, Lithgow never once saw these gay brothers sober. The galleys sailing, he was able also to make merry with his English friends. While in their company he one day made acquaintance with another Englishman, named Wolson, who had just arrived from Tunis. This man was a strange character, and was bound by a strange vow. His elder brother, a ships captain, had been murdered at Burnt Isle, in Scotland. Wolson, in reprisal, had sworn to have the blood of the next Scotch man he should meet; and this happened to be Lithgow. Wolson resolved to lie in wait for him that very night; but luckily, in screwing up his courage for the act, he drank too much, and blabbed his secret. John Smith, who heard him, ran in search of Lithgow, whom he found just sitting down to supper at a tavern. The l~ost, together with four soldiers who ~vere drinking there, resolved to see him home. The assassin, a true Bobadil, espied the party, and his heart forsook him. Finding that he could hot take his victim by surprise, he slunk away to bide a better time. Before he found his chance, however, Lithgow had set sail from Crete, to cruise among the islands of the Cyclades, on board a vessel which was little better than a fishing-smack, and carried only eighteen souls. At Eolida a storm swept off the mast and sails, and drove the boat upon the rocks. Seven of the crew, insane with 34 THE ROMANCE OF HISTORY. terror, leaped into the boiling surf, and were never seen again; the others with great labor worked the boat into a cavern, the back of which sloped upwards from the sea. Lithgow was the last to disem- bark; for the sailors swore to put a bullet through his skull if he should dare to step before them. Scarcely had he landed when the boat went down. The cave was cut off by the waters, and the wrecked men had no food. Three days passed, and the spectres in the cavern were beginning to regard each other with the eyes of wolves, ~vhen a fishing-boat came by, and heard their hail. A little later, and Lithgow, who had so narrowly escaped already from the stake, the pirates, the banditti, the galleys, the assassin, and the shipwreck, would probably have fur- nished forth a meal for his companions. He made his way at leisure across Turkey, and joined a caravan of pilgrims bound through Syria to Jerusalem. His dress was now a Turks, with turban, robe, and staff; and while all the others rode on camels, horses, or asses, he walked on foot, according to his constant custom, beside his baggage-mule. ,The caravan had hired a guide named Joab, who called himself a Christian, but who proved to be a traitor. This rascal planned to lead the caravan into an am- bush of three hundred murderous Arabs of Mount Carmel, with whom he was in league, who were to butcher every man among them, and to gorge themselves with plunder. The plot was excellent; it seemed certain of success; but fortunately Joab feared to reach the place of ambush before the time appointed, and by linger- ing up and down through rugged spots and pools of water, he awoke suspicion. A Turkish soldier of the party then re- membered having seen him send a Moor from Nazareth on some mysterious errand. At this, the guide was seized, was lashed upon a horse, and, under threats of death, confessed his treachery. And now all was panic; every face was white with terror; for while to trust the guide was madness, night was falling, the ambush was in waiting, and they might walk into the trap. in the midst of the confusion Lithgow noticed that the polar star hung low, and judged that they had been conducted too far south. He cried out to the caravan to turn north-west, lest they should fall into the snare. But not a soul except himself could read the mys- tery of the star, and he was called upon to take the place of guide. And thus there came to pass a spectacle strange even to grotesqueness the spectacle of thirteen hundred terror-stricken Turkish and Ar. menian pilgrims following a Scotchman all night long across a moon-lit desert in the heart of Syria. When day broke, the caravan was half a mile from Tyre; the ambush was escaped. Another guide was taken, the journey was resumed, and in due course Lithgow found himself before Jerusalem. There was, within the city, a monastery of Cordeliers, whose duty ~vas to welcome Christian pilgrims. The prior came out to ask if any such were in the caravan. The only one was Lithgow. A pilgrim from so far a country was held a kind of saint; and the prior, with twelve monks, walked before him through the streets, each carrying a huge wax candle, and chanting a 7e Deurn. Within the mon- astery, the abbot ~vashed his feet and the monks knelt down to kiss them. But in the middle of the ceremony Lithgow hap- pened to observe that he was not a Catho- lic. In an instant the monks faces grew a yard in length. They had lavished all this glory on a heretic! Lithgow, however, could not well be ousted; he remaineda saint descended to a guest. One day a party from the convent under the abbot and a guard of soldiers set out to view the Jordan. Be- fore the pilgrims turned, they stripped to bathe, and Lithgow, before dressing, took a whim to climb a tree upon the margin and to cut a hunting-rod, which he de- signed to take to England as a present to King James. As he sat concealed among the leaves, trimming a fair rod, three yards long, wondrous straight, full of small knots, and of a yellow color, a strange sound struck his ears. He peered out through the leaves; his companions had gone off without him, and were now wag- ing a fierce battle with a band of Arabs a quarter of a mile away! He was taught between the devil and the deep sea; for while to venture forth was deadly peril, to be left behind was certain death. Lithgow tumbled from his tree, and rod in hand, but without a stitch of clothing, darted towards the place of combat. The thorns and sharp grass gashed his feet; a pike- man of his own side charged him as an enemy ; but at last, to the amazement of the pilgrims, who scarcely recognized this light-armed warrior, he came rushing in among them, panting to aid the battle ~vith his rod. But the fight was over, and the beaten pilgrims were discussing terms of ransom. Ihe abbot, scandalized at his appearance, gave him his own gown ; and WILLIAM LITHGOW. 35 Lithgow, who had started as a turbaned Turk, returned as a grey friar. From Jerusalem he wandered up and down the earth until he chanced to meet, at Algiers, a French jewel-merchant named Chatteline, who was on his way to Fez to purchase diamonds. Lithgow joined him. The pair reached Fez in safety, and thence resolved to strike across the desert to Arracon. XVith a tent, a mule, a dragoman, and two Moor- ish slaves, the bold adventurers set out on foot. Lithgow was a man who never seemed to know fatigue; but i neightdays Chatteline was so exhausted that his com- panions were compelled to add him to the baggage on the mule, and to carry him to Ahezto, where he fell into a fever and refused to stir. Lithgow, with a guide, the dragoman, and one of the two slaves, went on without him. When the guide had led them four days march, he missed the track, stole off in terror in the night, and left them helpless in the middle of the desert. Nothino~ seemed before them but a lin- gering death. In four days their food was gone, and for four days more they were reduced to chew tobacco. All night the wolves and jackals were heard howling, which, as soon as weakness forced them to let out their little fire of sticks, would pick them to the bone. On the eighth day a foe more terrible than wolves or jackals came suddenly upon them a horde of naked savages, driving before them a vast flock of sheep and goats, and bloody with the slaughter of a neighboring tribe. The wanderers were dragged before the savage prince a potentate apparelled, to the awe and admiration of his subjects, in a veil of crimson satin and a pair of yellow shoes. To him, Lithgow, through the dragoman, related his adventures. The effect was marvellous. His dusky majesty was so delighted with the story, that he not only spared the prisoners lives, but granted them a guide to Tunis, and pre- sented Lithgow, as a kind of keepsake, with his own bow and arrows. This memento inspired him with a proj. ect. The rod from Jordan was designed for James I.; he would present the bow and arrows to Prince Charles. But would he get these treasures or himselfto England safely? It was his plan to traverse Poland. For a time he made his way without disaster; but one day, while passing, lonely and on foot, through one of the vast solitary forests of Moldavia, six robbers sprang upon him from a thicket, seized his money, stripped him naked, tied him to an oak-tree, and left him to the ~volves. Nothing seemed more certain than that the end of his adventures was at last at hand. But Lithgow, like the heroes of romance, who come unscathed from perils which to the villains would be certain death, seemed charmed against destruc- tion. All that night the voices of the wild beasts filled the forest; but not one ap- proached to rend him. At break of day a band of shepherds found him. They cut his bonds, wrapped him in an old long coat, and bore him to the castle of their lord, a certain Baron Starholds, fifteen miles away. The baron was a Protestant; he received the pilgrim with great hospi- tality, kept him for a fortnight in the cas- tle, gave him a fat purse, and sent him with a guide to Poland. Lithgow reached Dantzic; fell so ill of fever that the sexton dug his grave; re- covered as by miracle; and thence took ship for London. His curiosities, which the robbers had contemptuously discarded, were still in hispossession; and Lithgo~v, ~vho in that a~e was himself a greater curiosity, was presented to King James at Greenwich Gardens, and made to king and prince his offerings of the rod from Jordan and the bow and arrows of the savage chief. He stayed some time in London, where he wrote and printed an account of his adventures. But Ulysses was not worse adapted for a settled life. Ere long the ache for roving became irresistible, and he determined to set forth on pilgrimage once more. He had better, had he known it, have cut off his right foot; for now there lay before him an adventure to which all his previous perils were as nursery games an adventure strange and terrible as ever mortal man escaped alive to tell of. King James supplied him with safe- conducts and with letters to the courts of foreign sovereigns. He wandered for a time in Ireland; then he crossed the Straits, and made his way into the south of Spain. On reaching Malaga he struck a bargain with the skipper of a French ship bound next day for Alexandria. But he ~vas fated never to set sail. That night the town was thrown into a tumult; a cloud of strange ships, vague as phantoms in the darkness, were seen to sail into the harbor and cast anchor. A rumor ran abroad like wild-fire that the ships were Turkish pirates; and forthwith the town went wild with terror. Women 36 THE ROMANCE OF HISTORY. and children fled into the fortress; the for pardon, to confess that he had been a castle bells rang backwards; the drums spy. At his denial the governor roared thundered an alarm. But when day broke, out furiously that he should feel the rack. the English colors were seen flying at the He then gave orders that the captive top-masts; it was a squadron which had should receive three ounces of dry bread been despatched against the corsairs of and a pint of water every second day Algiers. fare just sufficient to keep body and soul The panic seemingly subsided. Lith- together, while his strength wasted to the gow took a boat and went on board the lowest ebb. He also ordered that the Lion to salute the admiral, Sir Robert window should be walled up and the grat- Mainsell. Sir Robert invited him to join ing in the door stopped up with mats. the fleet, with which were many of his old The cell was turned into a tomb; and acquaintances from London; but time here, in pitchy darkness, gnawed by un- pressed, and Lithgows clothes and papers dying hunger, and in daily expectation of were on shore. Accordingly, as soon as the rack, Lithgow wore away sevet weeks the sails spread, he stepped into a fishing- of horror, chained motionless on the bare boat and put to land. stones. But jealous eyes had been upon him. It was five days before Christmas; the As he was passing up a narrow street to time was two oclock at night; when he gain his lodging, a band of soldiers burst was awakened from his feverish slumber upon him, seized him by the throat, muf- by the sound of a coach drawn up outside fled him in a black frieze mantle, and bore his prison. The cell door opened, and him to the governors house, where he was nine sergeants entered, who bore him, locked up in a parlor. He could not guess chains and all, into the coach. Two took the charge against him; but he was soon their seats beside him, while the others to learn. The governor, th~ captain of ran on foot; and the coach, of which the the guards, and the town clerk entered, driver ~vas a negro, rolled swiftly from the the latter armed with pen and ink to take city westward. At the distance of a league down his confession. Lithgow, of course, it pulled up at a lonely vineyard; the pris. had nothing to confess; but the captain, oner was lifted from the coach, was carried Don Francesco, clapping him on the to a room within the building of the wine- cheek with a Judas smile, bade him press, and was left, still chained, until the acknowledge that he had just arrived morning. He could only guess what was from Seville. On his denying this, the before him. He had been brought there governor burst into a storm of curses. to be tortured. Villain! he cried, you are a spy. Late in the afternoon the three inquis- You have been a month at Seville, keep. itors came in; the victim, for the last time, ing a watch upon the Spanish navy, and was exhorted to confess that he had been have just visited the English fleet with a spy, and of course again denied it. He your intelligence. Lithgow offered to was then carried to another room. Against call witnesses to prove that he was noth- the wall was a thick frame of wood, shaped ing but a simple pilgrim; but in vain. He like a triangle, in the sides of which were produced his papers with King Jamess holes, with ropes and turning-pins; this seal; but these the judges held to be a was the rack. The tormentor stripped blind. It was resolved to force him to him, and struck off his ankle-rings; one confession. with such violence as to tear his heel. A sergeant was called in to search him. Then he was lashed upon the rack. In his purse were found eleven ducats; a It was about five oclock; from that hundred and thirty-seven gold pieces were time till ten he lay there in a hell of sewn into the collar of his doublet. This agony. As if the torture of the cords, treasure-trove the governor put into his which cut the flesh into the sinews, was pocket. The sergeant and two Turkish not fierce enough, at intervals his jaws slaves then seized him, bore him to a cell were forced apart, and a stream of water above the governors kitchen, threw him from a jar impelled into his throat, so that down upon his back, and chained him he was kept half drowning. When he immovably to the stone floor. One of the fainted in his agony, a little wine was two slaves, whose name was Hazior, lay given him, to bring him round. At last, down before the door by way of guard; when it seemed likely that the victim, who and he was left to pass the first night of was weaker than a child with famine, his misery. would escape their hands by giving up the Next day the governor came to him ghost, he was taken from the rack, his alone. He urged the prisoner, as he hoped gashed and broken limbs were loaded with WILLIAM LITHGOW. 37 his irons, he was driven back to his old dungeon, and once more bolted to the stones. As before, he was left to starve on bread and water; but now, by order of his per- secutors, baskets of vermin were emptied on his mangled body, from whose mad- dening irritation he could do nothing to relieve himself; for, even had he been unchained, his arms were broken and in- capable. His misery was such as moved the pity even of the Turkish slave. Hazior, at the risk of his own safety, sometimes swept the vermin into heaps with oil, and set them in a blaze. Occasionally he also brought the starving prisoner a bunch of raisins or a handful of dry figs in his shirt- sleeves. It is probable that, meagre as it was, this addition to his pittance saved his life. In the mean time the governor had dis- covered that he was no spy. Unluckily he had, at the same time, been looking over Lithgows papers. The latter had, when at Loretto, been shown the cottage of the Virgin Mary, which is said to have mirac- ulously flown from Palestine, and had dubbed the story a vain toy. To the governor the case was clear; the Virgin Mary, in permitting Lithgow to be tortured as a spy, had wrought a miracle against a scoffer. Two days after Candlemas he went to Lithgows cell, and told him bluntly that, unless he wished to burn alive, he must within a week turn Papist. But the governor knew nothing of his man. Lithgow, roused like a wounded war-horse who smells battle, instantly poured forth an argument to prove that the pope was an impostor. The governor retired in anger. Next day he brought two Jesuits to assist him; but in a little while he lost his temper, kicked his oppo- nent in the face as he lay upon the floor, and, but for the two Jesuits, would have stabbed him with a knife. On the last day of the week he changed his tactics. Lithgow was assured that, at a single word, he should be taken from his cell to a luxurious chamber, to be nursed and fed on daintiesthat he should regain his property, be sent to England, and receive a yearly pension of three hundred ducats. If, on the other hand, he still held out, he should that night be tortured in his cell; after which he should, at Easter, be re- moved to Granada, to be burnt alive at midnight, and his ashes cast into the air. Up to this moment Lithgow, though a victim, had not been a martyr his escape had not depended on himself. But now a syllable would set him free and he dis- dained to speak it. That night the torturer was brought into his cell. At first the water-torment was applied. When he had suffered all the agony of drowning, he was strung up to the cell roof by his toes until he fainted. Then, having been restored with wine, he was once more bolted to the floor. His enemies had left him just sufficient strength to lift up his weak voice and sing defiance in a psalm. And now nothing was before him but the martyrs fire. It was Mid.Lent; in a fortnight he must mount the faggot. Nor is there any kind of doubt that Lithgow would, at the appointed time, have sung his psalm amidst the flames but for the strange and striking streak of fate about to be described. One night it happened that a Spanish cavalier from Granada was taking supper with the governor, who, for the amusement of his guest, related Lithgows story. The servant of the cavalier, a Fleming, listened from behind his masters chair. The tale of terror chilled his blood ; all night it robbed him of his rest. At dawn he stole off to the English consul and told him all he knew. The consul went to work with speed; the case was laid before the king of Spain. On Easter Saturday, at mid- night, the governor received a mandate which made him tear his beard. His vic- tim was to be instantly set free. The cell door was thrown open; but the captive could as soon have flown out of his prison as have walked out on his feet. Hazior took him on his shoulders and conveyed him to the dwelling of an En- lish merchant near at hand, whence he was carried in a swinging blanket to a British man.of-war, the Vanguard, which lay at anchor in the bay. Three days later he was bound for England. Lithgow was wavering between life and death. Every care that pity could devise was lavished on him; but when the ship reached Deptford seven weeks later, he had not risen from his couch. The fame of his adventure spread before him. King James himself desired to see him; and Lithgow, borne upon a feather bed, was carried to the private gallery at Theobalds. There the king, together with the lords and ladies of the court, flocked eagerly about his mattress, and broke into cries of horror and compassion at the sight of the scarred, shrunk body, and the visage like a corpses, which they had seen a few months earlier so full of life. The king himself was so much moved with pity that 38 BROUGHT BACK FROM ELYSIUM. he ordered Lithgow, at his own expense, to be conveyed to Bath, and nursed back into strength. In that pleasant city Lithgow passed six months. By slow degrees his health returned to him; but there were tokens of the wild-beasts den which he would carry ~ his grave. The fingers of one hand were drawn into the palm by the contrac- tion of the sinews; the crushed bones of one arm remained ill-set; and his right foot was lamed for life. By the kings agency, the Spanish en- voy, Don Drego Sarmento de Gardamore, had undertaken that he should receive his property from Malaga, together with a thousand pounds as a solatium for his wrongs. When, however, Lithgow came from Bath to London, the envoy seemed inclined to shuffle from the bond. Lith- gow, never the most patient of mankind, waited and fretted, and at last went mad with passion. In the presence-chamber of the palace he flew at the astounded don, and beat him with his fists. The lords-in-waiting pulled him off; but not before the don had suffered woefully. The public sympathy was all with Lith- gow; but the offence to the decorum of a court was gross, and he was sentenced to be kept for nine weeks in the Marshalsea. The punishment was light enough; but he had made a deadly enemy of Don Drego, and of his thousand pounds he never got a shilling. This was his last adventure and mis- fortune. He retired to Scotland, and from that time forth, until his death in 1640, he roamed abroad no more. During his life he was, by those who knew his story, re- garded as a hero and a martyr. Fame has treated him unkindly, and in our days he is more than half forgotten; but to those who know his story he is a hero and a martyr still. From The Contemporary Review. BROUGHT BACK FROM ELYSLUM. SCENE. The Library of a Piccadilly club for h:~~h thinking and bad din- ners; Time, midnz~ht. Four eminent novelists of the day regarding each other self-consciously. They are (i) a Realist, (2) a Romancist, (3) an Elsme- nan, (4) a Stylist. The clock strikes thirteen, and they all start. REALIST (starin~r at the door and draw- ing back from it). I thought I heard something? STYLIST. I the (pauses to reflect on the best way of saying it was only the clock). (A step is heard on the stair.) ELSMERIAN. Hark! It must be him and them. (Stylist shudders). I knew he would not fail us. ROMANCIST (nervously). It may only be some member of the club. ELSMERIAN. The hall-porter said we would be safe from intrusion in the library. REALIST. I hear nothing now. (His hand comes in contact with a bookcase). How cold and clammy to the touch these books are. A strange place, gentlemen, for an eerie interview. (To Elsmerian). You really think they will come? You have no religious doubts about the exist- ence of Elysian Fields? ELSMERIAN. I do not believe in Ely- sium, but I believe in him. REALIST. Still if (The door is shaken and the handle falls off) ROMANCIST. AhI Even I have never imagined anything so weird as this. See, the door opens! (Enter an American novelist.) OMNES. On!y you! AMERICAN (looking around him self- consciously). I had always suspected that there was a library, though I have only been a member for a few months. Why do you look at me so strangely? ELSMERIAN (after whispering wit/i the others). We are agreed that since you have found your way here you should be per- mitted to stay; on the understanding, of course, that we still disapprove of your methods as profoundly as we despise each other. AMERICAN. But what are you doing here, when you might be asleep down- stairs? ELSMERIAN (impressively). Have you never wished to hold converse with the mighty dead? AMERICAN. I dont know them. ELSMERIAN. I admit that the adjective ~vas ill-chosen, but listen: the ghosts of Scott and some other novelists will join us presently. We are to talk with them about their ~vork. REALIST. And ours. ELSMERIAN. And ours. They are be- ing brought from the Grove of Bay-trees in the Elysian Fields. AMERICAN. But they are antiquated, played out; and, besides, they will not come. ROMANCIST. You dont understand. Stanley has gone for them. BROUGHT BACK FROM ELYSIUM. 39 AMERICAN. Stanley! ELSMERIAN. It was a chance not to be missed (Looks at his watch). They shouh~l have been here by this time; but on these occasions he is sometimes a little late. (Their mouths open as a voice rings through the dub crying, I cannot stop to argue with you; Ill find the way myself) REALIST. It is he, but he may be alone. Perhaps they declined to accompany him? ELSMERIAN (with conviction). He would bring them whether they wanted to come or not. (Enter Mr. Stanley with five Ghosts.) MR. STANLEY. Here they are. I hope the row below did not alarm you. The hall-porter wanted to know if I was a member, so I shot him. Waken me when you are ready to send them back. (Sits down and sleeps immediately.) FIRST GHOST. I am Walter Scott. SECOND GHOST. I am Henry Fielding. THIRD GHOST. My name is Smollett. FOURTH GHOST. Mine is Dickens. FIFTH GHOST. They used to call me Thack. ALL THE GHOSTS. (lookingat the sleep- er). And we are a little out of breath. AMERICAN (to himself). There is too much plot in this for me. ELSMERIAN (to the visitors). Quite so. Now will you be so good as to stand in a row against that bookcase. (They do so.) Perhaps you have been wondering why we troubled to send for you? SIR WALTER. We ELSMERIAN. You need not answer me, for it really doesnt matter. Since your days a great change has come over fiction a kind of literature at which you all tried your hands and it struck us that you might care to know how we moderns regard you. REALIST. And ourselves. ELSMERIAN. And ourselves. We had better begin ~vith ourselves, as the night is already far advanced. You will be sur- prised to hear that fiction has become an art. FIELDING. I am glad we came, though the gentleman (looking at the sleeper) was perhaps a little peremptory. You are all novelists? ROMANCIST. No, I am a romancist, this gentleman is a realist, that one is a stylist, and ELSMERIAN. We had better explain to you that the word novelist has gone out of fashion in our circles. We have left it behind us SIR WALTER. I was always content with story-teller myself. AMERICAN. Story.teller! All the sto- ries have been told. SIR WALTER (wistfully). How busy you must have been since my day. ROMANCIST. We have, indeed, and not merely in writing stories to use the lan- guage of the nursery. Now that fiction is an art, the work of its followers consists less in writing mere stories (to repeat a word that you will understand more read- ily than we) than in classifying ourselves and (when we have time for it) classifying you. THACKEItAY. But the term novelist sat- isfied us. ELSMERIAN. There is a difference, I hope, between then and now. I cannot avoid speaking plainly, though I allow that you are the seed from which the tree has grown. May I ask what was your first step toward becoming novelists. SMOLLETT (with foolish promptitudel. We ~vrote a novel. THACKERAY (humbly). I am afraid I began by wanting to write a good story, and then wrote it to the best of my ability. Is there any otherway? STYLIST. But how did you laboriously acquire your style? THACKERAY. I thought little about style. I suppose, such as it was, it came naturally. STYLIST. Pooh I Then there is no art in it. ELSMERIAN. And what was your aim? THACKERAY. Well, I had reason to be- lieve that I would get something for it. ELSMERIAN. Alas! to you the world was not a sea of drowning souls, nor the novel a stone to fling to them, that they might float on it to a quiet haven. You had no aims, no methods, no religious doubts, and you neither analyzed your characters nor classified yourselves. AMERICAN. And you reflected so little about your art that you wrote story after story without realizing that all the stories had been told. SIR WALTER. But if all the stories are told, ho~v can you write novels? AMERICAN. The story in a novel is of as little importance as the stone in a cherry. I have written three volumes about a lady and a gentleman who met on a car. SIR WALTER. Yes, what happened to them? AMERICAN. Nothing happened. That is the point of the story STYLIST. Style is everything. The true BROUGHT BACK FROM ELYSIUM. 40 novelist does nothing but think, think, think about his style, and then write, ~vrite, write about it. I dare say I am one of the most perfect stylists living. Oh, but the hours, the days, the years of intro- spection I have spent in acquiring my style! THACKERAY (sadly). If I had only thought more of style! May I ask how many books you have written? STYLIST. Only one and that I have withdr~~vn from circulation. Ah, sir, I am such a stylist that I dare not write anything. Yet I meditate a work. SIR WALTER. A story? STYLiST. No, an essay on style. I shall devote four years to it. SIR WALTER. And I wrote two novels in four months! STYLIST. Yes, that is still remembered against you. Well,you paid the penalty, for your books are still popular. DiCKENS. But is not popularity nowa- days a sign of merit? STYLIST. To be popular is to be damned. SIR WALTER. I can see from what you tell me that I was only a chill. I thought little about how novels should be written. I only tried to write them, and as for style, I am afraid I merely used the words that came most readily. (Stylist groans.) I had such an interest in my characters (American groans), such a love for them (Realist groans), that they were like living beings to me. Action seemed to come naturally to them, and all I had to do was to run after them with my pen. ROMANcIST. In the dark days you had not a cheap press, nor scores of maga- zines and reviews. Ah, we have many opportunities that were denied to you. FIELDING. We printed our stories in books. ROMANcIST. I was not thinking of the mere stories. It is not our stories that we spend much time over, but the essays, and discussions. and interviews about our art. Why, there is not a living man in this room, except the sleeper, who has not written as many articles and essays about how novels should be written as would stock a library. SMOLLETT. But we thought that the best way of showing how they should be written was to write them. REALIST (bitingly). And as a result, you cannot say at this moment whether you are a realist, a romancist, an Amer- ican analyst, a stylist, or an Elsmerian Your labors have been fruitless. SMOLLETT. What am I? ROMANcIST. I refuse to include you among novelists at all, for your artistic views (which we have discovered for you) are different from mine. You are a real- ist. Therefore I blot you out. SIR WALTER (anxiously). I suppose I am a romancist? REALIST. Yes, and therefore I cannot acknowledge you. Your work has to go. AMERICAN. It has gone. I never read it. Indeed, I cant stand any of you. In short, I am an American analyst. DICKENS (dreamily). One of the most remarkable men in that country. AMERICAN. Yes, sir, I am one of its leading writers of fiction without a story along with Silas K. Weekes, Thomas John Hillocks, William P. Crinkle, and many others whose fame must have reached the Grove of Bay-trees. We write even more essays about ourselves than they do in this old country. ELSMERIAN. Nevertheless, romanti- cism, realism, and analysis are mere words, as empty as a drum. Religious doubt is the only subject for the novelist nowadays; and if he is such a poor crea- ture as to have no religious doubts, he should leave fiction alone. STYLIST. Style is everything. I can scarcely sleep at nights for thinking of my style. FIELDING. This, of course, is very in- teresting to us who know so little, yet, except that it enables you to label your- selves, it does not seem to tell you much. After all, does it make a man a better nov- elist to know that other novelists pursue the wrong methods? You seem to despise each other cordially, while Smollett and I, for instance, can enjoy Sir Walter. We are content to judge him by results, and to consider him a great novelist because he wrote great novels. ELSMERIAN. You will never be able to reach our standpoint if you cannot put the mere novels themselves out of the ques- tion. The novelist should be considered quite apart from his stories. REALIST. It is nothing to me that I am a novelist, but I am proud of being a real- ist. That is the great thing. ROMANCIST. Consider, Mr. Smollett, if you had thought and written about your- self as much as I have done about myself you might never have produced one of the works by which you are now known. That would be something to be proud of. You might have written romances, like mine and Sir Walters. ELSMERIAN. Or have had religious doubts. BROUGHT BACK FROM ELYSIUM. 4 STYLIST. Or have become a stylist, and written nothing at all. REALIST. And you, Sir Walter, might have become one of us. TITIACKERAY. But why should we not have written simply in the manner that suited us best? If the result is good, who cares for the label? ROMANCIST (eying Sir Waiter severely). No one has any right to be a romancist unconsciously. Romance should be writ- ten with an effortas I write it. I ques- tion, sir, if you ever defined romance? SJR WALTER (weakly). I had a general idea of it, and I thought that perhaps my books might be allowed to speak for me. ROMANCIST. We have got beyond that stage. Romance (that is to say, fiction) has been defined by one of its followers as not nature, it is not character, it is not imagined history; it is fallacy, poetic fal- lacy ; a lie, if you like, a beautiful lie, a lie that is at once false and true false to fact, true to faith. (The Ghosts look at each other a~prehen- sively). SIR WALTER. Would you mind repeat- ing that? (Romancist refteats it). And are my novels all that? To think of their being that, and I never knew! I give you my word, sir, that when I wrote Ivan- hoe, for example, I merely wanted to to tell a story. REALIST. Still in your treatment of the Templar, you boldly cast off the chains of romanticism and rise to reali6m. ELSMERIAN. To do you justice, the Templar seems to have religious doubts. STYLIST. I once wrote a little paper on your probable reasons for using the word wand in circumstances that would per. haps have justified the use of reed. I have not published it. SIR WALTER. This would be more gratifying to me if I thought that I de- served it. AMERIcAN. I remember reading Ivan- hoe before I knew any better; but even then I thought it poor stuff. There is no analysis in it worthy of the name. Why did Rowena drop her handkerchief? In- stead of telling us that, you prance off after a band of archers. Do you really l)elieve that intellectual men and women are interested in tournaments? SiR WALTER. You have grown so old since my day. Besides, I have admitted that the Waverley novels were written simply to entertain the public. ELSMERIAN. No one, I hope, reads my stories for entertainment. We have be- come serious now. AMERICAN. I have thought at times that I could have made something of Ivanhoe. Yes, sir, if the theme had been left to me I ~vould have worked it out in a manner quite different from yours. In my minds eye I can see myself devel- oping the character of the hero. I would have made him more like ourselves. The Rebecca, too, I would have reduced in size. Of course the plot would have had to go over board, with Robin Hood and Richard, and we would have had no fight- ing. Yes, it might be done. I would call it, let me see, I would call it Wilf rid a Study. THACKERAY (timidly). Have you found out what I am? AMERICAN. You are tolerably prosy. STYLIST. Some people called Philis- tines maintain that you are a stylist; but evidently you forgot yourself too fre- quently for that. ROMANCIST. You were a cynic, which kills romanticism. REALIST. And men allow their wives to read you, so you dont belong to us. AMERICAN (testily). No, sir, you need not turn to me. You and I have nothing in common. DICKENS. I am a ? REALIST. It is true that you wrote about the poor; but how did you treat them? Are they all women of the street and brawling ruffians? Instead of dwell- ing forever on their sodden misery, and gloating over their immorality, you posi- tively regard them from a genial stand- point. I regret to have to say it, but you are a romancist. ROMANCIST. No, no, Mr. Dickens, do not cross to me. You wrote with a pur- pose, sir. Remember Dotheboys Hall. ELSMERIAN. A novel without a purpose is as a helmless ship. DICKENS (aghast). Then I am an Elsme- nan? ELSMERIAN. Alas! you had no other purpose than to add to the material com- forts of the people. Not one of your characters was troubled with religious doubts. Where does Mr. Pickwick pause to ask himself why he should not be an atheist? You cannot answer. In these days of earnest self-communion we find Mr. Pickwick painfully wanting. How can readers rise from his pages in distress of mind? You never give them a chance. THACKERAY. No, there is nothing sickly about Pickwick. ELSMERIAN. Absolutely nothing. He is of a different world (I am forced to say this) from that in which my heroes move. 42 BROUGHT BACK FROM ELYSIUM. Not, indeed, that they do move much. Give me a chair and a man with doubts, and I will give you a novel. He has only to sit on that chair STYLIST. As I sit on mine, thinking, thinking, thinking about my style. DICKENS. Young people in love are out of fashion in novels nowadays, I suppose? ELSMERIAN. Two souls in doubt may meet and pule as one. THACKERAY. As a novelist I had no loftier belief than thisthat high art is high morality, and that the better the lit- erature the more ennobling it must be. REALIST. And this man claimed to be one of us! DICKENS. I wrote for a wide public (Stylist sigks), whom I loved (Realist si~ghs). I loved my characters, too (Amer. ican sz~hs), they seemed so real to me (Romancist sighs), and so I liked to leave them happy. I believe I wanted to see the whole world happy (Elsmerian szWhs). SIR XVALTER. I also had that ambition. THACKERAY. Do you even find Mr. Pickwicks humor offensive nowadays? ROMANCIST. To treat a character with humor is to lift him from his pedestal to the earth. ELSMERIAN. We have no patience with humor. In these days of anxious thought humor seems a trivial thing. The world has grown sadder since your time, and ~ve novelists of to-day begin where you left off. Were I to write a continuation of The Pickwick Papers, I could not treat the subject as Mr. Dickens did; I really could not. STYLIST. Humor is vulgar. AMERICAN. Humor, sir, has been re- fined and chastened since the infancy of fiction, and I am certain that were my hu- morous characters to meet yours mine would be made quite uncomfortable. Mr. Pickwick could not possibly be received in the drawing-room of Sara H. Finney, and Sam Weller would be turned out of her kitchen. I believe I am not overstat- ing the case when I say that one can posi- tively laugh at your humor. DICKENS. They used to laugh. AMERICAN. Ah, they never laugh at mine. DiCKENS. But if I am not a realist, nor a romancist, nor an Elsmerian, nor a st AMERICAN. Oh, we have placed you. In Boston we could not live without plac- ing everybody, and you are ticketed a cari- caturist. DICKENS (sighing). I liked the old way best, of being simply a novelist. AMERICAN. That was too barbarous for Boston. We have analyzed your methods, and found them puerile. You have no subtle insight into character. You could not have written a novel about a ladys reasons for passing the cruet. Nay, more, we find that you never drew either a lady or a gentleman. Your subsidiary charac- ters alone would rule you out of court. To us it is hard work to put all we have to say about a lady and gentleman who agree not to become engaged into three volumes. But you.never send your hero twelve miles in a coach without adding another half- dozen characters to your list. There is no such lack of artistic barrenness in our school. SMOLLETT (enthusiastically). What novels you who think so much about the art must write nowadays! You will let us take away a few samples? (The live nov- elists cough). REALIST (huskily). You you have heard of our work in the Grove of Bay- trees? SIR WALTER (apologetically). You see we are not in the way of hearing(po- litely). But we look forward to meeting you there some day. THACKERAY. And resuming this con- versation. None of you happens to be the gentleman who is rewriting Shake- speare and Homer, I suppose? It is of no consequence; I I only thought that if he had been here I would have liked to look at him.