The Living age ... / Volume 193, Note on Digital Production Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 842 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABR0102-0193 /moa/livn/livn0193/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

The Living age ... / Volume 193, Note on Digital Production 0193 000
The Living age ... / Volume 193, Note on Digital Production A-B

The Living age ... / Volume 193, Issue 2492 [an electronic edition] Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 842 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABR0102-0193 /moa/livn/livn0193/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

The Living age ... / Volume 193, Issue 2492 Littell's living age Every Saturday; a journal of choice reading Eclectic magazine The Living age co. inc. etc. New York etc. Apr 2, 1892 0193 2492
The Living age ... / Volume 193, Issue 2492, miscellaneous front pages i-viii

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. E PLURIBUS TJNUM. These publications of the day should from time to time be winnowed, the wheat carefully preserved, and the chaff thrown away. Made up of every creatures best. Various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, may be indulged. FIFTH SERIES, VOLUME LXXVIIL FROM THE BEGINNING, VOL CXCIII. APRIL, MAY, ~LJNE, 1892. BOSTON: LITTELL AND CO. A,, p 1 7 / 5, Ccl i& ~~- TABLE OF THE PRINCIPAL CONTENTS OF THE LIVING AGE, VOLUME CXCIII. THE 6EVENTY-EIGHTH QUARTERLY VOLUME OF THE FIFTH SERIES. APRIL, MAY, JUNE, 1892. EDINBURGH REVIEW. The Correspondence of Count Pozzo di Borgo, QUARTERLY REVIEW. Diary of a Spanish Grandee, State Pensions for Old Age, 131 105 771 CONTEMPORARY REVIEW. Reminiscences of Cardinal Manning, . 3 The Genius of Plato, . ,. . . Conversations and Correspondence with Thomas Carlyle, . 234, 596 Mr. Spurgeon 311 William 515 The New Star in Auriga, . . . 630 FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW. Madame Bodichon: a Reminiscence, Some Possibilities of Electricity, The Road from Mashoonaland, Private Life in France in the Fourteenth Century Dangers of Modern Finance, On the Dissipation of Energy, Mr. Meredith in his Poems, how long can the Earth Sustain Life?. Japanese Customs, . Reminiscences of E. A. Freeman, NINETEENTH CENTURY. Recollections of Tewlik Pacha, Napoleon the Third at Sedan, French Eighteenth-Century Art in En- gland The Latest Electrical Discovery, New Stars Some Social Changes in Fifty Years, The Story of Gifford and Keats, Camp Life and Pig-sticking in Morocco, Lord Lyttons Rank in Literature, - NATIONAL REVIEW. Menservants in England, The Early Ancestors of our Queen, Society in Naples 40 93 160 214 360 387 495 656 797 811 167 226 280 309 323 346 719 740 805 50 78 73 Elizabeth Stuart and her Family in Hol land 297 Patchwork in Black and White, - 422 The Queen in Politics 584 ScorrIsH REVIEW. Ancient Trade 22 The Race across the Atlantic, 195 NEW REv1~w. The Simian Tongue 121 Edward Cracroft Lefroy, - . . 250 Letters of John Ruskin to his Secretary, 304 Le Style cest lHomme, . . . 643 The German Crisis and the Emperor, . 707 Letters of Carlyle to Varnhagen von Ense 744 REVUE DES DEUX MoNDF.S. St. Francis of Assisi, . . . . 473 BLAcKWOODS MAGAZINE. Tea at the Mains 74 Carpy: a Story of To-day, - - 265 Sketches from Eastern Travel, . 336, 615 A Royal Governess: the Duchesse de Gontaut 398 Winter Shifts 426 Italian Poets of To-day, - . - 451 The Nitrate-Fields of Chile, - . 490 The Conquest of Dofia Jacoba, . 523 Six in a Lava-Flow. An Adventure in Tenerife 562 GENTLEMANS MAGAZINE. The Milky Way 316 Doctor Gregory 329 The Comte de Fersen, - . .. - 368 Sir Henry Wotton: Gentleman and Schoolmaster 432 Issik Kul and the Kara Kirghese, , 689 COENHILL MAGAZINE. Pretty Poll! 41 How she got out of it I4~ An Autumn Circuit 351 Ho~ the Egyptian Monuments were Read 414 in Iv CONTENTS. The Balearics 546 Early Railway Travelling, . 627 Some Letters and Recollections, 673 My Last Proposal, . . 714 MACMILLANS MAGAZINE. The Village Legacy 7 Finland, 259 ~ The Scarlet Hunter, 465 Hampton Court 554 The Footstep of Death, 65o Mrs. Driffield 696 Horace 731 A Good Word for the Sparrow, 756 A Chapter on Plato 762 My Witches Caldron, 819 TEMPLE BAR. An of Massena, . . Norway in Winter, . . . . 88 Benjamin Robert Haydon, . . i52, 536 Boomellen, . . . . . . 207 The Strange Story of Beethoven Koff sky 392. Humor,. 441 Thermidor and Labussi~re, . . 445 A Night with Japanese Firemen, . . 699 Rosemary for Remembrance, . . 786 GooD WORDS. A Saul and David of the Steppe, . . 374 The Charterhouse of Tyro], . . . 418 Tkie Early Days of French Newspapers, 572 BELGRAVIA. Scenes in Algeria 289 William Blake 664 LEISURE HOUR. Statesmen of Europe: Russia, History in a Stable Loft, 98, 377 505 ARGOSY. Who Rang the Bell? Dis Aliter Visum LONGMANS MAGAZINE. An Eighteenth.Century Friendship, A Paris Correspondent of 1753, Kenyons Innings The Wild Flowers of Selborne, SPECTATOR. Wild Fowl in Sanctuary, Church Dances in Seville, ECONOMIST. The German Emperors War with Dis- belief SATURDAY REVIEW. The New Star in the Milky Way,. SPEAKER. 183 443 33 567 584 637 ~o8 575 6o 190 Shameen, 510 CHAMBERS JOURNAL. A Hundred and Three Days on a Desert Island, 62 The Ladies Gallery 12S Upon Beards, 127 Notes on Bird-Music 187 Nunc Dimittis 635 Australias First Fleet 698 A New Tasmanian Township, . . 702 ATHEN~UM. Unpublished Letters of Washington, . 64 NATURE. The Ancient Tombs and Burial Mounds of Japan . 255 QUEEN. 448 Agra, INDEX TO VOLUME CXCIII. ANCIENT Trade, Ancestors, The Early, of the Queen, Atlantic, the, The Race across Algeria, Scenes in Agra, . Australias First Fleet A ustralian, an, in London, Impressions of BoDIcHoN, Madame: a Reminiscence, Beards, Upon Bird-Music, Notes on . Boomellen Burglar, a, The Strange Career of Balearics, The Blake, William COMMONS, The House of Carlyle, Thomas, Conversations Correspondence with Carpy a Story of To-day, Circuit, An Autumn Charterhouse, The, of Tyrol, Clarence, the Duke of, Death of Chile, The Nitrate-Fields of. Conquest, The, of Doiia Jacoba, Church Dances at Seville, - Carlyle, Letters of, to Varnhagen Ense DESERT Island, a, A Hundred Three Days on Durnoff, Doctor Gregory Driffleld, Mrs. EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY Friendship, An 33 Electricity, Some Possibilities of 93 Electrical Discovery, The Latest . 309 Eastern Travel, Sketches from . 336, 6i 5 Energy, On the Dissipation of . 387 Egyptian Monuments, the, How they were Read 414 Earth, the, How long can Life be Sus- tained by 656 FRANCE, Private Life in, in the Four teenth Century, . 214 Finland, 259 French Eighteenth-Century Art in~ En gland,...- .. . 280 Finance, Modern, Dangers of Fersen, de, The Comte. Francis, St., of Assisi, 22 French Newspapers, The Early Days of 572 78 Footstep, The, of Death, . . . 650 195 Freeman, E. A., Reminiscences of . 811 289 448 GODWIN, William, and Mrs. Inchbald, 33 698 German Emperors, The, War with Dis- belief 703 Governess, A Royal: the Duchesse de Gontaut 398 40 German Crisis, The, and the Emperor, 707 127 Gifford and Keats, The Story of . 719 187 207 How she got out of it, . . . 148 383 Haydon, Benjamin Robert . . 152, 536 546 Humor 664 History in a Stable Loft, . . 505 Hampton Court 554 - 124 Horace 731 and 234, 596 INCHBALD, Mrs., and William Godwin, 33 - 265 Italian Poets of To-day, . . 451 - 351 Issik Kul and the Kara Kirghese, 689 - 418 443 JAPAN, The Ancient Tombs and Burial 490 Mounds of 255 523 Japanese Firemen, A Night with . 699 - 575 Japanese Customs 797 von 744 KENYONS Innings 584 Kara Kirghese, The, and Issik Kul, 68~ and Keats and Gifford, The Story of . 719 62 101 LADIES Gallery, The . . . 124 329 Lefroy, Edward Cracroft - . - ~5o 698 Labussi& e, Charles Hippolyte . 445 Life, How long can the Earth Sustain 656 Letters and Recollections, Some . 673 Lyttons, Lord, Rank in Literature, 8o~ MANNING, Cardinal, Reminiscences of. 3 Menservants in England, . , . Marbot, General Mashoonaland, The Road from . x6c Milky Way,The . . . . . 316 Meredith, Mr., in his Poems,, - 495 Manners Family Papers in a Stable, Loft,, 505 My Last Proposal, . . . 714 Morocco, Camp Life and Pig-sticking in 740 NORWAY in Winter 88 Naples, Society in ;.; J~73 - 360 Napoleon the Third at Sedan, - 226 - 368 Nitrate-Fields, ,The, of Chile, 4~O - 473 Nunc Dimittis 635 VI INDEX. PRETTY Poll! 43 Plato, The Genius of . 67 Pobi~donostzeff 105 Pozzo di Borgo, Count, The Corre spondence of . . . . Patchwork in Black and White, . . 422 Paris Correspondent, A, of 1753, . . 567 Plato, A Chapter on . . . . 762 Pensions, State, for Old Age, . . 771 QUEEN, The, in Politics, . . . 579 RussIA, Statesmen of . . . 98, 377 Race, The, across the Atlantic, . . 195 Ruskin, John, Letters of, to his Secre tary 304 Railway Travelling, Early . . . 627 Rosemary for Remembrance, . . 786 STATESMEN of Europe,. , 98, 377 Spanish Grandee, a, Diary of io5 Stuart, James Francis Fitzjames . Simian Tongue 121 Star, The New, in the Milky Way, 190, 630 Stuart, Elizabeth, and her Family in Holland 297 Spurgeon, Mr 311 Stars, New 323, 630 Social Changes, Some, in Fifty Years, . 346 Saul and David, A, of the Steppe, . 374 Strange Story, The, of Beethoven Koff. sky 392 Scarlet Hunter, The . Shameen Star, The New, in Auriga, Selborne, The Wild Flowers of Style, Le, cest lHomme, Sparrow, A Good Wo?d for the TRADE, Ancient . Tea at the Mains, . To]stoi, Count Dimitri Tewfik Pacha, Recollec ons of Tyrol, The Charterhouse of Tenerife, An Adventure in Tasmanian Township, A New VILLAGE Legacy, The . Victoria, Queen, The Early Ancestors of Vischnegradsky WASHINGTON, Unpublished Letters of. WhoRangtheBell? . West Indies, The Winter Shifts Wotton, Sir Henry: Gentleman and Schoolmaster Wild Fowl in Sanctuary, William Wild Flowers, The, of Selborne, Witches Caldron, My . POETRY. AUTOMATIC Lay, An . 642 April, To 642 Ballad of the Britains Pride 322 ~ Blest man, who in his boyhoods home, 386 Change and Rest 130 Confidences 514 Crocuses, 578 Darkness and Light 258 De Profundis 514 Dreamland 642 Evensong 514 Epitaph, An 642 Fairy Gold 578 Fulfilment 770 Gerschni Alp, Up the . Golden Hour, The 514 Imp Effie 2 Jefferies, Richard 2 Last Swallow, The. Latterday Valentine, A Love and Grief, Little He and She,. Old Homestead, The Oft in my musings, Retrospection, Spring Chanson, A. Spring Flowers, Springs Herald, Sweet Peas Thames Embankment, On the Too Late! . Voluntary Testimonial, A Vanished Dreams, Waterloo, After When my Ship comes Home, Without and Within~ Waste Paper 2 130 706 770 578 706 322 130 258 706 770 .66 258 .66 194 322 386 465 510 630 637 643 756 74 100 167 418 562 702 7 78 103 64 183 422 426 432 ~o8 515 637 819 INDEX. BOOMELLEN Carpy: a Story of, Conquest, The, of Dofia Jacoba, Doctor Gregory Footstep, The, of Death, How she got out of it, Kenyons Innings My Last Propasal, . TALES. 207 Rosemary for Remembrance, 265 Saul and David, A, of the Steppe, 523 Strange Story, The, of Beethoven Koff sky, . . . 329 Scarlet Hunter, The . Shameen, 650 Tea at the Mains,... 148 Village Legacy, The 584 Who Rang the Bell? . 714 VII 786 374 392 465 510 74 7 183 /

The Living age ... / Volume 193, Issue 2492 1-64

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. Fifth Series, No, e~AAA April , 1892. From Beginning, Volume LXXVIII. 5 e~e:W4, 2 { Vol. CXCIII. C ON TEN T S. REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL ~IANNING, THE VILLAGE LEGACY ANCIENT TRADE AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FRIENDSHIP, MADAME BODICHON: A REMINISCENCE, PRETTY POLL I MENSERYANTS IN ENGLAND, AN AIDE-DE-CAMP OF MASSENA, THE GERMAN EMPERORS WAR WITH DIS- BELIEF A HUNDRED AND THREE DAYS ON A DESERT ISLAND, UNPUBLISHED LETTERS OF WASHINGTON,. RICHARD JEFFERIES, IMP EFFIE, Contemporary Review, Macmillans Magazine, Scottish Review, Lan6 mans Magazine, Fortnzghtly Review, Cornhill Magazine, National Review, Temple Bar, Economist, Chambers 7ournal, Athenceum, P 0 E T R F. ~ THE LAST SWALLOW, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL & 00., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EIGHT DOLLARS remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year,free of postage. 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 monLy-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single copies of the LIVING AGE, z8 cents. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. .3 . 17 . 22 33 . 40 - . 43 . 50 ., 55 . . 6o . . 6z . . 64 a 2 RICHARD JEFFERIES, ETC. RICHARD JEFFERIES. Near her philosophers seem fools, THE tomes of lore that lie Their logic and inductions chaff In feather of bird and wing of butterfly Forms, maxims, axioms, reasons, ru!e~, The rushes and the mountain brook, the Evaporate in Effies laugh. speedwell blue as sky, How coldly rigid and aloft The finger-posts of Science shine, Room in his heart for all I When Effies digits warm and soft For striving stitchwort as for oak tree tall; Are playing at hot hands with mine I Room for the chickweed at the gate, the weed Shes very ignorant, the pet, upon the wall! Of creed or dogma old or new; Still as the page was writ Shes very credulous, and yet Twas Nature held his hand and guided Her articles of faith are few. it: To reverend men shes barely civil, Broadcast and free the lines were sown as Though prompt to succor the forlorn meadows king cup lit. Shes duly fearful of the devil, But sees no harm in being born. Vague longings found a tongue; Things dim and ancient into speech were Not clear about the second birth wrung; She trusts her sins will be forgiven The epic of the rolling wheat, the lyric hedge- And that when called to quit the earth, row sung! Shell go up naturally to Heaven. Meanwhile, foo fond, I fear, the rogue is He showed the soul within Of this worlds vanities and pomps; The veil of matter luminous and thin, Thinks serious people awful fogies, lie heard the old earths undersong piercing Nay, neath their solemn noses romps; the modern din. He opened wide to space The iron portals of the commonplace: Wonder on wonder crox~ ded through as star on star we trAce. A glory haloed round The very wayside grasses as he found The highest holiest loveliness was closest to the ground! Others might dully plod Purblind with custom, deaf as any clod He knew the highest heights of heaven bent o er the path he trod. No bird that cleaves the air But his revealing thought has made more fair; No tremulous dell of summer leaves but feels his presence there. So though we deem him dead, Lo! he yet speaketh! and the words are sped In grassy whispers oer the fields by every wild flower said! Temple Bar. MARY GEOGHEGAN. IMP EFFIE. IMP EFFIE language cant express The life that sparkles in her eyes, And what if I must needs confess That Effie is not very wise? Her nonsense talked with blithsome air Sweeter to me than wisdom seems; I love to see her toss her hair, I love to hear her tell her dreams. Leaps, tumbles, screams, to make them quiver; Shams stupid to excite their spleen; Then how she titters! Lord forgive her, The little imp is scarce thirteen. And even whilst I sermonize her, I sometimes cant repress a sigh To think that Effie will grow wiser, That Effie will grow old, and die! Spectator. J. S. D. THE LAST SWALLOW. LAST of his clan, he wings his aimless flight Beneath the cold grey sky; No comrades wheel around on pinions light. As in the days gone by. Alone he roams the trackless fields of air, From dawn to set of sun; Haply