~ That is all. FIELDING (looking at the sleeper). He said he would take us back. (The novelists shake Mr. Stanley timidly, but he sleeps on.) STYLIST (with a happy inspiration). Emin MR. STANLEY (starting to his feet). You are ready? Fall in behind me. Quick mar SIR WALTER. You wont mind carrying these books for us? (Gives Stanley sam- p les of realism, Elsmeris;n, etc.) MR. STANLEY. Right. I shall give them to the first man we meet in Picca- dilly to Carry. ROMANCIST (foolishly). He may refuse. MR. STANLEY (grimly). I think not. Now then ELSMERIAN (good-naturedly). A mo- ment, sir. We have shown these gentle- men how the art of fiction has developed since their day, and now if they care to offer us a last word of advice SiR WALTER. We could not presume. THACKERAY. As old-fashioned novel- ists of some repute at one time, we might A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE. 43 say this: that perhaps if you thought and wrote less about your styles and methods and the aim of fiction, and, in short, for- got yourselves now and again in your stories, you might get on better with your work. Think it over. MR. STANLEY. Quick march. (The novelists are left looking at each other self-consciously.) J. M. BARRIE. From The Fortnightly Review. A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE. BEFORE many weeks have passed an- other insurrection will break out in Crete. In Macedonia the Greek population is chafing at the Servian propaganda now vigorously promoted by Russia. In Epirus it is protesting with all its might against the abolition of the Hellenic lan- guage in the law-courts and schools. In Cyprus it is groaning under the exactions of our countrymen, who are acting as the bailiffs of the Sublime Porte. Meanwhile how are things going on in that little patch of rugged land wherein a Greek can call himself a free man? The student of modern politics will find many difficulties and distractions at Ath. ens. For if he be imbued with any tinge of classical scholarship, his sympathy is attracted from the present to the past; he finds himself in the midst of a learned so- ciety, partly Greek but mainly foreign, which cares nothing for things modern and lives in ruined temples and museums. He is tempted to judge the Greeks of to- day by the standard of a greater age. And, even if his soul is dead to the glories of the past, he is still not without his troubles; for every Athenian whom he meets is a politician, and every politician whom he meets supplies him, not only with conflicting opinions, but with con- flicting facts. Like their eloquent ances- tors, the Athenians have a marvellous command of facts as well as arguments, and the student of Greek politics finds a wide field for the exercise of his judg- ment. It is hard to descend from the clear air and majestic stillness of the Parthenon into the noisy, heated atmosphere of the Boul~ the Greek House of Parliament. And yet the 1Boul6, at the time of my ar- rival in Athens, was a centre of no ordi- nary interest. The prime minister, M. Trikoup~s, had introduced the budget for the present year before the Christmas hol idays, but the discussion had been put off till the reassembling of the Chamber; and it was understood that the opposition had meanwhile been preparing for a supreme effort to overthrow the government. A campaign of resolute obstruction in the Boul~ had been planned, accompanied by certain, movements outside the Boul~, of which I shall speak hereafter. The pro- gramme of obstruction~however, was to be preceded by a programme of abstention. To secure the passing of the budget it was necessary for the government to keep together a quorum of seventy-six mem- bers in a house of a hundred and fifty. The government majority considerably exceeds the necessary quorum; but bad weather, domestic afflictions, and, last of all, the influenza, combined to thin its ranks; and the opposition decided not to put in an appearance. Day after day the date for the reassembling of the Chamber was put off; false alarms were frequent, and nothing was certain except that tele- grams were incessantly going to and fro between the government and the missing dep~ities. Eventually a quorum was formed consisting entirely of ministerial- ists; the roll was called, and the house might have proceeded to pass the budget if a chosen phalanx of the opposition, which lay in ambush for the purpose, had not suddenly appeared and proceeded to harass the government with a series of interpellations, effectually preventing the progress of business. These tactics were continued for more than a fortnight, until the government decided not to reply viva voce any longer, but merely to hand in papers giving the required informatiOn. The opposition then allowed the budget to be introduced, for it is not compatible with human nature to revile unceasingly a dumb antagonist. But thesystem of com- bined abstention and obstruction went on merrily as before. When, after a sitting of many hours, a few of the ministerialists would leave the house in order to obtain necessary refresh ment, the opposition, seizing the opportunity, would withdraw in a body, leaving one of its members be- hind to demand a count. This gentleman, after having moved that the roll be called, would make a precipitate departure from the house, in the course of his flight ad- juring the president not to count his name. It was interesting to speculate how Mr. Speaker Reid, of Washington, would have dealt with such tactics. After enduring this state of things for more than a month, the government re- solved to make a stand, and after an all. 44 A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE. night sitting, which lasted seventeen hours, the budget was passed. Four or five members of the opposition talked out the night, while their friends went home to bed; but the whole forces of the gov- ernment remained at their post. English legislators, accustomed to the luxury of that best of clubs, the House of Commons, will hardly appreciate the devotion of the beleaguered ministerialists The Boul~ contains neither smoking-rooms nor din- ing-rooms, nor other convenient places of retreat; and the faithful followers of M. Trikoup~s were compelled to provision themselves for the night as best they could. Hidden stores of cakes and sand- wiches, of sweetmeats, caviare, and cheese, were produced in all directions, and shared with a touching generosity; tea and choc- olate flowed abundantly cold, I pre. sume, for I did not notice any spirit-lamps, though they may have been below the seats; and in the still hours of the night the monotonous voice of sleepy orators was occasionally interrupted by the sound of the liberation of bottled beer. Pictur- esque deputies from the mountain dis- tricts, arrayed in gorgeous cloaks and fustanellas, reposed calmly on the benches, as though upon their native heath, while other figures, in the hideous garb of mod- ern civilization, might be seen disposed around in every attitude of slumber. Once, after the grey light of dawn had be- gun to steal through the windows, the sharp clang of the presidents bell ~vas heard, calling some refractory member to order; when, as though in response to the signal, the solemn tolling of great bells without began to fill the morning air, for it was the first Sunday in Lent, a day of high ceremonial in the Orthodox cult. While others slept or walked about to keep themselves awake, the prime minis- ter remained in his seat, calm, vigilant, determined; he only once left the house for a few minutes in order to obtain a cup of tea in the presidents private room. As M. Trikoup~s explained to me, the rules of the Greek Parliament were not framed in view of obstructive tactics, but he does not intend at present to suggest their alteration. He holds that the better sense of the nation will repudiate these methods, and he meets the difficulties which are thrown in his way with remark- able calmness and indifference. An idea of those difficulties may be formed if one can imagine a British government com- pelled to keep a quorum of half the House of Commons in constant attendance at Mr. Spurgeons Tabernacle, or some other building wholly unlike their present tem- ple of luxury. M. Trikoup~s holds that the first example of obstruction was set in the British Parliament; but the pro- ceedings of the Greek opposition appear to me rather to resemble those of M. Tisz~s adversaries at Budapest. In both cases the main object is to overthrow a minister whose principal fault consists in his long tenure of power, the criticism is largely directed against his financial policy, and the attack is not confined to ordinary, or even obstructive methods of political ~varfare. Of the three great statesmen whom the present generation has produced in south- eastern Europe M. Charilaos Trikoup~s is not the least remarkable. The most bril- liant feature of M. Bratianos long admin- istration in Roumania was his successful foreign policy, and the.skill and boldness with which he rescued his country from the designs of a faithless ally; M. Stain- bouloff will ever be remembered as the man who saved Bulgaria in a dark mo- ment of her history, and vindicated her independence during a prolonged crisis with extraordinary courage and resolu- tion. A less conspicuous but a not less important role has been reserved for M. Trikoup~s. The Greeks are impulsive, headstrong, and ambitious, full of schemes for the-aggrandizement of Greece, but little disposed to wait for the favorable moment, or to adopt the best-considered plan, for their realization. un patriotic ambition and belief in the destiny of Greece M. Trikoup~s is not behind the most ardent of his countrymen, but it has nevertheless been his duty again and again to repress the fervor of their aspirations. A more difficult or ungrateful task it is impossible to imagine, but M. Trikoup~s has never hesitated to discharge it; and he has more than once resigned office rather than put himself at the head of a popular movement of which he disapproved. It was so in i88i, when the national indignation rose high at the refusal of Turkey to carry out the provisions of the Berlin Treaty, and again in 1885, when the war-fever broke out which entailed a blockade, a paralysis of commerce, and a heavy outlay which the country could ill afford. But with the exception of a single year (March, i88~, to April, 1886) M. Trikoup~s has been in office since the spring of i88z. In Greece a prime minister does not gain in popularity by prolonged tenure of power. Every one is a politician, and every peasants son who has learned to drive a quill expects a government ap. A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE. 45 pointment. When his party is out of office he hangs about the cafes of his na- tive town and spends his time in abusing the government. When his party is in power he expects to be provided for; he besieges the various ministries with ap- plications for every conceivable employ- ment, and in the end, if unsuccessful, he joins the opposition. Inasmuch as the multitude of unsuccessful candidates may now be reckoned by the thousand, it will easily be understood that M. Trikoup~s has not increased the number of his polit- ical friends during an administration ex- tending over seven years. Hitherto the duration of governments has been counted by months rather than by years, and any minister who prolongs his official life be- yond the conventional span is looked upon as a usurper. I have heard serious poli- ticians gravely allege that the principal fault of M. Trikoup~s is that he has ruled too long. The Greek mind, with its in- tensely democratic tendency, looks upon the enjoyment of office as a perquisite to be shared by all in turn ; it revolts against the superiority of individual genius, even when combined with spotless integrity and unwearied industry. The Athenians are like their forefathers, who selected their magistrates annually by lot, and who os- tracized Aristides. It is a remarkable fact that permanent influence over the democratic mind has often been acquired by those who neglect and despise the arts which tend to pop- ularity. Like Pericles and Phocion in former times, M. Trikoup~s seems to have lost nothing by a reserve of manner which many of his countrymen attribute to hauteur; like Mr. Parnell in our own day, he inspires his followers wit~h confi- dence by appearing to share neither their hopes nor fears. If the prime minister is known at Athens by the sobriquet of the Englishman, it is not only, let us hope, because he is supposed to possess our insular frigidity of manner. Unlike most Oriental statesmen, M. Trikoup~s has never been known to accept a present; and what this means will be best under- stood by those who remember M. Ed- mond Abouts story of the two foreign ministers, predecessor and successor, who openly went to law for the possession of a service of plate, which arrived at the For- eign Office during a change of ministry, and which each of them claimed as a ~ot de viii on account of services rendered, or about to be rendered, to the sender. M. About and others are not quite fair in judging an Oriental people by the standard of Western morality; but the Greeks can- not escape the fierce light reflected upon them by illustrious ancestors and noble ruins. The example of unimpeachable probity set by M. Trikoup~s during a long administration cannot but have a valuable influence upon the ethics of Greek polit- ical life; his extraordinary industryfor he works daily from dawn till past mid- nightis a standing reproach to lazy politicians who do nothing but talk, and his success in retaining power has taught the loungers in the cafes that mere vitu- peration will not necessarily upset a min- istry. His indifference to the attacks of the daily press is very characteristic, for he recognizes the fact that the incredulity of his countrymen keeps pace with their power of invention. In Greece there is no symptom of that decay of lying~~ which exercises the mind of Mr. Oscar Wilde. The greater part of the Greek press is hostile to the government, and attacks it with a violence almost inconceivable to Englishmen. The government has lost the support of many journals from various causes. The intense love of equality, the ruling passion of the Greek race, renders the maintenance of discipline almost im- possible, whether in political or military life. Every man is as good as his fellow,. and when his fellow is preferred to him he cannot forgive the slight. Some gen- tlemen on the staff of one of the news- papers friendly to the ministry desired M. Trikoup~s to guarantee them two or three seats in the Boul~ M. Trikoup~s refused, and immediately the journal changed its politics and declared war on the govern- ment. The editor of another journal, hitherto devoted to the ministerial party, derived the greater part of his income fronk the proceeds of a gambling-den. The prime minister ordered this attractive place of entertainment to be closed; and next morning the journal in question amazed its readers by a violent onslaught on the government. It then disappeared, and has not been heard of again. When I asked M. Trikoup& s how it was that he cared for none of these things, he replied that perhaps he was wrong in doing so; that Prince Bismarck, at least, attached great importance to the press. The gov- ernment, he said, had now no official organ. To give an idea of the Greek polemic style, I translate a passage, taken almost at random, from one of the prin- cipal journals. It will be seen that a wealth of invective has descended to the posterity of Aeschines and Demosthenes: 46 A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE. With such a government as this, which has planted throughout all Greece the thorns and brambles of infamy and crime, a government that leans for support on inalefactors and armed desperadoes a voracious monster, which, having gorged itself on the vitals of justice and order, threatens to swallow up the dynasty a~ well, we fear that our worthy con- temporaries, who acknowledge these facts, can only act consistently with their declared opinions by issuing a proclamation to the army and people of Greece, bidding them frater- nize, fly to arms, and crush this all-devouring faction, more loathsome than the foulest of tyrants. These vigorous diatribes occupy a con- siderable space in the daily newspapers, but it is hard to say what effect they have upon a sceptical and intelligent people like the Greeks. In the towns they are probably perused for amusement, but in the country, where the peasants form groups in the village inns to hear the newspapers read aloud by the schoolmas- ter or some other literary person, no doubt they are taken more seriously. It is re- markable that even the illiterate peasants can understand the written language, though it differs so much from the dialect they speak. Now and then a word must be explained to them, but that is all. Their keenness for information is very striking, and makes one hope for great things of them by-and-by. It is calcu- lated that at least a third of the newspa- pers find their way into the country districts. The leading articles are usually addressed directly to the public by the use of the second person plural: Do ye wish to know something of the infamous acts of Trikoup~ss government?~ is the opening sentence of the article from which I have just quoted. The Greek newspa- pers occupy themselves almost exclusively with home questions; but a journal in French is published at Athens, which in- cludes foreign politics within its purview, and even contains articles on Laffaire Times-Piggott and La Question Irlan- dai se. The general tendency to indiscipline, which forms a weak point in the Greek character, is attributable not only to the native passion for equality, but to tradi- tions which survive from a time when re- sistance to the constituted authority was honorable and patriotic. A Greek is proud of his descent from a Klepht who slew a Turkish pasha, no matter how the act was committed; and the ancient house of Mavromichal~s looks upon its scions who assassinated Kapodistria as the iHarmodius and Aristogeit6n of modern Greece. Private revenge is still sanc- tioned by public opinion, at least among the peasantry. Faction fights, originating in family feuds, and even what the news- papers call battles, * are of frequent occurrence. Revolvers, yataghans, and kni yes are the weapons usually employed; stones are always available in this rugged country, and women and children take part in the fray. A battle lately took place at Mandra, not many miles from Athens, resulting in a heavy list of casualties. Four persons were killed, including a child who died of fright, and five were wounded. According to official statistics published, I think, in i888, the number of murders in the preceding year was five hundred and forty, in a population of a little over two millions. In Bulgaria and eastern Roumelia, where the population exceeds three millions, the average of murders in recent years has been two hundred and sixty-six The Bulgarian peasant, however, is less passionate and more economical than the Greek; he can- not afford, or thinks he cannot afford, the civilized revolver, and he must fain be content to belabor his enemy with a stout stick. Capital punishment exists in Greece; but here, as else~vhere, it is not severity that is required, but certainty in the punishment and speed in the detection of crime. The want of discipline which exists in the police force often aids the escape of criminals. Not many days ago a malefactor who was known to be lurking in the island of Salamis made his escape to the mainland and disappeared while the authorities at the Peiraeus were wran- gling over the best means of effecting his arrest. Epaminondas, son of Solon, and Agamemnon, son of Chrysostom, quarrel in the village tavern about the quality of the wine; Epaminondas fires his revolver at his friend and runs away; the police arrive, after a suitable interval, and arrest the wounded Agamemnon. Epaminondas remains in the mountains for a while, and nothing more is heard of the matter. A gendarmerie, well organized after the Bul- garian model, is much needed; some re- striction should be imposed on the sale of firearms, more particularly of revolvers, the promiscuous use of which tends not only to the increase of murder and sui- cide, but to the disfigurement of ancient monuments, which are used as targets; and above all the ruinous practice should be discontinued of bringing political influ- ence to bear for the pardon of offenders. M& m~at; minor engagementa are called OV/Slr?LOICai. A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE. 47 The friends and relatives of an impris- oned criminal put pressure on the deputy for their district to obtain his release; the deputy puts pressure on the government; and as the number of members of the Bould has been latterly reduced to one hundred and fifty, the individual impor- tance of each deputy is now very consid- erable. It was with a view to checking the local influence of electors upon depu- ties that M. Trikoup~s diminished the number of the latter and enlarged the constituencies, and he now sets his face against these pernicious attempts on the part of the deputies to frustrate the law. It should be mentioned that no prisoner from the district of Missolonghi, which M. Trikoup~s represents, has ever been re- spited by private favor. It would be strange if the army were altogether unaffected by the general ten- dencv towards want of discipline. The Greeks make excellent sailors, but as sol- diers they seem only fitted for irregular warfare. The physique of the ordinary infantry is decidedly poor; the chasseurs (ei~4ovot) are a finer-looking set of men, who would probably do good service in a mountain campaign; there are three regi- ments of cavalry and three of artillery. The uniform is of the French pattern, but the chasseurs wear the national costume with flowing petticoats and tasselled fez; they wear a tight belt, so tight, indeed, that their waists appear miraculously small. If it be anywhere allowable to tight-lace a guinea-pig for the instruction of mankind, it is in Greece; for here man- kind, and not womankind alone, would profit by the demonstration. In smart- ness and military bearing the Greeks are altogether inferior to the Bulgarians, who undoubtedly make the best soldiers in the Peninsula; the Roumanians rank next, while the Greeks and Servians seem much on a level. A serious drawback to the efficiency of the Greek army has been the want of man~uvres on a large scale; this year, however, there are to be extensive manceuvres in Acarnania, which will con- siderably increase the budget of the min- istry of war, and are said to be the cause of some trepidation among the Turkish authorities at Janina. The prime minister, whose capacity for work is prodigious, at present holds the portfolio of war as well as that of finance; but he will probably entrust the former to a military officer be- fore many weeks have passed. This deci- sion is said to have been hastened by some symptoms of insubordination which lately sho~ved themselves at Larissa; but I have reason to know that M. Trikoup~s has in- tended for some time to devote himself more exclusively to the complicated ques- tions of finance in which he takes a special interest. The trouble at Larissa occurred about the same time as the discovery of Major Panitzas plot in Bulgaria. A sec- tion of the opposition, probably without the knowledge of the principal leaders, determined that a grand, simultaneous as- sault should be made on the government by obstruction in the Chamber, disturb- ances at Athens, and a pronunciamiento in the army. It was hoped that the king would take alarm and dismiss M. Tn- koup~s. The pronunciamienlo was to take place at three or four military stations on the same day; but before the plot was ripe the secret was betrayed by some young officers at Larissa, who talked in- cautiously in a caf~. M Trikoup~s on receiving information immediately tele- graphed ordering that the officers impli- cated should be sent to various other stations; but the commandant at Larissa, for reasons best known to himself, did not carry out the order, and went to Athens to expostulate, it is said, with M. Trikoup~s and to lay a statement of grievances before the king. The king, however, insisted on the order being obeyed, and the officers went to the posts assigned to them. In most European countries an occurrence like this would have involved a series of courts-martial, but a certain amount of indiscipline must be allowed for in Greece, and the affair has been treated too seri- ously by foreign critics. When a prime minister rules an army, either in person as M. Trikoup~s, or through a near rela- tive as M. Stambouloff, complaints, how- ever unfounded, as to the connection of politics with promotion are sure to be fre- quent; and I think M. Trikoup~s will do wisely in handing over the portfolio of war to a professional soldier. This attempt to bring pressure to bear on the king by means of the army only shows that strictly constitutional methods of agitation are not yet understood in Greece. Sixty years is a short period for any nation to become grounded in the max- ims of constitutionalism. It is not true, as a t~ecent writer asserts, that Greece is suffer- ing from the application of a cut-and-dry constitution, for King Otho ruled abso~ lutely for ten years, and the liberty the country now enjoys may almost be said to have been won by degrees. A considerable latitude must be allowed, as M. Trikoup~s explained to me, to the parliamentary mi- nority, inasmuch as there is no upper 48 A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE. house to revise the decisions of the ma- As an orator M. Trikoup~s has no equal jority. An eminent politician, who lately among his contemporaries; his diction is told an English audience that no State in in the purest style of modern Greek, and Europe has been able to do without a sec- his arguments are arranged with skill and ond chamber, must have forgotten that massed with extraordinary force and co- Greece, Servia, and Bulgaria dispense with gency. If the eloquence of NI. Trikoup~s that luxury. King George, who has ruled may be described as synthetic, that of M. Greece for more than a quarter of a cen- Deiyann~s is analytic. He excels in mas- tury, has always kept strictly to the lines tery of detail and clearness of exposition; of the constitution. He is neither a doc- but owing to his tendency to dwell on par- trinaire nor a profound politician, but he ticulars he does not arrest the attention is gifted with tact and a thorough knowl- of the Chamber as successfully as the edge of manqualities invaluable to the prime minister. His style is thought by ruler of an unruly people. The king knows some to be equal to that of M. Trikoupfis, when to yield, and how to do so with a but his oratory on the whole is less effec- good grace. It is an open secret that he tive. As a party leader M. Trikoup~s is strongly in favor of M. Trikoup~ss ad- exercises a remarkable ascendency over ministration, for he sees that a continuity his followers, among whom he has no of government and a policy of caution are present or prospective rival; he maintains necessary for Greece in this critical period a discipline unexampled in Greece among of her history. Queen Olga, the daughter the rank and file of his party, and he keeps of a Russian grand duke, was at first sup- up relations with numerous men of local posed to be a strong partisan of Russia; influence throughout the country on whose but her Majesty, who sets an admirable assistance he relies at the elections. He example to the women of Greece by her has set his face against the Oriental sys. devotion to works of charity, in reality tem by which the government of the day takes little interest in politics. The king uses the forces at its command to coerce enjoys great personal popularity with his voters, and his English notions on this subjects, and he is remarkably courteous and other points were thought so singular and kind to foreigners, especially to En- at one time, that an old friend warned him glishmen, ~vith whom he converses in per- that his hopes of success as an apostle of fect English, and ~vho naturally feel a reform were destined to failure. One peculiar interest in the brother of their cuckoo, he said, does not bring the future queen. spring. M. Delyann~s, on the other The leader of the opposition, M. Del- hand, has but a slight control over his yann~s, makes an interesting contrast partisans, among whom there are several with his rival the prime minister. While men of considerable ability and debating M. Trikoup~s represents Western culture power; he depends much upon the pop- and Western ideas, M. Delyann~s is thor- ularity which he has gained by personal oughly Oriental and Greek. M. Tn- affability, by keen sympathy with the na- koup~s, a native of Missolonghi, and a tional feelincr and th son of the distinguished historian of the the affairs ~the orough knowledge of of country. He swims with War of Greek Independence, spent much the tide, not deeming it his mission to re- ofhis early life in London and Paris; M. generate Greek political morality; but Delyann~s, a native of Arcadia, began his his personal integrity is unimpeachable, career as an em~loyd in one of the gov- though, like the prime minister, he is by eminent offices at Athens. XVI. Trikoupes no means a rich man. received an early training in diplomacy; Two important subjects now occupy M. Delyann~s saw little of foreign lands the attention of Greek public men the till he went as minister of Greece to Paris financial condition of the country, and the and afterwards to Berlin, where he had perennial question of Crete. I have al- charge of the interests of his country dur- ready described the obstructive tactics ing the Congress. He there made the with which M. Trikoup6ss budget was op- acquaintance of Lords Beaconsfield and posed. That statesmans financial policy Salisbury, but the English statesman he has attracted some attention in England, remembers with most pleasure is Mr. but it would be impossible to discuss it Gladstone, whom he afterwards met in thoroughly in the space at my disposal. London. M. Delyann~s was subsequently When M. Trikoup~s last accepted office, employed in the delimitation of the Turco- on the resignation of M. Delyann~s s mm- Greek frontier in i88z, and speaks warmly istry in April, i886, Greece appeared to of the sympathy and assistance which Mr. be on the verge of bankruptcy. The ex- Gladstone gave to Greece at that time, act amount of the debt, which the warlike policy of M Delyann~s entailed on the country, is still a matter of dispute be- tween parties; M. Delyann~s admits to having spent 52 million drachmae on the mobilization; and the budget of i88~ and i886, during which years he was in office for twelve months altogether, show to.~ gether a declared deficit of 95 millions, though the actual deficit of the two years amounted to 128,936,000 dr. It must fur- ther be remembered that M. Delyann~s reintroduced the paper circulation, obtain- ing upwards of 70 millions from the banks, and so leaving the State a loser to the extent of 33 millions, inasmuch as it had raised 103 millions to effect the abolition of paper money in 1884. The deficits of the last-named year and of 1883, during the former administration of M. Trikoup~s, amounted to more than 30 millions. In resuming office in i886, M. Trikoup~s found himself confronted with two dis- agreeable alternatives national bank- ruptcy, or the imposition of excessive taxation. The condition of affairs was then so desperate that M. Karapanos, a prominent member of the opposition, did not hesitate, in a manifesto addressed to his constituents, to recommend a course practically amounting to repudiation. Let us give our creditors, he said, 6o per cent. of their interest money, assuring them that we will pay them the remaining 40 per cent. when the resources of the country enable us to do so. The date of payment would probably have coincided with the Greek calends This short-sighted proposal, with which M. Delyann~s assures me he did not agree, was wisely rejected by the prime minister, and the country supported him in his de- cision, a decision alike honorable to the government and the governed. M. Tn- koupes resolved on imposing additional taxation to the amount of 30 per cent.; and the revenue, which in i886 produced 62 millions, was estimated in the budget of 1887 at 94 millions, of which sum 89 millions were found to be ascertained pay. able revenue, and nearly 83 millions were actually collected. Thus the amount of arrears was only 7~54 per cent, as com- pared with the hitherto normal amount of io per cent.; and the result, even allowing for improved methods of collection, showed that the country was able to sup- port the burden. The amount of arrears for i888 was about 8 per cent.; the esti- mated receipts were 95 millions; the as- certained payable revenue was nearly 97 millions, whereas 89 millions were col- lected. The figures for 1889 are not yet LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXI. 3644 49 procurable, but M. Trikoup~s calculates the collected revenue at 88,073,000 dr., against an estimated revenue of 96,449,000 in the budget of that year. In the budget for the present year the receipts are esti- mated at 93,967,000 dr.; but there will be a corresponding falling off in the amount collected. The difference between esti- mated receipts and revenue verified as payable is due to the uncertainty of a~l human calculations, but the falling off in the amount collected will appear strange to most English critics, who will naturally ask ~vhy the budget estimates are not based on probable receipts. It must be remembered, on the one hand, that Greece is a land of small cultivators, mostly poor, and that the difficulty of collecting taxes increases with the number of those who pay; and also that the method of collec- tion is still undergoing reform. On the other hand, with respect to the budget estimates, it should be understood that the expenditure, as well as the receipts, is estimated considerably above its probable figure; for inasmuch as the finance min- ister is forbidden by law to transfer credits, not merely from one department of the public service to another, but even from one sub-division to another, he is com- pelled as a precaution to estimate each small heading of expenditure at its maxi- mum. Consequently, though estimated receipts and expenditure may balance each other in the budget, the minister, in order to arrive at an equilibrium, must effect a series of economies in the admin- istration of the year in order to meet an inevitable deficiency in the revenue col- lected. It is a slipshod system, but it at least has the advantage of securing rigor- ous parsimony in the administration. In 1887 M. Trikoup~s succeeded in balancing the budget, a very remarkable feat under the circumstances; in i888 there was a slight deficit of two millions; in 1889 it seems probable that not only an equilib- rium but a small surplus has been ensured. These are brilliant results, and though they have been in part effected by conver- sions of debt and other financial operations which cannot be indefinitely continued. they are full of happy augury for the future of Greece. The speech in which M. Trikoup~s in- troduced the budget of this year is a mas- terly and statesmanlike exposition of financial principles. The key-note of his policy is the encouragement of home pro- duction. We must by all possible means, he said, encourage home pro- duction, since it is only by the develop- A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE. 50 ment of production that we can hope to become sufficiently strong to remove grad- ually the burdens which we were com- pelled to impose on the community. In conformity with this principle M. Tn- koup~s has framed a number of proposals for the relief of the agricultural class, which he rightly regards as the mainstay of Greece. He has determined toencour- age the production of wine for exportation by exemption from all taxes, and still fur- ther to assist the wine-growers by almost repealing the tax on spirits made from the refuse of the wine-press, while allowing the tax on spirits made from cereals to remain, the latter being mainly imported from abroad. The development of the cultivation of currants is of the utmost importance. Almost the whole of the cur- rant trade is with England, and M. Tn- koup~s lately suggested to the English government a convention for the repeal of the import duty, in return for a repeal on the part of Greece of the land-tax on cur- rants. This would have entailed a sacri- fice of four million drachmae of revenue, while the loss to the British exchequer would only be 350,000. The English government have rejected the proposal, but M. Trikoup~s has not abandoned his intention of returning to the question. The once down-trodden peasants have to thank M. Tnikoup~s for the abolition of the d~ne or tithe in kind; and he now pro- poses to do a~vay with the equally harass- ing octroi dues levied by the communes on cereals and live stock. Nothing can be more l)ernicious to the development of commercial intercourse than the existence of customs zones within a country. To recompense the communes M. Trikoup~s proposes an additional tax on wheat and cattle imported from abroad, the proceeds of which will be divided among the various municipalities and used for the express purpose of carrying out public works. He further intends to modify and reduce the tax on ploughing beasts, which he im- posed with reluctance, and hopes to abol- ish eventually. The existing land-tax on tobacco for exportation is to be taken off in order to enable Greece to compete with Turkey in the Egyptian market, and to encourage the growers; but the taxation of tobacco consumec~ at home is to be maintained and even increased. These measures for the encouragement of pro- duction no doubt tend towards protection, though not designed ~vith that object; a~d it is evident that M. Trikoup~s thinks the interests of the present proprietors more important than those of the merchants and small traders of the towns. But Greek imports largely include what may be de- scribed as luxuries, and a poor country should forego these for the benefit of its wealth-producing class. All this is admirable, and the amazing fact that a country which but ten years ago possessed a revenue of thirty-seven mil- lions can now contribute ninety without apparent suffering, is full of encourage- ment for the future. There are, however, other considerations which must not es- cape our notice in reviewing the prospects of Greece. The little kingdom was, so to speak, born in debt, for the three protect- ing powers started it on its career with a loan of 6o millions. Greece was then, as a recent writer says, a heap of smoking ruins bathed in blood. Apart from her lamentable condition, the narrow limits assigned to her by the powers made it almost impossible that she could exist on her own resources. In 1882, according to the official statement lately published, the national debt amounted to 264 millions, in 1889 to nearly 500 millions, while in T890 it reaches 603 millions. The ministerial- ists, however, allow that it reaches a higher figure than this, and M. Tn- koup~s, in his recent speech on the budget, admitted to 66o millions. M. Delyann~s, basing his calculation on the figures of the budget itself, estimates the debt at 760 millions, and this is probably the actual amount. The wide difference between these calculations will astonish impartial critics. Even if we take the official figures, which must be far below the mark, and admit that the military preparations of M. Delyann~s increased the debt by 150 millions, we have still 289 millions borrowed during the admin- istration of the present prime minister. Of this sum more than 38 millions have gone to the construction of ironclads; but I must not discuss the question of naval and military expenditure here lamen- table as this expenditure is, I am not one of those who most vigorously con- demn it. If Greece had not possessed a force which at least could give some trouble, she would never have obtained an extension of her boundary. She must be ready for emergencies in the future. The reduction of the military estimates by a million was a favorable feature of last years budget, but they are raised again by about the same amount in the present year, while the naval estimates are in- creased by half a million, owing to ex- penses connected with the arrival of the new ironclads. It is reassuring, on the A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE. A GLANCE AT CONTEMPORARY GREECE. 