he finds the yellowing woodlands fair, Although the heavens are dun. Why dost thou linger when thy mates have flown Across the Southern Sea? Winter already on his trump has blown A warning stern to thee. And they, thy mates, afar in sunny Spain, Are circling in the blue, Where azure heavens and all unruffled main Blend in the same soft hue. We dream of summer still while thou art here; But soon, at death of day, Like a last hope, thou too wilt disappear For ever and for aye! F. B. DOVETON. REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. From The Contemporary Review. REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. I THINK it was Bolingbroke who, when asked what Marlboroughs faults had been, replied: He was so great a m an,I had forgotten he had any. Such will be the verdict passed on Cardinal Manning by all who knew him. If signs in love are more than proofs, as Coventry Patmore somewhere says, so also are they in reli- gion. The proofs of Cardinal Mannings pieties are known to all they are official. But the signs were shown in his most Un- recollected moments to his intimates. His idlest words were from this point of view more edifying than even his pastorals. A noble figure was his on the platform and in the pulpit; but where he was at his best and greatest was in his own armchair. There used to be an impression that the cardinal was nothing if not a diplomatist. Assuredly he had worldly as well as heav- enly wisdoma prudence which is a cardinals as well as a cardinal virtue. But none of the common devices of the diplomatist were his he smiled at them in Italian ecclesiastics. It was the frank- ness and not the reticence of his conversa- tion that took me by surprise when he permitted me to pass with him what were I think his idlest hours at Archbishops House. After nine there will be no in- terruption, was a hint he gave me quite early in our intercourse, and Come to me with the bats is the burden of nearly two hundred notes I have been looking through, all precious as proceeding from his hand. At that hour I found him with the cares and prayers of the day done, weary indeed, yet wakeful and alert. I think he liked, not indeed to put aside the ecclesiastic, for that was second or even first nature to him, but to talk to a layman whose interests were not exactly ecclesi- astical, who did not possess a liturgical soul, and whose conversation was not all in Heaven. My deep attachment to him was, I suppose, apparent through a certain freedom of speech which he never sought to curtail. There is a form of ma- nia in which a man called upon to admire, say a shelf of precious glass, feels con- strained to sweep it down with the wave of his arm. The same impulse it was that nearly overmastered an imaginative trav- eller or he thought so to tickle, in stead of kissing, the pontifical foot. Most of us regard, in one way or another, this sort of incongruity as the soul of wit, Thus possessed, I more than once com- mitted what I thought the cardinal would regard as vagaries of speech, often to be astonished by his ready assent. Stop a bit, stop a bit, or Jockey of Norfolk, not so fast, he would sometimes say, where a conventional cardinal must surely have been indignant or grim. This lib- erty of speech which he allowed to others he also took for himself, having moods in which he spoke with a sort of serious jest. This was not the only trait he had in common with Blessed Thomas More. In the inner room at Archbishops House, where Cardinal Manning received his more intimate callers, there hung, op- posite to where he sat, a portrait of St. Charles Borromeo, cardinal and Arch- bishop of Milan. This was the cardinals favorite saint and model archbishop. When the centenary of English Sunday schools was commemorated, a monument ~vas erected by Nonconformists, and on it was inscribed the name of Cardinal I3or- romeo, as that of the pioneer of the Sunday School. That incident, which delighted the cardinal, suggests at once the kinship between the two men, which was close at every turn; and when Manning returned from Rome as a priest in 1854, he founded the community of Oblates of St. Charles at Bayswater, with whom he lived until he succeeded to the Archbishopric of West- minster in 1865. There his library of old days remains, row on row of Anglican divinity. From his beloved Oblates he chose his confessor, of whom he wrote in terms of the most tender affection in the last letter he ever penned. One day in Milan, St. Charles Borromeo was playing cards with two of his priests (perhaps the only thing in which the Archbishop of Westminster never wished to imitate him), when the talk turned on the moments of death, and on what each would do if he, then and there, heard the last summons. I would flee to the church, said one. I would call on the name of the Lord, 3 4 REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. said another. And I, said St. Charles, would go on with the game. Such was the spirit in which this Oblate on the throne of Westminster undertook every task, the lightest of his life. In the love of God and man he performed his indiffer- ent actions, talked politics and read news- papers, went each afternoon to the Athe- n~um Club, and lectured before the Royal Society, loitered in the House of Coin. mons and wandered among the crowds at Marlborough House garden-parties; nor would he have flinched to meet at any moment the messenger which came to him at last so calmly almost collusively. The Borromean anecdote had its match. This time it was Cardinal Manning and two of his priests who made choice, when each was asked what he would be were he not a priest. A doctor, said one, still dreaming of the set service of man. A temperance advocate, said another, with becoming solemnity. And I, said the cardinal, Radical member for Maryle- bone just then politically the rowdiest of metropolitan areas. To him the service of his Creator and of his fellow-creatures was identical, so that he never thought it necessary to talk piety in order to feel he had been clerical. He had all his models sanity of sanctity. The one played crib- bage for the glory of God, and the other for the same cause discussed with Sir Charles Dilke the limitation of electoral areas in the Redistribution Bill (of which he saw one of the advanced drafts prepared for the Cabinet); the Education Act with Mr. Forster, whom he greatly respected; the prevention of cruelty to children with the Rev. Benjamin Waugh, in whose praise, as in that of many Dissenters, he was firm; the iniquity of theatres with the Rev. Hugh Price Hughes his only fault one that cures itselfhis youth; the most painful of all subjects with Mr. Stead; the Land League with Mr. Michael Davitt; standing armies with Lord Woiseley; an- cient Scandinavia with Mr. Paul du Chaillu; local option with Sir Wilfrid Lawson; vivisection (which he loathed as Browning loathed it) with Miss Frances Power Cobbe; the Salvation Army with General Booth, to whom he made a public profession of attachment; art with Mr. Ruskin, who took him to exhibitions in Bond Street; and nationalization of the land with Mr. Henry George, whom I took to him one Sunday afternoon, and silently listened while one said that his love of our Lord led him to love man, and the other that his love of man led him to love our Lord the Mount, whence came the sermon, being the beginning of the spir- itual journey of the one and the end of that of the other. These came and went, and sometimes heard no more pious speech than a God bless you ; but they were none the less conscious that they had held converse with a fervent Chris- tian. He needed no catchwords, and used no shibboleths to reach the heart of hearts. It was said of him once that he was photo- graphed for the Churchs glory, and there was, in a simple and beautiful sense, a subtle truth in the saying. This absence of direct preachment never led any one, the most foolish, to suppose he was indifferent to dogmas Christian and Catholic. What his own life of devotion was, that he wished the lives of all his clergy to be. Beautiful and inspiring were the addresses he gave them then was a time when his masters name was on his lips at every breath, as it was always in his heart. Between no mans words and acts was there ever so complete a parity. He denied himself the indulgences he ceded to others. The ciga- rette, which has penetrated everywhere, even into a convent during a ladies re- treat, got no entrance into Archbishops House. The cigar was a waste and indul- gence beyond words; and though he had been an athlete at Harrow he did not like his clergy to care for sports. I do not like a priest to run after a piece of leather, he said, with characteristic summariness of thought and speech, when he heard of a clerical football player. Yet he took a five-bar gate when he went to Ushaw Col- lege in the sixties. That his great heart had pastoral disap- pointments, both in his clergy and in his laity, he did not conceal, as well as great and more abiding consolations. He meas- ured their and our corn in his own bushel. He rated us by his own standard, and his standard, like his rank, was the highest of REMINISCE]~CES OF CARDINAL MANNING. .5 allthat ideal blending of rank with real pre-eminence which the world needs to have recalled to it now and then. He saw, for instance, the havoc made by the drink traffic. It confronted him as he walked the streets by day; it haunted him on his narrow bed at night, when the voice of a drunken singer floated in on his loneliness, and was interpreted by his sensitive ears into sounds which he did not hear, but which cried to Heaven the sob of the wifehood and the motherhood of England, the wail of the beaten child. And when men told him calmly (I give the statement from his standpoint only) that they feared spiritual pride dogged the steps of teeto- talism, he had no patience left in him. He asked for water, and they gave him the sour wine of pedantries. I think it was not altogether without a qualm that he allowed the sherry he had renounced to be put on the table at that open, early din- ner at Archbishops House; but a bishop must, by the Gospel rule, be given to hospitality; and how does he know, any way, that there is not among his guests one to whom St. Paul himself would com- mand a little wine for the stomachs sake? So there the hated decanter stood, and there, if nowhere else, a guest had an ap- proach to experience of what may be called furtive drinking; for he was unwilling to meet the eye of his host while his lips touched the banned liquid. Perhaps the cardinal felt it necessary to give to Rome and the world this practical proof that he was not a Manich~ana heresy hinted against him by those who thought it un- becoming for a cardinal archbishop to talk teetotalism on a Sunday afternoon from a cart on Clerkenwell Green. These were content to take the Ten Commandments as they stand, without seeking to remove the main stumbling-block in the way of mankinds keeping them. Many of his clergy, however, as is well known, joined the temperance movement, and became his effective lieutenants. As he did not think there was one law for the clergy and another for the laity in matters of self-denial, his disappointment at the absence of enthusiasm for teetotal- ism among educated laymen was second only to his disappointment at the absence of it among the mass of his priests. I have piped and they have not danced, he said one evening. There is not one gentleman who will give up one glass of sherry to help me in the battle. Once, when he made as though he would weep over the indifference of Babylon, I gave the serviceless offer of my own adhesion. No, he said, not now. You must get your ~vifes permission. It was one of the privileges of Cardinal Manning, denied to most men, to be influential by mere per- sonal example; and never did he forget or minimize this added obligation. A ~ra~5os, one sometimes wonders what re- forms might be effected, might be even fashionable, if some prince had taken him for his tutor or his model. What fashion might effect in England, nationalism is resolved to effect in Ireland happy to be socially governed by a more progressive force than ours. Ireland sober and Ireland free was the magical combination which the year 1889 inscribed on many an Irish banner. The Archbishop of Dublin sent all the preliminary papers to Westminster, and the heart of the En- glish archbishop gave a leap of delight. In that moment he forgot the sorrow that had accumulated with the years, his sor- row over each Irish name he encountered in the records of the London police courts. When he scanned his Tirnes(this he did every morning, and lived in London thus defying Mr. Ruskins complete recipe for demoralization), he looked nervously down the reports of the police court cases, and whenever his eye caught the name of a son or, worse luck, of a daughter of Erin, his face moved with a strange emotion. These were the sheep of his pasture. But he was not only the spiritual shepherd of the flockhe was the Englishman who felt a political debt to Ireland, a social debt to her exiles, a personal and religious debt to her Catholicism. No better news could come from Ireland to Archbishops House than that which announced the ad- dition of teetotalism to the watchword of the movement of freedom. But the cardinal did, as a rule, bring down to a personal issue the principles on which he was in conflict with others. There were times when he had a sharp 6 REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. tongue for foes and for dissentient friends, below yet to know they are the very to whom, nevertheless, he would have elect notwithstanding. done any kindness at any sacrifice of his His manners with ladies were always own personal comfortthe last thing he charming; and his bow, when he took off ever considered. What can you expect, the hat of more than Quaker brim, was a he asked of a dignitary who did not take homage the most gracious ever made. It his advice in a moment of some emer- was not often that he permitted himself a gency, brought up as he was in a hen- mere compliment; when he did so it was coop, as I call the? and he named only because a neat phrase carried him a community he truly loved and admired ; away. You have given me a book which and shortly afterwards he told me he had has kept me awake, and I bring youabook gone out of his way to show special kind- to send you to sleep. The book which ness to the very noble hearted bishop had not kept him awake ~vas a volume of whose affairs had occasioned the epithet. poems of a tone he hardly caught. The Yes, he would say of his flock, when book to send the poet to sleep was a col- they did not rise to some great occasion, lection of his own sermons. This re- I never forget they are my sIzee~. And minds me that he told me that the last yet another animal served at times the time he had seen Dr. Whewell, whom he purpose of a fitting comparison: Ever greatly admired from his youth, was in since I became a Catholic, I have found a church where he himself was preaching. it necessary to cultivate a great devotion Whatever compliment he felt in having to Balaams ass. the omniscient mathematician as a hearer A briefer pang, but a severe one while vanished as he watched him fall into a it lasted, was that which he suffered from tranquil slumber. Mr. Bright, by the way, the estrangement