51 other hand, to learn that M. Trikoup~s hopes by various financial combinations to make an annual saving in the service of the public debt amounting to nine millions. Greece may not yet have reached the limit either of her borrowing power or of her capacity for taxation; but it is evident that a system under which her debt has increased by four, or rather five, hundred millions in seven years cannot be indefi- nitely prolonged. Though it is some consolation to know that the prime minis- ter is concerned for the interests of the ao~ricultural population, it is sad to see the toil-worn peasants laboring amid hardship and privation to satisfy the claims of for- eign creditors. Les dettes contract~es par les Etats de lOrient, says M. de Laveieye, am~nent ~ des consequences qui revoltent lhumanit6. While the taxation of the country is at a point beyond which it cannot go, while the financial condition is such as to ie- quire long and careful nursing, it is evi- dent that a serious calamity such as war, a succession of bad seasons, or even the failure of the currant-harvest, would cer- tainly bring about a catastrophe. For the moment the danger is on the side of Crete, butit may appear at any time on the side of Macedonia or even Epirus. With re- gard to Crete, the prime minister has taken up a firm and statesmanlike attitude, which no doubt has cost him much popu- larity at present. War is impossible, peace is a necessity; and he is deter- mined that there shall be no repetition of the fiasco of 18856. Without means, he says, we can do nothing on behalf of Crete or the Hellenic cause; our first step must be the financial regeneration of the country. The wide scope of M. Tn- koup~ss views is hardly understood by his countrymen. He is a Panhellenist, and he aspires to direct and control the entire Hellenic world. Athens is its centre and focus; and it is from Athens, and there- fore from the Greek government, that it must take the inot dordre. The Greek of Crete, the Greek of Macedonia, under whatever government he lives, is loyal in heart to the government of Greece,* and the advice of that government is a com- mand. When the time has arrived for combined action on the part of all the members of the Hellenic race, the signal will be given ; it is for the Greek govern- ment to choose the moment, as it alone is able to decide when the circumstances are favorable. As for the advice of foreign * Speech on crete, 3oth October, 1889. powers, M. Trikoup~s accepts it with all politeness. We know, he said to me, that they advise us simply for their owa interest, and we act accordingly. The whole question of Crete must therefore be considered as a mere episode in the development of a great movement, which might be retarded and not furthered by inopportune action on the part of Greece. M. Trikoup~s goes so far as to look upon the Cretan difficulty as the out. come of a scheme deliberately formed by Turkey for the destruction of Hellenism, and he is determined not to be led into the trap prepared for him. He holds that Turkey provoked the rising of last autumn with the object of ~vithdrawing the privi- leges assured to Crete by the Berlin Treaty, and that she would have been delighted to have seen Greece, unaided and alone, take part in the struggle. But the time was inopportune for such a strug- gle, and the Greek government did all that was possible to prevent further disorders, even going so far as to induce the Cretans notto resist the introduction of a large Turkish force into the island. It is true that M. Trikoup~s, when the atrocities were at their height, for once abandoned his attitude of reserve by sending a circu- lar to the powers, threatening Greek inter- ference if they would not take action. Whatever may be thought of the wisdom of this course, M. Trikoup~s contends that it had the effect of mitigating the horrors for a time. The government is in a position of extreme difficulty. It is daily confronted with the misery of three thousand homeless exiles, and the groans of an afflicted Greek race can almost be heard across the sea but for the shrieks of infuriated patriots at home. The position which the government now takes up is reasonable and intelligible. It asks that a com~/ete amnesty should be accorded by the Porte, and that the military tribunals in Crete should be abolished. If these demands were acceded to, it ~vould under- take to induce the refugees to return. It no longer asks for the withdrawal of the firman, although its provisions violate the twenty-third article of the Berlin Treaty. The Porte has replied by a general invita- tion to the refugees to return, which, how- ever, excludes sixteen names; but martial law still exists, and the exiles, though promised imtnun~ty as regards the past, are afraid of being brought before the mil- itary tribunals on fresh charges. The Porte is countenanced by Germany in its refusal to go further; and Germany has just succeeded in concluding a commercial 52 GREAT AND BIG. treaty with Turkey on exceptionally fa- vorable terms. It is the old story of the Eastern question; the weak and struggling must be sacrificed to the interests of the strong. But the time is short; already the snows are disappearing from the mountains, and in a few weeks Crete will be the scene of another insurrection. The Cretan com- mittee at Athens is receiving subscriptions from Italy, from all parts of Europe, and even from America. It is ominous that great activity prevails at the Russian lega. tion. The Greek government, while care- fully abstaining from helping the fugitives, will throw no obstacle in the way of their obtaining arms and provisions. It views the future with alarm, but it will neverthe- less wish them Godspeed. They have already cost Greece nearly a million drach- mae. Is it not time for the friends of Turkey to suggest to her that, after all, she would be an infinitely stronger power without Crete? Would Greece be able to find money to buy the island? Would she be able to rent it, as we rent Cyprus, and to tax the Cretans as she taxes herself and as we tax the Cypriotes? Would she be able to check the vengeance of the Chris- tians? Perhaps so, for many of their en- emies would emigrate; the Mussulmans often prefer emigration to revolt, and those who remain become loyal, as in Bulgaria. The Cretan leaders whom I have met are all for annexation to Greece. They care no longer for reforms or for the revocation of the firman. Some of them are wild mountaineers in their picturesque native costume, whose title to distinction consists in the number of Turkish lives they have taken with their own hand; others are ex- deputies, judges, and professors, men of high intelligence and cultivation, who are now living penniless at Athens, supported by the government. The final decision was taken the other day. The exiles assembled in the ancient Stadion, and the scene as I looked down from the thyme-grown slope once so often thronged by the multitude of bril- liant Athenswas interesting and im- pressive. The invitation of the Turkish government was discussed and definitely refused, after two or three leaders had addressed the meeting, one of them speak- ing with indignation concerning recent declarations in the British House of Com- mons. Then the whole assembly, with uplifted hands, swore the oath of the War of Independence ?tevGrpia ~ Oivaro~ freedom or death. There was no enthusi- asm or excitement, nothing but quiet de termination. The crowd broke into little groups, and as they walked away I could see above their heads the rock whence Aegeus ~vatched to see his son returning from his Cretan triumphs, and the monu- ments of a race that rescued Europe from the dominion of Asia. It was eveningsuch an evening as Byron describes in those sumptuous lines of The Corsair and I turned my steps towards the Acropolis. The sun was sinking in a cloudless heaven behind the purple hills of the Morea; Hymettus and Pentelikon were radiant in violet and crimson, and the crest of Parnes, still sil- vered with the winter snows, looked down through a rose-colored haze upon the dusky olive-groves of Kolonus. A flood of golden light was falling on the columns of the Propylaea and the Parthenon, caus- ing them to glow with a rich mellowness of colorin~as though in harmony with the pa?geant of nature around. The quiet of the sunset hour seemed to accord with the melancholy which haunts these noble monuments of human genius more lovely in this, the evening of their decline, than in the noontide blaze of their perfec- tion more lovely, because more speak. ing and suggestive in the stillness and solitude of their decay. As I turned to depart I paused by the brink of the west- ern cliff, whence the Temple of Wingless Victory looks out across land and sea to the shore of unconquered Salamis. The stones of its ruined fabric have been col- lected, and joined together with reverent care; its fallen columns have been raised, and though its sculptured frieze is broken and defaced, though its marble walls show many a gap, and it has no roof but the deep blue sky, it stands a type of living beauty amid surrounding desolation. And so it seemed to me that a much-tried race, sundered and shattered in ages of adver- sity, may yet be compacted into one har- monious structure, which may reflect, if it cannot revive, the splendor of a historic past. JAMES D. BOuRcHIER. From The National Review. GREAT AND BIG. A DIALOGUE. Time, Summer. Two Aersons in the grime of life, and of oAposite sezes, con- verse beneath a starlit sky. He. Its very queer that those are all suns, with planets, and moons, and aste- roids, and things. GREAT AND BIG. 53 She. The feeling it always gives me to remember that, is that we are such atoms, and that our affairs matter so very little. He. My affairs matter a gre at deal; and so do yours. She. You and I are only two people out of all the people in the world, and the world is only one planet belonging to one little star out of all the stars there are. We are certainly atoms, unless we are molecules, or whatever you call the small- est sort of things. He. But we are not the smallest sort of things. We are bigger than microbes. We may have squashed a million in the last minute. She. Well, microbes matter even less than we do; only its so little less that it makes no difference. He. How do you know microbes matter less than we do? She. There are so many of them. He. There are so many of us. Perhaps in some other planet there are as many human beings as there are microbes here, and no microbes at all. She. Then, if there are so many of us, how can any one of us matter? He. I dont say any of us do, except the few that I know about. I matter. You matter. The prime minister matters. We matter. She. You (plural) matter. They matter. Your own declension contradicts you. He. I beg your pardon. I stopped short of the third person plural. They dont matter to me and I dont know whether they do or not to any one else. She. You are full of inconsistency. You began by saying that human beings were of consequence, and now you say most of them are not. He. It is possible that some human be- ings may be of consequence and others not. But I didnt say any of them werent. 1 said I did not know whether they were or not. She. Well, I say none of them are, com- pared to the stars. He. You are of more importance than a star. Please observe that I am not pay- ing you a shallow compliment, but stating a scientific fact, or, at least, expressing a scientific opinion. Sh-~. There are a million stars, and only one me. They are each of them a million times bigger than I am. There- fore, taken all together, they are of more importance even than I am. He. I do not think you have sufficiently mastered the difference between greatness and bigness. She. I do not think it at all likely that I have. He. It is a not infrequent confusion of ideas. May I preach? She. If you like. I will interrupt you when you get tiresome. He. Thank you. A thing, or a number, which is extremely big is not necessarily imposing, or important, or interesting, or, to put it shortly, great. I will explain this by an example. America is big very big and full of bignesses. I mean the United States. Most of the Ameri- cans think it is great, but they are mis- taken. I dont say there is nothing great about it, but its bignesses are not great. There is a man called Carnegie, and he wrote a book, and boasted that if all the cows in America were put standing nose to tail and four abreast, they would go once and a half round the world. There is nothing great in that. A cow is a very interesting beast, and to be the owner of a tame cow is a very remarkable thing. But when you have got one, or at any rate half-a-dozen, it is not much more remark- able to have six million or six thousand million, ~f you have fields to put them in and people to milk them. It is mere rep- etition of what you did before. She. The second million would be dull. He. And so is the second hundred. Am I to take your observation as a signal that I have become tiresome? She. You may go on. He. There was another man, only I disremember his name, who wrote another book or perhaps it was a woman who made an observation in the same spirit about Chicago. Chicago is full of corn and pigs. She. I have heard of it. He. And it was burnt down. I forget exactly when, but some time in the last twenty years. Well, in this novel did I say the book was a novel? If not, I should have. In this novel the people lived at Chicago and they watched it being burnt down. And a man said that though it was a nuisance to have their houses burnt, it was consoling to reflect that it was the biggest fire in the world, and that the fire of London was nothing to it. Now that twenty years have passed, the fire of Lon- don is as famous as ever, and if you men- tioned the fire of Chicago to a casual, well-educated person, he would ask which one you meant, and whether it hadnt been burnt down several times. I once men- tioned this passage to a lady, who said, Yes, it was a very unimportant fire, be- cause there was nothing burnt that couldz~t GREAT AND BIG. 54 be put up again directly. Thus we see had to go to it, straight from here, and that the fire of Chicago was bigger than supposing that you could go to it, and that the fire of London, but also much smaller, other stars or moons or things wouldnt supposing small to be the opposite of get in the way, as soon as you got out of great. A big fire is one where there are our atmosphere (and, indeed, before) each a great many long and thick flames, cover~ mile that you ~vent ~vould be very like the ing a quantity of space. A great fire is other. While we are supposing you to be one which burns something interesting or able to go, we may as well suppose you to important. A very little fire might burn, be able to go with extreme rapidity. Sup- let us say, an Archbishop of Canterbury, pose you went a billion miles a day, it or Friths Derby Day, but it would be would take you a hundred days, which is a great fire. about three months and a week. That She. It would indeed, would be going very fast, because a billion He. A thing may be great partly be- miles a day is more than forty thousand cause it is big, but my point is that big. million miles an hour, and thats how ness alone can never make anything great. much? more than six hundred million She. I dont disagreeat presentas miles a minute. So its six hundred mil- far as concerns fires on earth, but you lion times as quick as a train. At that know youve got to get to fires in the sky. extravagant pace, you would not get to the He. Your rebuke is just. green star for more than three months. She. I wasnt rebuking. And all that way each hundred miles would He. The connection with the stars is look practically just the same as the hun. this. All we really know about them dred miles on either side of it. Thats not of course, I assume that everything astron- awfulness. Its merely wearisome repe. omers say is true tition. Its as bad as the two million She. They dont all say the same. cows. He. No ; but I assume that the one ~vho She. Worse. spoke last spoke the truth, and I go on He. I doubt if there would be much to believing what he said until somebody choose. When you got to the green star, else contradicts him, or, of course, until he you would very likely find it was made of contradicts himself. much the same stuff as the sun, and had a She. What an elastic form of belief, lot of planets, with moons, and rings, and He. It is called faith. But, as I was say- what not, going round and round it just ing, all we really know about the stars is as ours do here, and all made out of it to that they are extremely big, an exceed- begin with. Then you would be entitled ingly long way off, and most of them, ap- to expect that, saving individual differ- parently, very hot. I gathered from what ences of character, the behavior of that you said just now that the sight of them solar system would considerably resemble conveys to your mind impressions of vast- the behavior of this solar system. ness and awe, and of your own compara- She. Then why is it green? tive littleness. He. I am afraid I made a bad choice. She. So it does. I only chose the green one as an example He. That is because you have, if you because it was easy to point out. Though, will allow me to say so, a naturally power- by the way, the sun may be a green star ful and sedulously cultivated imagination, for anything I know, when it is looked at You compare your own size, and the dis- from a hundred billion miles off. But tances you are accustomed to nave to do thats a detail. Taken in the lump, all the with, to the size of the stars and the dis- stars look very much alike. Judging from tances between them. You appear to their photographs and their s~ecfra, and yourself~ by the sudden comparison, infin. the information generally which astrono- ~tesimally small, and then you are awed. mers give to the ~vorld, the odds seem to Thats all right until you get to being be that they are all made of substantially awed, but at that point you make an arbi- the same stuff, that they all behave in the trary assumption. You observe that green same way, and, in fact, are very much alike. star? Do you know how many stars we can She Yes. see? He. We could find out its name if we She. No. Thousands. Half a million. looked in a book, but for the present it I dont know. does not matter. Let us suppose it is a He. No more do I. But I think the hundred billion miles off. I dont believe number that people can see without tele- it is, but that doesnt matter either. No~v, scopes is three thousand. Whether thats just consider what that means. If you only for one side of the world or both, I GREAT AND BIG. dont know. Also, it may be thirty thou- sand; but that doesnt affect the argument. The point is that there are a great many more that we cant see hundreds of thousands, or something like that, but anyhow, ever so many distinct and sep- arate stars. She. How do you know? He. I dont know; I believe. Because astronomers say so. The last one I read about said there might very likely be inil- lions. I hope there are, or billions, or thousands of billions. Let me remind you that a thousand billions is a fantastically large number. The more there are the more it adds to the force of my next re- mark, which is, What is one among so many? She. But thats what I said to begin with. Youre forgetting which side youre on. He. I beg your pardon, I am not. You said the three thousand stars you could see filled you with awe, and made you think you were only an atom. I say each of the three thousand stars is just as much an atom as you, and that all the three thou- sand together are very likely just as much an atom as you, and that in the eye of wisdom you and your affairs are as impor- tant as the stars intrinsically, and more important to you and me. I dont mean to say that the stars are not interesting; far from it. Nobody that thinks about them all put about in space, and soberly burning, and twirling, and moving, how- ever they do move, can fail to be im- pressed. But they would be every bit as impressive, really and truly, if there were only twenty-four of them, and if they were so small that the whole universe of them could go into my hat. The wonderful thing is that they are there, and that they behave as they do. Suppose you were called upon to make a little universe, with stars and planets, and some domets going to and fro,and suppose you were not re- quired to go into the details of whether there was anything alive flourishing about on them, but had a plentiful stock of in- candescent materials to make your stars of. You could no more do it than you could make a fish. But there are all these stars worked out into all the minutest details, down to microbes, and we dont know how much smaller. Now the ex- istence of anything, and of everything, is as inexplicable, and as mysterious, and wonderful, and impressive as you please, but it would all be just as much so if the scale it is on were ever so much bigger or ever so much smaller. Will you admit that you are more important than a sheet of paper on fire? She. I dont like admitting anything, but, as you have so much faith, you may assume it if you like. He. Thank you. I do like. Besides, you know quite well that you are more important practically, and practically is all I care about. If you take a good-sized sheet of paper, as big as a newspaper, and hold it up edge-ways, and set fire to the bottom of it, in a second or two you will see the flames burst out all over it, and flare up about twice as high as the paper. That is a wonderful sight, if you consider it attentively, and it is extraordinary how quick the whole thing catches fire after it is once fairly lighted, and how much fire it makes, and how hot the fire it makes is. Now that is just as important, curious, and interesting as a sun. She. No, it isnt. The sun has planets. He. That is a detail. You can call the little cinders that float away from the piece of paper planets, if you like. If the piece of paper were a billion billion times as big as it is, it would be as big as a star. If you were a billion billion times as small as you are, it would be as big as a star is now. Therefore it is as important as a star. But you are as we agreed that I should assumemore important than it. Therefore you are more important than a star. She. But the stars go on longer than I do. At least, you know, your astronomers say so. He. Thats the same thing over again. A preposterously long time is Just as un- interesting a thing in itselfand apart from what happens in itas a preposter- ously big number, or a preposterously long distance. All the stars are nothing in the world but very big lumps of stuff call it earth a very long way off, going%n a very long time. There may be interesting things in them. I dont know; and therefore the things, if there are any, dont interest me. And the stars themselves are not interesting. But you are interesting, because youre here. She. And if I werent here He. If you werent here, and had never been here, and werent going to be here, or anywhere where I was, and I had never heard of your existence, Im really afraid that you wouldnt interest me; at least not more than a star. She. In fact, to put it shortly, Im not interesting in myself? He. If thats a fair deduction from my sermon I take it all back, every word. 55 COURT FUNCTIONS. But wait. It isnt a fair deduction. You are interesting in yourself to yourself, but you couldnt interest anybody else if there was nobody else for you to interest. She. Thats not a satisfactory answer. Am I entitled to consider myself interest- ing in myself, or am I not ? Because if not, Im as uninteresting as the stars. He. I dont know any metaphysics. But you are entitled to consider yourself anything you please, and I consider you interesting. She. I think it is getting rather cold, and there is a cloud between us and the Uninteresting. Suppose we go in? T. 0. BROWN. From Murrays Magazine. COURT FUNCTIONS. BY A DEBUTANTE. THE pleasures of coming out are not exactly unalloyed. Much as the girls must look forward to the moment of their ddbut into society, they must, more or less, dread the ordeal at least, I did. The part that seemed to me most trying was my presentation to royalty. I had heard something of court formalities, of the rigid etiquette maintained, of the crowds of smart people, of the still smarter ~and more august personages the centre of all. My father, I remembered, had once dined at Osborne, in a special costume which I never saw him wear, but which, from his description, must have been rather like an acrobats or a male dancers. He told me how they all waited for the queen in two rows, gentlemen on one side, ladies oppo- site, just as if they were going to dance Sir Roger de Coverley. The highest in rank were furthest from the door through which the queen was to make her entrance. When her Majesty appeared she passed through the open ranks straight in to din- ner, then the guests turned and followed her two and two to their places in the hall. During dinner there was no conversation except in whispers, unless the queen espe- cially addressed some one, and afterwards everybody stood up in the drawing-room, while the queen came round and talked to each in turn. All this made me feel that going to court was a serious undertaking. However, every girl did it; it was sure to be a wonderful sight; I should have my father and mother to take care of me, and of course I could not come out properly till I had kissed the queens hand. So I tried to forget the possible difficulties of the great event, and concentrated myself upon the minor but more present anxie- ties. There was first the date to be fixed, but this my parents settled for me, choos- ing one of the later drawing-rooms, so as to give us a better chance of fine weather. I had already seen poor victims of loyal devotion sitting shivering in their car- riages, wearing low dresses, and only feathers in their hair, while the weather was glacial, wind in the east, and a hard frost on the ground, so I was glad my time was to be May. It was some way ahead too, and gave me more leisure to practise my curtsey not a very difficult matter, after all, when you know how to do it, al- though I believe there are professors of deportment who teach people. Next came the very interesting process of choosing a court train. This, as a ddbutan/e, was of course restricted to white, but they gave me a charming dress: a white satin mous- seline de soie petticoat, with a white satin train bordered with a wreath of margue- rites. I was present too when my mother made her selection, and got a number of valuable hints for the future, should it ever be my lot to present a daughter of my own. I found that as a general principle it is better not to choose red velvet and gold brocade, a tone and a decoration likely to clash ~vith those of the furniture and corridors of the palace. In the last room and passage the car pet is red, so of course a train of that color would not show up well. Blue, again, should be avoided, as it has too cold an appearance in daylight. Everybody ought to be very careful not to have gold ferns in their bouquets, as the ferns are apt to shed their gilding on neighboring toilettes. At last the great day arrived, and my nervous forebodings, which had been steadily increasing, culminated in real terror. Should I get through all right what might I do, or far worse, leave un- done? Yet everything went off to perfec- tion. Fortunately we had the enirde, the privilege of entering by the private door in the Buckingham Palace Road. This gave me three hours law. People not so happily favored must begin their toilettes about seven in the morning; but my hair- dresser did not arrive till lo AM. He was from Truefitts, not the man 1 had asked for, of course, and I felt positively certain would not do my hair to my satisfaction. I began almost to regret that I had not been l)rovided with a court coiffure of the kind so obligingly offered by the Auxiliary Army and Navy Stores. It certainly is a very convenient arrangement, though noth. COURT FUNCTIONS. 57 ing more nor less than a wig, but with it one can dispense with the hairdresser al- together. Yet my hair was done some- how, and I think nicely. More, I found my train perfectly delightful. The bouquet was unpacked, marguerites, to match the train, and all that remained was to fortify myself ~vith a good strong cup of beef tea before starting. Off we drove at half past one, straight for the palace, approaching it by the Pimlico entrance, and passing all the other carriages by the way. How sin- cerely we congratulated ourselves on thus having the enirde, and avoiding the long delay three hours or more in the streets! Arrived, we were shown to a room, where obliging Abigails, attired in black, with white caps and aprons, relieved us of our cloaks and etceteras, after which, in unveiled splendor, we took our way along corridors and passages, from the walls of which departed sovereigns gazed down on us with benign countenances, full, let us hope, of admiration and approval. We found delightful attention on the part of the palace authorities most of the doorways lined with looking-glass, a charming arrangement, calculated to en- able people to see and admire themselves continually, and at the same time rest as- sured that nothing ~vas amiss with their toilettes or trains. All the way there were vistas peopled with graceful figures, lovely ladies in feathers and finery, gentlemen in gorgeous uniforms, until we reached a staircase, where the privileged few sepa- rate from their less fortunate neighbors, and betake themselves to a room re- served for those who have the en/ne. Here, having gone through the formality of writing your name upon a card, you find that you have ample space to walk about, train and all, and thoroughly enjoy yourself; a pleasure heightened by the misfortunes of others, for there, in the room adjoining, are the poor wretches we have just left, crowded together like*sheep in pen, fasf crushing out the freshness of their beautiful new frocks, and, of course, regarding us with envious eyes. This room in which we are is the last but one before the throne. Presently celebrities begin to arrive by twos and threes, am- bassadors, Cabinet ministers ,great func- tionaries, all in uniform or court dress; there is a move onwards, the crowd, which has gathered quickly, begins to thin, as one after another passes through the mys- terious~doorway, the last that leads in to the presence, and they are gone to return, ahl never more. Now, with a sinking heart, and feelings of dismay, I realized that my time ~vas all but come. I take my place in the line and presently find myself at the door. So far, I had been carrying my brand-new train over my arm, but now it was taken possession of by two gentlemen of the court, who spread it out carefully behind me, I suppose to give it its full and proper effect. I must say they manipulated it I suppose from long practice with most marvellous neatness and dexterity. Then I passed out into the strong light of the corridor. The contrast was extreme between it and the darkened, mysterious, almost gloomy throne-room beyond, which I was now slowly and nervously approaching. At the very threshold I handed my card to some great functionary, and heard my name announced loudly as I continued to advance slowly, following the glidingfrou- fron of the train in front of me, my moth- ers. All the rest passed like a dream; I was in a state of suspended animation; I had a vision of some one waiting to receive me, of a curtsey dropped automatically, perhaps awkwardly, of another, another, and yet another, and at last, after an un- known interval of time, consciousness returned, my train had again been thrown over my arm by some officious, or rather official, friend, and with a sigh of relief that all was ended, I emerged into the light of day. I had no recollection hardly of what had occurred. I had seen nothing, real- ized nothing, I had but the vaguest and most indistinct impression of what I had done. But at least, well done or ill done, it was over, and now we were in another long corridor, across the end of which fresh victims were still streaming. My trouble was ended, theirs was still to come, and it was with a virtuous sense of duty performed that I utilized the ample space and abundant leisure now afforded me in critically examining other people. Not the least part of the pleasure was to note the change in countenance before and after the ceremony; it was sometimes dif- ficult to recognize in the beaming faces of those ~vho issued from the presence cham- ber the melancholy ones that but a short time previous were sadly approaching it. This is an amusement which can fully occupy a dibutante new to the whole affair, almost till every one has passed. But it must end, and at length, when nearly all had passed, we leftthe saloon, making our way down to the Pimlico entrance, to wait patiently among a.crowd of awful swells, while servants in royal livery helped us to get our carriage. At last it was called, and we drove home. Another, quite the COURT FUNCTIONS. last, act in the performance, had still to be played; I became the central figure of an admiring group of friends who were await- ing our return, eager to inspect me and to hear my experiences. With a cup of five oclock tea and a visit perhaps from the photographer, I descended to the level of every-day life, having enjoyed my first visit to court far better than I expected. My second visit was less monotonous because less novel, but it made an equal, perhaps a greater, impression upon me. No presentation at court can be consid- ered quite complete until it is followed by an invitation to a State ball. I fancy, however, there is a good deal of heart- burning and disappointment, and the hope long deferred that maketh the heart sick, before the much-coveted honor is vouch- safed to the ddbutante. It is not strange that in these days, when the number of presentations has multiplied exceedingly, many people have long to wait for, and that some never receive, the lord chain- berlains summons. But we got her Maj- estys commands in due course, and I was permitted to attend a court ball. It is not a ball, however, in the ordinary sense of the word. It is rather a grand State re- ception where there is none of the formal- ities of presentation, but at which the royal personages who are the hosts have every opportunity of greeting those whom they recognize (and the royal faculty of recognition is proverbial) in a simple and cordial manner. The company, which is far too numerous even for the magnificent ball-room of Buckingham Palace, over- flows into suites of stately apartments, and as there is no such solitude as in a crowd, there is ample facility for a solitude 4 deux-, which I think is not unfrequently taken advantage of. Dancing as at an ordinary ball is hardly attempted, except within the charmed inner circle, where the sweetest lady in the land treads a measure with some highly favored man, and the prince makes some ddbulante happy by becoming her partner in waltz or quadrille. I think English society at large might profit by the example set by the court circle in dancing. The exag- gerated or slovenly movements which many gentlemen, and, alas! ladies, nowa- days call dancing, are not to be seen in the palace, but there grace and dignity receive due attention. The ball-room now lighted by the elec- tric light and nearly perfect as to tem- perature, offers a most striking coup dwil. To one like myself, unaccustomed to balls of any kind, and but little familiar with grande tenue whether male or female, the effect is almost dazzling. Of course, the costumes of my own sex ~vere a source of constant delight; never before had I seen such marvellous combinations of color and material, the most costly bro- cades, silks and satins, priceless lace, the rarest jewels, diamonds especially, were lavishly employed. But for once the men were more gorgeous than the women. Within the royal precincts and in the presence of royalty itself, the sex that is usually unadorned wears the finest feath- ers. The monotonous black coat is re- placed by uniform in every hue and shape. A high heel treads upon your toe, anti a guttural apology is at once offered by a German dragoon in white and silver. A most amiable and well-known gentleman, who had often been pointed out to me, has emerged from his chrysalis stage, and is now a gorgeous Greek. A ladys dress catches on some passing point, which proves to be the jewelled hilt of an Orien- tal nobles weapon; hereis a Hungarian hussar, there a French chasseurdAfrique, here an Italian Bersaglieri officer, there a Scotch archer, while English naval and military uniforms with their richly em- broidered lace and solid gold ornament partly explain why large private means are necessary to maintain a respectable exte- rior in both the services. But what struck me more than anything was to see a great guavdsman walking about everywhere ~vearing his bearskin hat. I was told he was the officer of the guard, and I must say I pitied him. Of course he could not dance, and everybody noticed him. Etiquette is the very life and health of a court. It is observed even in the ar- rangements of seats. On each side of the small, low daYs, intended exclusively for royalty, are rows of chairs which, I was told, were definitely and clearly assigned, not by law, but by absolute although un- written custom, to the different orders in the social scale who accept the queens invitation. No one but those prescribed might occupy them. Thus on one side are duchesses and marchionesses; on the other, ambassadresses and ladies of the corps diplomatique. It was my good for- tune to witness a very pretty and graceful little ceremony in connection with these distinctions, when a young and beautiful bride arrived, who, within the last few months, had become a duchess. This was her first appearance as such at a court ball and she was making her way diffidently towards the position to which her newly acquired rank entitled her, when the whole COURT FUNCTIONS. 59 of the duchesses present rose simulta- neously to greet their sister peeress and receive her into their circle. What makes the court ball so well ~vorth seeing is the fact that almost everybody in the room has some well-grounded claim to distinction. My own, I will admit, was but reflected lustre, and I entered paradise under the wing of others, like the rest of the ddbuhzn/es. But these others repre- sented all that is most notable and promi- nent in London. Social rank of all the higher grades was fully represented, wealth where it was associated with meri- torious money-getting, distinguished ser- vice to the State and high professional repute. Nothing proved this better than the brilliant display of decorations, the constellations of stars, crosses, and medals, all attesting the presence of every degree of merit, and every form of celebrity. Little less distinguished but from extreme contrast was the plain, almost homely, black dress-suit of the American minister, ~vho, of course, wore no decorations what- ever. He was the only man there thus simply attired, the type of a great republic which acknowledges no kind of distinction but that of personal merit, and perhaps, so my father says, thinks more of such bau- bles than the most aristocratic nation in the world. The great sight of the evening was when the royal procession was formed to move in to the supper-room. First, the way was cleared for the princess by court officials with white wands of office, who glanced nervously over their shoulders as they moved backwards. H~r Royal Highness, as she leads the way, in all graciousness, distributing smiles and friendly bows right and left, and being imitated with more or less success by the thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers, who accom- pany and follow her. A miscellaneous crowd of dukes, duchesses, and smaller fry, who are privileged to refresh them- selves in royal company, bring up the rear and form the first contingent to fill the supper tables. But there is ample room and entertainment for all, and surely no more regal banquet could well be seen than that which is so admirably prepared by the master of the household; ~vhile its material attractions are, if possible en- hanced and set off by the unique buffet of gold plate which looms in the background. I was only too pleased to take my turn in the great supper-room, but I met older campaigners who told me that it is more prudent to evade the great crowd by tak- ing advantage of the smaller tables spread in other rooms. I was advised too, by one learned in such things, to try the hock cup, which, it seems, is a specialty of palace hospitality. I have heard it said that foreign courts outshine the British in splendor and magnificence. In Spain, Austria, or Russia, the ceremonial is very gorgeous, the surroundings of the sover- eign most striking, but I am sure these courts are not better than ours. Certainly no Continental potentates can bid their friends and subjects to any gathering which more fully embraces the solid qual- ities of af~1e given to ladies and gentle- men than a royal ball in England. My first London season included yet another entertainment, a garden party at Marlborough House, less grand and im- posing, perhaps, than either drawing-room or ball, but, with its perfect simplicity, to my mind quite as stately and quite as pleasant. Some years ago the Prince and Princess of Wales oave their garden par- ties at Chis~vick, and certainly no sweeter spot could be found near London for af~te cham~~tre than those sunny lawns, shaded by ancestral trees. But the Marlborough House gardens are now used for these out-of-door receptions, and since the ex- tension of London has robbed a suburban drive of all pleasure, and London streets, crowded and dusty, extend all the way to Chiswick, it is more convenient and more agreeable to both entertainers and enter- tained to visit their Royal Highnesses in the grounds of their own London home. We drove to the Pall Mall gate of Marl- borough House, and entered by the wicket door, the same as that at which so many carriagefuls of smart people may be seen on every day during the London season, who have come to write their names in the visiting-book which the scarlet-clad porter has under his charge. As ~ve got out of the carriage we had to run the gauntlet of rather an unwashed crowd, who expressed their opinion about our personal appear- ance in very complimentary, but not very polished terms. I had been particularly cautioned to be sure to curtsey to the prince and princess, whom we might ex- pect to find near the entrance to the garden. So after passing through the courtyard, I was prepared to see a formal group to whom I should have to make my reverence. We entered the garden, and I was standing about looking for the royal- ties, when I saw my fathers hat off, and his dear old bald head glistening in the sunshine, while a charming and young- looking lady was shaking hands with him in the simplest and most friendly manner. 6o COURT FUNCTIONS. Heavens! it was the princess. I believe my mother was nearly as much taken aback as I was, although she would not acknowledge it I was a little behind her, so I had the advantage and time to think what I should do. I was now quite on the quivive, and was not at all astonished when I recognized the prince in the smil- ing gentleman who was taking off his hat to me. It was all so nice and natural that I felt at home at once, and by the time I had made a bow to each of the young princesses, and to the commander-in-chief, and received the kindest of smiles and bows from all, I felt as if I had known the queens children and grandchildren all my life. We mixed with the rest of the crowd, and I had leisure to take in the scene. The gardens were so lovely in their cool and quiet freshness that it was almost impossible to realize that one was in the heart of London. A Life Guards band was playing my favorite waltz at one end, and the Scots Guards band were ready for duty when the first were tired. The pipers of the Guards made a brave show, at times marching up and down, although I am not quite sure that I quite appreci- ated the wild and rather discordant pi- brochs which they performed. A tent was pitched on a central lawn, with chairs and carpets spread in front of it. This was for the queen, I was told, who was expected in the course of the afternoon. But I had plenty to do to look at the company. It was said that more than four thousand invitations had been issued, and I could quite believe it when I saw the crowd around. It goes without saying that few people that were asked did not come, and there are numbers of persons among the many personal friends of the prince and princess who are pre- vented by their professions from attending balls, but who are delighted to present themselves at a quieter entertainment. The clergy of all ranks and persuasions muster in gre at force at a garden party. The Church of England is represented by all its hierarchy: there are archbishops, bishops, canons, deans, and the rest; a stately archimandrite of the Greek Church is remarkable in his imposing robes; I think I saw one or two Presbyterian min- isters, and there was no mistaking the best- known Roman Catholic cardinal. Then the doyen of English actors could not be overlooked, and I fancied he must have found a royal party in the nineteenth century a more pleasant function than a banquet in the halls of the Thane of Caw dor. Cabinet ministers past, present, and to come soldiers, sailors, explorers, doctors, lawyers, litterateurs, the president of the Royal Academy and those of the learned societies, with probably every no- tability to be found in the pages of Burke all these were present and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. Here, however, it ~vas the reverse of what I had noticed at the State ball. My own sex, I am proud to say, had vindicated its right to be the most smartly dressed. The ladies generally had the best of it as com- pared to their male companions; in this great gathering of folk of light and leading, great intellect, high rank, or distinguished achievements are not necessarily associ- ated with attractive appearance, and now a soignie toilette made the lady more of a personage than her lord. Hark! God save the Queen, is being played. The queen is arriving, and every one rushes to the foot of the steps which lead from the drawing-room and down which her Majesty must pass. The queen appears dressed in black, relieved here and there by white ribbons and orna- ments. She leans slightly on a stick, but looks benignant, bright, and happy, as be- seems a great monarch surrounded by a loving family and a crowd of loyal sub- jects. It is touching to see the affection- ate glances that pass between the royal family of England, showing that really tender and dutiful attentions of sons and daughters to a mother are blended with the reverence to the sovereign. A lane is formed by the company, and the queen walks to the tent that is prepared for her. Two magnificent-looking old Indian war- rior attendants place themselves behind her chair, and mark that she is not only queen of England but empress of a mighty military realm in the far East. All the most distinguished people are brought up to the queen for presentation, but as our party was not to be so specially honored we betook ourselves to strolling about and trying to identify every one we saw, in which exercise I found my best guide was an acquaintance with the pages of Punch. Five oclock tea is now an indispensa- ble English meal, and we enjoyed it in the long open tent which is arranged for re- freshments near the house. Such good tea! such delicious ~eti/s rains! and oh, such delicious strawberries and cream I I might say, oh, what delicious champagne! if I might judge from my fathers sigh of contentment when he put down an empty glass. NOTES OF A PILGRIMAGE. 