between his own sympa- he once saw amongst his audience in a thies and those of probably the bulk of church in Rome; but he did not get much his clergy on the publication of The comfort out of him either. I liked it Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon. all said Bricht when next they met, The great cardinal, away in his barrack- except your sermon. It was on a theme like palace, saw only two things first, the most misunderstood the Blessed the wrbng done to womanhood, and to Virgin. that only more ap~)ealing thing woman- His indifferent attitude about his books hood in childhood; and, secondly, the was quite real a genuine conquest of xood intentions of Mr. Stead. I say to his humility over his sensitiveness, and it ;ou (and he never spoke more solemnly) was all the more to his merit inasmuch as we are up in a balloon. Our priests they never had the recognition they de- have become machines for administering serve. He must have known very well the sacraments. There was a time when how good they were; though few others there was grace, but there were no sacra- found it out. It cannot be said that a ments; now there are sacraments, but paper like the Athenc~um does less than where is grace? It was a mood of the justice to the secular authors of the day. moment, and whence came it? I think If it errs, it errs as it ought to do, on the from the attitude taken by an ever-faithful side of kindness. But a paper like the friend, who had followed his leader into Aihenceum may be said to have had no teetotalism, and had given him a personal cognizance of Cardinal Mannings works. service which few men devote to another. The same strenuous thought in the same Read that, said the cardinal, handing strenuous language, on almost any other him a Pa/i Ala/i in i88~. I have no subject, would have made a reputation, permission to read evil which is not nec- and those manuscripts ~vritten across large essary for me to know, was the instant foolscap on his knee (as St. John wrote his reply. So the cardinal was for the mo- Gospels, he said, with the look which gave ment in hiTh dudgeon. Once, when I had his words their meaning) would, for novel- said it was consoling to find that even car- ist or for historian, have won fortune and dinals had human sensitivenesses, No, applause. The back seat to which the he said, with a sweet gravity; no, it is Christian public of England relegates sen- very disappointincr I hold to my opin- ous religious literature is a little puzzling ion still. It is not spiritual pride, but perhaps; and certainly those who grudge spiritual despondency that one most en- the Churchman what advantages he gains counters in the world; and it is some from his cloth may be consoled to think comfort, at any rate, to find that when that he encounters as an author, a preju- these saints are scratched there is blood dice which, in some instances, and cer REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. 7 tainly in Cardinal Mannings, is less than just. Once in writing to a lady a letter which lies before me, the cardinal advanced a theory of the relations between reader and author which will not find a general ac- ceptance. An author usually spends the more time on his writings that the reader may spend the less. Read that book slowly, wrote the cardinal; it took me long to write it, and I feel sure it needs time to read it. But ~vhen the lady said she would not read it, he did not, as most authors would of readers so unruly, despair of her. It is a good sign, he wrote, that you cannot read that book. The law is not made for the just man, and that book is not written for the children of the household. You have by grace what it has by reason. The number of requests made to him by authors of books, big and little, for prefaces, passport-letters in fact from Archbishops House to the hearts of the faithful, was legion. But Manning of Balliol found time for everything~ to the very end. The bare list of publica- tions bearing this im~rimatur would fill columns. When he had to refuse, he did so with a gentleness which made even the refusal a favor. I heard both from the refuser and from the refused the story of one such episode. It was a pamphlet in which the zealous author undertook to prove from the Gospels the pontiffs right to the temporal power. Said the author: I have been to the cardinal to ask him for a preface. I had written beforehand, sending the proofs; and, directly I got into the room, the cardinal thanked me and said, I have written a little on that subject myself, but you take a higher line. The narrator was so delighted, that he almost forgot he had come away without even the faintest hope of an archi- episcopal preface. A day or two after, the cardinal, not knowing I knew either of the applicant or his application, told me of both. But, I said to him, stop a bit. I have written a little about that my. self. But you overstep the line where I cannot follow you. This is what he meant to say what, in effect, he said; for the preface was never written; but how much sensitive consideration framed the version he had provided for the eager author! The story is characteristic; and it supplies a key which was sometimes requisite to interpret and reconcile his speeches. All sorts and conditions of women had recourse to him; the very simple, the very sophisticated. One of the first class, I remember, was a charming girl, who, though she thought every one goes to Heaven, except, perhaps, people who steal, was not wholly happy in her Prot- testantism, and she asked the cardinal to recommend her some daily spiritual exer- cise. Say every day, he told her, Oh Lord, my heart is ready, as the psalmist says. She was anxious to do as directed, but she could not make up her mind whether she ought to say as the psalmist says as part of her daily prayer; and P imagine her, in her scrupulousness, still giving Heaven the benefit of this piece of literary gossip! It is Lord Beaconsfield who speaks of a lady of gay celebrity putting off her cap and bells at his Emi- nences feet; and there was truth behind the fiction. The routine of his life brought him into relation most often with the de- vout elderly lady the mother of a flock, each one of whom the cardinal-archbishop would know by name, and be consulted about, as to the profession of Jack and the engagement of Jill. The experience was all the more vivid by contrast, when there came to him some great lady from the inner world of fashion, floating in a cloud of perfume, having first dropped from her hand the last French novel. The type startled him at first; but he, who was so ready to remind us that the habit did not make the monk, became equally persuaded that gay feathers did not mean a heart in- capable of discipline, and that even heights of holiness could be spiritually attempted though the outer foot wore the last vanity in shoes from the Burlington Ar- cade. No one not Dr. Badenoch even ever suspected his Eminence of using scent; but there came a time when I found twice or thrice in succession even the large rooms filled with perfumes of Piesse. A little later the conversion of a lady of fashion was announced. Never was pas- senger for St. Peters bark in the hands of a more skilful pilot than was a great lady in the hands of this great man; and to his task he brought not merely skill but affec- tion. Of these neophytes he spoke, if he spoke at all, with paternal tenderness. One such was so clever; she had written so sensibly and welljust a letter to an- nounce her conversion to an illustrious personage, who suggested in reply that he saw behind hers an Eminent hand which was quite untrue, said the cardi- nal, though I own I may have changed a phrase here, or added a phrase there. I thought it was ~aot a very bad instance, after all, of the illustrious personages perception. Whatever the cardinals tact, 8 REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. it never hid the truth at any rate from the tactful. Generally he went straight to the mark. I have been doing sotnething you would not approve this afternoon, voting for the Marriage with the Deceased Wifes Sister Bill, said the Prince of Wales to him one evening. I know you have, sir, said the cardinal, not apologet- ically. You disapprove that very much? asked the prince in appeasing tones I do, sir, was the straight reply. Another type of woman had a great at- traction for him the Protestant young lady, whose piety has, more and more of late years, taken so practical a turn. He met, one after another, these maidens, each animated by a serious intention to make some one less wretched. A young man who had interested him, and who had two accidental associations with himfor he, too, was of Balliol, and his father lived in the house at Totteridge once occupied by the father of the cardinalfell ill, and his wife wrote to tell his Eminence. The aged man of eighty set out immediately to see the sufferer, a journey of an hour or two each way to a pasture of which he was not the spiritual shepherd. I happened to see him just after his return, and I cannot forget the glowing words he used of this Protestant lady the daughter of a Scot- tish gentleman, ~vho had left her home, he said, and had come to nurse in a London hospital for the sake of God and her fellow-creatures, and who had been mar- ried thence as if from her home. He said he thought all this self-denial wonderful in young women outside the Church. But the perfection of all womankind he found in his beloved neighbors, the Sisters of Charity, in Carlisle Place. Personally, he had not much sympathy with the contem- plative orders of either men or women. What captivated him most was the woman who worked in the world yet prayed in the cloister, who went about doing good the leaven of holiness in the school and the slum. The Sisters of Nazareth came next in his affections; and of the Com- munity at Hammersmith he said, wishing to cap my own praises, They are un- spoiled Irish women, and you cannot easily beat that. Those who are curious to know the cardinals preference in female beauty may care to hear that the only womans face I ever heard him express an opinion on was that of Princess T among Lenbachs line portraits. I had turned over the leaves showing more brilliant beauties; but when we came to this he said: Thats pretty. I think it Was because the lady has her eyes cast down. For equally ascetic reasons he liked the high foreheaded, colorless Ma- donnas better than all the mundane mag- nificences of Murillo. In most questions his liberality was be- yond expectation. He was never afraid of being compromised in the cause of charity. About Padre Curci, when he had been expelled by the Jesuits, and was even out of papal favor, he once unbosomed himself to me. I have put my purse at his disposal in his necessities, he said, and I tell you this, that you may tell it when I am gone,a phrase which he not unfrequently used, and which I have regarded as an obligation in cases where, otherwise, my pen would run through pas- sages. They would burn him in Rome, he added, smiling, if they could; and they would burn me too. An American lady, with a literary reputation less than her deserts she, whose Signor Monal- dinis Niece is among the few delight- ful contemporary novels wrote another book in one of whose heroes the cardinal recognized Padre Curci; and the portrait, though he thought it overdrawn, delighted him. He came upon it by a chance. Her books had been hailed, in a newspaper he was supposed to control, as a glory, where a glory was somewhat needed, to the Cath- olic literature of America; whereupon some one complained to the cardinal, send- ing a copy of this particular book, with sentences carefully marked as certainly improper. Profoundly pure, was his Eminences verdict on the impeached pas- sages. He heard occasionally of ladies whose lives were made a burden to them by horrors they sometimes listened to in sermons, and who were forbidden by con- fessors to hear them. Has it come to that? Well, I do not wonder, he said.~ Fantastic sermons, which violate Gospel reserve, and which profess to reveal more of the mind of our Lord than did inspira- tion itself, were a great cross to him. Poor things, he said once of a commu- nity who had asked him to preach, and in whose tone he thought he perceived a certain sophistication; I fear they were disappointed, for I found nothing better to preach about than the crucifixion. He had a great desire that his flock should love what he called the music of the English Bible, and he published at his own cost St. Johns Gospel, in a form which made it available for the pocket. There was no medal or scapular ~vhich he regarded as an equipment more heavenly. He was less rigid in regard to trivial art in churches; I never heard him re-echo REMINISCENCES OF CARDiNAL MANNiNG. 9 Savonarolas protest against the tawdry robes of crudest dye and the tinsel jewel- lery of the customary Madonna: I tell you she went about dressed as a simple young woman. Yet Savonarola and he had most things in common; and they would not have differed so greatly either in the inventory of things to be heaped on the bonfire which the one lighted in Florenceand the other willingly would have lighted in Bond Street. One favorite phrase of his in certain of his moods was really a paraphrase from Savonarola: In the catacombs the candlesticks were of wood, but the priests were of gold. Now the candlesticks are of gold. It was the more effective because the cardinal left, as Savonarola did not leave, the antithesis to complete itself. It was by such phrases slightly piquant, he knew them to be that he kept his faithful clergy ever on their mettle. The friendship between the cardinal and Mr. Gladstone was characteristic of the eddies of both mens dispositions, and of the changes of the times. Begun at Oxford, where already both bore the mark of their predestination to greatness, and both had the profound impress of piety, it was continued through the years which saw Manning settle into Churchmanship, and Gladstone into statesmanship two r~Zes they might easily have interchanged. And when there came, in 1845, that crisis of the Anglican Church in the minds of a large group, the secession of Newman, it was Manning who preached to Glad- stone the quieting doctrine that the freaks of individualism in her sons could not be pitted against the great corporate teach- ing of the mother Church of England. Perturbed in spirit, the politician left Lon- don behind him, and in the calm atmo- sphere of a Sussex rectory propounded this question: Are all these conversions, capped by Newmans, so many separate testimonies to the truth of the Roman Church, or is there any one trait held by these men in common to account for their conversion? There is one trait, said the archdeacon oracularly, a want of truth. I tell the story as it was told to me. But it had an authentic sound to any one familiar with the ready-made- reason moods from which riper years did not wholly deliver him; and when I asked him, in the eighties, if it was true, he said that, though he had forgotten the words, they no doubt represented a general feel- ing he had that Tract 90 was unstraight- forward, and all these converts might, at a moment when the rising hope of the Church party needed a terse reply, be taken as tarred with the Tract 9o brush. In 1889 I taxed Mr. Gladstones