6i It is six oclock. The queen goes as she came. Soon there is a general exo- dus, and we make our way to the outer world, where every one is not tirt t~ qua- /re dpingles, and where the jars of life are not modified by the care and forethought which are the characteristics of a princely English home. From The Spectator. NOTES OF A PILGRIMAGE. I. JERUSALEM. IT appears to be the custom to say that Jerusalem is disappointing. As my own experience leads me to a directly contrary conclusion, I must assume that this is due to the fact that the first aspect of the city is not so impressive as one would expect, or perhaps wish it to be. Wherein ap- pears a fresh instance of the good fortune which continually befriended me. It hap. pened that, having spent the previous night on the benches of the saloon of a Russian steamer, our minds.full of unnec- essary apprehensions concerning the diffi. culties of landing at Jaffadifficulties which appeared to us to be much exagger- ated by report.. we had only felt equal to going as far as Ramleb on the first after- noon, starting ~or Jerusalem the next morning. Our )ouiney was, consequently, not a very formidable one; but still, many hours jolting in a cramped position over what, being as yet ignorant of Palestine, we considered an indifferent road, will produce fatigue, and may account for the otherwise disgraceful fact that on arriving in sight of Jerusalem, I was asleep. Being abruptly roused from slumber by we 11- meaning friends, I had not composed my feelings into a fitting frame of mind to look at any view till I found myself stand. ing on the terrace of the Mediterranean Hotel, ~vith all Jerusalem before me. I should recommend other travellers to adopt something of the same plan; the preliminaries need not be exactly similar. The view that I speak of embraced al- most all that is of real interest in Jerusa- lem. Almost at our feet lay the pool of Hezekiah, a rather turbid-looking piece of water, built in on all sides, the houses running sheer down into the water without any kind of path or bank between. Be. yond this came the most conspicuous object, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, with its two domes and the old square, roofless tower of the belfry, backed by low, green hills, one of them being Mount Scopus, from which Titus looked down of old on the beautiful city which he was to destroy. Farther away to the right comes the great open space of the Haram-esh- Sherif, the site of Solomons Temple, with the mosques of Omar and El Aksa. The Mahommedan feast of Moses is held at the same time as the Christian Easter, and the broad expanse of green sward which occupies the place of the court of the Gen- tiles, is dotted with picturesque figures of pious Moslems who spend their whole existence for the time within the precincts of the mosque. As a background for the Mosque of Omar, we have the Mount of Olives, somewhat spoiled by the hideous steeple erected on the top by a pious Rus- sian lady. The rest of the view is chiefly made up of an infinity of tiny domes which are merely the roofs of ordinary houses, interspersed with a few minarets very few for a city of the size of Jeru. salem some larger domes of churches and synagogues, and in one or two places a little foliage. The moderate extent of the city contributes to give it an air of greater completeness and uniformity. Be- yond the limits of the last wall, modern improvement has done its ugliest to spoil the landscape; but within there is fortu- nately little room for new buildings, and the long line of domes and terraces stretches away unbroken except by the small, dark clefts that mark here and there the intervention of one of the narrow, winding streets. The mouth of one of the most frequented lies just below us, where the street of David debouches on the open place in front of the citadel; it is, like most Eastern streets, a seething mass of humanity, their garments in every con- ceivable variety of shape and color, sober, Christian Syrians in a kind of semi- European attire, with their lower extremi- ties encased in a curious, baggy garment, half pantaloons, half petticoat; Jews with shaven heads, all but the two long ringlets in front, and battered soft black hats except in this respect, they are often magnificently dressed wild-looking Bed- ouins in their striped burnouses, from the further shores of the Dead Sea or the desert of the south ; and here and there, to increase the variety of the picture, some large-limbed Russian peasant-pilgrim in the same long caftan, fur cap, and high boots that he wears at home, shouldering his way through the crowd to make some purchase for his scanty evening meal. 62 NOTES OF A PILGRIMAGE. We had little to find fault with in our first sight of Jerusalem. Yet there are undoubtedly disappoint- ments awaiting us. The chief interest naturally centres in the places of the cru- cifixion and burial of our Lord; these are the objects most prominent in the mind of every traveller, even if he avow no mo- tive for his journey but sheer curiosity. Most of us will follow with reverent hearts the long line of the Via Dolorosa all the way from the supposed judgment-hall of Pilate to the Church of the Holy Sepul- chre. We are in no mood for carping at the harmless traditions that have grown up around the great theme of sacred story; we find little difficulty in believing that it was at that corner at the bottom of the valley, that the soldiers caught sight of Simon of Cyrene coming out of the country, and forced him to help in carry- ing the cross. It may well have been that some pious woman came out at the very spot where the house of St. Veronica is pointed out to us, to soothe and soften the sufferings of our Lord as he dragged his way up that weary ascent; nor do we smile at the innocent absurdity which fixes a site even for the houses of Dives and Lazarus. But when we arrive at last at the very spot where the great tragedy was enacted, we begin to lose the feeling of reality that has brought us through all the preceding scenes. It is hard for a man to stand in that great church, or rather amalgamation of churches, with all its garish decorations, surrounded by all the appurtenances of religious pageantry, Greek or Roman, and say to himself: This is the hill where our Saviour was brought out to die; here actually stood the cross on which he was bound, and there the sepulchre where his body ~vas laid and from which he rose again.~ We cannot help a distinct revulsion of feeling, an idea that this is not what we have come out to see. The thought of tracing the course of that last procession is given up, as we find each sacred spot encumbered with all the paraphernalia of devotion dis- tracting the eye and entirely obliterating all sense of locality. It is true that every detail of the place may be pointed out to us. Here, we are told, he was mocked, here he was scourged, here the soldiers cast lots for his garment; but hurrying round from one dark chapel to another only increases our confusion. We cannot help wishing that the devotion of ages had shown itself in some less practical way than that of building churches over the holy places, and decorating them to an unlimited extent when erected. Of course this is a most improper view of the case. It was the most natural and fitting way to testify reverence for these holy places; it has, no doubt, done good service in mark- ing the spots and keeping them from pol- lution; above all, it is a great boon to the thousands of pilgrims who come here with less artificial ideas on the subject, wit- ness the kind of wondering, awed delight with which that little band of Russian peasants comes upon one after another of these relics of the day of salvation. But to me it is now almost a comfort that recent discoveries have made it possible that the sites of the crucifixion and burial were not here at all. A fe~v days ago, the suggestion seemed to me almost impious, but now I feel an unreasonable conviction of its correctness. I had rather have the faith of the Russians, but as apis al/er I can take refuge with the Palestine Ex- ploration Society. Let us go, then, to what our dragoman describes as Conders Golgotha. It is a round, green hill just outside the Damas- cus Gate, chiefly remarkable till recent days for the grotto on its southern side, where, according to tradition, Jeremiah wrote the Lamentations. On the summit, a number of Mahommedan tombs are scattered about, but otherwise the hill is left quite free; indeed, I believe it has now been bought by a well-known German resident in Jerusalem, for the express pur- pose of preventing any building upon it. I have no space here to enter into the various reasons why this hill should or should not be the actual Calvary, rather than the more generally accepted site. Certainly it is outside the walls, as Cal- vary was of that we have ocular demon- stration from the great rock foundations which have been laid bare here and there under the present walls and it is not yet certain that the Church of the Holy Sepul- chre was outside. Also, by going a little way down the road between the walls and the hill, we have ocular demonstration of its striking resemblance to a skull. I am tempted to decide in its favor chiefly by sentimental reasons. If it be the right spot, it has not changed its appearance, except for the tombs upon it, since the three crosses were planted on its summit. Few people come there; I have seen no one but a few Mahommedan women, going through some ceremonies of mourning at the tombs in a very casual, not to say jovial manner, and once a little group of children, to whom an old man was reciting the story of Joseph being sold by his KAFFIR HUMOR. 63 brethren and carried away into Egypt. It is easier, at least, to dream in that quiet spot, to reconstruct in ones own mind all the details of that terrible day, than it is in the great church, with its profusion of shrines and altars, of monster candles and bad pictures, and extravagant if not tawdry ornament. From Time. KAFFIR HUMOR. THE Kaffirs of south-east Africa, as well as the Zulus, have a rare fund of humor, though the latter race combine with it a dignity, style, and expressive grace of ac- tion which I fail to find among the others, although they have marvellous powers of pantomimic description. I brought a boys by steamer along the east coast. It was his first experience of life on board a ship. Some time after, in my hut at Chiloane, I found him with a group of wide-eyed Kaffirs squatting around him, reproducing every detail of the working of the boat, with extraordinary expression of voice and action, while his running comments now and then, given in a rapid undertone, must have been of a more hu- morous character than I could gather, as the hearers laughed consumedly at them. The casting of the lead, with the very tone of voice of the quartermaster, who gener- ally performed that function as we made a bar or ran a treacherous sandbank, was wonderfully true. So were the commands from the bridge, in which I could discern the tones of the captain and several of the officers, though the tones only, of course, accompanied the articulation of a number of gutturals. The beat of the engines was expressed by a wonderful barking noise deep down in his great chest, and sounded like the beating of a deep bass, metallic surface. The wind, the rush of the water, the boatswains whistle, and other of the many noises on board ship were all given with excellent mimetic observation, and the sounds were always accompanied by actions of the limbs, head, and body, that seemed almost superhuman. I was sorry to find that this power on the part of Charlies was transitory, for though I induced him to repeat his description upon another occasion, he had forgotten much, and went in for embellishments not quite so true to nature as I had led my friends to expect. I may mention here that there is some danger in encouraging these imitative exhibitions unless they are given spontaneously. Your Kaffir is as cunning as other races of a humorous turn, and may require some little stimulus in the shape of spirits. If supplied with this, there is every chance of the demon- strator becoming excited, and in that case he is likely to see nothing but blood, his dearly beloved fighting-sticks become his one absorbing thought, and he may run-a-muck of some of his companions or of yourself, in which case unpleasantly severe remedies are required. The Kaffir, in the zoological studies which are traditional with him, is full of excellent humor, and generally preference is given in his illustration to beasts and birds that lend themselves to comic treat- ment. The imitative faculty is not always of the proper order. Indeed, I feel certain that these pantomimic interludes, as well as the dances indulged in by these shrewd, if unsophisticated, children of nature, would meet with immediate oppo- sition by certain members of the county council if offered for representation on the board6 of the London music halls. The Kaffir lives for love and fighting. They are the Alpha and Omega of his existence. Life is full of joy and excitement; death has for him no fear or terror. The picca- ninee hears the song of love across its mothers shoulder as she croons her im- promptu ditties with her companions working at the mealie tubs. When he can toddle, the boy is to be found with his infantile comrades on the sand-heaps or in holes, with tiny assagaies practising the art of war. The dance under the vivid moon shows him and his sisters in nought but amatory evolutions. Round the dark night fire the songs are chants of adulation to the native representatives of Mars and Venus, and encouragement towards the emulation of their deeds. Joy and humor, with fine flashes of poetry, abound in these gatherings, though the songs are, for the most part, impromptus sung to the tradi- tional and somewhat limited fund of music. Passing from this cursory glance at the more musical and actional phase of the natural humor of the Kaffir, it would be well to touch lightly though the subject is one worthy of much studyupon the more intellectual forms that it may be found to assume. I had some instances of imitation of form by rude sketching that were extremely interesting. In sev- eral of the hideous slave huts~ ~vhich it was our lot to occupy during our sojourn in Portuguese territory, I made a few fresco drawings on the bare white walls with colored chalks and charcoal. This 64 KAFFIR HUMOR. gave great satisfaction to the boys, and ing of the brilliancy of his mots and the it was no uncommon thing to return to gratification his sallies have given. After the hut and find a group of visitors click- that the deluge of retort given all at once ing, jabbering, giggling, and generally by the group at the top of their voices. criticising ny efforts. I was not a little The Kafflr is somewhat grandiloquent. gratified as well as amused to find my gal- To give one instance: I was lying in a hut lery supplemented on the outer walls by with the guide and interpreter of our party. many sketches in infinite variety of designs We were to sail on the morrow and were by the Kaffirs, mostly of a spirited and talking over plans, when enter the mate of comic nature. I made records of some the whale-boat. This was, being trans- of them for future use, but I grieve to say lated, his mode of telling us to be ready many were not fit for publication. Strict in good time. He looked long, steadily, morality even in art is not a strong point and silently at my friend, then pointing to with my friend the Kaffir. Their lan- a square face bottle of Hollands gin, guages are very various, and even in one he said with an air of impressive solem- tribe there will be found two or more lan- nity: If you sleep with that ~vife to-night guages. Frequently the female has a lan- you will not ~vak~ until the sun is high in guage quite distinct from that of the male, the heavens, while I must sail at day- not in dialect merely but in expression light I and disappeared into the night. and forms of sentiment. With both sexes In conclusion, let me bear testimony to I believe the faculty for punning and the Kaflirs wonderful keenness of percep- double entendre is transcendant, soaring, tion in summing up the weak or strong on occasion, to the dignified region of points of those they meet. The quick- genuine wit. The constant theme and tongued criticism that is given is gener- general topic of conversation is, like their ally so unerring, so terse, and so true that musical efforts, that of love, and many of it often affixes to its subject a nickname their dialogues would, if translated, require which will last him for the rest of his ex- as much editing and expurgation as a Gir- istence. It is by no means the most com- ton-girl edition of the dramatists of the posing thing in the world to find yourself Restoration. A Kaffir wag is in his ele- sitting in the presence of a couple of dusky ment when, leisurely leaning on his staff, visitors who are talking in a calm and sol- he has the opportunity (he can always find emn manner until a loud shout of laughter the time) of chafflng a group of damsels from some concealed listeners arouses you at a well or round a hut door. This he to the fact that you have this some while will do perhaps at the distance of a hun- been playing the part of butt to the dred yards or more, the low laughing natural humor of the Kaffir. Chilla (click) illo~ of the fair ones tell- ANTI-SEMITIC AGITATION IN FRANcE. The anti-Semitic agitation has been revived in France. The Figaro and the Gaulois de- vote their leading columns to the attacks made at Neuilly last Sunday week on the Jews in general, and in particular on the house of Rothschild. The writer in the Figaro pro- fesses to have interviewed not Baron Alphonse de Rothschild but Un intime de la Rue La- fitte, who described to him the movement as German in its origin. The 1~garo attributes the birth of French anti-Semitism to the belief that the ruin of the Union G6n& ale and its clients was the work of the great Jewish finan- ciers, and especially the Rothschilds; but it explains that this belief is unfounded. The Rothschilds, it says, tried to save, not indeed the Union G~n& ale, for that was past salva- tion, but the funds deposited there, and it says they would have succeeded had M. Pon- toux not been arrested. The French people, it is said, have no feeling against the Roths- childs, and anti-Semitism is not in any way dangerous. In the Gauloi.r, M. Andrieux, ex- prefect of police, deals with the question in an article headed If I were Rothschild. He thinks that the agitation against the Jews has a character of gravity which commands the consideration of all statesmen. He traces that agitation to the favor shown the Jews by the Republican government. He fears that the reaction which has set in against the pre- ponderating influence of the Jewish element in French society w, like all reactions, be excessive and unreasoning, and he thinks that it is possible for the head of the house of Rothschilds to check that mischievous reac- tion by promoting syndicates and associa- tions of workmen, placing credit within the reach of industrial and agricultural labor, making the lot of the laborer less hard and the capitalist less selfish in a word, adds M. Andrieux, if I were Rothschild, I would wish to be the first Socialist of my times in the highest sense of the word.

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. Volume LXXI. No. 2402. 10 100(1 5 From Beginning, Fifth Series, July .L~., Vol. OLIXIVi, CONTENTS. JAMAICA THE GODS OF GREECE. By J. R. Mozley,. THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTER- STONE JAIL A VISIT TO A GREAT ESTATE, SULTAN ABDUL HAMID. By Professor Varnb& y NOTES OF A PILGRIMAGE. Part II., DISTINCTION, MR. PATMORE ON DISTINCTION, THE LADY WRANGLER, . Blackwoods Magazine, Temple Bar, Blackwoods Magazine, Fortnightly Review, New Review, Spectator, Fortnzg-kdv Review, Spectator, Spectator, P 0 E T R Y. CONTENTMENT 66 FLOS FLORUM, ALTRUISM, 66 TRUTH,. THE BLACKBIRD: A SPRING SONG, 66 67 76 83 100 109 4 9 124 126 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LIT TELL & CO., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTIOn, For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE wlll be punctually forwarded for a year,free of~oszage. 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 he 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. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. 66 66 66 CONTENTMENT, ETC. CONTENTMENT. CONTENTMENT knocked at a poets heart; The poet gave an impatient start, To see such a stranger there, Infinite longings, beautiful dreams, Wonderful thoughts on numberless themes, Metaphors rich and rare Sensitive sentiments morbidly sad, Exquisite raptures, hopes half mad, For these there was plenty of room to spare, But none for Contentment anywhere. She next approached a philosophers soul; The sage put down some mystical scroll, And a vexed look crossed his face. Whether the will is bound or free, Whether there was an eternity, Whether all matter and space Only exist as part of the mind, These and more of a similar kind, Were secrets long he had sought to trace; Till found, Contentment could have no place. She went to the house of a millionaire, But the poor rich man was full of care, And begged of her not to stay. One who had only lived for fame, Sighing at last for a loftier aim Told her to go away. Those who had most of wealth and ease Always appeared the hardest to please; And even the people who seemed most gay Asked her to call another day. At length she entered a peasants breast The poor man gladly received his guest As an angel passing by. Proud of his garden, pleased with his cot, Plain though his fare and humble his lot, Gratitude beamed from his eye. Peacefully here she hoped to remain; But soon she heard the peasant complain Of some small trouble, and then with a sigh Contentment left earth and flew to the sky. J. T. CHAPMAN. ALTRUISM. WE may not all attain the promised land That youth holds as its rightful heritage, Manhood still craves, and disappointed age Dreams of, yet hopes no longer there to stand. The lawgiver of old, at whose command Forth from the rock the longed-for water sped (As he through arid wastes Gods Israel led), Who failed to own in this his Makers hand, Saw from the mountain heights by Jordans wave That land outstretching to the distant main. He knew those erring ones were come at last To rest and plenty, all their wandrings past, And scanned but from afar the fertile plain Ere angels laid him in his unknown grave. Spectator. ALICE FARRER. THE BLACKBIRD: A SPRING SONG. As I went up a woodland walk In Taunton Dene, When May was green I heard a bird so blithely talk The twinkling sprays between, That I stood still, With right good will, To learn what he might mean. No yellow-horn~d honeysuckle Hath eer distilled The sweets he spilled In one long, dulcet, dewy chuckle That blackbird golden-billed Ay piping plain, Hope, hope again! Till my hearts grief he stilled. ALFRED PERcEvAL GRAVES. The Orchard, Taunton. Spectator. FLOS FLORUM. ONE only rose our village maiden wore; Upon her breast she wore it, in that part Where many a throbbing pulse doth heave and start At the mere thought of Love and his sweet lore. No polishd gems hath she, no moulded ore, Nor any othei masterpiece of art~ She bath but Natures masterpiece, her heart; And that showd ruddy as the rose she bore. Because that he, who sought for steadfastness Vainly in other maids, had found it bare Under the eyelids of this maiden fair, Under the folds of her most simple dress. She let him find it; for she loved him too As he loved her: and all this tale is true. Academy M. TRUTH. MENS minds are like a polished shield for both Have convex sides, where truth and right re- main; And concave ones, where all things mirror false; And yet the world without is just the same. One says the universe is full of care; Another says the world is bright and fair. One speaks of Nature ravaging for blood; Another calls her merciful and good. But Natures self, in spite of praise or blame, Stops where she was, and does her work the same. Yet both speak truth. It is not they have lied One sees the concave, one the convex side Of this worlds mirror. Who is wrong, who right, Is tested in a sphere outlying human sight. E. E. READER. JAMAICA. 67 From Blackwoods Magazine. JAMAICA. THE Jamaica of to-day is, to most people in England, only a familiar name which does not convey any very distinct idea. We believe it may safely be asserted that, outside the comparatively small number of persons who have, by force of circum- stances, either political or commercial ac- quaintance with the island, the general impression about this, nearly our oldest colony, is that it is a place where sugar, rum, and ginger are produced; that it was once a centre of considerable wealth; but that, since the emancipation of the slaves, it has fallen into its decadence, and is now only sufficiently prosperous to give a cer- tain amount of patronage to the Colonial Office, and to maintain a certain number of planters in a condition little removed from bankruptcy. It is high time that the British public awoke to the knowledge what an important possession of England this grand island really is; that they should recall the great deeds, and the ex- penditure of blood and treasure, of which it is a monument; and that they should realize clearly what an amount of unde- veloped wealth it contains, what a luxu- riance of natural beauties it can boast, what an opening it presents for the em- ployment of energy and capital, and ho~v, if that energy and capital are not forth- coming from the mother country, they will certainly come from other sources, and another people will pick up and polish the jewel which England treat~ so lightly. Jamaica had its long period of royster- ing wealth and plenty, from the days of the old buccaneers, who poured into its ports the riches of the Spanish Main, to the days when to own a sugar-plantation was synonymous with holding a princely fortune. Circumstances changed. Wealth was only in modern days to be gained by peaceful commerce. The labor supply was deranged, and the staple products of the island began to meet with keen com- petition in the worlds market. It became a sadly altered Jamaica. Capital was con- spicuous by its absence. The prosperous race of planter princes had died out, and with them the European population had alarmingly diminished, while the thriftless and unenterprising negroes had increased and multiplied. Much of the land that had been under profitable cultivation had lapsed into jungle, and there was a general feeling of depression and gloom about the future. But though at one time many people lost heart, though many fortunes sank under the wave of adverse circumstances, there still always remained some stout hearts who battled, with more or less success, against many drawbacks; who thought that all was not lost, and that there might be a happy and prosperous future in store. In our own day the feel ing of confidence is gradually gaining ground, and it will not be the fault of J amaicans themselves if their island does not again assert itself before the world. They have recognized that The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils Himself in many ways, and they are manfully making the best of new conditions. They are determined to give a fair opportunity of judging what are the capabilities of their land, and, to this end, they have invited the world to an industrial exhibition to be held near Kingston during next winter. The re- sults of past efforts will then be visible, and people will be able to see for them- selves whether it is worth their while to join in the struggles for the future, and what are the prizes by which these strug- gles will probably be rewarded. It may be apropos to transcribe a few notes made in a recent visit to Jamaica, which may serve to Throw some light on parts of a subject which is so much in the dark to many Englishmen. And first with regard to the island itself and its climate. There is an old story, which se non e vero, e ken trovato, that Columbus, when asked by Isabella of Spain for a description of Jamaica, an- swered by crumpling up a piece of paper in his hand and showing it to the queen. Truly the illustration was apt. It is a country of the most varied and striking scenery. Lofty mountain and wide savan- nah, rugged cliff, sparkling stream, pic- turesque gorge, all clothed in the most redundant and lovely tropical vegetation, are found in its space of four thousand 68 JAMAICA. square miles, girt by the blue Caribbean Sea. The highest peak of the Blue Moun- tains, part of the great range which trav- erses the island, is more than seven thou- sand feet high, and between that height and the sea-level man may select almost any altitude in which it pleases him to dwell and till the teeming earth. The meanhighest temperature, even at Kings- ton, certainly the hottest town in the island, is only 83~, while the lowest is 7o~, and this naturally falls everywhere, accord- ing to the rise of the ground. Then the heat is always tempered by a cool and refreshing breeze. The island in fact e~rea/he.r. During the night a constant land-wind is playing, while during the day the sea-breeze known as the doctors rushes in and drives miasma away before it. There are occasional outbreaks of sickness in some of the coast towns, and people who neglect ordinary precautions may suffer in the low-lying districts from the fever common to all tropical countries. But the advance of sanitary knowledge and greater prudence in systems of life have altogether stamped out the great epidemics which used to ravage the land, and which have left a gloomy mark upon its history. In cases of illness also, when change of air is necessary, from the broken character of the island, every- thing that can be desired may be found within a journey of a very few miles. The best testimony to the general salubrity of Jamaica is to be found in the health and strength of the many Europeans who have made it their home for a lifetime, and have there brought up families strong and well- grown as themselves. There is no lack of medical evidence to speak to the good qualities of the climate in benefiting the weak chests, unsound lungs, and throat complaints from which the inhabitants of northern countries so frequently suffer. And this has been recognized by our American cousins, of whom numbers are now flocking to Jamaica as a sanitarium to escape the bitter cold of their own win- ter, and numbers more have announced their intention of doing the same as soon as the rapidly increasing hotel accommo- dation is sufficiently advanced to provide for them. Jamaica is not, as far as ~ve know at present, a land of much mineral wealth (though iron, copper, lead, manganese, and cobalt have been found and worked to some extent). It still must depend for prosperity on the products of the soil, and the owners and tillers of the land are its most important inhabitants. The position of the landholder in the island is not by any means so bad as most people believe. The days have certainly passed ~vhen it could be said that every plantation maintained three carriages and pair one for the owner at home, one for the managing attorney in the island, and one for the overseer; but even under modern conditions of competition in the market, the labor difficulties, and the much-execrated sugar bounties, the owner of an unencumbered estate has no great reason to complain. If his condition is compared with that of landholders at home, or indeed of agricultural landhold- ers in any part of the world, he is excep- tionally favorably situated. Undoubtedly the absentee proprietor, knowing little or nothing of the work done on his property, and forced to rely on the management of an agent who must be liberally paid, can- not reap the profits of old days; and the moneyless planter, who is obliged to bor- row at large interest from his merchants for the necessary working expenses, may find that he does not advance rapidly to fortune, but the actual profits made by the estates are far from small, and when- ever energy, industry, and sufficient cap- ital meet in their working, they are very handsome indeed. The properties in the island are grad- ually passing from the ownership of ab- sentee proprietors, and are falling into the hands of merchants and others living in Jamaica, and personally looking after their own affairs. Under the absentee propri- etors the methods of working the estates were often in the worst sense conservative. Improved modern processes were not adopted, new outlets for trade were not sought, and new forms of cultivation were looked upon coldly; and this was only to be expected, when the manager had no direct interest in progress, and the pro- prietor was content to be buoyed up with JAMAICA. 69 false and ill-founded hopes that the old profitable conditions of the dead past might possibly recur. Now, under the more frequent personal supervision of owners, new developments in machinery and farm stock are eagerly taken up, more thorough and systematic cultivation is carried out, every market is taken advan- tage of, and the general produce of the island is greatly increased. Now, as heretofore, the most important agricultural produce of Jamaica, as far as the outside world is concerned, is the cane, and sugar and rum are the largest exports. In most districts in the island the eye is at once attracted by the stretches of emerald green cane-pieces, and, in the centre of each estate, by the tall chimney of the engenio where the crop is crushed, the juice is operated on, and the refuse of one manufacture forms the basis of an- other. The halcyon days of the sugar industry are past, and the profits of old times may never be reaped again; but even under present conditions the sugar- cane crop pays well, and capital coupled with energy and industry have, as we said above, no reason to be dissatisfied with the result of their efforts. But canes are not the only produce of Jamaica, and many other varieties of most profitable cultivation are becoming more and more known, and are only asking for development. Coffee, ginger, cacao, and tobacco are being grown in increasing quantities, and yield crops which take a high place in the market, fetching most remunerative prices, and cinchona and tea are among the possibilities of the imme- diate future, respectively demanding only an improved process of manufacture and more easily available labor. The great varieties of height above the sea-level to be found in most parts of the island give varieties of temperature suited to every kind of crop, and, in the same district, often in the same estate, tropical and sub- tropical vegetation flourish within a short distance of each other. The universal use of bullocks for the heavy draught on plantations and else- where demands a large supply of stock, independent of what is required for food purposes, and these are all bred in the large cattle estates, called locally pens, and form a most important and profitable branch of farming enterprise. Even in the days told of by Michael Scott in the Cruise of the Midge, the beauty and prosperity of St. Anns, the principal graz- ing parish in Jamaica, are described The whole district was a sea of gently undulating hill and valley, covered with the most luxuriant waving Guinea-grass. - The herds~ of cattle that browsed all round us, whether as to breed or condition, would have done credit to the first grazing county in England. The old white-faced Creole cattle appear to be the foundation of all the island stock, but many first-rate animals have been imported from Europe, and the crosses have been very successful. Here- fords and shorthorns have been the favor- ites, and their progeny may be recognized in every roadside pasture. For draught purposes the best cross has been found, in the Mysore Zebu cattle, which have been imported to the West Indies by the emigrant ships bringing coolies; and the estate which first utilized this strain of blood has found it a most paying specula- tion, as the offspring command a much higher price than that of any other breed. The only drawback to the animals of My- sore blood is that they do not fatten well, and are no use for the butcher after they have done their plantation work. But of all sources of gain in Jamaica the easiest and apparently the most profit- able, whether pursued on a large or small scale, is the new trade in fruit with, the United States, which the possibilities of rapid transport now afforded by steam communication have opened up within the last few years. The great American cities demand im- mense quantities of oranges and bananas, and these can be provided in our West Indian islands of a finer quality and at less expense than anywhere else. The Jamaica oranges especially ought always, in any quantity, to command a most profitable market. Florida has in recent days tempted many people to invest money in orange-groves; and it certainly appears curious, to say the least, that capital and energy have gone there for that purpose, 70 JAMAICA. when an English colony of superior capa- bilities in every way has been neglected. Let us quote the opinion of Mr. Fawcett, the director of public gardens and planta- tions in Jamaica. He says Jamaica oranges ought to be able to hold their own anywhere against those from Florida; they are finer fruit, and grown at less expense. Land in Jamaica is abundant and cheap, and the soil is fertile. In Florida the soil is sandy and poor, so that high manuring and a great amount of tillage is absolutely necessary; frost has often a prejudicial effect, which we quite escape. Our oranges are all produced from self-grown seedlings, whereas in Florida it is considered advisable to ,bud or graft. The fact that budding is practised in Florida has led many to suppose that there is some inherent advantage in the process; but the fact is that the plantations in India, in the Azores, and in the Mediterranean region are from seedlings. Although much of the present produc- tion of fruit in Jamaica is from compara- tively large estates, a great deal of it comes from small holdings of two and three acres each, belonging to negro pro- prietors. This is an increasing class in the island, and these men find that grow- ing fruit for the foreign market pays them very well. The big shippers employ agents, who buy the produce and forward it to the seaports for shipment, so the grower has no anxiety or trouble beyond the cul- tivation of his plot of land, and this, from the fertility of the soil and the beneficence of the climate, is reduced to the utmost possible minimum. The mention of the negro leads us to the consideration of the labor question in Jamaica, and the general character of the black race, which forms by far the larger proportion of the population of the col- ony. The negroes have had their enthu- siastic admirers and advocates, and have equally had their failings and weaknesses unsparingly pointed out by adverse critics. The truth, of course, lies between the two extremes of opinion. The facility of ac- quiring education, and the stimulus of European supervision and encouragement, have had the effect of producing many black and colored men who have qualified for the practice of the learned professions, and of these a proportion have shown real ability, and are leading distinguished and useful careers. But it is not with these exceptional men that we have to do at present, but with the masses who fill the country villages, and to whom each em- ployer of labor has to look to furnish recruits for the army of toilers in field and n~anufactory. Let us begin by saying that ~ve believe that the faults of the negro, at any rate in Jamaica, are in great measure the natural result of his conditions of existence. The absolute requirements of every human be- ing are there so easily supplied that when a man has, as is the case with almost all individuals of the negro race, no personal ambition, which stimulates him to improve his position, either for his own sake or that of his children, there is little wonder if steady and continuous hard work is peculiarly distasteful, and special effort is hardly ever heard of. Sufficient house sehelter is very easily provi~d; the cli- mate is so genial thaticlothing, except for decency or ornament, may be of the light- est and least expensive description; and, as we mentioned above, the fertile soil yields foodsupplies to the very minimum of exertion. The negroes in general, though they have a large enough share of natural quickness, have, as a race, only the intel- ligei%ze of children, and their failings are the failings of children. They are quick enough to look after their immediate per- sonal interests, but their mutual jealousy makes them unable to combine for a set- tled purpose. They do not commit great crimes, but they are inveterate pilferers, and have little regard for truth. Legisla- tive enactments have made them respon- sible men and women. They have the full privileges of men and women, and philan- thropists have impressed upon them that they are in every way the equals of the white race. And yet, how could it reasonably be expected that, in the course of the very short period which has elapsed since slavery was abolished, this negro race, which started from the lowest physical and mental degradation, should, almost by itself, have developed its intelligence and its morale, as a race, beyond that of for- ward children? There might have been such a reasonable expectation if there had been a larger ~vhite population in Jamaica, and the negroes had been generally mixed with it in every-day affairs; but the negroes outnumber the whiles more than thirty-fold, they of necessity live alto- gether by themselves, and there have been no special circumstances to favor the strengthening of the mental fibre of the race. But if the negro has the failings of a child, he has also many of the good quali- ties of childhood. He is impressionable, and easily led; and if he meets with right leading and consideration, he is by no JAMAICA. 