memory as to the episode, but found it a blank until he heard the whole story, when the incident came back to him, ex- cept that he questioned the geography, thinking that it took place in London, not at Lavington. When Manning and Hope- Scott seceded together five years later, Gladstone said he felt as if he had lost his two eyes. The Irish University question, which wrecked Mr. Gladstones bill in 1873, was the first great rock of offence set by cir- cumstances between the two friends. For the Archbishop of Westminster was cred- ited with influencing Irish and Catholic opinion, in and out of Parliament, to reject the proposals which, on the other hand, politicians of the Fawcett school attacked as concessions to popery. Between the two stools the minister of state fell, and when the Churchman and statesman met in the street, one looked in another direc- tion. The statesman indited pamphlet after pamphlet to assert that the Vatican Council had tampered with the civil alle- giance of Catholics, pamphlets in which it was so easy and pleasant to eulogize Newman, if only to set off a silence as to the merits of Manning. Even then, when Manning ~vinced for the words of his friend, his thoughts went back affection- ately and admiringly to the Gladstone of other days the~ Gladstone of Christ Church, sans peur et sans re~roche, the splendid type of all he most worshipped talent and piety. You surprise me, said Lord Beaconsfield, when Manning had been comparing the calm, broad, bal- anced Gladstone of that day and the Glad- stone of later years; I thought he had always been an Italian in the custody of a Scotchman. By the time Mr. Gladstone celebrated his eightieth birthday the car- dinal was able to write to him about the eighty stairs they had climbed together, a letter which had no hint of anything but the old trust and the old affection. The temporary estrangement between the cardinal and Mr. Gladstone was, as may be supposed, watched with some in- terest, and turned to some profit by Lord Beaconsfield. The portrait of Cardinal Grandison in Lothair did not please its prototype. Very different, he thought, was the spirit shown in the delineation of the Archbishop of Tyre in Endymion; and there had been a good deal of com- munication between the novelist and the sitter during the interval between the two I0 REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. works. When asked by the cardinal why have been rare. He treated me as a good he called himself a Tovy, Lord Beacons- old uncle might treat a niece whose ways field replied: Because the word Con- were not his, but were interesting and en servative is so long. tertaining to him, and merited his respect And long the word is like a knell also. Anything further from the con is the epithet which must already be tempt for women, which one or two rash applied to these reminiscences. I, there. newspaper correspondents have attributed fore, close, without exhausting, them. to him, could not well have been imagined, Fragmentary (his favorite word), unorgan- than his gentle fun and serious help and ized as they are, they reveal points in the advice. I grant, his advice was always temperament of this great Churchman, given with an air of authority belonging to which could not be easily gathered from his position, but the authority vanished his formal writinge or his official acts, like a mist the moment it was not ac- He had a great desire to be known as he knowledged, and he would add: Am I was; and those who possess broad human not right? Dont you agree with me?~ sympathies will not wonderat it; forthere The fact is, his personal humility as a was nothing narrow or artificial in him. Christian man, his trained deference as an He was the exact contrary of what super- English gentleman, his devoted desire for ficial bystanders represented him to be the truth and the right, his sen seofhis the marble arch(bishop) of profane jest. ecclesiastical dignity and his firm stand The most humble of men, he was not on the Churchs foundation, made a com- without an imperiousness all his own, bination of perfect simplicity of manner, which well became him. When he was and left him free from personal consider- eighty, letters of congratulation poured in ations about himself, as well as about those upon him in varying keys of homage all with whom he was conversing. They save one. His elder sister, who still were either souls needing his help, or fel- thought of him only as a younger brother, low workers consulting with him, and equal wrote to remind him that not by the length in view of the work. I suppose that few of a mans years, but by the way they are came into close relationship with him spent, will he be judged in another world. without finding that he felt it to be his I hope I never forget that, said the duty to show them what he saw as truth; cardinal; and yet what I have done is but, so far as I know, he was content not nothing, and I go empty-handed to my to try to impose himself on their convic- Redeemer. Only a little while before tions. He gave me the impression that his death he told me of his sisters age liberality as to others was as strong as ninety-three, and with all her faculties conviction for himself. He even had a a welcome precedent. In his own un- certain amused sense of the horror in worldly way he loved the world and all the which he knew himself and his Church to people in it. He did not want to die; but be held by people for whom he had re- none was ever so submissive to the sum- spect. mons. When you hear I have taken to My personal knowledge of Cardinal my bed, you can order my coffin, he said Manning dates only a few years back. I to me; in that I shall be like Lord Bea- was in London about a case of peculiarly consfield. Wearily and reluctantly he insolent ruffianism on the part of a bad climbed the stone stairs for the last time, man. His crime could not be punished just after signing a business letter to the by law, nor by publicity; but it went hard Vatican in the Italian he had economized with me that itshould pass quitescot-free. t.ime at Balliol by learning while he shaved. My usual counsellors were far away, and He had borne the burden of a long day; I went to the cardinal to see what he and he leaves a memory that must illumi- thought could be done. I proposed a nate those who come after him in the work certain course. We talked the case over, which remains for them to do. and then the cardinal said: I dont know WILFRID MEYNELL. you. I dont know whether you have courage to do it. I dont know whether So great and humble a man as Cardinal you will do it well. I said I had courage, Manning had necessarily a special side and would take his suggestions as to how visible to each person who came in close to do it. He said: Well. Let us talk contact with him, and even small contri- about other things, and then well see. butions to a complete picture of him are And for an hour or so we talked about not without value. I have been accus- common friends, about modes of work for tomed to think that he showed me a blithe the troubled, and about non-personal reli- and cosy human friendship which must gious topics. I had known so much of REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. II him through others, that I was not sur- prised to find how sweetly, genially humor- ous he was in fact, half-chaffing on some subjects, while burning with indignation on others. He finally said: I think you can do this, and I think it will be a good thing to do. God bless you. Take this blessing, at least, as the blessing of an old man. I think his rich and beautiful voice almost always sounded in the ears of a departing visitor: Come and see me again. He loved to have people come to him for advice and help, and perhaps loved it most keenly if he knew that they were stepping across some bar- rier. He certainly stepped across many a barrier to meet me, as he always did, after that first time. I carried out the plan, pleased him, and he wrote to me: What you did was contrary to the pru- dence of this world, but in accordance with the prudence of the next. Good will come of it; at all events, a voice has spoken to him in Gods name, and his word does not return void. For the pres- ent, what you have done is enough. I did not see him again for some time, and when I went I shall never forget his appearance as he came in. His attendant, Newman, always confused me with another lady, and I suppose he had taken in no clear message as to who I was. The old man came in, holding one side of his long coat across his chest, drawn up to his full height, and looking as severe and distant as could be. He was a medi~va1 ecclesi- astic all over. But when I made a few steps forward to meet him, face and figure all relaxed, and smiling, he said: Oh! itsyou, is it? Well? What mischief is on foot to-day? What commands have you for me? At the end of my busi- ness he said: Have you seen So-and- so (a recent vert to the Catholic Church) lately? I said I had, and that I was charmed to see what his Christianity could do for an Agnostic. Yes, that is a true conversion. That is a true conversion a conversion as you Methodists under- stand it, too. And presently he seemed to think this was his first good chance with me, and said: And when are you coming nearer? I am not likely ever to come nearer in the sense I think you mean, I said; and he urged on me the benefits of confession. I must say that I did little but parry the attack, because I could not bring myself to say plainly what I thought. He seemed too good and gentle to be opposed. But he gave me a book of his, and asked me to discuss it with him later on. The next time he saw I was unwilling, and said nothing till we had said good-bye. Then came a pause, and Well? I said, No. I only came to you for the business we have settled. Very well, very well. But you know you need guidance. I avoided the whole question, and for a time or two he left all such personalities alone. Then he gave me a little book on the Office of the Holy Spirit, and pressed me for com- ments on it. At last I frankly told him that his dignity and kindness about other things made it painful to speak plainly, but that I agreed with his book as far as he could quote Scripture in support of his teaching, but that he presently came to his doctrine of the Church, and had no quotations, and that then I differed. He said gently, You do not see your need of confession and of the Church, but it is there. I said: No. You suggest to me means by which to get what I have already, peace with God through Jesus Christ, and access to God by the Holy Spirit. You have really nothing better to offer me. And I can say this freely to you because you understand life as no ordinary priest can. You have lived a complete life, and understand. You know that I have all I need. He said quickly, with a sharp look at me: Are you content with yourself, then? Of course I said no, but with the faith and doctrine I had received. And I added again: You know I have what satisfies my souls needs. He paused, nodded his head repeatedly, and then said: I know that I think that you would always follow the truth. I said: More than that. You know that I see the truth differently from you, and that I have what satisfies me, while you have what satisfies you. Forgive me; I must speak plainly when you press me. He turned to me, and said very solemnly: The Church has a doctrine of the inten. tion of the heart. You have that intention of the heart. God bless you, God bless you. Then he reverted to the practical business result we had previously come to, and sent two or three messages by me to fellow-workers. He used, with a smile, to ask me about the health of a lady of his own age whom he knew to be an anxiously zealous Prot- estant, and sent messages which I durst not deliver. I always felt his quiet, un- derlying sense of Christian fellowship with her to be strong, though he knew that to her he represented the Scarlet Woman in England. Perhaps one of the most amusing con- versations I ever had with him was after 12 REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. I had seen some evictions in Ireland, and had made friends with some priests over there. I went to tell him all about it, and he spoke with great warmth of apprecia- tion about the English Protestants who had been over to cheer the hearts of the Irish. I said it was strange that English Catholics did not go. He said they were not in sympathy. I asked why he did not tell them to go, since it must stir their sympathy. They wont go, he re- peated again and again; its no use. They wont go. Then, I said, why dont you tell their confessors to send them for penance? He laughed heart- ily, lifted his hands, and let them fall on his knees: A capital idea! I will, he said. I have been struck with his readiness to do thingswhich a man of his age, to say nothing of his dignity, would not gener- ally do. He would get up and go and put a little coal on the fire, saying: We shall get quite cold sitting talking here. He gave me a delightful sense of enjoying the not being on ceremony or professional with me. After that one frank talk, he seemed to feel homeish and chatty, and never again did more than give me a little book and bless me. I once urged him to express publicly his opinion on a matter on which he felt bound to silence almost complete. He said, You understand I am tied and pledged. I said, It is of great importance. Can you say nothing more? He said, Well, what could I say? What do you think I could say? I suggested one thing after another that seemed to me possible. No, no. Fill, at last, I got a phrase which he felt would do, and he said, Now, you must be quiet and content with that. I can go no fur- ther. I am bound. Last summer I thought that in his re- marks on the Encyclical he had fallen into the almost universal clerical error of lay- ing the burden of parental responsibility on mothers. I wrote to him, saying plainly that I thought that the clergy generally said this sort of thing naturally, because if they returned to the earlier doctrine that it is incumbent on fathers to teach their children as they walk in the way, they would have to practise what they preached, and society pressed in the opposite direc- tion. I begged him, from his freer po- sition, to set the example of a better doctrine, and to try to stir fathers up to do their share. I told him I despaired of true doctrine until women took their place in pulpits and on platforms. He quickly replied : I began reading your letter without know ing from whom it came, and I said to myself Hey-day, here is a fine lady scolding I I wonder who it is. I then looked at the end, and wondered no longer. What can be more unjust than you? I was writing not against the women, but against employers. Mothers are partly driven into work, as you say, by the selfishness of fathers and the temptation of employers. What have I been doing for twenty years but preaching to fathers, in pledging them to total abstinence from drink, and in binding them to spend all they earn on their homes, by which the mothers can live a domestic life? Even the context of what you quote contains all this. But you ladies are torpedoes, and not legislators or preachers. There! I have had my revenge. But how can our people have homes until the land laws and the house property laws have been revised? I hope you are getting a good holiday. I was, of course, much delighted with this letter, but it turned out that he was just as much pleased with it as I. I went to call on him with a friend who wanted to be introduced to him, and he came into the room where we had waited, holding out both hands, and saying eagerly, Did you get my letter? What did you think of it? I told him I had been charmed by it, though I did not think it an answer. He at once began, chuckling, to explain the controversy to my friend, and was quite full of amusement. Our errand was to ask him to write a paper for the Re- view of the Churches, on re-union, and my friend was going about the matter diplomatically; but as soon as he saw what it was, he at once said, 1 should like to write on that for you. Then he talked earnestly on the subject, quoting a corre- spondence with an Anglican clergyman, who had said that Anglican clergy would be able to join the Roman Catholic Church, if she would recognize their orders, dis- pense with celibacy, and I forget the third point. Thats rather a large order. Its asking agooddeal, he said. He ended a conversation that was hur- ried, because he had a bishop waitino for him, by repeating his invariable line of talk on this subject, to the effect that formal union was far off, and that one could not see how it is to come, but that united work for the objects we can see alike upon is the true road to the end, as it is the only practical way of expressing our desires for unity. He welcomed any union among the sects as a sign ofadeep desire for union, and as a promise for the future of the whole Ghurch. REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. 3 Like all who came in contact with him, upon his walls. The intense simplicityof I feel myself to have parted temporarily his nature, together with the extraordinary from one of my dearest friends, but only vastness of the sphere of its sympathies, as friends part to live in different coun- pities, and solicitudes, constituted that tries. It is such childlike souls as his same kind of dignity, that pure majesty, really was that make almost visible to one which compelled the child of Heth, even the family life of heaven and earth as one the children of Heth, to answer Abraham, and undivided. He had thought the saying, Hear us, my lord: thou art a Fathers command was to obey a Church mighty prince among us. without questioning its authority, and he He was a king. His robes and jewels, acquiesced like a child. His deepest sym. and shields and heraldry, and tower of pathies seemed to me always to be for un- strength were that his great mind and taught and neglected children. If this heart went out to his race. He was at the seems to leave out of sight the astute summit of all the humanity you had Churchman view of him, I can only say known. Your reverence for him sprang that there is no diplomacy like perfect from the glimmer of himself in you. simplicity, and that always has seemed to There was a deep, tender fear in it which me to be his diplomacy, was akin to worship, and which tended to SARAH M. SHELDON AMoS. make men of no religion and men of every variety of religion kneel for his blessing as Jacobs sons knelt for Jacobs. To this personality was added the subtle suggestion of his coming to you from a still larger world than the vast world of men. In all his bearing was the saying: I am a stranger and sojourner with you. He was a son of the living God and Father of all. Men, rude and refined, of his Church, of no Church, and of all Churches, while revering and loving him for himself, had their unbelief put a little to shame, or their faith gladdened, by the subtle, lumi- nous power in which his strong, clear faith and joy in his God and theirs, bathed him, and, for the moment, them. They had seen none such wonderful manhood. The sense of eternal things which filled his presence men, to their surprise, felt in a degree haunting themselves. They had glimmers of a nimbus around his venerable head which made them, perhaps, dimly under- stand why painters had gilded aureoles around the heads of those saints which hung upon his walls. Yet not the humblest docker, not the youngest child, not the hardiest unbe- liever, found in him any greatness, as earths great personages are great. He had the gentleness, the deference of a father pitying his children. He was aware not in the least that he was a cardinal- archbishop; to be of service to you seemed the special object of his life. It was thus that My son, as he used to address an earnest man, seemed so well to become his lips. Yet was his pleasure in his ser- vice so child-like, that his heart seemed to bound and sing with the enjoyment of the thought that he could be anything of a helper to the helpless among men. From first to last my acquaintance with him was almost wholly in his relation to SEVEN and a half years ago through a work in which we were both specially interested, the childrens sections of the Criminal Law Amendment Act I first came to know the great man who has just left a church without its brightest orna- ment, and a country without one of its noblest sons, and whose life has been to me ever since that day like some beauti- ful sacred song. I had been warned ao~ainst him by a valued friend as the prince of proselytizers, and had a strong constitutional and principled dislike to his Church, and at least very negative feel- ings towards ecclesiastics in general; and now I met the man. Well, said he, almost swinging his hand into the grasp of mine, you are going to work for suffer- ma children; God bless and help you! His princedom in his church, his long, black, crimson-ed.~ed cassock, his crimson tiara, his cross of gold, his intellect and learning, his history, were all lost in a sweetness and sanctity which I had never met before save in humanitys holiest, most perfect childhood. His sacred seri- ousness, his spontaneous delight, his ab- sorption in what I had to say, his intense righteousness, the evident aims with which he lived, the human warmth and color which illuminated every feature of his wonderful face possessed me with lib- erty and joy in his presence. I had but one thought in coming away from him: the splendor of a true man. He was the man who is mans instinctive choice. Often have I seen him since that day, but neither then nor at any subsequent visit to him did I ever for one moment feel that I was in the presence of a great ecclesiastic much less of a little one. There were such persons hung in painting 14 REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. suffering children. I am fain to think fluence of his great name to a cause as that, as their friend, he loved me. It was yet unpopular. When the Bill for the in those years when the need of the soci- Prevention of Cruelty to Children was ety for whose existence I worked the before Parliament, he went do~vn to the National Society for the Prevention of House twice to use his influence in the Cruelty to Children was still unrecog- lobby with some of the members he knew, nized, whilst its success was still doubtful, from whom, he feared, support for it was whilst its proposals for legislation were not probable. To the same influence the generally resentedas grandmotherly,its society owes some of its most influential statements of reasons for such legislation supporters. To its two last annual meet- sensational and hysterical, whilst na- ings he promised to come if his doctor tional opinion upon its existence and would permit him to do so. The previous aims was adverse or dead it was then winters had both been spent indoors. that Cardinal Manning allowed me to find When the time for the meetings came he in him a friend, and made me feel the was still unwell. On one occasion, when strength which comes from such a mans urged to go and winter in the south of homage to ones cause. By a true in- France, and follow the good example of stinct he rejected alike the doubts and the Mr. Spurgeon, he said: When my Fa- censures which at that time were almost ther opens his door, and wants Henry universal, and in various and subtle ways, Edward Manning within, shall the child by sacred sympathy and encouragement, not be waiting on the step? and by a wide and statesmanlike view of His interest in children was like his the matter, sustained the faith and zeal character an all-round one and of the necessary if the cause was not to prove most genuine and simple kind. I like to too great and die. When urging patience go into the parks on Sunday, he said on in those days, the cardinal said in his own one occasion, to see the children and persuasive way: Child-life and home-life talk with them; and I give them my bless- have not been thought about in England. ing. Then, with a pleased smile he We have to make them thought about, added: Nobody can say that I am prose- The age is busy and superficial. Such lytizing in that. Referring on one occa- work will take time. Nothing that a nation sion to a depressed remark I had made needs deeply does it suddenly espouse. to him on the small results of the past At another moment of disappointment he years work: Only seventy cases ! he said to the same worker: There is room exultingly exclaimed. Small result for only one true fear in a man. That. Think of seventy little childrens tears fear is that he may be wrong. When that dried, and seventy little childrens pains has been banished, there is no room for stopped ! We can never say that that is any other. Whenever he observed in nothing. It is glorious! In a still more the paper that either I or the society had solemn voice, he continued: A childs had a snub, he was sure to send a little needless tear is a blood-blot upon this note, Come and see me. On one occa- earth. A worker for the society, after a sion he said, referring to a case which had tour in Ireland, called upon him at his recently been dismissed by the Wesrmins- request to tell him the result. On hearing ter magistrate: Nothing is more to be that the Catholic priest and the treasurer dreaded in a work like this than that we of the Irish Church Missionary Society, should allow the weaknesses of human Parnellite and McCarthyite, Orangeman agencies to divert our attention from the and Home Ruler, had met together on our righteousness of our mission. And do platform, and had joined in forming our remember, he added, that magistrates aid committees, he clapped his hands and cannot be expected to administer the law exclaimed : How happy the old prophet beyond the requirements of public senti. would have been! The good days are ment. Nothing is so likely to make an coming. It is the little child that will be earnest man unjust to officials as that he their leader. People will find their broth- should be disheartened. St. Paul could erhood in little children. work for his Lord, and yet respect the What this great man did for suffering officials whose duty it was to send him to children he could not help doing. The prison. When the first essay was made~ sinister motives which have been attrib- to interest the thinking part of the nation uted to him by persons who did not know in the cruelties from which so many of its him are to me, who have had the privilege children suffered, he joined with me, a of his intimacy for seven and a half years, comparatively unknown man, in writing an unjust and impossible. His zealous Ro- article in this review, thus lending the in- man Catholicism was but the image and superscription of that pure golden human- ity, to which each needless tear of a child was a blood-drop. With the ecclesiastical kingdom to which he gave his allegiance I have no concern here. Before all things he was a grandly human being. To him the cause and service of the little and weak was what to too many ecclesiastics is the cause and service of the great and the strong. Whatever was his own desire in the matter, the power of his life served, not Romanism, but religion. It was in spite of his alien Church, alien in name and in habits of thought to English life, that he won Englishmans love. They travelled after him, led by his personality, not by his creed. The English are first political, then religious; and all their po- litical traditions, as well as all the institu- tions their politics have created, place a bar against Romanism, which no person- ality, however great, can remove. His influence was like that gracious influence of a noble woman which all men feel without becoming women ,or even adopting their costume. It was created and it was limited by what in him was common to our best humanity, and which every human being by virtue of humanity must feel. The Church to which he be- longed gave him titles; but these, though extending the range and opportunities of the fascination of his influence, did not constitute the source of it. Neither the mitre nor the crown, but the common heart of mankind transfigured, marks the true master of men. The pope may create twenty cardinals; he cannot create one Manning, for grand titles do not make grand men. A bishops throne may have a bishops empire, but only a bishops. Manhood alone can have empire over men. Though most of what he said to me was said to make my hands stronger to do the - special work I had to do, and which, had he had time, his own hands would have gladly done, now and again conversation slipped into more general topics, when, so utterly simple was he and so open, that ~vhat some would call the trifles of his personal life would come up in his conver- sation, which all unconsciously betrayed how full of happy and prosperous virtue he was. On one occasion he told me this story in slow periods, in which every word was a reality: I was going down that street, pointing out of the window to a double row of mansions that were being built, and I met a little boy going along his happy way, with poor dress, but a lovely, thoughtful, pale, open face, and I 5 stopped him for the pleasure of speaking to him. Well, my little man, how are you, and where are you going with that little bundle in your hand? He told me there pointing to one of the houses being built, to his father. What is your father? I asked. A carpenter, sir, he replied. Then the cardinal added slowly, I was awed and startled! I had met a carpenters son! My Lord was once a little servant like that boy. Oh, Mr. Waugh, he exclaimed, almost in tears, what depths of love were in Christ! He then in the simplest way disclosed that he had at once returned home and sent all that he had then to give to some institu- tion for the children of the poor I feel at times, he said, ashamed to own any- thing. I saw in that moment how intense upon him was the power of the life of our Lord. Never was a man less of a bigot. He had a heart for all reality. We differed toto calo in our ideas of the Church. As the name is generally understood, I had no Church. The source of my religion began and ended with the Nazarene. I had no Church history, no Church creeds, save the history once enacted in Galilee and Judea and the creed of the Gospels. The four lives of the Nazarene by four of his friends were my library of faith. My pope, my cardinals were, therefore, Christ and his twelve. My apostolical succession was to such men as had by direct contact with our Lord caught some of his holy fire. On one occasion when I had respectfully put my position to him he said: Well, you are making me your