7 means an unsatisfactory man to deal with. His affections are easily engaged, and he generally has a great fund of kindly feel- ing for those with whom his lot in life is cast. He may not like hard work, but he can, with good management, be induced to perform it; and when his considerable muscular strength and fair aptitude for handicrafts are borne in mind, he at any rate suffers little in comparison with the European laborer, with his socialistic views and his determination to give as little work for as large a wage as is per- mitted by surrounding circumstances. At one time the supply of labor in Jamaica was added to by the importation of coolies from India; but this has ceased for some years, and there are now only about five thousand coolies in the island. Many people would be very glad to see the sup- ply of coolie labor renewed, as the East Indians are steadier workers, more thrifty in their lives, and less slovenly io mind and manners than the negroes. It is impossi- ble to form a judgment upon the compara- tive value of the two races from Jamaica experience ; but the experience of the other West-Indian colonies certainly points to the fact that the coolies, as a race, are at present showing the likelihood of being a more really increasingly prosperous and improving population than the negroes. Without going into the various reasons which may be adduced for this opinion, it may be sufficient in support of it to refer to Trinidad and the colonies on the Main, where the coolies who do not return to India with their accumulated savings are known to amass considerable means, to be able to establish themselves in very good positions after their five years of inden- tured service are expired, and to take a large part in the general laboring - and shopkeeping interests of their respective colonies. As an extreme example of the extent to which these originally pauper emigrants prosper, and adopt not only the business but the amusements of advanced communities, it may be noted that they join in horse-racing, and that the best and most successful race-horse in Trinidad has been owned by a coolie. Their race also unquestionably improves physically to a great extent under the conditions of life in the West Indies, while many peo- ple are, rightly or wrongly, of opinion that the negroes have deteriorated from the physical type of their progenitors who came from Africa. Mention must not be omitted of the superstition which is so marked a feature~ of the negro character. Under English rule this, of course, does not lead to the fearful condition of things which is de- tailed with so much force in Sir Spencer St. Johns work on the black republic of Haiti; but Obeah and the beLief in ghosts and duppies still retain all their power. The Obeah man or woman is still resorted to in cases of sickness, and will prescribe simples and give charms to re- move disease. Sometimes a pretence is made of removing a lizard or some other animal from the patients body. The Obeah-man is resorted to also if one per- son has an ill-will against another. Vari- ous mediciness may be given to bring harm to the person whom it is desired to injure; but this-Obeah, pure and simple, only does harm by affecting, the imagina- tion, and the negro who believes that Obeah has been worked against him often pines a~vay from sheer fright. It is more than rumored, however, that the final re- source of the Obeah practitioner may not unfrequently be poison. Obeah is forbid- den by the law, and punished, but those who practise it keep their identity con- cealed from the white man, and are not easily detected. One or two legends and customs may be cited as examples of the beliefs which are rife among country negroes, and which influence them in many ways, making them especially loath to move about out- side their houses after nightfall. On one of the estates in Jamaica there is a large pond, sleeping under the shade of bamboos and jungle trees, which the negroes believe is haunted by a mermaid, who is to be seen occasionally combing her hair and polishing a golden table. It is not recorded whether the mermaid is black! They tell the tale of a former proprietor of the estate who wanted to drain the pond, and cut a deep trench for the purpose. The water gathered and hung over the trench, but refused to flow down it, presumably by the influence of the mermaid, who did not wish her strong- hold to bedisturbed. An apparition, which is common to the whole island, is the rolling calf, an ob- ject which the negro thinks he may en- coun~ter in his path. Its shapeless form first appears quite small, but gradually increases in size till it looms as big as an elephant. A clanking chain is round it. If the man who sees it does not give way, but keeps his eyes firmly and boldly fixed on it, he disappears; bait if he shuts his eyes or turns away, it will eat him up. This probably gives the negro the oppor- tunity of boasting of his superior courage 72 JAMAICA. in facing the apparition, as there is no record of one having been so eaten up. Then the duppy (manes of the departed) receives constant respect and considera- tion. Everybody will remember the ludi- crous account of a negro funeral in Tom Cringles Log, and the manner in which the tastes of the duppy were consulted, and the same superstitions which are there alluded to are equally to be recognized in our own day. We ourselves have seen an old man invited to have ~ drink of main- sheet (Jamaican for a cool and seductive mixture of rum and water), and after con- suming the greater part of it, he poured the remainder on the ground as a libation to duppy. The visitor from the old country to Jamaica believes, of course, that, as En- glish is the language of the colony, and is the only tongue spoken by men and women of all colors, he will find intercourse easy, and understand everything that he hears said. This is hardly the case, however. If you address a black man, he will prob- ably comprehend your meaning, and will answer in a more or less intelligible man- ner. But if the visitor finds himself in the middle of a crowd of negroes, he will find it hard to believe that the people whom he hears chattering round him are speaking English. The intonation, idiom, and form of sentences differ absolutely from anything that has ever been heard before, and preconceived ideas which have been picked up from Christy minstrels as to negro colloquialisms are very rudely up- set. It almost seems as if the tongue of the mother country was lapsing into an African dialect, consisting mainly of a most unmusical clatter, assisted by pro- fuse gesticulat4on. No written idea, of course, can be given of the negros intona- tion, but the equivalents of two common English proverbs may be interesting as examples of his speech, though they have little of its more exaggerated characteris- tics: Cuss-cuss no bore hole in a you kin; Ratta cunny, so when puss gone, him make merry.~~ To any one who would acquaint himself with negro ways, folk-lore, and forms of speech, we could suggest no more instruc- tive study than a very charming little book by Mrs. Milne-Home, which has just been published: Mammas Black Nurse Stories. * In it Mrs. Milne- Home has done for the Jamaica black man what, in Uncle Remus, was done for the * Mammas Black Nurse Stories: West Indian Folk- lore. By Mary Pamela Milne-Home. William Black- wood & Sons, Edinburgh and London. American plantation negro, and no higher praise can be given to her than to say that her little work is as perfect in its way as its American prototype. It is fortunate that an authoress who wields so graphic a pen and possesses so much industry, has been found to preserve a class of legends and folk-lore which, as she tells us and we well know from personal experience, can only, in these days of education and the strong opposition of all clergy to anything savoring of superstition, be gathered with the greatest patience and difficulty. The character of a people is in some degree the reflex of its folk-lore, and in Mam- mas Black Nurse Stories we regain a familiarity with many of the real thoughts and ideas of the negro race which could only otherwise be acquired in years of personal contact and intercourse. Mrs. Milne-Home teaches us, among other things, that many of the negros legends must share a common origin with those of the most civilized nations of Eu- rope, and in so far leads us to the convic- tion that more sympathy is due to him as a man and a brother than some people are inclined to allow. While so many natural advantages are found in Jamaica which contribute to make life delightful balmy climate, lovely vegetation, and magnificent scenery in field, forest, and stream it suffers from one grievous plague, which unquestion- ably is everywhere an amari aliquid. Fortunately it is open to demonstration that this is only an accidental circum- stance, the development of a limited num- ber of years, and that the methods of miti- gating it are understood, and likely to be carried out before very long. This plague is the presence of ticks, with which the vegetation of the whole country, except at the higher altitudes, is infested. These tiny pests hang in swarms on the blades of grass, on the leaves and branches of trees, on the most graceful ferns, and on every green thing. The lady who brushes her skirt against the verdure on the road- side, the planter who is superintending the work on his estate, equally with the negro laborer in the cane-pieces or on the stock-farm, are liable to be practically covered with ticks at any minute. Of course, people who are able to~do so take every precaution to keep clear of their at- tacks, and this may always be managed with, more or less success; but they are an ever-present source of worry and an- noyance,and even if whole battalions can be avoided, no care can prevent the occa- sional inroad of single spies. And a tick, JAMAICA. 73 though only the size of a pins head, is no despicable assailant. He crawls, he bites, he burrows under the skin if he has time and opportunity, and if he and his compan- ions have a fair chance of working their wicked will the result of the wounds which they inflict may be very disagreeable, and, in some cases, almost dangerous inflam- mation. Independently of the nuisance which they are to human beings, they cause serious mischief on the stock-farms. Besides pervading and irritating the outer cuticle of each individual of the herds, the cattle, and especially the calves, take them into their mouths while grazing. Then they burrow under the skin of the tongue, palate, and air-passages, forming lumps and sores, which, of course, destroy condi- tion, and, if not carefully attended to, eventually choke the animal. In some pastures their presence is so marked that cattle are known to refuse to go in will- ingly to graze, but have to be exception- ally forced to enter feeding-grounds where so much pain and discomfort await them. It is supposed that ticks first made their way to the island on cattle imported from the Spanish Main; but though they have been long more or less known, it is only in comparatively recent times that they have thrust themselves into a bad noto- riety. The direct cause of their increase is the gradual disappearance of their nat- ural enemies, which, if they did not ex- terminate the tiny parasites, at least kept them within reasonable limit. The first of these enemies were the bird tribes. To- day, one of the first things that strikes a visitor is the remarkable absence of the bird life, which forms such a distinctive feature in most tropical countries. In some districts especially, one may travel for miles and scarcely see a dozen of the small birds, who naturally feed on insects, and whose gyrations and man~uvres in pur- suit of their prey give so much animation to any landscape. And for this want in Jamaica we fear we cannot acquit the fash- ionable ladies in England from a certain share of responsibility. In the days when humming-birds and others formed a favor- ite female adornment in Europe, the feath- ered population in Jamaica was sadly thinned; and though small birds are now strictly protected by government, it will be long before they recover their former number. But the absence of birds is in greater part due to another cause, which is also responsible for the disappearance of many other of the natural enemies of the tick. That cause is the manner in which the mongoose has taken possession of the land, and waged deadly war against bird, beast, and reptile. Ten or fifteen years ago, one or two residents imported this animal from the East Indies, with the view of pitting him against the rats, which did enormous mis- chief in the cane-pieces. In attaining this object they were perfectly successful. The mongoose found himself in a land pecul- iarly adapted to his health and habits; he increased and multiplied exceedingly, and ~tchieved a complete victory over the rats, which were driven neck and crop out of the canes. Whereas the expense caused by~rats used to amount to 150 and 200, or even more, a year, in each estate, it is now practically nil; and when, as now, every form of saving must be taken ad- vantage of to secure a fair profit in sugar production, this was a most important gain. But the mongoose has not confined his operations to his legitimate enemies. He has killed all the lizards and snakes (which in Jamaica were always of harmless spe- cies); he hunts for and devours the eggs of quail and all ground-laying birds, and is ready to pounce upon and murder any of the feathered race which frequent the ground, or at any time place themselves within the reach of his ruthless jaws.* His depredations among poultry are a source of daily lamentation from high and low, and the only animals which are said to defy him are the guinea-fowl, wild and tame, whose eggs are too hard for his teeth to penetrate. lie has practically destroyed the balance of nature in the island. The lizards, snakes, and birds lived on the ticks, and with the destruc- tion by the mongoose of bird, lizard, and snake, the natural checks on the increase of the tick have nearly disappeared. But all this is thoroughly well known in Jamaica, and both government and indi- viduals are setting themselves to consider how to meet the evil. A campaign will be organized against the mongoose, and his numbers? will be restricted to the few that are really necessary and profitable. A mercantile firm in Kingston has discov- ered that his pelt may have a commercial value, and has advertised, offering a price for each skin delivered in good condition. This circumstance will certainly affect him very seriously and stimulate many people to the task of thinning his redun- dant multitudes. The lizards and harm- less snakes will increase and resume their * Besides making these his prey, he has almost com- pletely destroyed the delicious laud-crab which used to be such a distinctive feature of a West Indian menu. 74 JAMAICA. place in the land, and the nests will no longer be harried before the little broods are able to provide for themselves. We mentioned above that a government enactment now provides for the strict pro- tection of small birds, and some of the planters are contemplating, in addition, the importation of birds peculiarly insect- devouring, such as starlings, of the same family as the tinkling, which may now be seen feeding greedily in the pastures,. and proving himself most useful and be- neficent to cattle in removing the ticks which adhere to them. It has also been proposed to import the whistling frog, so well known in Barba- does, which is believed to feed on insects, and is sure to find a congenial home in Jamaica. There is every hope then that, when the result of all these expedients has had time to ripen, the tick pest will in a very few years disappear altogether, or at least be so modified that it has no appreciable sig- nificance. In writing a notice of modern Jamaica, it has been necessary to enlarge upon its gravest drawback. It is equally necessary to remark upon one of its greatest charms. West Indian hospitality has always been proverbial, and certainly in our day it has lost nothing of its pristine geniality and open-heartedness. In the island society there is, of course, a large amount of re- ciprocities. If an inhabitant of one parish visits another district on business or pleasure, he has only to say that he is coining, or indeed only to come, to ensure the heartiest of welcomes, and the enter- tainer of to-day will become the enter- tained of to-morrow. But the stranger in the land will also find that he is in no wise treated as a stranger. Wherever he may go, he will always find open arms and open doors. He ~vill surely be pressed to visit every person whom he may most casually meet; he will be passed on from house to house; and the greatest social lache he can commit is to decline an invi- tation~ or to unduly curtail his stay wher- ever he may find himself. And the hos- pitality is real and general in the island, is not confined to entertainment in coun- try-houses alone, but is apparent in every class and on all occasions. Tradesmen, merchants, and officials in the towns place themselves, their knowledge and resources, entirely at the visitors disposal, with no thought of business or profit; and at every table dhc~te the first thought of each person who is met appears to be how he may show the greatest courtesy, and make himself most agreeable. It was said in the beginningof this article, that if England does not soon transfer some of its energy and capital towards the development of Jamaica, they will certainly come from other sources. And that another nation should have shown a willingness to exploiter this possession of England, is perhaps the best possible proof how profitable it would be found by the mother country to make it, for its own sons, the scene of renewed enterprise and effort. The vicinity of the United States, and the facility of commu- nication, have thrown the Jamaican planter and merchant upon America as a market; and Americans will not be slow to recog- nize the fact that their citizens may as well reap the profits made by the supply as those made by the market. The tone of thought in commercial cir- cles in Kingston is now much more Amer- ican than English; and reference is much more frequently made to the opinion of the States and New York than to that of England and London. It has been men- tioned that American visitors are throng- ing to Jamaica during the winter months to escape the cold of their own climate. Many of these visitors move all through the island; and, although their primary pursuits may be health and novelty of scene, ~ve may be perfectly sure that they will also carefully note any business open- ings, and make arrangements to profit by them. An American company has already bought the concession of all railways in Jamaica, whether made or to be made though how our Colonial Office authorities consented to such a transaction, without, as far as the public knows, first making every effort to enlist English support, ap- pears somewhat incomprehensible. Amer- ican cars are to replace the English railway carriages hitherto used, and Amer- ican engineers are surveying the country, and laying out new lines. One of the most flourishing manufac- tories in the island is run by an American at the Black River for the purpose of utilizing the fibre of bamboos; and a mon- ster hotel is being built near Kingston under American management, avowedly to attract American tourists. All these circumstances are signs of the times, and it is most reasonable to expect that we may soon see Americans taking up for cultivation much of the large proportion of untilled land that is now to be had in the island for a mere song. JAMAICA. 75 There is every ground for reasonable belief that Jamaica now offers a remark- ably favorable opening to the numerous class of young men, in England, who are unable to pass the examinations which are necessary for entrance to the army and civil service, not to speak of the more learned professions. Young men of this class have lately been shipped off to Aus- tralia, Africa, and America to seek their fortune, sheep-farming, gold-digging, and ranching; and we leave it to those who are interested in them to say whether they have, as a rule, gained fortunes, or made more than a livelihood, meagre out of all proportion to the rough life which they have led, and the toil which they have encountered. Here is an English colony, easy of ac- cess, enjoying a healthy and generally delightful climate, unexampled fertility of soil, two-thirds Qf whose area are now uncultivated, and where land is to be pro- cured for an almost nominal price. Why do not young Englishmen go there? The only requisites for success are common sense, a sound constitution, tem- perate habits, and a determination to work and to succeed. There are many planters and managers of estates in Jamaica who would be only too glad to receive into their houses, feed, and lodge a young man for a very moderate premium. He would be employed as a bookkeeper * or overseer, and would have an opportunity of learning the working of an estate, the cultivation of various crops, etc. After two or three years of such apprenticeship and practical experience, he would be able to start for himself, and, if then he had command of a capital of from 500 to 2,000, he would begin by taking up a small holding, which he would gradually increase as years rolled on, and his means and experience improved. He would, from the very first, except under most extraordinarily un- lucky circumstances, make a very good profit on his transactions, and though he is not likely to accumulate a colossal for- tune, he has every reasonable certainty of rapidly improving his position, and, when he has arrived at middle age, of having made a very handsome independence. And, meantime, he would not be living among very rough surroundings, cut off from all the resources of civilization. No pleasanter society need be desired than the planters of Jamaica and their families. Everywhere there are churches, doctors, A bookkeeper in Jamaica does not imply a man whose whole employment is in an office. He is really an assistant overseer. telegraph stations, and post-offices within easy reach. Books and newspapers are easily procured, and cricket, lawn-tennis, and other games flourish exceedingly in nearly all the districts of the island. To mark the fact that Jamaica is now offering profitable careers for young men, it may here be noted that many planters, who know the island well and are alive to its capabilities, are bringing up their sons to take their own positions on the estates, or to strike out new openings for themselves. And the island itself would benefit gen- erally by the introduction of such a class as we have been discussing. From the present enormous disproportion in num- bers between the white and black men, a vast amount of power is necessarily thrown into the hands of the black race, which, as we have tried to show, is not yet suffi- ciently mature, as a race, to be able to exercise it. The planting and land.holding whites are so few, that a sufficient number of them having comparative leisure cannot be found to serve on local governing bod- ies. These governing bodies are there- fore drifting more and more into the hands of the colored population, who, having few sympathies with the land-owners, are now able to carry through much legisla- tion directly opposed to the landed inter- est, which, representing as it does the most important resources of the island, deserves more consideration than it now generally receives. If a number of young men came to Jamaica with the view of making it their home for life, they might, even during their apprenticeship, find am- ple opportunity of being employed in local administration. The interests and opin- ions of the planter class would then be represented more fully than is now the case, and the young men themselves would gain v~tluable administrative experience, which would be of service to the commu- nity in after years. An attempt has been made to record some facts about modern Jamaica. We can only wonder that, with all its charms and resources, it is so little generally known, and that it has not in our own day been recognized as a place ~vhere many Englishmen may carve out for themselves honorable and profitable careers. We have omitted to notice one of the most striking natural features of Jamaica, and it should be remarked on in our con- clusion, if only that we may use it as an illustration of the probable history of the island. There are many of its rivers which, after flowing on their course for miles, suddenly sink into the earth, and 76 THE GODS OF GREECE. are hidden from the light of day, reappear- ing in their full volume at some distant point, thereafter rushing in all their spar- kling beauty to the sea. We believe that Jamaica has, like these rivers, been se- cluded for a time in obscurity, but that it has really lost none of its vigor and rich- ness, and that it is even now on the point of reappearing in all the glory of its ancient success and prosperity. From Temple Bar. THE GODS OF GREECE. BY J. R. MOZLEY. ABOUT the middle of the sixth century before Christ, Crcesus, the warlike and wealthy king of Asia Minor, had a mighty purpose brewing in his head. This was no less than the subjugation of Persia, then under the rule of the celebrated Cyrus; and the enterprise which lay be- fore Crcesus was too vast to permit him to neglect any attainable counsel in regard of it. In particular, the primary question of all, Shall I, or shall I not, enter upon this ~var? had to be definitely deter. mined. Crcesus was no Greek; and as he had conquered the Greek cities on the Asiatic continent, he might be excused for think. ing himself more powerful than any Greek state; but before the divinities of Greece he bowed down in reverence. The great oracle of Delphi was then at the very height of its reputation. No other reli. gious centre in the known world was com. parable to it. For Jerusalem, long stripped of its ancient glory, now lay in ashes, a tenantless desert; the race of Israel were scattered to the winds of heaven. But even Delphi stood not alone in the Greek world; countless were the shrines in which Zeus and Apollo received the veneration of men, and their responses to their sup- pliants were treasured up for the wonder and instruction of future generations. These and their compeers were then the advisers by whose counsel Crc~sus re- solved to be guided in the question which so deeply concerned him. Yet however religiously disposed, Crce- sus was canny; besides, he was suffi- ciently remote from the Greek world not to be wholly overpowered by the reverence which he genuinely entertained; there- fore, in fine, he resolved to test the power of the oracles before taking their advice as to the matter in hand. His method was as follows. Despatching from Sardis eight messengers to the eight oracles of highest reputation, he bade each messen- ger, on the hundredth day after leaving that city, put to the deity of the shrine to which he had been sent this simple yet puzzling question: What is Crcesus doing now? And as Cr~sus himself, at the date when the messengers left Sardis, had by no means made up his mind as to what he would do on the hundredth day from then, it would seem that the answer to the question must be hidden from all except true supernatural power. We can- not be surprised to learn that six out of the eight oracles succumbed. But the oracle of Amphiaraus, we gather, made a fair guess; and Delphi succeeded even better; the Pythian priestess gave, in all points, a true reply. Stately were the verses in which Apollo, through her mouth, met the royal inquirer: I know, he proclaimed, the number of the sands on the shore, and the bounds of the sea: I understand him who is deaf, and I hear him who speaks not a word. There reaches me the smell of a tortoise boiled together with lambs flesh in a vessel of copper copper above and copper below. In these words did the Delphic oracle describe exactly what Cr~sus in reality was doing at the moment when the ques- tion was put; and that monarch, alto- gether convinced of the omniscience of Apollo, sent now to ask the question which in truth he had at heart: Shall I suc- ceed if I make war upon Cyrus? A second time did the oracle make reply: Crcesus, if he crosses the river Halys, will destroy a great empire. Now, in- deed, the monarch was overjoyed; he took the answer as a sure prophecy of his success; he crossed the river Halys with an army, and alas! was defeated and taken prisoner by Cyrus. His whole kingdom became a part of the Persian Empire. In the keenness of his disap- pointment, he sent to reproach Apollo for having so grievously misled him, which seemed indeed all the harder, as Crcesus, in his enthusiastic but premature grati- tude, had sent to Delphi magnificent gifts of gold, such as we read of with wonder, and could hardly believe, but that Herod- otus, with his own eyes, saw them a cen- tury afterwards. Delphi, however, was no whit abashed; and Apollo, through the priestess, simply told Crcesus that he ought to have asked whose kingdom it was, the destruction of which was foretold by the inspired voice. Now we must not absolutely assume the truth of this curious story of the dealings THE GODS OF GREECE. 77 of Creesus with the oracle; and if we were worship. There, couched on the bare disposed to credit Delphi with miraculous ground, his priests listened to the nightly knowledge, the whole history of the oracle, rustling of the leaves of the mighty oak- with its very human clevernesses and its tree, which, as they believed, conveyed to final collapse, would stand considerably in them the counsel and mind of Zeus. Of our way. But the gifts of Crcesus were a that deity he had a vague and awful con- solid fact, and require to be accounted ception; and thus it is to the Zeus of for; and the easiest way of accounting Dodona, the dweller in a far-off region, for them is by the supposition that the that Achilles, at the crisis of the Iliad, Delphian priests had, through the rever- directs his touching prayer, when sending ence paid to them, and through the influ- his dearest friend Patroclus into that bat- ence of their friends (who were spread tlefield which was to be his grave. over the whole Greek world), acquired in But upon these elemental, shadowy be- some manner a knowledge of the answer liefs presently supervened the clear-cut to the puzzle set them by Crcesus. poetic instinct of the Hellenic race, culmi- Perhaps this supposition may not raise nating in Homer; and Zeus and Apollo, the oracle of Delphi greatly in our eyes Her~.and Athen~, start at once into ani- as a divine institution; but it will lead us mated, picturesque life. Homer knows all to think that a good deal of intellectual about them; no shadow of doubt assails organizing power belonged to the priests him as he relates how Zeus went to dine of Apollo at this famous shrine. And with the blameless Ethiopians, and how indeed, Greek history, in the earlier times the spouse of Zeus boxed the ears of the especially, contains much to favor the divine huntress Artemis. No one could view, that Delphi was a centre of genuine have begun by worshipping deities of political knowledge to the Greek world, whom such stories as these were related; and a patriotic guide; most of al in those but when worship had been accorded to great colonizing movements which spread them on other grounds, the stories found the race of Hellas over the shores of favor with a story-loving race. Hence we Asia, Africa, and Italy. Looking at the have the marvellous compound of religious matter in this way, we may see that the worship with childish fable. And yet high opinion which Socrates and Plato again and again, it would seem, even after entertained of Delphi was not quite un- the mythology became more or less fixed, merited; though no doubt the oracle profound passionate impulses (derived per- resorted to trickeries when wisdom failed haps from the East) swept over the land it, and was not always without suspicion of Greece; and we find women ranging of corruption. over the mountains and glens of Parnassus Are we then to conclude that the whole and Cith~ron in wild frenzy, deeming force and meaning of Greek religion lay themselves the subjects of divine posses- in certain intellectual aptitudes and capac- sion, and inspired by some darkly moving ities of political prevision, possessed by deity. its most prominent organs? Not so. The This chaos of fable and wild feeling Greek intellect was indeed so powerful eventually became penetrated and gov- and so versatile, that it bent to itself all erned by an organization appropriate to it, the other faculties of the race; just as which at once tamed it and yet preserved conscience among the Israelites, and per- all its essential features. Greece, polit- sonal will among the Romans, always ically divided, felt an internal unity, claimed and held the central position. partly through a common language, partly But religion never did anywhere, and did through the magnificent poems of Homer, not among the Greeks, take its birth from which were a common possession of all. pure intellect. In Greece it took its This unity showed itself in the increasing origin from certain haunting imaginations, dominance of certain religious centres; The great features of the external world above all, of Delphi. And at last the or- had at once a terror and a fascination for ganizing power inherent in these centres the early dwellers in Greece. The rude became the master of those religious emo- Pc-lasgian, beneath the mountains of tions of which it professed itself to be the Epirus and Thessaly, had but little my- servant; and we have that state of things thology; but he trembled before the man- which appears in the dealings of Delphi ifestations of earth and sky; they were to with Crcesus, when the divine oracle be- him living beings; the clear or thunderous comes associated with human skill and heavens, the roaring ocean, the torrents, knowledge, and obtains its sway through the woods, the caverns and chasms of the these. earth. At Dodona was the centre of his At this moment Greek religion, as a 78 THE GODS OF GREECE. splendid outward phenomenon, culmi- nates; and it is but little after this date that we meet with the poet who represents to us this its central phase Pindar. In Pindar there is that grave sense of Greece as a dignified, harmonious whole, which previous ages had been too immature, succeeding ages were too troubled, to be able to conceive. He chants the fame of Sparta and Athens, of Thebes and Syra- cuse, without thinking of any division, any quarrel between them. He is sublime in his impartiality, as become.s one who holds a divine office. No other Greek writer has so calm a sense of sacredness as he has. The mythology with him is accepted, but irradiated; he discards the plainly un- worthy elements of it; and yet scepticism, in the proper sense of the word, is not in him. All Greece listens to him, at those festivals where competitors wrestled or raced for the simple prize of a crown of wild-olive leaves, and for the prize, even more precious, of celebration in the songs of the poet. The chair in which Pindar recited these songs, some of which yet remain to us, wa~ long preserved at Delphi. But again, in Pindar we have another re- ligious element, more precious by far than either imagination or intellect the faith in righteousness, in goodness. Goodness, he teaches, will entail a future reward; wickedness, a future punishment; and though his conceptions have an unavoid- able crudity in their details, the divine government of the world is by him pre- sented in a manner that we may esteem. How far the priests of Delphi, or the hierophants of Eleusis, had the same con- ception, we do not know; probably they had somethiiig of it, though the practical action of these institutions was necessarily mixed with baser contrivances which the poet could disregard. And because of this admixture of baser contrivances, Delphi must necessarily fall. Perhaps some one may ask, Why? Could not the religion have been purified? could not the crude mythology have been laid aside, and the unity of God, which the noblest Greek spirits essentially held, have emerged as the truth on which all mankind might rest? Theoretically, yes; practically, no. Greek religion was too deeply ingrained with error for any pos- sibility of its being cleared of it. It has its virtue, and we may apprehend that virtue apart from its error; but the Greeks could not. The whole had to die down before the good could be liberated from the evil. But there were seeds in it of which we can perceive the value, and which may be profitable to us at this pres- ent day. Delphi and the whole Greek religion had necessarily to fall and vanish; and yet their fall did not result from any direct scepticism as to the mythology. There was scepticism in the Greek world; but this scepticism, by itself, would have been wholly unable to shake the prevalent religion. Delphi fell because it was un- equal to the solution of a certain urgent practical problem. XVhat was that prob- lem? Essentially, the pressure of popu- lation in the Greek world. Delphi was a sufficient and capable guide to the Greek race, as long as that race could expand by colonization in tracts not too far distant from their native land. But when once this natural expansion was stopped, the problem which was presented to the Greek race was of the most serious description. External outlets being cut off, the straitened forces of .society came inevitably into collision with each other, each striving to establish itself above the rest. Already, at the end of the sixth century B.C., the Sicilian Greeks were pressed severely by Carthage, the Asiatic Greeks by the great monarchy of Persia. The Phoc~ans, under extraordinary stress of circumstances, transported themselves and their families to Massilia, the modern Marseilles; and this was the furthest point to which Greek citizens ever voluntarily carried their search for a new home. The elasticity of the race could not reach any further; and quarrels, insignificant when the defeated party could set sail for a hospitable shore a few hundred miles off, became serious and bitter under the new condition of things. The perspicacity of the Greek deities (or of their priests) was too feeble for such a crisis as this. Not only was this so, but a new guid- ance, a new principle, was coming to the front in the Greek world, which, without in any way professing antagonism to reli- gion, did as a matter of fact solve things in a very secular way, and thus take away from the oracles a great part of their im- posing political predominance. This was no other than the principle of democracy, then first showing itself on terrestrial soil. The beginner of it was Solon; the per- manent centre, Athens; it received from Delphi the assistance which first kindled it into overpowering energy; then in the Persian wars it showed itself superior to Delphi, and dimmed the lustre of the great oracle; it flamed forth like a meteor, and the course of it during two centuries is to THE GODS OF GREECE. 