confessor, and I give you absolution, for you need it; you are not following Christ as much as you think you are. Follow him enough and you will find that out. When walking in the New Forest some years ago I came up, here and there upon the road, with little knots of country peo- ple in their Sunday best wending their way to a village church. They were go- ing, I found, to the funeral of the house- keeper at the Hall. I turned into the cnurch, attended the service, and followed to the grave. I did not know the woman, but I found that she had been greatly loved and was bitterly mourned by the whole country-side, which had ceased labor and gathered to weep at her grave. Humanity ~nourned when she died. I found myself joining in its tears. When the lingering company had gone away, I said to the gravedigger: She was much beloved, it seems. Ah, sir ! he sobbed with difficulty, his aged, wrinkled face REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. REMINISCENCES OF CARDINAL MANNING. late Dr. Hatch, I have had the pleasure of making known to him; for he seemed de- sirous of meeting every one worth know- ing. He never tried to convert me; indeed we did not go much into ecclesiastical ar- gument; recognizing our different points of view, we were ready to discuss the secondary questions on which differences are not vital. I remember that early in our acquaintance the cardinal, who had undertaken to write an article for this review on the question of t~e admission of Mr. Bradlaugh to the House of Com- mons, sent to ask me to go down and talk to him about it. I found him with the manuscript just finished, the sheets scarce- ly dry. He read over the whole to me, challenging me to concur with, or dissent from, each proposition, and breaking into a gentle smile when as was generally the case I intimated strong dissent. I thought the article very good as a state- ment of opinion, but untenable as an ar- gument. I once congratulated him on his long life, as giving time for his motives and career to display themselves in their true light. He assented, referring very feel- ingly to the unpopularity and misconcep- tion he had had to go through; how he had been under a cloud for twenty or thirty years, but had in the end lived through it. I have never met with any one who seemed to me a more thorough bishop; not merely carrying with sedulous atten- tion and grave responsibility, though with a masterful sense of certainty and ease, the cares of his own diocese and Church, and to his own feeling at least of the religion of his country, but always ready to undertake the guidance of any individ- ual soul in need, caring for the one, and lavish of thought and time in each case onfessor as well as an overseer. He meditated deeply on the state of Chris~ tianity in Englandof course with a bias; thought highly, on the whole, of the aristocracy, spoke often in words of sol- emn warning of the perils of our pursuit of money, but recognized the deep-seated belief in God of the bulk of the people. I CANNOT refrain from adding to the There was much Catholic truth, he would foregoing papers a few recollections of my say, among the Methodists, and he held own. For some years past I have, like that the Salvation Army, sadly defective many others, been admitted to Cardinal as it was, was nevertheless seriously Mannings friendship, and;found ready preaching the fear of God. access to him. Many an hours conver- 1 was abroad during the early part of sation I have had with himoften on a the Dock strike. On returning, I went to Sunday evening, when he seemed to be see the cardinal, who told me what he had at leisure for general and discursive talk. been doing. I suggested that the Bishop Several friends, notably Dr. Paton and the of London, having put his hand to the crumpling up as fresh tears started, break- ing his sentence. Then taking his shovel, he continued, as he began to shovel back the earth: This is the hardest job Ive had for many a day. Those Hebrew women from Galilee and those English laborers from the Forest had the same kind of reason for their tears at the tomb. Humanity wept at both. And it was humanity that wept at the tomb of the cardinal. Our common race was bereaved. The mystic power of man renewed after the image of Christ is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. Remembering the great woe of this great city and of the whole land at his grave it is well to reflect that though place and power play their part in this complex life of ours, empire belongs only to Christ and to the Christ-like soul, be its circle great or small. It is not an Atlantic alone that possesses the properties of the sea; each wave and ripple breaking around the chil- drens feet paddling upon its shore pos- sesses the same. Its very spray is salt. Nor is it greatness of name and vastness of sphere that constitute the power of a Christian. His power is that his nature is impregnated with the race-loving spirit of Christ. The soul may be as unconscious of its properties as the sea is of its prop- erties, but it has them all the same; and by whatsoever Church-name that soul is known: Greek, Roman, or Anglican, be it a diocesan dignitary, or a housekeeper at the Hall among farms and laborers, the Christliness of its disposition and behavior will be the measure in which men will find in it saving health. Once I was warned by a well-known statesman against putting ecolesiastics on my societys committee. I said: But we have already one on it, Cardinal Man- ning. His reply was: Oh, Manning, he is not an ecclesiastic; he belongs to us all ! That the supremest humanity is king among men, this is the lesson of the great life which the nation mourns, and which it will see no more. BENJAMIN WAUGH. THE VILLAGE LEGACY. 17 ulough, had looked back. Yes, he said, with a sort of wicked smile, and I am not sure whether any other of my episcopal brethren were in England at the time. Some years ago Dr. Fairbairn, of Mans- field College, wrote some articles criticis- ing the theological position of Cardinal Newman. Cardinal Manning, reading these, spoke to me of his great interest in them, and expressed a wish to meet Dr. Fairbairn. Accordingly, he came to my house one afternoon to meet Dr. Fairbairn and my friend Dr. Paton. Mr. Lilly was also present, and some members of my family. After tea the conversation natu- rally turned on the Roman Catholic ques- tion, and in the most friendly and generous spirit, as might be expected from the tem- per of the men, a general argument of the deepest interest was held, Dr. Fairbairn propounding questions to bring out the points, the cardinal replying, and Dr. Paton interposing remarks and questions now and then. The cardinal did not bind himself to Cardinal Newmans positions, and indeed expressly disclaimed to have so studied his books as to know his views; but he treated the belief in God as a necessity of his existence, and deduced from it the belief in Christianityi.e., the Catholic Church. His argument was, to the minds of some present, somewhat out of date, founded rather on the lines current in the Tractarian times than on those which are adjusted to modern history and philosophy. But he more than frankly admitted to saving grace Christians outside the Roman Catholic Church, basing his view on the doctrine of extraordinary grace, the result of the grace of the Church, and shining out beyond her pale. The whole conversation was strenuous; Drs. Fairbairn and Paton, both coming, as they explained, of the blood of the Covenanters, were firm, though fraternal, themselves holding High Church doctrine, though of a different order. I remember especially one passage. The cardinal was asked to define the specific Roman Catholic theory of the Church, and, settling himself to the task, spoke for two or three minutes. At the close of his sentences we all three, with one voice, accepted his definition absolutely. This may show either the underlying similarity of Christian creeds or the difficulties of definition; but it was very striking. There was no difference as to the ideas of the Church and Catho- licity: only as to the realities which cor- responded to them. The conversation was at last broken off by the cardinal having LIVING AG L VOL. LXXVIIL 4002 to leave. Rising from his chair, he grasped Dr. Fairbairn by the hand, and with the greatest warmth, said how glad he was, in spite of what he must consider imperfections, to be able to recognize him as a brother in Christ. Dr. Fairbairn, with like feeling, replied how happy he was to be able so to regard him, without even speaking of imperfections, and even happier to be in a position to acknowledge him as a teacher called to his office, like himself, by the Master, and possessed therefore of the same right to serve him. It was a mutual benediction, and a scene I shall never forget. P.W.B. From Macmillans Magazine. THE VILLAGE LEGACY. THE case of Mussumat* Nuttia being without heirs, droned the court-inspector. Brino her in. She is already in the Presence. If the Protector of the Poor will rise somewhat at the other side of the table, Huzoor! beside the yellow-trousered leo~s of the guardian of peace that is Mussumat A child some three years of age, with a string of big blue beads round her neck, a child who had evidently had a very satisfying meal, and who was even now pre- serving its con tour by half a yard of sugar- cane, stared gravely back at the assistant magistrates grave face. She has no heirs of any kind? he asked. None, Huzoor! Her mother was of the Harni tribe, working harvests in Bha- maniwallah-khurd. There the misfortune of being eaten by a snake came upon her by the grace of God. Mussumat Nuttia therefore remains Oh, Guardian of the Poor! said two voices in unison, as two tall, bearded fig- ures swathed in whitish-brown draperies pressed a step forward with outstretched, petitioning hands. They had been await- ing this crisis all day long, with that mix ture of tenacity and indifference which is seen on most faces in an Indian court. Give her in charge of the headmen of the village; they are responsible. Shelter of the world! tis falsely rep- resented. The woman was a vagrant, a loose walker, a Is the order written? Then bring the next case. * A title of courtesy equivalent to our injures:. THE VILLAGE LEGACY. One flourish of a pen, and Mussum~t Nuttia became a village legacy; the only immediate result being that having sucked one end of her sugarcane dry, she began methodically on the other. Half an hour afterwards, mounted on a white pony, with pink eyes and nose and a dyed pink tail to match, she was on her way back to the cluster of reed huts dignified by the name of Bh& maniwallah-khurd, or Little Bha- maniwallah. Big Bh~maniwallah lay a full mile to the northward, secured against midsummer floods by the high bank which stretched like a mud wall right across the Punjab plain, from the skirts of the hills to the great meeting of the five waters at Mit- tankote. But Little Bh~maniwallah lay in the lap of the river, and so Bah~dur, and Boota, and Jodha, and all the grave, big- bearded dogas who fed their herds of cat- tle on the low ground and speculated in the cultivation of sand-banks, lived with their loins girded ready to shift house with the shifting of the river. That was why the huts were made of reeds; that was why the women of the village clanked about in solid silver je~vellery, thus turn- ing their persons into a secure savings bank. Mussum~t Jewun, BahAdur, the head- mans wife, wore bracelets like manacles, and a perfect yoke of a necklet, as she patted out the dough cakes and expostu- lated shrilly at the introduction of a new mouth into the family, when Nuttia, fast asleep, was lifted from the pony and put down in the warm sand by the door. She belongs to the village, replied the elders, wagging their beards. God knows what my lords desire with the Harni brat, but if they ask for her, she must be forthcoming; ay! and fat. They like people to grow fat, even in their jail- klianas. So Nuttia grew fat; she would have grown fat even had the fear of my lords not been before the simple villagers eyes, for despite her tender years she was emi- nently fitted to take care of herself. She had an instinct as to the houses where good things were being prepared, and her chubby little hand imperiously stretched out for a portion was seldom sent away empty. Indeed, to tell the sober truth, Nuttia was not to be gainsaid as to her own hunger. My stomach is bigger than that, grandmother! she would say confidently, if the alms appeared to her inadequate, and neither cuffs nor neglect altered her conviction. She never cried, and the little fat hand silently demanding more, came back again and again after every rebuff till she felt herself in a condition to seek some warm, sunny corner, and curl round to sleep. She lived, for the most part, with the yelping, slouching, village dogs, following them, as the nights grew chill, to the smouldering brick-kilns, where she fed the little dust-colored puppies with anything above, or beneath, her own ap- petite. As she outgrew childhoods vestment of curves and dimples, some one gave her an old rag of a petticoat. Perhaps the acquisition of clothes followed, as in an- cient days, a fall from grace ; certain it was that Nuttia in a garment was a far less estimable member of society than Nuttia without one. To begin with, it afforded opportunity for the display of many mortal sins. Vainglory in her own appearance, deceit in attempting to palm the solitary prize off on the world as a various and complete wardrobe, and dis- honesty flagrant and unabashed; for once provided with a convenient receptacle for acquired trifles Nuttia took to stealing as naturally as a puppy steals bones. Then, once havina recognized the pleas- ures of possession, she fought furiously against any infringement of her rights. A boy twice her size went yelling home to his parents on her first resort to brute force consequent on the discovery of a potsherd tied to her favorite puppys tail. This victory proved unfortunate for the peace of the village, the head men awoke to the necessity for training up their Leg- acy in the paths of virtue. So persistent pummelling was resorted to with the hap- piest effect. Nuttia stole and fought no more; she retired with dignity from a so- ciety which failed to appreciate her, and took to the wilderness instead. At earliest dawn, after her begging round was over, she would wander out from the thorn en- closures to the world; a kaleidoscope world where fields ripened golden crops one year, and the next brought the red brown river wrinkling and dimpling in swift current; where big, brand-new con- tinents rose up before eager eyes, and clothed themselves in green herbs and creeping things innumerable ,go ingno fur- ther, however, in the scale of creation, except when the pelicans hunched them- selves together to doze away digestion, or a snub-nosed alligator took a slimy snooze on the extreme edge. If you wished to watch the birds, or the palm-squirrels, or the jerboa rats, you had to face northwards and skirt the high bank. So much of Dame Natures ways, and a vast deal more, Mussum~t Nuttia learnt ere the set- ting sun and hunger drove her back to the brick-kilns, and the never-failing meal of scrapsnever-failing, because the lords of the universe liked people to be fat, and the head-men were