79 this day what we think of mainly when we speak of ancient Greece; then like a me- teor it fell, and the energy of Greece fell with it, and the oracles became dumb and silent too. Greece had been a house di- vided against itself, and suffered political extinction in consequence. Yet the literature and language of Greece were never so widely spread as when the central source of its fire had decayed. Its religion survived as a hope, as a symbol of better things. That it did so survive, that it did not sink into a bar. ren ceremonial, was due to one man, Soc- rates. He, though endowed with all the ardent individualism of an Athenian, yet felt it not safe to abandon the ancient ways. We know nothing, he said; perhaps some day a diviner and purer word may reach us; let us try to attain it; but meanwhile, let us worship as our fa- thers worshipped. And this was, practi- cally, the final word of vital religion in Greece till the rise of Christianity sent a thrill through the whole world, popular and philosophic, and changed ~ll things into new forms. I have in the preceding paragraph given a sketch of a drama, tragical but not with- out glory, of which some parts are the familiar property of all the world, others are known to scholars alone. It may be interesting to enter with somewhat more detail into a story of ~vhich the elements ~vere so strikingly picturesque. Sparta, with her bizarre constitution and military habits, was in the early times (after Homer) the acknowledged leader of all Greek states; and whether as the cause or sequence of this predominance, the oracle of Delphi had always favored Sparta, and Sparta had always peculiarly honored Delphi. She was, so to speak, the eldest son of the Church. Yet, ~vhat was the astonishment and disgust of the Spartans to find, somewhere in. the latter quarter of the sixth century before Christ, that none of their messages to the Delphic oracle were received with the smallest favor by Apollo; that for all an- swer, the god sent them one peremptory command, Set free Athens from the tyranny of Hippias. The Spartans were by way of being friends with Hippias, and not very good friends of the Athenians; for though Athens was as yet a subordi- nate state, the seeds of democracy had been sown by Solon (by the simple process of passing a sponge over all debts and mortgages, so that all citizens started afresh), and Sparta looked askance at so novel and dangerous an experiment. So, for a considerable time, Sparta disre- garded the oracle. But the repetition of the command, the uncomfortable sense that it would not do for the most loyally pious of Greek states to neglect a plain duty, at last produced the required effect; a Spartan army was sent to Athens, and, with some difficulty, Hippias was dis- lodged and exiled. Then, with one out- burst, arose the fierce dernocratie; not, as eighty years before under Solon, in humble and subdued guise; nor in the least disposed to be grateful either to Sparta or Delphi for the signal service just rendered; but self-reliant, audacious, even arrogant! With bold oblivion of facts, the Athenians instantly attributed the expulsion of the tyrant and of all be- longing to him to two patriots, Harmodius and Aristogeiton, who had, as a matter of fact, killed the brother of Hippias a few years before, but thereby only increased the tyranny of the despot who remained. Not once, through the whole course of Athenian poetsand orators, does any grate- ful reminiscence occur of an act to which Athens owed the foundation of her power! And of ordinary readers of history, how many remember that the brilliant history of Athens was only rendered possible by an act attributable simply to the concur- rence of Delphi and Sparta! Well, the Athenians were not a grateful people; and perhaps it would have been an excess of virtue had they remembered the obligation under which Sparta had laid them. Perhaps, too, it ~vas impossible for them, while ignoring any gratitude to Sparta, to give Delphi its due; for Delphi had only worked through Sparta. But then, why did not Delphi demand its due? why did not the oracle press upon the Athenians how much they were indebted to the provident regard of Apollo? There, indeed, we come to the weakness which lay at the heart of Greek religion; the want of profundity, the absence (except in a few choice spirits) of moral depth. Delphi had done a most important act, but with no sense of its importance; the most honorable thought which had actu- ated the Pythian priestess and her com- peers was gratitude to the Alcm~onid~, an illustrious and wealthy Athenian family, who had restored and adorned the temple at Delphi, which had been burnt down. The Alcm~onid~ had been exiled by Hippias, and naturally wished to see him in his turn exiled and to return to Athens themselves, and the benefits which they were in a position to render to the oracle made Delphi very complaisant towards 8o THE GODS OF GREECE. them. The Athenians, indeed, said a horde to which in mere numbers few plainly that the priestess was bribed; this armies in history have ever been equal; is possible, but cannot be held to be cer- slowly they were rolling onwards towards tam. On the whole, we may credit the their intended victim, increasing as they oracle with sufficient patriotism to believe went. Various Greek states, in terror at that it entertained a true preference for their danger, sent to consult Apollo at the freedom, rather than for the enslave- Delphi as to how they should behave in ment, of so prominent a state as Athens. such an emergency. Cnidus, Crete, and But there was no depth of emotion atten- Argos were the first suppliants; and to dant upon this preference; and the claim each of them the oracle had advised qui- upon Athenian allegiance, which Delphi, escence. Cnidus, Crete, and Argos had if a truly divine power, would have made, therefore determined to keep quiet; and never was put forward. The moment, to keep quiet was to submit. But Ath- when the power of religion might have ens was of a different temper. True, established itself as a permanent guide to that Athens could not safely keep quiet; all Greek peoples, passed away, and could Xerxes was too much incensed against never be recalled. And if we ask why, an her; the memories of the burning of Sar- inherent defect in the Greek religion must dis, and of the defeat of Marathon, could be our only answer. With plenty of imag- not be wiped out by any common atone- ination, with some real uplifting of the ment. But to fly was still possible for the soul, it wanted seriousness. Athenians ; they might, like the Phoc~ans, On the other hand, the Athenian de- have taken their wives and families to mocracy of that date were very serious some far distant land, and, with no dis- indeed; and in their next and most mem- honor to themselves, have founded a col- orable encounter with Delphi, though ony, where the sword of the Persian should technically speaking neither side could not be able to reach them. This, though claim a victory, the real honors lay with not the most heroic, was the most natural them. This was on the occasion of the course ; and this was practically the course Persian wars. which Delphi advised when the Athenians That memorable struggle, the, most ro- sent to consult the oracle as to what they mantic of all recorded in history, a strug- should do. It was indeed in no measured gle which has had the unique honor of terms that Apollo spoke; and those who having inspired poets of distant climes believed in his divine authority could and ages with an ardor comparable to that scarcely help trembling while they listened of the great poet who personally fought at to his reply. Salamis, needs no description here. The day when Marathon became a magic word is known to the veriest tyro in history. Generally, too, it is known, even to per. sons who have but a superficial acquaint- ance with history, that Athens stood above all other Greek states in valor and enter. prise in this conflict of freedom with des- potism. But what has not always been adequately felt, even since Grotes his- tory, is the extraordinary concentration in Athens of all the most energetic elements which the conflict brought to birth; and what perhaps has never yet been shown is this, that at this great era democracy (not irreligious, but yet before all things dem- ocratic) first measured itself with official traditional religion, and by its native verve carried the day. It happened thus. The first wave of -Persian aggression had burst fruitlessly on the shores of Greece; Marathon had been fought; but the main scenes of the drama were still to come. Xerxes hatb gathered up his mil- lions; they approached, by sea and land, Wretched ones [said the Pythian priestess to the Athenian messengers] why sit ye here? Your country is sick, head, body, feet, and hands: fire and, sword awaits it, temple and tower stand quaking with fear, the roofs stream with blood. Fly away from it wholly, and depart from my shrine, and accustom your minds to evils. But the messengers replied that nothing would induce them to take such an answer as that back to Athens. They would sit and die where they were if Apollo had no better counsel to give. Moved by their constancy, the oracle then made another and more famous reply Pallas has prayed much to her father Zeus for her own city; but she cannot move him; one thing alone he grants, that you may take refuge in your wooden walls. For when all else within the bounds of the land of Cecrops is taken into captivity, these alone shall re- main unharmed. One cannot but admire this oracular deliv- erance. It was sufficiently obscure to save the credit of the oracle in case of an adverse result; and yet it gave sound THE GODS OF GREECE. 8z practical advice. Amid all superficial obscurity, it did no doubt indicate to Athens her fleet as her great resource and refuge; and under the direction of The- mistocles (the leading spirit of Athens at this crisis) the Athenians transported their wives and children to the neighbor- ing island of IEgina, and themselves awaited the Persians in their ships near Salamis. If we may believe Herodotus, the oracle itself had indicated Salamis as the scene of battle. However this may be, there the world-famous fight took place, surpassing even Marathon in im- portance, by which the spirit and power of Persia was brokea, though the struggle was not actually brought to an end till the following year, in the land battle of Plat~ea. Now the rivalry between Delphi and Athens in the scene which I have just described was, so far as form went, per- fectly friendly. The Athenians, from be- ginning to end, were reverently submissive to the oracle; they made no demur to its authority, even when they declared their inability to return to their fellow-citizens with its most menacing answer. Delphi, again, had not done itself discredit; there really had been a good deal of prescience in the oracle. But none the less the rul- ing spirit of Greece had shifted ,its place while this scene was being enacted. Athens, while nominally consulting, had really taken die moral lead and had kept it. When the Persian wars were over, it was not the advice of Delphi that men looked back upon with pride, but the sin- gular determination of Athens. And if Athens had been the superior when meet- ing the oracle on its own ground, much more was the impression of this superi- ority deepened by the placability, coolness, and readiness which Athens displayed among rivals who were jealous of her and of each other, and many of whom only wanted some slight excuse to be quit of the whole difficulty and make for them- selves such inglorious terms as the Per- sians might accord. History scarcely records a finer example of wisdom and temper under the most difficult circum- stances than the answer of Themistocles, who, when the Spartan admiral Eury- biades, in the full council before the bat- tIe, of Salamis, raised his stick to strike him, replied as if the personal insult were a mere nothing in comparison with the mighty questions being discussed: Strike me, but hear me. Or even if we distrust this story, ~vhich comes to us only on the late authority of Plutarch, the LIVING AGE. vOL. LXXI. 3646 narrative of Herodotus gives an impres sion nearly as forcible of the general behavior of the Athenian leaders. In short, the Persian wars, without any direct intention on the part of anybody to disparage the official religion of Greece, had dimmed the lustre of the greatest shrine of that religion, Delphi. A sense of reliance in human nature sprang up, centring itself in Athens, which, widely as it differed in theory from what we now call secularism, still had much of the same practical effects as that view. As far as merely paying honor to the gods by splen~ did ceremoni~ ls went, the Athenians of the age of Pericles were among the most religious of mankind. But in matters of conduct Athens relied on herself, and not on the gods. In the terrible Peloponne- sian war, which began half a century after Salamis, this self-reliance was too fatally manifested. It is true that in the impres- sive account which Thucydides gives of the brilliant start of that expedition to Sicily from which all the woes of Athens took their rise, the public prayer to the gods has a prominent place. But that prayer was not for guidance, but for favor; the resolution of Athens had been taken irrespectively of it. Throughout the whole of the latter half of the fifth century before Christ, religion at Athens was ceasing to be vital and becoming a matter of form. We see this in the laments and apprehensions of a conserva- tive poet like Sophocles, no less than in the growth of the tribe of Sophists, who thought that it needed but a few clever fellows like themselves to set the world right; and again in the recklessness of conduct which began so fatally to abound in all the doings and sayings of the Athe- nians and of their imitators in the various parts of Greece. And the result of this recklessness was seen in the dark days of Sicily, in the final disaster of A~gospota- mos, in the ruin which thereafter befell the Athenian cause. How can we but lament, seeing such a spectacle, even though it belongs to an age so long ago, and to a country whose illustrious history is of the things that have passed away? Of all the peoples of the ancient world, and perhaps of the modern world too, the Athenians had most of that ardor and enthusiasm of character, that flexibility and delicacy of faculty, which rouses and interests the student of history. If some controlling hand could but have been laid upon them, to draw them back from dreams of ambition! But there was no such hand; when religion 82 THE GODS OF GREECE. had been found wanting, what could hap- pen but that every man should do that which was right in his own eyes? The very ardor and courage of Athens hurried her to the abyss. She had honestly won the first place among Greek states by the Persian ~vars; but she was unable to dis- tinguish between the manly temper which had given her that first place. and the audacious self-esteem which claimed em- pire as an intrinsic right, irrespective of justice of conduct. The religious guide of Greece, Delphi, had failed through pov- erty of spirit. Athens, the most vitally powerful of the Greek states, failed through misdirected excess of spirit. Thus it was that the intrinsic weakness of the gods of Greece was made manifest to the world by something much more serious than mere critical inquiry into the errors of the mythology. Zeus and Apollo failed practically as controlling forces. The fabulousness of the stories concern- ing them weakened the religion from within rather than from without. The Athenians, who thought themselves very religious, but who were above all things human, were the unconscious destroyers of faith in the oracles; not because they attacked the oracles, but because the oracles had not a natural power of com- mand sufficient to control or restrain Athens. One man there was at Athens who la- mented this disposition of his countrymen Socrates. He, apparently, would have had his country consult and obey Delphi at the beginning of the Peloponnesian war, at least he laid down such obedience as a general principle. If the Athenians had done so, they would have given up something in those points of dispute which occasioned the war; for Delphi was against them in it. And probably they would have fared better if they had done so. Yet, strange to say, when the war was over, and when the Athenians had suffered from it all that they could suffer, they accused Socrates, and put him to death, on what charge? On the charge of irreligion, of atheism, of wishing to destroy the worship of the gods. Su- perficially speaking, nothing more ex- traordinary than such a charge could be conceived; and undoubtedly, both super- ficially and in the deepest sense, nothing could be more unjust than the conduct of the Athenians towards Socrates. Yet, after all, the Athenians were not absolute fools. Socrates was a moral reformer; and with all the care he took not to be aggressive towards the traditional religion, it was impossible but that some elements of his teaching should act detrimentally upon a religion which was so very assail- able in many of its respects as the Greek religion was. This is no dishonor to Soc- rates; and a modern critic would be more inclined to find fault with him for too great complaisance towards the religion of his country than for any desire to over- throw it, though, considering the need of piety, even when the forms of it are erring, for human nature, it is hard to sustain this charge either. Meanwhile, it is interesting to remember that Delphi, at a comparatively ~aHy stage of the career of Socrates, assigned to him that honor which his own country denied him. Delphi styled him the wisest of the Greeks. No more remarkable utterance ever came forth from the oracle. He, when he heard of it, was unaffectedly sur- prised. lie declared that he knew noth- ing; and the only way in which he could rec~ncile his own consciousness of igno- rance with the divine declaration, was by taking into account the fact that he at all events knew that he was ignorant, whereas the other Greeks fancied they knew some- thing, and did not. And in the most important sense, what Socrates declared about himself was true. It was not in irony, or in false modesty, that he said that he was ignorant. What he meant was that he had no sure stable knowledge, no knowledge that could be his eternal possession. He felt that the only knowl- edge which could not be taken away was that which pertained to the heart of man, which led him to right feeling and right action. Yet he, whom the oracle called the wisest of the Greeks, had not attained to this sure righteousness. But at least he bade men search for it with all their heart and strength. Meanwhile, though he had not attained to knowledge, he yet affirmed that he had felt, at certain crises of his life, a divine influence guiding or restraining him; and he said that he never had gone against this felt divine influence without repenting of it. And the brave and noble actions recorded of Socrates are sufficient to justify the belief that a true divine influence had touched him. He alone, as one of the presidents of the law court, had stood out against the madness of the Athenians when they insisted on carrying an illegal vote for the sake of condemning their own victorious generals. Hehad been a brave soldier in war; he had saved in battle the life of one of his favorite pupils. He had always endured hardship. He had refused obedience to THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. 83 the illegal commands of the thirty tyrants, even as he refused to sanction the illegal demand of the Athenian people. What then Socrates handed down to the generations that came after him, was, in the first place, faith ; in the second place, a principle of intellectual inquiry. His faith, though. it did not discard the ordinary Greek mythology (it is uncertain to what extent he bestowed credence on it) was in its active form a belief in certain superintending divine powers, who were just and who did on occasions communicate their will to man. Again, he believed in immortality, though not with that absolute certainty which has distinguished Christianity. And lastly, he believed in the possibility of framing, not only our own conduct, but also the structure of society on just and enduring principles. In this last respect he is capable of being a teacher to ourselves, not of course in details, but in the general sense that such a formation of society is a possible and worthy end. For, greatly as we have progressed since the days of Socrates in social questions, we are still very far indeed from perfection, and can by no means afford to sit still. When we come from the faith of Soc- rates to his principle of intellectual in- quiry, as this is developed in the pages of Plato (perhaps not always in accordance with the actual teaching of his master), we do certainly find something lacking; and we feel the force of his own declaration, that he had no real knowledge on the sub- jects which most deeply concern man. He is too metaphysical; and it was an unsatisfactory position, scientifically speaking, so often to be engaged in the mere attempt to convict others of igno- rance. No doubt an impression always did, and does now, remain on the mind from these Socratic colloquies. But the true basis of moral progress had to be formed on a desire for perfection more passionate, more intense, than that which belonged to the great Athenian. The Socratic philosophy could never possibly take the place of Christianity; but it has supplied one needful element for the sound growth of mankind which must not be deemed a small one the sense of the value of clear knowledge, in so far as this can possibly be obtained in matters which concern the soul of man. Less than half a century after the death of Socrates, the treasures of Delphi were seized and squandered by the Phocians; and the oracle never recovered from the blow. Then, when Alexander dispersed the Greek race over three continents, the religion of Hellas became finally subser- vient to political powers; and with this the interest in it, as an independent phe- nomenon, ceases. The true legacy which it left to the world was philosophy, and a hope of higher things. From Blackwoods Magazine. THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. I. OLIVER MANKELL was sentenced to three months hard labor. The charge was that he had obtained money by means of false pretences. Not large sums, but shil- lings, half-crowns, and so on. He had given out that he was a wizard, and that he was able and willingfor a consideration to predict the events of the future, tell fortunes, in fact. The case created a large amount of local interest, for some curious stories were told about the man in the town. Mankell was a tall, slight, wiry- looking fellow in the prime of life, with coal-black hair and olive complexion apparently of Romany extraction. His bearing was self possessed, courteous even, yet with something in his air which might have led one to suppose that he saw what others did not the humor of the thing. At one point his grave, almost saturnine visage distinctly relaxed into a smile It was when Colonel Gregory, the chairman of the day, was passing sen- tence. After committing him for three months hard labor, the colonel added, During your sojourn within the walls of a prison you will have an opportunity of retrieving your reputation. You say you are a magician During your stay in jail I would strongly advise you to prove it You lay claim to magic powers. Exer- cise them. I need scarcely point out to you how excellent a chance you will have of creatino- a sensation. The people laughed. When the great Panjandrum is even dimly suspected of an intention to be funny, the people always do. But on this occasion even the prisoner smiled, rather an exceptional thing, for as a rule it is the prisoner who sees the joke the least of all. Later in the day the prisoner was con- veyed to the county jail. This necessitated a journey by rail, with a change upon the way. At the station where they changed there was a delay of twenty minutes. This the prisoner and the constable in charge 84 THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. of him improved by adjourning to a public the gate. In the morning he had a bath, house hard by. Here they had a glass was inducted into prison clothing, and ex- indeed they had two and when they amined by the doctor. He was then taken reached Canterstone, the town on whose up to the main building of the prison, and outskirts stood the jail, they had one or introduced to the governor. The gov- perhaps it was two more. It must have ernor was a quiet, gentlemanly man, with been two, for when they reached the jail, a straggling black beard and spectacles, instead of the constable conveying the the official to the tips of his fingers. As prisoner, it was the prisoner who conveyed Mankell happened to be the only fresh the constable upon his shoulder. The arrival, the governor favored him with a warder who answered the knock seemed little speech. surprised at what he saw. Youve placed yourself in an uncom- What do you want? fortable position, Mankell. I hope youll Three months hard labor. obey the rules while youre here. The warder stared. The shades of I intend to act upon the advice ten- night had fallen, and the lamp above the dered me by the magistrate who passed prison door did not seem to cast sufficient sentence. light upon the subject to satisfy the jani- The governor looked up. Not only was tor. the voice a musical voice, but the words Come inside, he said. were not the sort of words generally Mankell entered, the constable upon his chosen by the average prisoner. shoulder. Having entered, he carefully What advice was that? placed the constable in a sitting posture He said that I claimed to be a magi- on the stones, with his back against the cian. He strongly advised me to prove it wall. The policemans helmet had tipped during my stay in jail. I intend to act over his eyes, he scarcely presented an upon the advice he tendered. imposing picture of the majesty and might The governor looked Mankell steadily of the law. The warder shook him by in the face. The speakers bearing con- the shoulder. Here, come wake up. veyed no suggestion of insolent intention. Youre a pretty sort, he said. The con- The governor looked down again. stables reply, although slightly inarticu- I advise you to be careful what you late,was yet sufficiently distinct, do. You may make your position more Not another drop! not another drop! uncomfortable than it is already. Take he murmured. the man away. No, I shouldnt think so, said the They took the man away. They intro- warder. Youve had a pailful, it seems duced him to the wheel. On the treadmill to me, already. he passed the remainder of the morning. The man seemed a little puzzled. He At noon morning tasks were over, and the turned and looked at Mankell. prisoners were marched into their day What do you want here? cells to enjoy the meal which, in prison Three months hard labor. parlance, was called dinner. In accord- The man looked down and saw that the ance with the ordinary routine, the chap- new-coiner had gyves upon his wrists. He lain made his appearance in the round. went to a door at one side, and summoned house to interview those prisoners who another warder. The two returned to- had just come in, and those whose sen- gether. This second official took in the tences would be completed on the mor- situation at a glance. row. When Mankell had been asked at Have you come from ? naming the gate what his religion was, he had the town from which they in fact had made no answer; so the warder, quite come. Mankell inclined his head. This used to ignorance on the part of new ar- second official turned his attention to the rivals as to all religions, had entered him prostrate constable. Look in his pock- as a member of the Church of England. ets. As a member of the Church of England The janitor acted on the suggestion. he was taken out to interview the chap- The order for committal was produced. lain now. Are you Oliver Mankell? The chaplain was a little fussy gentle- Again Mankell inclined his head. With man, considerably past middle age. Long the order in his hand, the official marched experience of prisons and prisoners had him through the side door through which bred in him a perhaps unconscious habit he had himself appeared. Soon Oliver of regarding criminals as naughty boys Mankell was the inmate of a cell. He urchins who required a judicious cam- spent that night in the reception cells at bination of cakes and castigation. THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. Well, my lad, Im sorry to see a man of your appearance here. This was a remark the chaplain made to a good many of his new friends. It was intended to give them the impression that at least the chaplain perceived that they were some- thing out of the ordinary run. Then he dropped his voice to a judicious whisper. Whats it for? For telling the truth. This reply seemed a little to surprise the chaplain. He settled his spectacles upon his nose. For telling the truth ! An idea seemed all at once to strike the chaplain. Do you mean that you pleaded guilty? The man was silent. The chaplain re- ferred to a paper he held in his hand. Eh, I see that here it is written false pretences. Was it a stumer? We have seen it mentioned somewhere that stumer is slang for a worthless cheque. It was a way with the chaplain to let his charges see that he was at least acquainted with their phraseology. But on this occasion there was no response. The officer in charge of Mankell, who pos- sibly wanted his dinner, put in his oar. Telling fortunes, sir. Telling fortunes! Oh! Dear me! How sad! You see what t~lling fortunes brings you to? There will be no difficulty in telling your fortune if you dont take care. I will see you to-morrow morning after chapel. The chaplain turned away. But his prediction proved to be as false as Man. kells were stated to have been. He did not see him the next morning after chapel, and that for the sufficient reason that on the following morning there was no chapel. And the reasons why there was no chapel were very curious indeed unprece- dented, in fact. Canterstone Jail was an old-fashioned prison. In it each prisoner had two cells, one for the day and one for the night. The day cells were on the ground floor, those for the night were overhead. At 6 A.M. a bell was rung, and the warders unlocked the night cells for the occupants to go down to those beneath. That was the rule. That particular morning was an ex- ception to the rule. The bell was rung as usual, and the warders started to unlock, but there the adherence to custom ceased, for the doors of the cells refused to be unlocked. The night cells were hermetically sealed by oaken doors of massive thickness, lolted and barred in accordance with the former idea that the security of prisoners should depend rather upon bolts and bars than upon the vigilance of the officers in charge. Each door was let into a twenty. four inch brick wall, and secured by two ponderous bolts and an enormous lock of the most complicated workmanship. These locks were kept constantly oiled. When the gigantic key was inserted, it turned as easily as the key of a watch that was the rule. When, therefore, on inserting his key into the lock of the first cell, Warder Slater found that it wouldnt turn at all, he was rather taken aback. Whos been having a game with this lock? he asked. Warder Puffin, who was stationed at the head of the stairs to see that the prisoners passed down in order, at the proper dis- tance from each other, replied to him. Anything the matter with the lock? Try the next. Warder Slater did try the next, but he found that as refractory as the other had been. Perhaps youve got the wrong key? suggested Warder Puffin. Got the wrong key! cried Warder Slater. Do you think I dont know my own keys when I see them? The oddest part of it was that all the locks were the same. Not only in Ward A, but in Wards B, C, D, E, and F in all the wards, in fact. When this became known, a certain sensation was created, and that on both sides of the unlocked doors. The prisoners were soon conscious that their guardians were unable to release them, and they made a noise. Nothing is so precious to the average prisoner as a grievance ; here was a grievance with a vengeance. The chief warder was a man named Murray. He was short and stout, with a red face, and short, stubbly white hair, his very appearance suggested apoplexy. That suggestion was emphasized when he lost his temper capable officer though he was, that was more than once in a while. He was in the wheel-shed, await- ing the arrival of the prisoners prepara- tory to being told off to their various tasks, when, instead of the prisoners, Warder Slater appeared. If Murray was stout, Slater was stouter. He was about five feet eight, and weighed at least two hun- dred and fifty pounds. He was wont to amaze those who saw him for the first time and wonderedby assuring them that he had a brother who was still stouter compared to whom he was a skeleton, in fact. But he was stout enough. He and the chief warder made a striking pair. 86 THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. Theres something the matter with the locks of the night cells, sir. We cant undo the doors. Cant undo the doors! Mr. Murray turned the color of a boiled beetroot. What do you mean? Its very queer, sir, but all over the place its the same. We cant get none of the doors unlocked. Mr. Murray started off at a good round pace, Slater following hard at his heels. The chief warder tried his hand himself. He tried every lock in the prison; not one of them vouchsafed to budge. Not one, that is, with a single exception. The ex- ception was in Ward B, No. 27. Mr. Murray had tried all the other doors in the ward, beginning with No. tried them all in vain. But when he came to No. 27, the lock turned with the customary ease, and the door was open. Within it was Oliver Mankell, standing decorously at attention, waiting to be let out. Mr. Murray stared at him. Hum! theres nothing the matter with this lock, at any rate. Youd better go down. Oliver Mankell went down.stairs he ~vas the only man in Canterstone jail who did. Well, this is a pretty go! exclaimed Mr. Murray, when he had completed his round. Two or three other warders had accompanied him. He turned on these. Some one will smart for this, you see if they dont. Keep those men still. The din was deafening. The prisoners, secure of a grievance, were practising step. dances in their heavy shoes on the stone floors; they made the narrow, vaulted corridors ring. Silence those men! shouted Mr. 3 arvis, the second warder, who was tall and thin as the chief was short and stout. He might as ~vell have shouted to the wind. Those in the cells just close at hand observed the better part of valor, but those a little distance off paid not the slightest heed. If they were locked in, the officers were locked out. I must go and see the governor. Mr. Murray pursed up his lips. Keep those men still, or Ill know the reason why. He strode off, leaving his subordinates to obey his orders if they could or if they couldnt. Mr. Paleys house was in the centre of the jail. Paley, by the way, was the gov- ernors name. The governor, when Mr. Murray arrived, was still in bed. He came down to the chief warder in rather px~mitive disarray. Anything the matter, Murray? Yes, sir; theres something very much the matter, indeed. What is it? We cant get any of the doors of the night cells open. You cant get what? There seems to be something the matter with the locks. The locks? All of them? Absurd! Well, there they are, and theres the men inside of them, and we cant get em outat least Ive tried my hand, and I know I cant. Ill come with you at once, and see what you mean. Mr. Paley was as good as his word. He started off just as he was. As they were going, the chief warder made another remark. By the way, there is one cell we man- aged to get open, I opened it myself. I thought you said there was none? Theres that one, its that man Man- kell. Mankell? Who is he? He came in yesterday. Its that magi- cian. When they reached the cells, it was easy to perceive that something was wrong. The warders hung about in twos and threes; the noise was deafening; the prisoners were keeping holiday. Get me the keys and let me see what I can do. It is impossible that all the locks can have been tampered with. They presented Mr. Paley with the keys. In his turn he tried every lock in the jail. This was not the work of a min- ute or two. The prison contained some three hundred night cells. To visit them all necessitated not only a good deal of running up and down stairs, but a good deal of actual walking; for they were not only in different floors and in different blocks, but the prison itself was divided into two entirely separate divsions north and south and to pass from one division to the other entailed a ~valk of at least a hundred yards. By the time he had completed the round of the locks, Mr. Paley had had about enough of it. It was not surprising that he felt a little be- wildered, not one of the locks had shown any more readiness to yield to him than to the others. In passing from one ward to the other, he had passed the row of day cells in which was situated B 27. Here they found Oliver Mankell sitting in silent state await- ing the call to work. The governor pulled up at sight of him. THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. Well, Mankell, so there was nothing the matter with the lock of your door? Mankell simply inclined his head. I suppose you know nothing about the locks of the other doors? Again the inclination of the head. The man seemed to be habitually chary of speech. Whats the matter with you? Are you dumb? Cant you speak when youre spoken to? This time Mankell extended the palms of his hands with a gesture which might mean anything or nothing. The governor passed on. The round finished, he held a consultation with the chief warder. Have you any suspicions? Its queer. Mr. Murray stroked his bristly chin. Its very queer that that man Man- kells should be the only cell in the prison left untampered with. Very queer, indeed. What are we to do? We cant leave the men locked up all day. Its breakfast- time already. I suppose the cooks havent gone down to the cook-house? Theyre locked up with the rest. Barnes has been up to know what hes to do. Barnes was the prison cook. The cooks referred to were six good-behavior men who were told off to assist him in his duties. If the food were cooked, I dont see how we should give it to the men. Thats the question. Mr. Murray pondered. We might pass it through the gas-holes. We should have to break the glass to do it. You wouldnt find it easy. Its plate-glass, an inch in thickness, and built into the solid wall. There was a pause for consideration. Well, this is a pretty start. Ive never come across anything like it in all my days before. Mr. Paley passed his hand through his hair. He had never come across anything like it either. I shall have to telegraph to the com- missioners. I cant do anything without their sanction. The following telegram was sent, Cannot get prisoners out of night cells. Something the matter with locks. Cannot give them any food. The matter is very urgent. What shall I do? The following answer was received, Inspector coming down. The inspector came down Major Wil. ham Hardinge. A tall, portly gentleman, with a very decided manner. When he saw the governor he came to the point at once. Whats all this stuff? We cant get the prisoners out of the night cells. Why? Theres something the matter with the locks. Have you given them any food? We have not been ableto. When were they locked up? Yesterday evening at six oclock. This is a very extraordinary state of things. It is, or I shouldnt have asked for instructions. Its now three oclock in the after. noon. Theyve been without food for twenty-one hours. Youve no right to keep them without food all that time. We are helpless. rhe construction of the night cells does not permit of our introducing food into the interior when the doors are closed. Have they been quiet? Theyve been as quiet as under the circumstances was to be expected. As they were crossing towards the north division the governor spoke again, Weve been able to get one man out. One out of the lot! How did you get him? Oddly enough, the lock of his cell was the only one in the prison that had not been tampered with. Hum ! I should like to see that man. His names Mankell. He only came in yesterday. Hes been pretending to magic powers telling fortunes, and that kind of thino Only came in yesterday? Hes begun early. Perhaps we shall have to tell him what his fortunes likely to be. When they reached the wards the keys were handed to the inspector, who in his turn tried his hand. A couple of lock- smiths had been fetched up from the town. When the major had tried two or three of the locks it was enough for him. He turned to the makers of locks. Whats the matter with these locks? Well, thats exactly what we cant make out. The keys go in all right, but they ~vont turn. Seems as though some- body had been having a lark with them. Cant you pick them? Theyre not easy locks to pick, but well have a try. flave a try! They had a try, but they tried in vain. As it happened, the cell, on which they 88 THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. commenced operations was occupied by a gentleman who had had a considerable ex- perience in picking locks, experience which had ended in placing him on the other side that door. He derided the locksmiths through the door. Well, you are a couple of keen ones! What, cant pick the lock! Why, there aint a lock in England I couldnt pick with a bent airpin. I only wish you was this side, starving like I am, and I was where you are, it wouldnt be a lock that would keep me from giving you food. This was not the sort of language Ma- jor Hardinge was accustomed to hear from the average prisoner, but the major probably felt that on this occasion the can- did proficient in the art of picking locks had a certain excuse. He addressed the baffled workmen. If you cant pick the lock, what can you do? The question is, what is the shortest way of getting inside that cell ? Get a watch-saw, cried the gentleman on the other side the door. And when youve got your watch- sa~v? inquired the major. Saw the whole lock right clean a way. Lor bless me! I only wish I was where you are, Id show you a thing or two. Its as easy as winking. Heres all us chaps a starving, all for want of a little hexpe- rience! A s~.wll be no good, declared one of the locksmiths. Neither a watch-saw nor any other kind of saw. How are you going to saw through those iron stan- chions? Youll have to burst the door in, thats what itll have to be. You wont find it an easy thing to do. This was from the governor. Why dont you take and blow the whole place up? shouted a gentleman, also on the other side of the door, two or three cells off. Long before this all the occupants of the corridor had been lending a very at- tentive ear to what ~vas going on. The suggestion was received with roars of laughter. The major, however, preferred to act upon the workmens advice. A sledge hammer was sent for. While they were awaiting its arrival something rather curious happened cu- rious, that is, viewed in the light of what had gone befdre. Warder Slater formed one of the party. More for the sake of something to do than anything else, he put his key into the lock of the cell which was just in front of him. Giving it a gen- tle twist, to his amazement it turned with lhe greatest ease, and the door was open. Heres a go! he exclaimed. Bles if this door aint come open. There was a yell of jubilation all along the corridor. The prisoners seemed to be amused. The official party kept silence. Possibly their feelings were too deep for words. Since weve got this one open, said Warder Slater, suppose we try another. He tried another, the next the same result followed, the door was opened with the greatest of ease. Whats the meaning of this? splut- tered the major. Whos been playing this tomfoolery? I dont believe theres anything the matter with a lock in the place. There did not seem to be, just then. For when the officers tried again they found no difficulty in unlocking the doors, and setting the prisoners free. MAJOR HARDINGE remained in the jail that night. He stayed in the governors house as Mr. Paleys guest. He expressed himself very strongly about the events of the day. Ill see the thing through if it takes me a week. The whole affair is incredi- ble to me. It strikes me, Paley, that theyve been making a fool of you. The governor combed his hair with his fingers. His official manner had tempo- rarily gone. He seemed depressed. I assure you the doors were locked. Of course the doors were locked, and they used the wrong keys to open them! It was a got-up thing. Not by the officers. By whom then? I dont see how the prisoners could have lent a hand. I know the officers, and I will answer for them, every man. As for the wrong keys being used, I know the keys as well as any one. I tried them, and not a lock would yield to me. But they did yield. What explanation have you to give of that? I wish I could explain. And again the governor combed his hair. Ill have an explanation to-morrow! you see if I dont! But the major never did. On the morrow, punctually at 6 AM., an imposing procession started to unlock. There were the inspector, governor, chief warder, second warder, and the warder who carried the keys. I dont think we shall have much dif- ficulty in getting the men out of their cells this time, remarked the major. They THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. 