responsible for their Legacys condition. So when an assistant magistrate in- definite because of the constant changes which apparently form part of Western policy included the Bh~mani wallahs in his winter tour of inspection, apunchaiyu/, or Council of Five, decided that it was the duty of the village to provide Nuttia with a veil, in case she should be haled to the Presence; and two yards of Manchester muslin were purchased from the reserve funds of the village, and handed over to the child with many wise saws on the gen- eral advisability of decency. Nuttias delight for the first five minutes was ex- hilarating, and sent the head-men back to other duties with a glow of self-satisfaction on their solemn faces. Then she folded the veil up quite square, sat down on it, and meditated on the various uses to which it could be put. The result may be told briefly. Two days afterwards the assistant magistrate, being a keen sportsman, was crawling on his stomach to a certain long, low pool much frequented by teal and mallard. In the rear , gleaming white through the caper bushes, showed the usual cloud of wit- nesses filled with patient amazement at this unnecessary display of energy; yet for all that counting shrewdly on the good temper likely to result from good sport. So much so, that the sudden uprising into bad language of the Huzoor sent them forward prodigal of apology; but the sight that met their eyes dried up the fountain of excuse. Nuttia, stark naked, stood knee-deep in the very centre of the pool, catching small fry with a bag-net ingen- iously constructed out of the Manchester veil. The i5unchazyut sat again to agree that a child who could not only destroy the sport of the Guardian of the Poor, but could also drag the village honor through the mud, despite munificent inducements towards decency, must be possessed of a devil. So Nuttia was solemnly censed with red pepper and tumeric, until her yells and struggles were deemed sufficient to denote a casting out of the evil spirit. It is not in the slow-brained, calm-hearted peasant of India to be unkind to children, and so, when the function was over, Mus- sum& t Jewun and the other deep-chested, shrill-voiced women comforted the victim with sweetmeats and the assurance that 9 she would be ever so much better behaved in future. Nuttia eyed them suspiciously, but ate her sweetmeats. This incident did no~ increase her confidence in humanity; on the other hand, the attitude of the brute creation was a sore disappointment to her. She might have had a heart instinct with greed of capture and sudden death, instead of that dim desire of companionship, for all the notice taken by the birds, and the squirrels, and the rats, of her outstretched handful of crumbs. She would sit for long hours, silent as a little bronze image set in the sunshiny sand; then in a rage, she would fling the crumbs at the timid crea- tures, and go home to the dogs and the buffaloes. They at least were not afraid of her; but then they were afraid of no- body, and Nuttia wanted something of her very own. One day she found it. It was only an old bed-leg, but to the eye of faith an in- carnation. For the leg of an Indian bed is not unlike a huge ninepin, and even a Western imagination can detect the em- bryo likeness between a ninepin and the human form divine. Man has a head, so has a ninepin; and if humanity is to wear petticoats one solid leg is quite as good as two; nay, better, since it stands more firmly. Arms were of course wanting, but the holes ready cut in the oval centre for the insertion of the bed-frame formed ad- mirable sockets for two straight pieces of bamboo. At this stage Nuttias treasure presented the appearance of a sign-post; but the passion of creation was on the child, and a few hours afterwards some- thing comically, yet pitifully, like the Leg- acy herself stared back at her from that humble studio among the dirt heaps,a shag of goats hair glued on with prickly pear-juice, two lovely black eyes drawn with Mussum& t Jewuns khol pencil, a few blue beads, a scanty petticoat and veil filched from the childs own garments. Nuttia, inspired by the recollection of a tinsel-decorated bride in Big Bh~mani. wallah, called her creature Sirdar Begum on the spot. Then she hid her away in a tussock of tiger-grass beyond the thorn enclosures, and strove to go her evening rounds as though nothing had happened. Yet it was as if an angel from heaven had stepped down to take her by the hand. Henceforward she was never to be alone. All through the silent, sunny days, as she watched the big black buff aloes grazing on the muddy flats for Nuttia was advanced to the dignity of a herd-girl by this time Sirdar Begum was with her as guide, THE ViLLAGE LEGACY. 20 THE VILLAGE LEGACY. counsellor, and friend. Whether the doll fared best with a hearts whole devotion poured out on her wooden head, or whether Nuttias part in giving was more blessed, need not be considered; the result to both being a steady grin on a broad round face. But there was another result also: Nuttia began to develop a taste for pure virtue. Perhaps it was the necessity of posing before Sirdar Begum as infallible, joined to the desire of keeping that young per- sons conduct up to heroic pitch, which caused the sudden rise in principle. At all events the Legacys cattle became re- nowned as steady milkers, and the amount of butter she managed to twirl out of the sour curds satisfied even Mussum~t Je- wuns demands; whereupon the other herds looked at her askance, and muttered an Indian equivalent of seven devils. Then the necessity for amusing the doll led Nuttia into lingering round the little knots of story-tellers who sat far on into the night, discoursing of jins and ghouls, of faithful lovers, virtuous maidens, and the beauties of holiness. Down on the edge of the big stream, with the water sliding by, Nuttia rehearsed all these won- ders to her adored bed-leg until, falling in love with righteousness, she took to tell- ing the truth. It was a fatal mistake in a cattle-lifting district, and Bhamaniwallah-khurd lay in the very centre of that maze of tamarisk jungle, quicksand, and stream, which forms the cattle-thiefs best refuge. So Bah~dur, and Jodha, and Boota, together with many another honest man made a steady income by levying blackmail on those who sought safetywithin their boun- daries; and this without in any way en- dangering their own reputations. All that had to be done was to obliterate strange tracks by sending their own droves in the right direction, and thereafter to keep silence. And every baby in both Bha- maniwallahs knew that hoof-prints were not a legitimate subject for conversation all save Nuttia, and sheas luck would have it was a herd-girl! They tried beating this sixth sense into her, but it was no use, and so whenever the silver- fringed turban, white cotton gloves, and clanking sword of the native inspector of police were expected in the village, they used to send the Legacy away to the back of beyond,right away to the Luckim- pura island maybe, to reach which she had to hold on to the biggest buffalos tail, and so, with Sirdar Begum tied securely to its horns and her own little black head bob- bing up and down in its wake, the trio would cross the narrow stream and spread themselves out to dry on the hot sand. Nuttia took a great fancy to the island, and many a time when she might have driven the herds to nearer pastures, pre- ferred the long, low stretches of Luckim- pura where a flush of green lingered even in the droughts of April. But even there on one very hot day scarcely a blade was to be found, and Nuttia, careful of her beasts and noting the lowness of the river, gathered them round her with the herdsmans cry and drove them to the further brink intending to take them across to a smaller island be- yond. To her surprise they stood knee deep in the water immovable, impassive, noses in air, with long curled horns lying on their necks. The Legacy shaded her eyes to see more clearly. Nothing ~vas to be seen but the swift, shallow stream, the level sand, and gleams of water stretching away to the horizon. Something had frightened them but what? She gave up the puz- zle, and with Sirdar Begum bolt upright before her sat on a snag, dangling her feet over the stream for the sake of the cool air which seemed to rise from the river. The buffaloes roamed restlessly about, disturbed doubtless by the clouds of flies. The sun beat down ineffectually on the dolls fuzzy head, but it pierced Nuttias thick pate making her nod drowsily. Her voice recounting the thrilling adventures of brave I3hopalutchi died away into a sigh of sleep. So there was nothing left but the dolls wide, unwinking eyes to keep watch over the world. What was that? Something cold, icy- cold! Nuttia woke with a start. One brown heel had touched the water; she looked down at it, then swiftly around her. The buffaloes huddled by the ford had ceased to graze, and a quiver of light greeted her glance at the purple horizon. She sprang to her feet and breaking off a root from the snag, held it to the dimpling water. The next instant a scared face looked at the horizon once more. The river was rising fast, rising as she had never seen it rise before. Yet in past years she had witnessed many a flood; floods that had swept away much of the arable land and driven the villagers to till new soil thrown up nearer the high bank. Ay! and driven many of them to seek new homes beside the new fields, until Bh& maniwallah-khurd had dwindled away to a few houses, a very few, and these on that hot April day deserted for THE VILLAGE LEGACY. 21 the most part, since all the able-bodied men and women were away at the harvest. Even the herds had driven their cattle northwards, hoping to come in for some of the lively bustle of the fields. There were only Nuttia on the Luckimpura island and Mussumat Jewun, with her new baby and the old hag who nursed her, in the reed huts. All this came to the girls memory as the long, low cry of the herd rose on the hot air, and with Sir- dar Begum close clasped in her veil she drove the big buffalo Moti into the stream. How cold the water was; cold as the snows from which it caine! The Legacy had not lived in the lap of the river for so long without learning something of its ways. She knew of the frost-bound sources whence it flowed, and of the dis- astrous floods which follow beneath a cloudless sky, on unusual heat or unusual rain in those mountain fastnesses. The coming storm, whose arch of cloud, shim- mering with sheet-lightning, had crept be- yond the line of purple haze, was nothing; that was not the nightmare of the river- folk. She stood for a moment when dry land was reached, hesitating whether to strike straight for the high bank or make for the village lying a mile distant. Some vague instinct of showing Sirdar Begum she was not afraid, made ber choose the latter course, though most of the herd refused to follow her decision and broke away. She collected her few remaining favorites, and with cheerful cries plunged into the tama- risk jungle. Here, shut out from sight, save of the yielding bushes, her thoughts went far afield. What if the old nullak between the reed huts and the rising ground were to fill? What if the low levels between that rising ground and the high bank were to flood? And every one beyond in the yellow corn, except Mai J ewun and people who did not count, babies, and old women, and the crippled girl in the far hut! Only herself and Sir. dar Begum to be brave, for Mai Jewun was sick. Wake up! Wake up! Mai Jewun! the floods are out!~ broke in on the new-born babys wail as Nuttias broad, scared face shut out the sunlight from the door. Go away, unlucky daughter of a bad mother, grumbled Jewun drowsily. Dost wish to cast thy evil eye on my Hearts Delight? Go, I say. Yea! go! grumbled the old nurse cracking her fingers. Sure some devil possesseth thee to tell truth or lies at thy own pleasure. But the crippled girl spinning in the far hut had heard the flying feet, caught the excited cry, and now, crawling on her knees to the door threw up her hands and shrieked aloud. The water stood ankle.deep among the tamarisk roots, and from its still pool tiny tongues licked their way along the dry sand. The flood! the flood! The unavai I- ing cry rang out as the women huddled together helplessly. Mal Jewun! there is time, came the Legacys eager voice. Put the baby down and help. I saw them do it at Luck- impura that time they took the cattle over the deep stream, and Bah~dur beat me for seeing it. Quick! quick 1 Simple enough, yet in its very simplic- ity lay their only chance of escape. A string-woven bed buoyed up with the bun- dles of reeds cut ready for rethatching, and on this frail raft four people nay, five! for first of all with jealous care Nuttia placed her beloved Sirdar Begum in safety, ~vrapping her up in the clothes she discarded in favor of free nakedness. Quick! quick ! if the rising ground is to be gained and the levels beyond forded ere the water is too deep! Moti and a companion yoked by plough-ropes to the bed, wade knee-deep, hock-deep, into the stream, and now with the old, cheerful cry Nuttia, clinging to their tails and so guid- ing them, urges the beasts deeper still. The stream swirls past holding them with it, though they breast it bravely. A log, long stranded in some shallow, dances past, shaving the raft by an inch. Then an alligator,swept from its moorings and casting eyes on Nuttias brown legs, makes the beasts plunge madly. A rope breaks, the churned water sweeps over the women,the end is near,when an- other frantic struggle leaves Moti alone to her task. The high, childish voice calling on her favorites courage rises again and again; but the others, cowed into silence, clutch together with hid faces, till a fresh plunge loosens their tongues once more. It is Moti finding foothold, and they are safe so far. Quick! Mai Jewun, cries Nuttia, as her companions stand looking fearfully over the waste of shallows before them. She knows from the narrowness of the ridge they have reached that time is pre- cious. We must wade while we can, sav- ing Moti for the streams. Take up the baby, and I Her hands, busy on the bed, stilled themselves, her face grew grey, she turned on them like a fury. Sirdar Be- 22 gum! I put her there where is Sirdar Begum? That bed-leg! shrilled the mother, tucking up her petticoats for greater free- dom. There was no room, and Hearts Delight was cold. Bah! wood floats. Hull-Zal-/aZ-a Ia//a la I The herds- mans cry was the only answer. Moti has faced the flood again, but this time with a light load, for the baby nestling amid Nut- tias clothes is the only occupant of the frail raft. My son! My son! Light of mine eyes! Core of my heart! Come back! Come back! But the little black head drifting down stream behind the big one never turned from its set purpose. Wood floated, and so might babies. Why not? Why not, indeed! But as a matter of fact Mai Jewun was right. A dilapidated bed-leg was picked up on a sandbank miles away when the floods subsided; and Moti joined the herd next day to chew the cud of her reflections contentedly. But the Village Legacy and Hearts De- light remained somewhere seeking for something. That something doubtless which had turned the bed-leg into Sirdar Begum. From The Scottish Review. ANCIENT TRADE. THE political history of