89 did not. Good good God! he splut. tered, when they reached the corridor; what what on earths the meaning of this? He had predicted rightly. They would have no difficulty in getting the men out of their cells; they were out already men, and bedding, and planks, and all. There was a man fast asleep in bed in front of each cell door. I thought I had given instructions that a special watch was to be kept all night, the major roared. So there has been, answered the chief warder, whose head and face and neck were purple. Warder Slater here has only just gone off duty. Now, then, Slater, whats the meaning of this? I dont know, protested Slater, whose mountain of flesh seemed quivering like jelly. Its not a minute ago since I went to get my keys, and they was all inside their cells when I went down. Who let them out, then? The major glared at him, incredulity in every line of his countenance. I dont know. Ill swear it wasnt me. I suppose they let themselves out, then. You men! Although this short dialogue had been conducted by no means sotfo voce, the noise did not seem to have had the slight- est effect in rousing the prisoners out of slumber. Even when the major called to them they gave no sign. You men! he shouted again; its no good shamming Abraham with me! He stooped to shake the man who was lying on the plank at his feet. Good good God! Thethemans not dead? Dead! cried the governor, kneeling by the majors side upon the stones. The sleeper was very still. He was a man of some forty years of age, with nut- brown tangled hair and beard. If not a short-sentence man, he was still in the early stages of his term for he lay on the bare boards of the plank with the rug, blanket, and sheet wrapped closely round him, so that they might take, as far as possible, the place of the coir mattress, which was not there. The bed ~vas not a bed of comfort, yet his sleep was sound strangely sound. If he breathed at all, it was so lightly as to be inaudible. On his face was that dazed, strained expression which we sometimes see on the faces of those who, without a moments warning, have been suddenlyvisited by death. I dont think hes dead, the governor said. He seems to be in some sort of trance. Whats the mans name? Itchcock. Hes one of the op-pick- ers. Hes got a month. It was Warder Slater who gave the in- formation. The governor took the man by the shoulder, and tried to rouse him out of sleep. Hitchcock! Hitchcock! Come, wake up, my man! Its all right; hes coming to hes waking up. He did wake up, and that so suddenly as to take the party by surprise. He sprang upright on the plank, nothing on but an attenuaed prison shirt, and glared at the officials with looks of unmistakable surprise. Holloa! Whats up! XVhats the meaning of this? Major Hardinge replied, suspicion peep- ing from his eyes, That is what we want to know, and what ~ve intend to know, what does it mean? Why arent you in your cell ? The man seemed for the first time to perceive where he was. Strike me lucky, if I aint outside! Somebody must have took me out when I was asleep. Then, realizing in whose presence he was: I beg your pardon, sir, but some ones took me out. The one who took you out took all the others too. The major gave a side glance at Warder Slater. That intelligent officer seemed to be suffering agonies. The prisoner glanced along the corridor. If all the blessed lot of em aint out too! They were not only all out, but they were all in the same curiously trance-like sleep. Each man had to be separately roused, and each woke with the same startling, sudden bound. No one seemed more surprised to find themselves where they were than the men themselves. And this was not the case in one ward only, but in all the wards in the prison. No wonder the officials felt bewildered by the time they had gone the round. Theres one thing certain, remarked Warder Slater to Warder Puffin, wiping the perspiration from his Warder Sla- ters brow if I let them out in one ward, I couldnt ardly let them out in all. Not to mention that I dont see how a man of my builds going to carry eight- and-forty men, bed, bedding, and all, out bodily, and that without disturbing one of them from sleep. As the official party was returning through B ward, inspecting the men, who were standing at attention in their day cells, the officer in charge advanced to the governor. 90 THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. One man missing, sir! No. 27, sir! Mankell, sir! The chief warder started. If possible, he turned a shade more purple even than before. Fetch me the key of the night cells, he said. It was brought. They went up-stairs the major, the governor, the chief and second warders. Sure enough they found the missing man, standing at attention in his night cell, waiting to be let out, the only man in the prison whom they had found in his place. The chief warder un- locked him. In silence they followed him as he went down-stairs. When the major and Mr. Paley found themselves alone, both of them seemed a little bewildered. Well, major, what do you think of it now? Its a got-up thing! Ill stake my life, its a got-up thing! What do you mean, a got - up thing? Some of the officers know more about it than they have chosen to say, that man Slater, for instance. But Ill have the thing sifted to the bottom before I go. I never heard of anything more audacious in the whole of my career. The governor smiled, but he made no comment on the majors observation. It was arranged that an inquiry should be held after chapel. During chapel a fresh subject was added to the list of those which already called for prompt inquiry. Probably there is no more delicate and difficult position than that of a prison chaplain. If any man doubt this, let him step into a prison chaplains shoes and see. He must have two faces, and each face must look in an exactly opposite way. The one towards authority he is an offi- cial, an upholder of the law; the other towards the defiers of authority he is the criminals best friend. It requires the wisest of men to do his duty, so as to please both sides; and he must please both sides or fail. As has already been hinted, Mr. Hewett, the chaplain of Canterstone Jail, was not the wisest of men. He was in the uncomfortable but not uncommon position of being dis- liked by both the rival houses. He meant well, but he was not an apt interpreter of his own meaning. He blundered, some- times on the prisoners toes, and some- times on the toes of the officials. Before the service began, the governor thought of giving him a hint, not in the course of it to touch on the events of the last two days. But previous hints of the same kind had not by any means been well re- ceived, and he refrained. Exactly what he feared would happen, happened. Both the inspector and the governor were pres- ent at the service. Possibly the chaplain supposed this to be an excellent opportu- nity of showing the sort of man he was, one full of zeal. At any rate, before the service was over, before pronouncing the benediction, he came down to the altar- rail, in the way they knew so well. The governor, outwardly unruffled, inwardly groaned. I have something to say to you. When he said this, those who knew him knew exactly what was coming; or they thought they did, for, for once in a way, they were grievously wrong. When the chaplain had got so far, he paused. It was his habit to indulge in these eloquent pauses, but it was not his habit to behave as he immediately did. While they were waiting for him to go on, almost forecast- ing the words he would use, a spasm seemed to go all over him, and he clutched the rail and spoke. And what he said was this, Bust the screws and blast em! The words were shouted rather than spoken. In the very act of utterance he clung on to the rail as though he needed its support to enable him to stand. The chapel was intensely still. The men stared at him as though unable to believe their eyes and ears. The chaplain was noted for his little eccentricities, but it was the first time they had taken such a shape as this. Thats not what I meant to say. The words came out with a gasp. Mr. Hewett put his hand up to his brow. Thats not what I meant to say. He gave a frightened glance around. Suddenly his gaze became fixed, and he looked intently at some object right in front of him. His eyes assumed a dull and fish-like stare. He hung on to the rail, his surpliced figure trembling as with palsy. Words fell from his lips with fever- ish volubility. Whats the good of a screw, Id like to know? Did you ever know one what was worth his salt? I never did. Look at that beast, Slater, great fat brute, whatd get a man three days bread-and-water as soon as look at him. A little bread and waterd do him good. Look at old Mur- ray, call a man like that chief warder. I wonder what a chief fat-heads like? As for the governoras for the governor as for the governor The chapel was in confusion. The offi- cers rose in their seats. Mr. Paley stood up in his pew, looking whiter than he was wont to do. It seemed as though the chaplain was struggling with an unseen antagonist. He writhed and twisted, con- tending, as it were, with somethingor some one which appeared to he in front of him. His sentence remained unfin- ished. All at once he collapsed, and, sink- ing into a heap, lay upon the steps of the altar still. Take the men out, said the governors quiet voice. The men were taken out. The school- master was already at the chaplains side. With him were two or three of the pris- oners who sano- in the choir. The gov. b ernor and the inspector came and looked down at the senseless man. Seems to be in a sort of fit, the schoolmaster said. Let some one go and see if the doctor has arrived. Ask him to come up here at once. With that the governor left the chapel, the inspector goingh-with him. Its no good our staying. Hell be all right I I dont feel quite well. Major Hardinge looked at him shrewdly out of the corner of his eyes. Does he drink? Not that I am aware of. I never heard of it before. I should say certainly not. Is he mad? No.o he has his peculiarities but he certainly is not mad. Is he subject to fits? I have not known of his having one before. When they reached the office the major began to pace about. That chaplain of yours must be stark mad. If so, it is a very sudden attack. Did you hear what he said? Very well indeed. Never heard such a thing in my life! Is he in the habit of using such lan- guage? Hardly. Perhaps we had better leave it till we hear ~vhat the doctor says. Pos- sibly there is some simple explanation. I am afraid the chaplain is unwell. If he isnt unwell, I dont k-now what he is. Upon my word, Paley, I cant congratulate you upon the figure Canter- stone Jail has cut during the last few days. I dont know what sort of report I shall have to make. The governor winced. When, a few minutes afterwards, the doctor entered, he began upon the subject at once. 91 How is the chaplain, doctor? Dr. Livermore gave a curious glance about him. Then he shook hands with the inspector. Then he sat down. Tak- ing off his hat, he wiped his brow. Well? Anything wrong? The chaplain says he is bewitched. The governor looked at the inspector, and the inspector looked at him. Bewitched? said Mr. Paley. I told you the man was mad, the in- spector muttered. Hush! the doctor whispered. Here he comes. Even as he spoke the chaplain entered, leaning on the chief warders arm. He advanced to the table at which the gov- ernor sat, looking Mr. Paley steadily in the face. Mr. Paley, I have to report to you that I have been bewitched. I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Hewett. He could not resist a smile. Though I am afraid I do not understand exactly what you mean.~~ It is no laughing matter. The chap- lains tone was cool and collected more impressive than it was used to be. The man whose name I believe is Oliver Man- kell has bewitched me. lie was the second man in the third row on my right. hand side in chapel. I could make out that his number was B 27. He cast on me a spell. There was silence. Even the inspector felt that it was a delicate matter to accuse the chaplain outright of lunacy. An in- terruption came from an unexpected quar- ter from the chief warder. Its my belief that man Mankells been up to his games about those cells. The interruption was the more remark- able, because there was generally war not always passive between the chief warder and the chaplain. Every one looked at Mr. Murray. What is this I hear about the cells? asked Dr. Livermore. The governor answered, Yesterday the men were all locked in their night cells. This morning they were all locked out that is, we found them all seemingly fast asleep, each man in front of his cell door. They were all locked in except one man, and that man was Mankell and he was the only man who was not locked out. Thus the chief warder. And do you suggest, said the doctor, that he had a finger in the pie? Its my belief he did it all. Directly I set eyes upon the man I knew there was THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. 92 THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. something about him I couldnt quite make out. He did it all. Have you heard, sir, how he came to the gate? Mr. Murray was, in general, a reticent man. It was not his way to express de- cided opinions in the presence of authori- ties, or indeed of any one else. Mr. Paley, who knew his man, eyed him with curiosity. What was there odd about that? Why, instead of the constable bring- ing him, it was him who brought the con- stable. When they opened the gate there was him with the policeman over his shoulder. In spite of Mr. Murrays evident ear- nestness, there were some of his hearers who were unable to repress a smile. Do you mean that the constable was drunk? Thats the queer part of it. It was John Mitchell. Ive known him for two- and-twenty years. I never knew him have .a glass too much before. I saw him soon after~vards he was all right then. He said he had only had three half-pints. He was quite himself till he got r~ear the gate, when all of a sudden he went queer all over. Possibly the ale was drugged, sug- gested the doctor. I dont know nothing about that, but I do know that the same hand that played that trick was the same hand that played the tricks with the cells. Consider a moment what you are say- ing, Murray. How are three hundred locks to be tampered with in the middle of the night by a man who is himself a prisoner? One moment. But even that is nothing compared to the feat of carry- ing three hundred men fast asleep in bed bed and all through three hundred closed doors, under the very noses of the officers on guard, think of doing all that single-handed! It was witchcraft. When the chief warder said this, Major Hardinge exploded. Witchcraft! The idea of the chief warder of an English prison talking about witchcraft at this time of day! Its quite time you were superannuated, sir. The man, Mankell, certainly bewitched me. Bewitched you! As the major faced the chaplain he seemed to find it difficult to restrain his feelings. May I ask what sort of idea you mean to convey by saying he bewitched you? I will explain so far as I am able. The chaplain paused to collect his thoughts. All eyes were fixed upon him. I intended to say something to the men touching the events of yesterday and this morning. As I came down to the altar- rail I was conscious of a curious sensation as though I was being fascinated by a terrible gaze which was burning into my brain. I managed to pronounce the first few words. Involuntarily looking round, I met the eyes of the man Mankell. The instant I did so I was conscious that something had passed from him to me, something that made my tongue his slave. Against my will my tongue uttered the words you heard. Struggling with all my might, I momentarily regained the exer- cise of my own will. It was only for a moment, for in an instant he had mastered me again. Although I continued to strug- gle, my tongue uttered the words he bade it utter, until I suppose my efforts to re- pel his dominion brought on a kind of fit. That he laid on me a spell I am assured. There was a pause when the chaplain ceased. That he had made what he sup- posed to be a plain and simple statement of facts was evident. But then the facts were remarkable ones. It was the doctor who broke the silence. Suppose we have the man in here, so that we can put him through his fac- ings? The governor stroked his beard. What are you going to say to him? You can hardly charge him with witch- craft. He is here because he has been pretending to magic powers. The doctor started. No! Is that so? Then I fancy we have the case in a nutshell. The man is what old-fashioned people used to call a mesmeristhypnotism they call it now- adays, and all sorts of things. But mesmerism wont explain the cells! Im not so sure of thatat any rate, it would explain the policeman who was suddenly taken queer. Lets have the man in here. The whole thing is balderdash, said the major with solemnity. I am sur- prised, as a man of sane and healthy mind, to hear such stuff talked in an English prison of to-day. At least there will be no harm in our interviewing Mr. Mankell. Murray, see that they send him here. The chief warder departed to do the governors bid- ding. Mr. Paley turned to the chaplain. According to you, Mr. Hewett, we are subjecting ourselves to some personal risk by bringing him here. Is that so? THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. 93 You may smile, Mr. Paley, but you may find it no laughing matter after all. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in mans philosophy. You dont mean to say, burst out the major, that you, a man of education, a clergyman, chaplain of an English prison, believe in witchcraft? It is not a question of belief it is a question of fact. That the man cast on me a spell, I am well assured. Take care that he does not do the same to you. The governor smiled. The doctor laughed. The enormity of the suggestion kept the major tongue-tied till Mankell appeared. III. ALTHOUGH Mankell was ushered in by the chief warder, he ~vas in actual charge of Warder Slater. The apartment into which he was shown was not that in which prisoners ordinarily interviewed the gov- ernor. There a cord, stretched from ~vall to wall, divided the room nearly in half. On one side stood the prisoner, ~vith the officer in charge of him; on the other sat the governor. Here there was no cord. The room which was a small one contained a single table. At one end sat Mr. Paley, on his right sat Major Har- dinge, the chaplain stood at his left, and just behind the major sat Dr. Livermore. Manljell was told to stand at the end which faced the governor. A momentary pause followed his entrance all four pairs of eyes were examining his countenance. He for his part bore himself quite easily, ,41s eyes being fixed upon the governor, and about the corners of his lips hovered what was certainly more than the suspi- cion of a smile. I have sent for you, Mr. Paley began, because I wish to ask you a question. You understand that I make no charge against you, but do you know who has been tampering with the locks of the cells? The smile was unmistakable now. It lighted up his saturnine visage, suggest- ing that here was a man who had an eye possibly almost too keen an eye for the ridiculous. But he gave no answer. Do you hear my question, Mankell? Do you know who has been tampering with the locks of the cells? Mankell extended his hands with a little graceful gesture which smacked of more southern climes. How shall I tell you? Tell the truth, sir, and dont treat us to any of your high faluting. This remark came from the major not in too amiable a tone of voice. But in this land it would seem that truth is a thing that wise men shun. It is for telling the truth that I am here. We dont want any .of your insolence, my man! Answer the governors question if you dont want to be severely punished. Do you know who has been playing hanky- panky with the cells? Spirits of the air. As he said this Mankell inclined his head and looked at the major with laughter in his eyes. Spirits of the air! What the devil d~ you mean by spirits of the air? Ah! what do I mean? To tell you that, laying a stress upon the pronoun, would take a year.~~ The fellows an insolent scoundrel, spluttered the major. Come, Mankell, that wont do, struck in Mr. Paley. Do I understand you to say that you do know something about the matter? Know! The man drew himself up, laying the index finger of his right hand upon the table with a curiously impres- sive air. What is there that I do not know? I see. You still pretend, then, to the possession of magic powers? Pretend! Mankell laughed. He stretched out his hands in front of him with what seemed to be his favorite ges- ture, and laughed in the face of the authorities. Suppose you give us an example of your powers? The suggestion came from the doctor. The major exploded. Dont talk stuff and nonsense! Give the man three days bread and water. That is what he wants. You do not believe in magic, then? Mankell turned to the major ~vith his laughing eyes. Whats it matter to you what I be- lieve? You may take my word for it that I dont believe in impudent mountebanks like you. The only reply Mankell gave was to raise his handif that might be called a reply in the way we sometimes do when we call for silence, and there was silence in the room. All eyes were fixed upon the prisoner. He looked each man in turn steadily in the face. Then, still serenely smiling, he gently murmured, If you please. There still was silence, but only for a moment. It was broken by Warder THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. Slater. That usually decorous officer his chair, and began drumming on the tilted his cap to the back of his head, and table with the tips of his fingers. The thrust his hands into his breeches pockets doctor rose from his seat. He gave the hardly the regulation attitude in the inspector a hearty slap upon the back. presence of superiors. Give him beans! he cried. You I should blooming well like to know ought to be able to knock an over-fed what this means! Ere have I been in animal like Slater into the middle of next this ere jail eleven years, and Ive never week before hes counted five. been accused before of letting men out of Ive no quarrel with Slater, the in- their night cells, let alone their beds and spector growled, and Ive no intention bedding, and I dont like it, so I tell you of fighting him; but as the chaplain seems straight. to be so anxious for a row, Ill fight him The chief warder turned with automatic with the greatest pleasure. suddenness towards the unexpectedly and If theres goin to be any fighting, unusually plain-spoken officer. interposed the chief warder, dont you Slater, youre a fool I ~ think Id better get a couple of sponges Im not the only one in the place! and a pail of water? Theres more fools here besides me, and I dont know about the sponges, said some of them bigger ones as well! the governor; I dont fancy you will find While these compliments were being any just at hand. But you might get a exchanged, the higher officials sat mutely pail of water, I think. looking on. When the chief warder The chief warder left the room. seemed at a loss for an answer, the chap- Im not a fighting man, the chaplain lain volunteered a remark. He addressed announced; and in any case, I should himself to Warder Slater. decline to soil my hands by touching such Its my opinion that the governors a an ill.mannered ruffian as Major Har- ,bigger fool than you are, and that the in- dinge. spectors a still bigger fool than he is. I say, exclaimed the doctor, Har- And its my belief, Mr. Hewett, ob- dinge, youre not going to stand that? served the doctor, that youre the biggest The major sprang from his seat, tore off fool of all. his coat, and flung it on to the ground with It would serve him right, remarked considerably less care than Warder Slater the governor quietly, if somebody were had done. He strode up to the chaplain. to knock him down. Beg my pardon, or take a licking! Knock him down! I should think it The major clenched his fists. He as- would and kick him too! sumed an attitude which, if not exactly As he said this the major glared at the reminiscent of the pets of the fancy, was chaplain with threatening eyes. at least intended to be pugilistic. The There was silence again, broken by chaplain did not flinch. Warder Slater taking off his cap and then You dare to lay a finger on me, you his tunic, which he folded up carefully and bullying blackguard. placed upon the floor, and then turning The major did dare. He struck out, if his shirt.sleeves up above his elbows, re- not with considerable science, at any rate vealing as he did so a pair of really gigan- with considerable execution. The chap- tic arms, lain went down like a log. At that mo- If any man says I let them men out of ment the chief warder entered the room. the cells, Im ready to fight that man, He had a pail of water in his hand. For either for a gallon of beer or nothing. I some reason, which was not altogether dont care if its the inspector, or who it plain, he threw its contents upon the is. chaplain as he lay upon the floor. I suspect, declared the chaplain, While these considering the persons that the inspectors too great a coward engaged somewhat irregular proceed- to take you on, but if he does im willing ings had been taking place, Mankell re- to back Slater for half-a-crown. I am mained motionless, his hand upraised, even prepared to second him. still ~vith that smile upon his face. Now Putting his hands under his coat-tails, he lowered his hand. the chaplain looked up at the ceiling with Thank you very much, he said. a resolute air. There was silence again, a tolerably If you do fight Slater, Hardinge, I prolonged silence. While it lasted, a should certainly commence by giving the change seemed to be passing over the chaplain a punch in the eye. chief actors in the scene. They seemed So saying, the governor leaned back in to be awaking, with more or less rapidity, THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. 95 to the fact that a certain incongruity char- acterized their actions and their language. There stood Warder Slater, apparently surprised and overwhelmed at the discov- ery that his hat and coat were off, and his shirt-sleeves tucked up above his elbows. The ch.c~f warder, with the empty pail in his hand, presented a really ludicrous picture of amazement. He seemed quite unable to realize the fact that he had thrown the contents over the chaplain. The inspectors surprise appeared to be no less on finding that, in his pugilistic ardor, he had torn off his coat, and knocked the chaplain down. The doctor, support- ing him in the rear, seemed to be taken a little aback. The governor, smoothing his hair with his hand, seemed to be in a hopeless mist. It was the chaplain, who rose from the floor with his handkerchief to his nose, who brought it home to them that the scene which had just transpired had not been the grotesque imaginings of some waking dream. I call you to witness that Major Har- dinge has struck me to the ground, and the chief warder has thrown on rae a pail of water. What conduct may be expected from ignorant criminals when such is the behavior of those who are in charge of them, must be left for others to judge. They looked at one another. Their feelings were momentarily too deep for words. I think, suggested the governor, with quavering intonation, I think that this man had betterbe taken away. Warder Slater picked up his hat and coat, and left the room, Mankell walking quietly beside him. Mr. Murray followed after, seeming particularly anxious to con- ceal the presence of the pail. Mr. Hew- ett, still stanching the blood which flowed from his nose, fixed his eyes on the in- spector. Major Hardinge, if, twenty.four hours after this, you are still an inspector of prisons, all England shall ring with your shame. Behind bureaucracy above it is the English press. The chaplain moved towards the door. On the thresh- old he paused. As for the~chief warder, I shall commence by indicting him for as- sault. He took another step, and paused again. Nor shall I forget that the gov- ernor aided and abetted the inspector, and that the doctor egged him on. Then the chaplain disappeared. His disappearance was followed by ~vhat might be described as an abject silence. The governor eyed his colleagues furtively. At last he stammered out a question. Well major, what do you think of this? The major sank into a chair, expressing his thoughts by a gasp. Mr. Paley turned his attention to the doctor. What do you say, doctor? I say ? I say nothing. I suppose, murmured the major, in what seemed to be the ghost of his natural voice, that I did knock him down? The doctor seemed to have something to say on that point, at any rate. Knock him down ! I should think you did! Like a log of wood! The major glanced at the governor. Mr. Paley shook his head. The major groaned. The governor began to be a little agitated. Something must be done. It is out of the question that such a scandal should be allowed to go out into the world. I do not hesitate to say that if the chaplain sends in to the commissioners the report which he threatens to send, the situation will be to the last degree unpleasant for all of us. The point is, observed the doctor, are we, collectively and individually, subject to periodical attacks of temporary insanity. Speaking for myself, I should say certainly not. Dr. Livermore turned on the governor. Then perhaps you will suggest a hy- pothesis which will reasonably account for what has just occurred. The gov- ernor was silent. Unless you are pre- pared to seek for a cause in the regions of phenomena. Supposing, murmured the major, there is such a thing as witchcraft after all? We should have the Psychical Re- search Society down on us, if we had nobody else, if we appended our names to a confession of faith. The doctor thrust his thumbs into his waistcoat arm-holes. And I should lose every patient I have. There was a tapping at the door. In response to the governors invitation, the chief warder entered. In general there was in Mr. Murrays bearing a not distant suggestion of an inflated bantam-cock or pouter-pigeon. It was curious to observe how anything in the shape of inflation was absent now. He touched his hat as he addressed the governor, his honest, rubicund, somewhat pugnacious face, elo- quent of the weight that was on his mind. Excuse me, sir. I said he was a witch. Your saying that he was a witch or wizard, remarked the governor dryly, 96 THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. will not, I fear, be sufficient excuse, in other prison at the earliest possible mo- the eyes of the commissioners, for your ment. throwing a pail of water over the chap- He shall be transferred to-morrow,~~ lain. affirmed the major. If there is anything But a mans not answerable for what in Mr. Hewetts suggestion, the fellow he does when hes bewitched, persisted shall have a chance to prove it in the chief warder, with characteristic stur- some other jail. Oh, good Lord! Dont diness. Hes killing me! Helpp 1 It is exactly that reflection which has Hardinge! exclaimed the doctor; constrained me to return. whats the matter now? They looked up. There was the chap. There seemed to be something the mat- lain standing in the doorstill with his ter. The major had been delivering him. handkerchief to his nose. self in his most pompously official manner. Mr. Murray, you threw a pail of water Suddenly he put his hands to the pit of over me. If you assert that you did it his stomach, and began to cry out as if under the influence of witchcraft, I, who in an ectasy of pain, his official manner have myself been under a spell, am willing altogether gone. to excuse you. Hell murder me ! I know he will ! Mr. Hewett, sir, you yourself know I Murder you? Who? was bewitched. Mankelh I do; as I believe it of myself. Mur- Oddly enough, I too was conscious of ray, give me your hand. The chaplain a very curious sensation. and the chief warder solemnly shook As he said this, the governor wiped the hands. There is an end of the matter cold dew of perspiration from his brow. as it concerns us two. Major Hardinge, He seemed unnaturally white. As he ad- do I understand you to assert that you justed his spectacles, there was an odd too were under the influence of witch- tremulous appearance about his eyes. craft? It was because you spoke of transfer- This was rather a delicate inquiry to ring him to some other jail. The chap- address to the major. Apparently the lains tone was solemn. He dislikes the major seemed to find it so. idea of being trifled ~vith I dont know about witchcraft, he The major resented the suggestion. growled; but I am prepared to take my Trifled with? He seems uncommonly oath in any court in England that I had fond of trifling with other peqple. Con- no more intention of striking you than I found the man! Ohh! had of striking the moon. The major sprang from the floor with That is sufficient, Major Hardinge. I an exclamation which amounted to a posi- forgive you from my heart. Perhaps you tive yell. They looked each other in the too will take my hand. face. Each man seemed a little paler than The major took it, rather awkwardly, his wont. much more awkwardly than the chief Something must be done, the gov- warder had done. When the chaplain re- ernor gasped. linquished it, he turned aside, and picking The chaplain made a proposition. up his coat, began to put it on, scarcely I propose that we summon him into with that air of dignity which is proper to our presence, and inquire of him what he a prison inspector, wishes us to do. I presume, continued Mr. Hewett, The proposition was not received with that we all allow that what has occurred acclamation. They probably felt that a has been owing to the malign influence of certain amount of complication might be the man Oliver Mankell ? expected to ensue if such inquiries began There was silence. Apparently they to be addressed to prisoners. did not all allow it even yet; it was a pill I think Ill go my rounds, observed to swallow, the doctor. This matter scarcely con- Hypnotism, muttered the doctor, half cerns me. I wish you gentlemen well out aside. of it. Hypnotism! I believe that the word He reached out his hand to take his simply expresses some sort of mesmeric hat, which he had placed upon a chair. power hardly a sufficient explanation in As he did so, the hat disappeared, and a the present case. small brown terrier dog appeared in its I would suggest, Major Hardinge, in- place. The dog barked viciously at the terposed the governor, all theorizing outstretched hand. The doctor started aside, that the man be transferred to an- back just in time to escape its teeth. The THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. dog disappeared there was the hat again. The appearance was but momen- tary, but it was none the less suggestive on that account. The doctor seemed par- ticularly affected. We must have all been drinking, if we are taking to seeing things, he cried. I think, suggested the chaplain, al- most in a whisper, that we had better inquire what it is he wishes us to do. There was silence. We ~ve have all clear consciences. There there is no reason why we should be afraid. Were were not afraid, gasped the governor. I I dont think you are en- titled to infer such a thincr The major stammeringly supported him. Of of course we were not afraid. The the idea is preposterously ab- surd. Still, said the doctor, a man doesnt care to have hanky-panky tricks played with a mans top hat. There was a pause of considerable duration. It was again broken by the chaplain. Dont you think, Mr. Paley, that we had better send for this man? Appar- ently Mr. Paley did. Murray, he said, go and see that l~ is sent here. Mr. Murray went, not too willingly still he went. Iv. OLIVER MANKELL was again in the charge of Warder Slater. Warder Slater looked very queer indeed, he actually seemed to have lost in bulk. The same phenomenon was observable in the chief warder, who followed close upon the pris- oner s heels. Mankell seemed, as ever, completelyat his ease. There was again a suspicion of a smile in his eyes and about the corners of his lips. His bearing was in striking contrast to that of the officials. His self- possession in the presence of their evident uneasiness gave him the appearance, in a sense, of being a giant among pigmies; yet the major, at least, was in every way a bigger man than he was. There was silence as he entered, a continuation of that silence which had prevailed until he came. The governor fumbled with a paper-knife which was in front of him. The inspector, leaning forward in his chair, seemed en- grossed by his boots. The doctor kept glancing, perhaps unconsciously, at his hat. The chaplain, though conspicuously LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXI. 3647 97 uneasy, seemed to have his wits about him most. It was he who, temporarily usurping the governors functions, ad- dressed the prisoner. Your name is Oliver Mankell? The prisoner merely smiled. You are sen- tenced to three months hard labor? The prisoner smiled again. For for pretending to tell fortunes? The smile became pronounced. The chaplain cleared his throat. Oliver Mankell, I am a cler- gyman. I know that there are such things as good and evil. I know that, for causes which are hidden from me, the Almighty may permit evil to take visible shape and walk abroad upon the earth; but I also know that, though evil may destroy my body, it cannot destroy my soul. The chaplain pulled up. His words and manner, though evidently sincere, were not particularly impressive. While they evidently had the effect of increasing his colleagues uneasiness, they only had the effect of enlarging the prisoners smile. When he was about to continue the gov- ernor interposed. I think, Mr Hewett, if you will per. mit me. Mankell, I am not a clergyman. The prisoners smile almost degenerated into a grin. I have sent for you, for the second time this morning, to ask you frankly if you have any reason to complain of your treatment here? The prisoner stretched out his hands with his familiar gesture. Have you any complaint to make? Is there anything, within the range of the prison rules, you would wish me to do for you? Again the hands went out. Then tell me, quite candidly, what is the cause of your behavior? When the governor ceased, the prisoner seemed to be resolving in his mind what answer he should make. Then, inclining his head with that almost saturnine grace, if one may coin a phrase, which seemed to accompany every movement he made, Sir, what have I done? he asked. Eh eh we we wont dwell upon that. The the question is, What did you do it for? It is perhaps within your recollection, sir, that I have my reputation to redeem, my character to reinstate. Your character? What do you mean? In the first interview with which you favored me, I ventured to observe that it would be my endeavor, during my sojourn within these walls, to act upon the advice the magistrate tendered me. What the governor rather faltered what advice was that? 98 THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. He said I claimed to be a magician. He advised me, for my characters sake, to prove it during my sojourn here. I see. And and youre trying to prove it for your characters sake? For my characters sake! But I am but beginning, you perceive. Oh, youre but beginning! You call this but beginning, do you? May I ask if you have any intention of going on? Oh, sir, I have still nearly the whole three months in front of me! Until my term expires I shall go on, with gathering strength, unto the end. As he said this Mankell drew himself up in such a way that it almost seemed as though some inches were added to his stature. You will, will you? Well, you seem to be a pleasant kind of man! The crit- icism seemed to have been extracted from the governor almost against his will. He looked round upon his colleagues with what could only be described as a ghastly grin. Have you any objection, Mankell, to being transferred to another prison? Sir! the prisoners vc.ice rang out, and his hearers started perceptibly. Perhaps that was because their nerves were already so disorganized. It is here I was sent, it is here I must remain until the end. The governor took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. I am bound to tell you, Mankell, judg- ing from the experiences of the last two days, if this sort of thing is to continue with gathering strength ! the end will not be long. The prisoner seemed lost in reflection. The officials seemed lost in reflection too; but their reflections were probably of a different kind. There is one suggestion I might offer. Lets have it by all means. We have reached a point at which we shall be glad to receive any suggestion from you. You might give me a testimonial. Give you what? You might give me a testimonial. The governor looked at the prisoner, then at his friends. A, testimonial! Might we, indeed! What sort of testimonial do you allude to? You might testify that I had regained my reputation, redeemed my character, that I had proved to your entire satisfac- tion that I was the magician I claimed to be. The governor leaned back in his seat. Your suggestion has at least the force of novelty. I should like to search the registers of remarkable cases, to know if such an application has ever been made to the governor of an English jail before. What do you say, Hardinge? The major shuffled in his chair. I I think I must return to to~vn. The prisoner smiled. The major winced. That that fellows pinned me to my chair, he gasped. He appeared to be making futile efforts to rise from his seat. You cannot return to town. Dismiss the idea from your mind. The major only groaned. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. The governor looked up from the paper-knife with which he was again trifling. Am I to understand that the testimo- nial is to take the shape of a voluntary offerina? Oh, sir! Of what value is a testimo- nial which is not voluntary? Quite so. How do you suggest it should be worded? May I ask you for paper, pens, and ink? The prisoner bent over the table and wrote on the paper which was handed him. What he had written he passed to the governor. Mr. Paley found inscribed, i~ a beautifully fair round hand, as clear as copperplate, the following testimo- nial: The undersigned persons present their compliments to Colonel Gregory. Oliver Mankell, sentenced by Colonel Gregory to three months hard labor, has been in Canterstone Jail two days. That short space of time has, however, convinced them that Colonel Gregory acted wrongly in distrusting his magic powers, and so casting a stain upon his character. This is to testify that he has proved, to the entire satisfaction of the undersigned in- spector of prisons and officials of Canter- stone Jail, that he is a magician of quite the highest class The. signatures of all those present should be placed at the bottom, observed the prisoner, as the governor was reading the testimonial. Apparently at a loss for words with which to comment upon the paper he had read, the governor handed it to the in- spector. The major shrunk from taking it. I Id rather not, he mumbled. I think youd better read it, said the governor. Thus urged, the major did read it. Good Lord! he gasped, and passed it to the doctor. THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN CANTERSTONE JAIL. The doctor silently, having read it, passed it to the chaplain. I will read it aloud, said Mr. Hewett. He did so for the benefit, probably, of Slater and Mr. Murray. Supposing we were to sign that docu- ment, what would you propose to do with it? inquired the governor. I should convey it to Colonel Greg- ory. Indeed! In that case he would have as high an opinion of our characters as of yours. And yourself, what sort of action might we expect from you? I should go. The governors jaw dropped. Go? Oh, would you! My character regained, for what have Ito stop? Exactly. What have you? Theres that point of view, no doubt. Well, Man. kell, we will think the matter over. The prisoner dropped his hands to his sides, looking the governor steadily in the face. Sir, I conceive that answer to convey a negative. The proposition thus refused will not be made again. It only remains for me to continue earnestly my endeavors to retrieve my character until the three months are at an end. The chaplain was holding the testimo- nial loosely between his finger and thumb. Stretching out his arm, Mankell pointed at it with his hand. It was immediately in flames. The ch~plain releasing it, it was consumed to ashes before it reached the floor. Returning to face the governor again, the prisoner laid his right hand, palm downwards, on the table: Spirits of the air, in whose presence I now stand, I ask you if I am not justified in whatever I may do? His voice was very musical. His up- turned eyes seemed to pierce through the ceiling to what there was beyond. The room grew darker. There was a rumbling in the air. The ground began to shake. The chaplain, who was caressing the hand which had been scorched by the flames, burst out with what was for him a pas- sionate appeal, Mr. Mankell, you are over hasty. I was about to explain that I should esteem it quite an honor to sign your testimonial. ~ So should Iupon my soul, I should! declared the major. Theres nothing I wouldnt do to oblige you, Mr. Mankell, stammered the chief warder. Same ere! cried Warder Slater. You really are too rapid in arriving at 99 conclusions, Mr. Mankell, remarked the governor. I do beg you will not sup- pose there was any negative intention. The darkness, the rumbling, and the shaking ceased as suddenly as they began. The prisoner smiled. Perhaps I was too hasty, he con- fessed. It is an error which can easily be rectified. He raised his hand. A piece of paper fluttered from the ceiling. It fell upon the table. It was the testimonial. Your signature, Major Hardinge, should head the list. I I Id rather somebody else signed first. That would never do; it is for you to lead the van. You are free to leave your seat. The major left his seat, apparently not rejoicing in his freedom. He wrote Wil- liam Hardinge in great sprawling char- acters. Add Inspector of Prisons.~~~ The major added Inspector of Pris- ons, with a very rueful countenance. Mr. Paley, it is your turn. Mr. Paley took his turn, with a really tolerable imitation of being both ready and willing.. Acting on the hint which had been given the major, he added Gov- ernor of his own accord. Now, doctor, it is you. The doctor thrust his hands into his trousers pockets. Ill sign, if youll tell me how it is done. Tell you how it is done? How what is done? How you do that hanky-panky, of course. Hanky-panky! The prisoner drew himself straight up. Is it possible that you suspect me of hanky-panky? Yes, sir, I will show you how its done. If you wish it, you shall be torn asunder where you stand. Thank you, you neednt trouble. Ill sign. He signed. When the chaplain had signed, he shook his head and sighed. I always placed a literal interpretation on the twenty-eighth chapter of the first book of Samuel. It is singular how my faith is justified! The chief warder placed his spectacles upon his nose, where they seemed uneasy, and made quite a business of signing. And such was Warder Slaters agitation, that he could scarcely sign at all. But at last the testimonial was complete. The prisoner smiled as he carefully folded it in two. zoo A VISIT TO A GREAT ESTATE. I will convey it to Colonel Gregory, tion of Norway which, after depopulation he said. It is a gratification to me to by the black death or plague, had re- have been able to retrieve my character lapsed for a great number of years into in so short a space of time. an wholly uninhabited and forgotten wil- They watched him a little spell-bound, derness, tenanted only by game and wild perhaps; and as they watched him, even beasts, and had been bought by a company before their eyes behold, he was gone I that had little or no knowledge of its in- RICHARD MARSH. tenor or capabilities. These paragraphs found their way into the Norwegian press; were copied, not without sarcastic editorial comment, into the minor local journals that somehow contrive to penetrate to the From The Fortnightly Review, remotest corners of the most secluded A VISIT TO A GREAT ESTATE. glens, and confronted us in all their ab I BELIEVE that Norway is generally re- surdity in the comfortable dwellings of the garded as being the country,pare~rCellenCe, extinet population, as well as in the luxu- of small proprietors, and that it is about rious villa-hotels of the company whose the last place where most people would foremost pioneers we were represented to think of looking for a great estate; that is be! to say, a freehold estate of immense ex- I feel sure that the sympathetic reader tent, on which all the residents are tenants who realizes the awkward comicality of of the owner; for I do not use the term this position will pardon at the outset my great in relation to productiveness or digressive repudiation of the idea that we revenue, but merely to size. And yet claimed to be a couple of Scandinavian there in that kingdom territorial holdings Stanleys. But although the notion of se- as extensive as any to be found elsewhere rious exploration and discovery in north- in Europe, with titles of considerable an- em Europe is nowadays absurd, I take it tiquity transmitted through families which, that some interest attaches to any portion although powerful and wealthy under the of the earths surface ~vhere it is possible old Danish rule, have in many cases be- to meet a middle-aged or elderly person come extinct and forgotten. To such an who has never seen an Englishman be- estate, the subject of several vicissitudes, I fore; and such a person, a respectable had the good fortune to pay a visit last year. female peasant, whose character for verac- I say the good fortune, because it proved ity has never, to my knowledge, been im- to be a region of exceptionally fine and peached, did I meet, as shall be duly occasionally magnificent scenery, never recorded in its place, on the shores of the commonplace, and of great variety; with great lake, R6svand. solemn, sequestered vales brightened here I must formally introduce the scene of and there by homestead and clearing, and our holiday ramble. The so-called Vefsen gleams of purely pastoral life; with vast, estate of the North of Europe Land Coin- utterly desolate tracts of forest and fjeld; pany is a tract of country lying between grand mountain masses, snowfields, and latitudes 6~ and 660, the lines of ~vhich glaciers; noble rivers and sheets of water; just contain it. Its lower boundary almost in short, with all physical features to de- coincides with that of the amt or prov- light the eye of a lover of nature and a ince of Nordland; its northernmost point sportsman. It had the charm, moreover, is abOut thirty English miles short of the of being all but unknown to compatriots Arctic circle. At its widest, the southern who might claim to be either the one or portion stretches from the mountain fron- the other, and altogether so to the tourist tier line of Sweden to within a moderate pure and simple. During my visit I con- distance of the extremity of the narrow sidered myself as the representative of all fjords on the coast. It embraces the heart three classes, and as such I propose to of the romantic district of Helgeland, the give a sketch of my tripartite experiences. Halogaland of very ancient history, home The one character which I must decline of giants, witches, vikings, and heroes of to assume is that of the genuine explorer, great renown in their day, but whose do- I am obliged to make this apparently su- ings, fabulous and otherwise, do not for perfluous statement in consequence of the present concern us, and are they not some very misleading paragraphs which written in the chronicles of the kings of appeared last summer in some of the daily Norway? For obvious reasons these good and weekly papers, representing that I and people preferred to live as near the sea- my companion, Mr. J. Y. Sargent, were board as possible, and up-country one engaged in an official exploration of a por- meets with few traces of their remote ex A VISIT TO A GREAT ESTATE. of istence. The area of this property is, roughly speaking, some two thousand square miles, or say, thirteen hundred thousand acres. It lies in the parishes of Vefsen and Hatfjelddal, and the bailiwicks of northern and southern Helgeland. I have found it strangely difficult to obtain information about its early modern his- tory. There seems to be no doubt as to its having been inhabited by a race of or- dinary mortals before the appearance of the Sorted6d or black death in Nor- way, and that by that dreadful pestilence it was quite depopulated all the inhabi- tants perished or fled. But at the coin- mencement of the eighteenth century settlers, probably the descendants of the survivors, began to return, until the land was again spars ely inhabited. How or why or at what exact date this enormous region became private freehold property, I have, despite many inquiries, failed as yet to ascertain, but still hope to solve the interesting mystery; it was probably, like other great Nordland estates, a grant from the crown, under the Danish rule. I have, however, been informed that in 1865 it was- purchased by a syndicate from the representative of the family which had then obtained possession of it. With its immense forests, it must have been origi- nally a valuable property, and for many years undoubtedly yielded an enormous supply of timber, floated down to the port of Mosj~en on the Vefsen Fjord. The decaying lumber-dams which the ~van- derer finds at the head of every mountain stream and the outlet of every lake, and the moss-grown stumps of the great pine- trees, are now the sole remaining evi- dences of this period, for the kindly birch has sprung up luxuriantly and concealed the ravages of the axe, and but for these few signs the existing woodlands, dense, silent, and universal, might well be ac- cepted as the primeval growth. So rapid and complete has been the repair of nature and of time. The substitution of birchen for pine forest must have radically altered the whole aspect of the country, and the ex- change has probably worked greatly to the advantage of the scenery. The pine, of course, still exists, and in the lapse of years may in some measure reassert its sway, but for the present the lady of the woods is dominant. Now there is a certain majesty about an unbroken pine forest, but it is apt to become monotonous and gloomy; whereas a rolling woodland of birch, with pine interspersed here and there, imparts to scenery like that of Vef sen a peculiar tenderness, which the noble backgrounds of crag and snow and stern moorland prevent from degenerating into tameness. Moreover, there is no tree of northern climes that margins water so beautifully as the birch, with its delicate, pendant verdure and pearly stem; and when the sere foliage burns before death into all the hues of a golden sunset, the beauty, in reality and reflection, becomes a double splendor. When there was no longer any pine timber to cut, and mining operations had proved a failure, the property was again dealt ~vith more than once, and passed eventually into the hands of the present North of Europe Land Company, which has built in admirably chosen positions two villa-hotels, those of Svenningdal and Fjeldb~kmo, and made nearly up to the former an excellent road, a branch one to the single government highway that winds across the centre of the estate, and con- nects Mosjden on the coast with the inland village, church, and post-office of Hat- fjelddal. This highway was not completed, I believe, until l)ast the middle of the pres- ent century. Up to that time the inhab- itants were, or had to be, content with bridle-paths or rough cart-tracks as lines of communication. The lateral valleys still possess only these aboriginal thor- oughfares, and the great lake, R~svand, the glory of 1-lelgeland, is approachable only by mere trails through the forest or across the fjeld. I was nearly heading this article R6s- vand. That magnificent lake, within little more than a weeks continuous travel from England, in the heart of tourist-beridden Norway, and yet fenced off to this day from the outer ~vorld by its belt of wilder- ness; sustaining on its banks a scanty tribe of primitive settlers, beyond the bounds of the penny or twopenny-half- penny post; with its waters full of fish, with its birch-copses and hillsides afford~ ing just the sport which most delights me as a wild shooter that lake, I say, so fascinated me that I should like to write of nothing else. But if my heart be really there, justice and gratitude demand that I should not altogether pass over the at- tractions, and they were many, of the more easily accessible and more civilized local- ities which we visited. Let me, by the way, first explain how you reach the Vef. sen estate. Two days after leaving Trond hjem the northward-bound steamer lands one at the pleasant and picturesque town- let of Mosj6en, on the Vefsen Fjord, where the great clear-green salmon river of that 102 A VISIT TO A GREAT ESTATE. name comes rolling to the sea. From pellucid atmosphere, distant spots would Mosj6en it is a very long days carriole suddenly reveal themselves in the recesses drive through fine scenery to the boat- of the hills with startling clearness and house at the foot of the lowest Svenning- beauty, and make one long for wings to fly dal lake. There the private branch road to them. I remember in particular one ends, and thence by boat or a pathway far-off snow-field traversed by a thin, ser- along the banks one can arrive in an hour pentine ridge of dark rock showing like a at the new villa. As the houses have black pencil mark across a sheet of white this ~~yle in the companys map, I have paper, and on that ridge at a certain witch- retained it throughout the article, despite ing hour every evening I earnestly desired its cockney and suburban sound. to be; and yet, as my friends sagely urged, But as we had with us two carts full of could my desire have been realized on the stores and baggage, including a tent and instant, I should have been extremely un- beds, we halted for the night at the station comfortable, and wished myself back again of Felling Fos, and the next morning in- with even greater fervor. This will, how- spected the recently constructed salmon- ever, illustrate the insane yearnings which ladder, one of the three ~vhereby it is hoped the spirit of the Northland may excite that the fish will eventually find their way even in an elderly tourist. For I may not to the upper waters in sufficient numbers forget that I had also this character to to constitute a real fishery. For between sustain. Perhaps the reader in his inno- this point and the sea considerable water- cence may imagine that to support my falls have thrice to be surmounted. From self-imposed triple personification was Felling Fos to the boundary of the estate mere childs play. I can assure him sol- is a short mile, including the passage of emnly to the contrary. The throes of one the broad, deep Susen River which comes poor soul under the influence of threefold down from the interior to join the Vefsen, antagonistic promptings are no trifle. by a ferry -boat swinging on a rope Take thine ease on this mossy bank, stretched from bank to bank. At the ~vould whisper the Admirer within me; pleasant farm of Bogfjeldmo, just beyond smoke thy pipe in the sun, and worship the ferry and above all the ladders, the the beauty of nature. Mark the dimple company is constructing an artificial breed- of the rising fish and the silver wake of ing-place for salmon. Time only can prove the wild fowl on the dark reflections of the success of these experiments. 1-lere the lake; rest and be happy. And then comfortable quarters can be obtained, and would come the stern internal retort of the capture of any number of small trout the Sportsman: Admire nothing I Up, with the fly, and the chance of a few big- and be doing; trudge with rod and creel ger ones with spoon or minnow, may serve to the distant mountain-tarn, scale yonder as amusement for a day or two. grey crag to the home of the ptarmigan, It would be perhaps difficult to find in track the elk laboriously through yonder all Scotland, that land of pleasant sporting forest. And to them the Tourist: Peace, quarters, a box or lodge more beautifully both of ye; my good sir, take my advice, situated than Svenningdal Villa, on a rise let Peter row you up the lake to see the just above the dam which divides the ~vaterfall, forget not lunch and a sketch- upper and lower lakes of that name; and book, and be sure to return in good time certainly nowhere in Scotland could be for dinner. And it fell out that each of found anything to equal the range of snow- the trio had their way with me in turn. clad fjelds which face it on the opposite The Tourist revelled in the timber-halls of side of the lake. From the summit of the Svenningdal. The establishment was in neighboring hills it is the only human working order; it was beginning to feel habitation visible, and on approaching one its way as a holiday resort. There had is truly astonished to find this charming actually been visitors before us, including house, contrary to all ones experience, in ladies, that sur~mer. There were at least the midst of a Norwegian wilderness. In a couple more during our stay, but both my r6le as a lover of nature I could be in a somewhat official capacity as inspec- enthusiastic over the grand views from tors of telegraphs. Mr. Dahl, H.B.M.s the broad balcony, or rather wooden ter- vice-consul, the courteous and hospitable race, which runs round the building, and agent of the company, came up from Mos- the glorious effects of changing light j~en with his daughter. A resident house- among the mountains and on the lake, keeper and cook supplied us with dainty especially during the bright calm of a meals at fixed hours; we filled the flowing Norwegian summer night. Under these bowl as often as we pleased; boats and changes and by reason of the excessively boatmen were at our beck and call. Nor A VISIT TO A GREAT ESTATE. 103 ~vere there lacking other luxuries, and re- quirernents of civilized life, and all this in the heart of Helgeland I Shades of grim, old heroes! Of Eyvind Skaldespiller, Bj6rgulf, and Kveldulfson! what thought ye of these doings in your ancient realm? of hip-baths, a billiard-table, the telephone, and a visitors book? But it is high time that the Sportsman had an innings. It would give me great satisfaction to learn that the vast extent of attractive water above the ladders had become well stocked with salmon, but as I have already suggested, tinie alone can prove the success of the companys experi- ments. Meanwhile the trout-fishing in the Svenningdal lakes, in their short, con- necting streams, and for a considerable distance down the river below the boat- house, is excellent, above the standard of most waters in other lands. After many years experience of Scandinavian trout- fishing, one is rather apt to become fastid- ious, to form exalted notions of what it ought always to be, and to underrate that which fills novices in Norway with sur- prise and delight. But I think that any trout fisher, even with a tendency to be blasi, would be well satisfied with the sport to be obtained amid the beautiful surroundings of Svenningdal. The lakes and rivers are full of fish, which vary in weightI am here speak- ing of our own experience with the fly from half a pound and under to two pounds and over, a good proportion of those we took inclining to the larger size. The river, especially where it issues from the lowest lake, is for some distance down the pattern of a trout stream. I find, from my diary, that on July 12th we fished by boat down the two lower lakes, and waded half a mile of the final river with the result of sixty-nine trout weighing forty pounds. This is a fair sample of the sport, but owing to the earliness of the 1889 season in Norway, we were too late for the cream of the fishing. The boatman told me that a previous visitor in June, a fortnight before our arrival, had taken one morning twenty-three trout with the fly at the ex- treme upper end of the lake, where the stream from Kj~erringvand enters it, all as big as or bigger than our largest. This would represent an average of not less than two pounds. The Svenningdal trout are as brilliant, as game, as pink in flesh, and as delicious to eat as those of my Swedish fishery, and I cannot say more. One is apt to lower the average by keep- ing too many plump half-pounders. There are certainly much heavier fish in the lakes than any I have mentioned, which might be taken by spinning; but as long as decent sport can be obtained with the fly, neither I nor my friend much care to use any other lure. It is, perhaps, needless to say that in a region such as I am describing, there are to be found in every direction mountain lakelets and streams, and that an exDe- dition to these lonely waters is always productive of great enjoyment, if some- times of little sport. I believe that by permission of and arrangement with the company, anyone ~vith a taste for this kind of healthy recreation, might pass several summer weeks very pleasantly at Sven- ningdal, ~vhich is, taking it altogether, one of the most attractive spots I have seen. I do not think that I am violating any confi- dence in stating that it is the present de- sign of the proprietors to mark out, and, if possible, obtain tenants for sporting tracts, which shall include both fishing and shoot- ing, and that meanwhile arrangements are being made to receive a limited number of visitors on application, at a fixed charge per day. I have space for a sketch of one only of our various expeditions from Svenningdal, that to the source of the Holmvas River, which comes in a broad stream of greenish water down a narrow dale parallel to the lakes, and separated from them by a single ridge. It issues from a tarn which lies far away under the snow-capped fjelds of the southern horizon. Our party con- sisted of four, Mr. Dahl, my friends Sar- gent and Wingfield, both of whom I have introduced to the reader in previous arti- cles, and myself, besides the driver of a hay-sleigh, on which were packed our rods and tackle and some provisions, both solid and liquid. The runners of such a vehicle will pass over ground of almost any kind, however rough. A light boat had been gent up by the same means some days before. The distance proved to be really too great for a single days trout-fishing; nearly eight hours, including the row from the house to the end of the lake; were consumed in going and returning. We started before 7 A.M., and did not get home again until the small hours of the next morning. Directly after leaving the boat we struck up the hillside to gain the level of the river above its waterfall. In turn- ing aside to see the latter, I became sepa- rated from my companions until we were close upon Holmvand, the tarn to which we were bound. With the thunder of the fall in my ears, I had nevertheless consid- erable difficulty in finding the terrible 104 A VISIT TO A GREAT ESTATE. black chasm, about a hundred feet in depth, into which the river plunges, so narrow was the abyss, so encompassed by overhanging rocks, so shrouded in thick- ets of birch. To obtaii~ a complete view of the fallseemed impossible. The body of water was large, and in any country except Norway it would be considered a lion; it may, indeed, yet do duty as one. I then followed for about four miles the glen through which the now placid river ran over a stretch of nearly flat nat- ural mountain meadow, flanked on either hand by steep hillsides, the one wooded, the other barren and running up to splin- tered crags. More delightful walking, more fascinating scenery of its kind can- not be imagined. The sky was blue, the sun shone warmly, the river, broken now and then by a gentle cascade, glanced and gurgled betw& en its fringes of willow and alder, and I had the whole place to myself. The Admirer was for awhile mas- ter of the situation. But a covey of well- grown willow-grouse, springing from a patch of brushwood, brought the Sports- man up like a Jackin-the-box, and under the influence of a second covey at no great distance, and the track of a big bull elk which had crossed the valley, he got the better of his rival. His victory was com- plete ~vhen, in climbing the hillside to obtain, if possible, a view of the tarn, I came upon a young elk, a three-year-old bull, feeding away from me in a grove of birch, and got within forty yards before he heard me and made off. And now from the quantity of spoor, which included that of cows and calves, I became aware that this secluded glen was the constant resort of several elk. Half an hour after- wards I again saw a young bull staring at me from the opposite side of a ravine. In the ravine itself I found the fresh signs of a bear. At this point the Admirer col- lapsed altogether, and did not revive for some hours. I may observe that the Tourist was nowhere during the whole day. Arrived at the open fjeld and within sight of the tarn, I sat down by a tempt- ing spring to refresh myself with whiskey and water, and to watch with the glass the gyrations of a pair of eagles round a lofty crag, where they probably had their nest and young. Here I was hailed by Wing- field, who appeared on the sky-line behind me, and together ~ve descended the last slope and arrived at the tarn, ~vhere we were soon joined by the rest of the party. The lie of Holmvand, in a hollow beneath wild, snow-patched fjelds, and bordered by pleasant green knolls and birch copses, is very striking. I did not see any place where I would sooner camp for a week, to give the lake and the river which issues from it a fair trial, or to explore the neigh- borhood for game. Having made bold to suggest to Mr. Dahl that, considering the beauty of the place and the distance from Svenninodal some kind of refuge for the sportsman was a desideratum, I have since been glad to learn that he contemplated erecting a ~vooden hut on its banks. The mosquitoes in the evening were very trou- blesome. Near snow they always are; and although after some years experience one becomes inoculated by their venom and almost callous to their attacks, still, I think that to sleep out at Holmvand with. out shelter of any kind would have been somewhat of a trial. The lake is said to contain very large trout, an inspector of telegraphs having reported his capture, whilst there en- camped, of a thirteen-pounds fish, and of others of unusual size taken with the worm. We were not so fortunate. Dur- ing a long and patient trial in the lake with spinning-bait and fly, we had not a single run or rise. Ihe day was bright and hot, and owing to the long distance from Svenningdal we were not able to try either the morning or evening fishing, or we might have done better. We then fished very carefully some likely water in the river, a beautiful stream, where, had there been any ordinary brown trout, I think they must have risen, but still without success. In the end we were on the point of giving it up, when I detected an almost invisible rise just where the current leaves the lake, and casting over it caught a trout of a pound, and shortly after another half a pound heavier. The brace, which repre- sented all our sport, proved at least the existence of fish, and moreover of fish of a very remarkable character. They were perfectly silvery, without any spots ; had I not known it to be impossible, I should have pronounced them at the first sight to be sea-trout. I regret extremely that we were not able to pay another visit to Holm- vand. With favorable weather it is likely that good sport might be obtained amongst a certainly uncommon class of trout, and a few days spent there would be in many ways enjoyable. As it was, we lighted a fire and cooked our dinner; and the Ad- mirer finding the Sportsman more or less of a failure, began to pluck up spirit again. During the meal, a second slice of ava- lanche fell from a huge mass of snow that had collected in the hollow of one of the A VISIT TO A GREAT ESTATE. 105 surrounding crags. The first instalment, of much greater size, had startled me with its sudden roar, like that of thunder, dur- ing my walk up the glen. It seemed in- credible that the white, soft-looking masses could produce such portentous sound by merely slipping and rolling over each other; but they probably represented a weight of some thousands of tons. Only two small trout! exclaims the reader. Well, I confess that it seems a poor result after so long a story; but then that is not the way in which I myself reckon the total of the day. I do it in this fashion: grand scenery, glorious weather, delightful ~valk; one waterfall, one ava- lanche, two elk, a brace of eagles, a score of ryper, and two small trout (I omit the innumerable sundries). The last item forms the positive or material, the re- mainder the ideal or spiritual baa- and believe me, had the one been twentyfold bigger, in memory and interest it would scarcely endure as long as the other. And if, as may ~vell be, there are some who do not incline to this way of thinking, I would respectfully counsel them to avoid for. ever all wild, out-of-the-way, and unprofit. able regions, and stick to the cut-and- dried sport and guaranteed totals of their native land. Satiated with the luxurious ease of Svenningdal, broken only by such outings as that just described, we engaged for our complex baggage two carts and horses by the day for an indefinite time, and started for R6svand. Our first stage, however, was not a long one. We drove to the other villa, Fjeldb~kmo, pleasantly situ- ated by the side of the government road and on the bank of the Susen River, which flows below it through a deep, rocky, and somewhat gloomy gorge. There was no one resident in the house, but Mr. Dahl entrusted us with the keys, including those of the store-room and cellar, and we helped ourselves. The principal occupa- tion of Fjeldb~kmo itself we found to be the chase of the wild strawberry; the river, in default of a boat, being impossi- ble to the angler, who cannot make his way at any point for twenty yards along the bank or reach the water. It contains a certain number of good-sized trout. Never in my life have I seen such an in- credible profusion of delicious little fruit as on the warm, rocky banks behind Fjeldb~kmo. The ground, in places, was red with them; one had to eat away a clear space before settling down to gorge at ease, and for miles even along the road- side, up tQ a certain level, the ruddy line of berries was conspicuous, as also was the greediness of the Tourist, who came to the front for the last time during our stay in Vefsen. Here, to our regret, we parted with Colonel Wingfield, who re- turned to Mosjuien to catch the steamer. The same evening I was surprised in the kitchen over my cooking by Mr. Dahl at the head of a merry party, which accom- panied us next day for some distance on our renewed journey towards R~svand. From Fjeldb~ekmo the main road is one long ascent to the farm of Gryteselv, lying in a cheerful, sunny clearing of consider. able extent, surrounded by a wild and beautiful country. I regret that ~ve had not time to halt here and wander about the neighborhood. The farm, in which a single room is available, lies at a high ele- vation, and the air is magnificent. The woods are fairly open, and at the time of our visit were ablaze with flowers. It was a treat to emerge from the rather gloomy lower gorges into this region of pleasant upland meadows zoned with airy morn~ At this point the driving road trends away to Hatfjelddal, and ~ve had to trust to our legs and the fjeld trail to reach R6svand, accompanied, of course, by our carts. On the crest of the fjeld plateau, about a couple of uphill miles beyond Gryteselv, there is a low, isolated, conical hill known as Nabben, which, from its peculiar position, con~tnands a most glori- ous and extensive view, one of the finest I ever beheld. No writing can do justice to it; a panorama so vast and so varied cannot be described. North, south, east, and west, all the salient features of this magnificent region are visible at once; the mighty bulk of the highest fjeld, crowned with snow and wildernesses of shattered crag, the prominent mountain peaks; the lower zone of rolling, park-like plateau, the long, silent glens with their gleaming rivers and lakes, the green. swells of the birch forest. And yet even from this commanding point the eve, travelling to the phantom outlines of the horizon, could not pass the boundaries of this great es- tate. But we, like the dictator at the battle of the Lake Regillus, North looked we long and hard, for there, spread out in a solemn sheet of mysterious grey, lay the inland sea of R6svand, the goal of our summer wanderings, backed by the shadowy peaks and glaciers of the Oxtin- der. When our carts appeared, crawling round the base of the hill, we said good- bye to the kind friends who had come with us thus far, set our faces towards the north, and for the first time since leaving io6 A VISIT TO A GREAT ESTATE. England felt that pleasant sense of being really off at last which is experienced, as a rule, only where thoroughfares end. Mr. DahI would, I think, had his engage. ments permitted, have gladly gone with us, for, despite his many years acquaint- ance with the estate, he had never yet set foot on the shores of the great lake. After about four hours march, through a continuous natural park, sprinkled with clumps and copses of birch and willow, and well watered by tarn and brook, we reached Sjaavik, a farm on the banks of R6svand, without adventure or mishap beyond the temporary engulfment of one of the horses in a treacherous black bog, and the har- rowing apparition of a thin amber stream trickling from the rear of the cart which was crashing with our case of bottled beer among the boulders of a mountain brook. We were immediately put in sole posses. sion of a small house, containing two rooms and a kitchen, which the farmer, forewarned by messenger of our descent upon his peaceful home, had caused to be vacated in our favor. As I shall not have space for more than a sketch of Rdsvand, I may as well state at once that in this house, with plenty of stores and our own camp beds, we managed to make ourselves very comfortable for ten days, during which we explored the neighborhood.and having secured a boat just of the right size and positively watertight, rarely the case in Norwaythe division of the lake that lies to the south of the large island of Holmen ; this division is in itself a fine sheet of water. I have never seen a lake with more engaging shores. They are everywhere indented by innumerable small bays and inlets, the original haunts, I believe, of the genius of picnic; whichever of these you enter, it seems to be the best place in the world for his votaries, whichever way the wind may blow, shelter is always pro- curable owing to the remarkable formation of the low promontories and headlands, faced with narrow, many-colored bands of stratification and capped with verdure. The miniature beaches are composed of water-rolled blocks and pebbles of every species of rock, in infinite variety of hue and texture, probably the result of glacial drift. The brilliantly toned granites and cinted quartzes are especially remarkable. As a background to this delicate detail one has first the strip of green birchen wood- land, then the broken color of the bare, sloping field, and above all the detached groups of grey, rocky mountains, seamed and crested with snow. R~isvand is es sentially a char lake. We did not our- selves see a single trout in it, and the farmers deposed to their taking but few in tlwir nets, but those of good size, running to six or eight pounds. It has always been my experience that in the high-level lakes of Swedish JQmtland the char cease to bite freely after the first fortnight in July, and this appears to be also the case in R6svand. Our sport was consequently indifferent; only by trailing with the fly could we take a few and lose three times the number when hooked from their biting short. But this does not militate against the fact that the lake swarms with char; they are taken plentifully in the nets of each farm on its banks; true, these farms are but few and far between, but the ubiqui- tous captures prove how thoroughly the waters are stocked. So large a fishery can- not in any case be fairly explored or tested in a single visit. Our object was to gain as much information as possible about sport generally, and with this view we always tookmy old setter, Belle, with us in the boat, and gave her a run whenever we put to land. She seldom failed to find a covey of skov.ryper within a short distance of the lake, generally on the skirts of the natural, willow-fringed meadows charac- teristic of Scandinavian woodlands. Owing to the early season the young birds were already full.grown and flew like old ones, but extra conscientiousness induced us to spare them even in this out-of-the-way region because the season had not legally commenced; had we broken the law I think the farmers would have-condoned the offence. On our return from making the circuit of the lake there was no time to hunt up these coveys, which conse- quently evaded the Sportsman altogether. There is certainly a good deal of game to be found round R~5svand, but it is spread over a good deal of ground; as far as I could judge, the existing sport would amount to pleasant, very pleasant, wild shooting. By arrangement with the farm- ers, who probably snare the birds in win- ter, the stock of game might, I think, be largely increased. The elk, of which I found a great number of signs round Svenningdal, does not appear to exist at present nearer to Riisvand than the forests of Hatfjeld, after all but a short distance. With some preservation they will soon spread over the whole estate. While exploring the lake south of Hol- men ~ve preferred to row ourselves; but on Friday, August 9th, we started in a really splendid new sailing-boat with a crew of three men, for Tustervand, a small A VISIT TO A GREAT ESTATE 107 lake at the north-west corner of R6svand, and connected with it by a quarter of a mile of broad, deep rapids. Before reach. ing the latter, down ~vhich we ran swiftly, our men had a desperately hard row, for after clearing Holmen, the wind blew strongly dead ahead until the evening, and we could not once use the sail. As may be imagined, Rtisvand, under a real gale, can show a heavy sea. At the farm of Tustervand we obtained one large room which, when thoroughly washed, made capital quarters. The people after the first impulse of hesitation and unwilling. ness, which the traveller must often expect and patiently endure in the remote parts of Norway, and which in our case was probably intensified by a suspicion that we had come officially to spy the fatness of the land and demand the rent I fear these good people are very Irish in some respects expressed themselves glad to see us, and did all in their power to make us comfortable. The farm is flourishing and pleasantly situated, but on the oppo- site shore there towers a grand, massive mountain, known as Kj~rringtind, with fearful precipices and snow-slopes, which appear to attract all the bad weather out of the desolate Alpine region lying be- tween Tustervand and the Ranen fjord. The mountain itself was never free from driving storm during our short stay, and whilst we could see the far eastern shores of R6svand basking in sunlight, our weather was constantly being ruined by the influence of the ferocious giant over the way. No doubt in settled weather he must be a magnificent object. We stopped here for two clear days, one of which ~vas devoted to rowing ourselves in wind and wet to the head of Tustervand, and thence, amidst Killarney-like scenery that even the bad weather could not spoil, through a succession of small lakes connected by narrow channels, until the strong draw of the current where the Rosaa River plunges down its first incline on the way to Ranen, warned us to stop. The wretched weather was depressing, and the sight of that in- cipient river saddened me. Over thirty years had passed since four young men were encamped by its final rapids, and now we, the survivors, elderly and grey, stood and ~vatched its infant waters hurry- ing to their earliest leap out of the parent lake. Truly it made one realize the force of Tennysons lines For men may c