the ancient world, and the story of wars and con- quests, is familiar to us, both through the works of early historians, and from the existing monuments of -ancient civilized countries ; but the history of ancient trade, and of the peaceful relations which bound together the various nations of Asia and of southern Europe, remains still to be written, although the materials for such a work are constantly accumulat- ing. Wear e apt to regard the ancients as jealously guarding their own lands from forei~ners, and as continually warring with their neighbors, and to forget that the merchant and the artist, by extended travels and by residence in other coun- tries, bound together the various civilized races, even as early as 2500 B.C., almost as completely as in our own times. Perhaps the earliest evidence of such peaceful trade and employment is to be found in the inscriptions of XV~dy el Magharah (valley of the cave) in the Sinaitic desert. The mines in this coun- try, from which the Egyptians obtained mafek or turquoise whence the region was called Mafka were worked in the time of Senoferu, ninth king of the third dynasty, whose tablets still remain carved on the rocks; and copper is also believed to have been thence obtained. The date of this monarch is very uncertain. It has been placed as early as 3600 B.C.; but the method by which scholars endeavored to ascertain such dates is open to criticism, since it supposes an average reign of thirty years for each king, which seems much too long a period if we compare the aver- age in later times, when the regnal years are exactly recorded. Senoferu, however, cannot have lived much later than 2500 B.C. About the same time the great Akkadian conqueror, whose name is usually read as Gudea, had established his capital on the lower Tigris, and had conquered northern Syria, whence he took cedar wood for the building of his temples. He states, in an inscription recently discovered at Tell Loh, that the diorite in which his statues were hewn came from Ma-gan-na the land of the wall; and the evidence of other texts shows clearly that the country so called was Sinai. The term answers to the Hebrew Shur the ~vall; and in addition to this statement geologists as- sure us that the material used for the statues is the same diorite found in the Sinaitic peninsula. At this very early period, therefore, the Egyptian and the Mongol Akkadian appear to have met, in the Sinaitic region, in times of peace, and the stone from the quarries was trans- ported over the distance of twelve hundred miles eastwards to the Tigris. The wealth and advanced civilization, of which we have such early evidence, were not lost in succeeding times; and as early as about 1700 B.C. the Semitic peoples appear as traders, connecting the valley of the Euphrates with that of the Nile. When Thothmes III. invaded Syria he found the Phcenicians already famous for the graven metal work, which was so highly prized by the Greeks, at the time when the Homeric poems were penned. Egyptian pictures represent their presents of vases and urns, elegant in the forms of their repouss6 workmanship, and made of silver, gold, and bronze. The list of spoils and of tribute from Pales- tine, Syria, and Assyria, astonishes us by its enumeration of precious objects, taken from Hittites and Syrians as well as from Nineveh. The chariots of the conquered tribes were plated with silver and gold, and, in addition to wine, oil, wheat, and ANCIENT TRADE. ANCIENT TRADE. 23 fruits, statues were found made of precious metals; and precious stones blue and green are mentioned, with staves of ivory, ebony, and ceda, inlaid with gold, tables of cedar adorned with gold and with gems, and thrones of which the footstools were made of ivory and cedar. The armor, also, was inlaid with gold, and a gate chests are enumerated, with copper chariots. Some of the chariots in Phenicia were painted. Alabaster and lead, with incense, balsam, sweet oil, and precious woods, came from the same region. From Cyprus were brought bricks of lead, with blue- stone and elephants tusks, and the vases were carved in fanciful designs, with the heads of goats, lions, bulls, and eagles. Iron spears are noticed, with battle-axes of flint. The Hittites sent negro slaves, showing how early the slave trade must have been organized; and the Ph~nicians are represented leading little yellow chil- dren, who were perhaps brought from Armenia or the Caucasus. Lead, gold, and silver, with precious stones, came also from Naharaim or northern Mesopo- tamia, with ornamented collars of leather. It is remarkable that both iron (berzi/) and the chariot (rnarcabalz) were known to the Egyptians by their Hebrew or Assyrian names, showing apparently that they were first obtained from a Semitic people, and the same remarks applies to the horse (s?ts) which was not known in Egypt before the conquests of the eigh- teenth dynasty in western Asia. Even before the time of the great Thoth- mes the Egyptians had a fleet in the Red Sea. His famous elder sister, Hatasu (or as others prefer to read the name Hashop), sent her ambassadors far south to Punt, which seems to have been the present Somali land, where they landed on the coast of the incense mountain cut in terraces ~ near Cape Gardafui. The na- tives presented incense-trees, which were brought to Egypt planted in tubs, together with resin and ebony, ivory objects inlaid with gold, kohel for the eyes, dog-headed apes, long-tailed monkeys, greyhounds, and leopard skins. The natives from whom these gifts were obtained appear, on the bas-reliefs, to have been of the gr~at Bantu stock, with features resembling those of the Caifre rather than the negro. The manna, which wa~ used in Egypt for incense, appears to have come from Sinai or from further south, and retained the same name by which it was known to the Hebrews. These embassies and presents contin- i.ied to pour in from north and south alike in the sixteenth century B.C., and down to the time of the revolt of Canaan, about 1450 B.c., from the weak rule of Khu-en- aten. The Hittite Prince Ta~kondara, sent copper (or bronze) and precious stones from the region near Palmyra. Even from Babylonia gold was sent in quanti- ties, with stone vases and rare trees and vessels of bronze. Tin was very early known to the Akkadians of Chaldea, as we learn from the well-known bilingual text, in which it is said to have been min- gled with copper to produce bronze; but it is remarkable how tentatively this result was attained, as shown by the recent analysis of bronze objects of various dates. As late as the time of the sixth dynasty it would appear to have been unknown in Egypt, where only pure copper was used. In the time of the t~velfth dynasty only five per cent. of tin occurs in the bronze, whereas, under the eighteenth, the metal perhaps obtained from the Phcenicians was made with six or seven per cent. of tin. In the same way the earliest Akka- dians used pure copper, but in the days of Sargon (700 B.C.) ten per cent. of tin was added. So also Dr. Schliemann discov- ered tools and weapons, ranging from the copper pins and nails of the earliest pe- riod to the bronze battle-axes of later days, whicn show nine per cent. of tin. Thus, if antiquaries insist on a Bronze Age they must also allow for one of cop- per; but in reality such an attempt to arrange a chronology founded on the use of the metals fails entirely when it is ap- plied to a large area of the ancient world, wherein various races were living contem- poraneously in very various stages. of civilization. Recent discoveries in the south-east of Spain have revealed a pe- riod when bronze was little known and when no iron was in use, but when, in chambers of hewn stone, the dead were buried in pottery jars, and adorned with beads of ivory, with bracelets of copper, rings of silver, and coronets of gold. Axes and arrow-heads alike were made of copper by those early Spaniards, as were their knives and awls and daggers. The copper was probably hardened in oil, but the bronze brought by Ph~nician traders is rarely found.* The people whose early and rude civilization has thus been illus- trated in the Far \Vest, were entirely illit- erate, but it is not necessary to suppose that such remains belong to a very early datethe historic ages in Asia reach * MM. Henri et Louis Sirets Les Premieres Ages du Metal dana is Sod Eat de I. Espague. See Miss Bucklands paper, A rc1e~olog. Rev., No. 4, s888. 24 ANCIENT TRADE. back further than the pre-historicin savage ,the native race. Of him Rameses III. Europe. records the impiety and final overthrow, The Egyptians had ships in the Medi- yet the Ph~nician trade with Egypt con- terranean as well as on the Red Sea coast. tinued till much later times, and these About 1300 B.C. the rude Aryan tribes sailors were em~loyed in 6oo B.C. by Thracians, Achaians, Lycians, Sardians, Necho, to circumnavigate Africa, which, and othersattacked Mineptah II., be- as Herodotus tells us, they successfully ing leagued with the blue-eyed Libyans achieved. from the west, whose descendants still The early exploration of the Mediterra- maintain their fair complexion, and who nean was mainly due to Phcenician trad. appear to have been early Celtic settlers ers, who penetrated first to Cyprus and in Africa. They were defeated, but the the Greek islands from Sidon, and estab- attack was renewed a century later against lished colonies throughout this arch ipel- Rameses III., and was by sea. They ago and in the Morea, as well as at were then opposed by Egyptian fleets of Thasos, Lemnos, and far north at Sesamos ships of war, merchantmen boats and and Sinope on the Black Sea. They skiffs, and after the annihilation of this found copper in Cyprus, gold at Thasos, second expedition the Egyptian fleet ad- and silver in Siphaos and Cimolus. The vanced to Cyprus, where many of the chief earliest colonies at Citium are thought to cities were taken. An Egyptian ship is have been founded between the seven- described as being one hundred cubits teenth and fourteenth centuries B.C., and long, and some of them were armed with the trade with Greece dated back to at beaks or rams. Even at the earlier pe- least 1200 B.C. Southern Italy is also nod (1300 B.C.) there was a maritime said to have been reached by the Sido- trade between Egypt and northern Syria, nians, who established themselves at Te- for Mineptah 11. speaks of certain Piti- mesa, Medama, and other seaside towns. shu whom I allowed to take away wheat The men of Gebal, north of Sidon, founded in ships to save the lives of the Hittite Golgos, in the north of Cyprus, and went people. as far west as Melos, near the Morea; but The intercourse of the Egyptians with the discovery of the western Mediterra- the Semitic peoples of Syria dates back nean was due to the Tyrians, ~vho, in the to the early days of the Hyksos, whom ninth century B.C., reached Sicily, and some regard as having been themselves founded Carthage. The colonies in San- Semitic. The well-known picture at Beni dinia, Spain, and the Balearic Isles were Hassan, dating from the times of the Carthaginian, and it is doubtful whether t~velfth dynasty, gives evidence of the any of these bold mariners had gone west feeble beginnings of this trade even earlier of Malta before the great city of the Tunis than the times of the Hyksos. A tribe of promontory was built. Semitic people, called Amu, bring Kohel, The Greeks soon learned maritime arts and an ibex such as is found in Sinai, from their Phcenician teachers, and had coming from the country of the Pitishu. their own navies on the Mediterranean as They are armed with bows, clubs, and early at least as 700 B.C., and very prob- spears, the men bearded, the women in ably even before 1200 B.C.* The Dorians curiously flounced garments, the children conquered Phcenician colonists in Rhodes, carried on asses, and one strikes a lyre of Melos, and Thera, and in 734 B.C. there ancient form with the piectrum. These were Greek colonies in Sicily side by side r~l~tksnis wcrc, hi~wever, broken when the with those of the Tynians.f Before Han.. Syrian shepherds were driven from nibals time the Ph~nicians had a temple the delta by the Nubian kings of the in Marseilles, and at the mouth of the Po eighteenth dynasty, althouah renewed later they received amber from the shores of when the succeeding kings of the same the Baltic, brought by caravans through race married Armenian princesses. By Germany. Their discovery of the Tin the time of Rameses II. the Semitic pop- Islands must have occurred earlier thaii ulation had become so numerous in Egypt 400 B.C., for the Cassitenides were dimly that many Semitic words crept into the known to Herodotus; and nearly as early, Egyptian language, and Semitic gods in the fourth century B.C., Pytheas of Mar- found a place in the Egyptian pantheon. Yet, later in the troublous times which * That the Greeks were the first Aryan sailors is succeeded the final loss of the Asiatic clearly indicated hy the fact that oiher ancient Aryans conquests, a Phcenician named Arisu or i alopted Greek words for all sorts of nautical sod ship Hans ping terms. even sat upon the throne of lower t Brunet de Presles Recherches sur lea Grecs en Egypt for a time, and cruelly oppressed Sidle. Paris, 1845. p. 75 ANCIENT TRADE. 25 seilles (according to Strabo and Pliny) had followed the north coasts of Europe be- yond the Rhine, and is believed to have entered the Baltic. About ~oo B.C. also, Hanno passed the Pillars of Hercules, and reached the Canaries and coasted far south beyond Cape Palmas. All these early voyages of Greeks and Ph~nicians were due to a knowledge of astronomy, which enabled them to sail by the pole- star, and though they never ventured far from the coasts they made a steady rate of about one hundred miles in the twenty- four hours, sailing when possible and row- ing when obliged. The Carthaginian trade continued until the fall of the city in 146 B.C., although many of the colonies were then already lost. The Romans and the Arabs suc- ceeded to the commerce of their great predecessors, but even in Roman times many of the traders may have been of Semitic race. Spain was the richest of the colonies, and the mining operations of the Carthaginians are described by Diodorus Siculus as pursued in the latest times of the Phc~nician domination in this region. Gold and tin were only found in small quantities, but silver was abundant and of good quality. The traders are said to have found the natives using this metal for their commonest drinking vessels, which accords with the unexpected discov- ery of silver in the Spanish tombs already mentioned. The veins were numerous and often of great depths, and iron and copper of inferior quality were also ob- tained. Lead was plentiful and was mixed with silver in the ores. This compound, called galena by the ancients, was smelted, and the gold was obtained by washing. Diodorus says that shafts were sunk to a depth of half a mile (which is perhaps an exaggeration), and the galleries followed the veins, piercing through or working round the faults of trap rock. These mines were cased with wood, but at times collapsed, or were flooded by the subterra- nean springs, which were drained off, or the water pumped out by the screw of Archimedes. The pounded ores were melted in white clay crucibles, and puri- fied by pouring from one such receiver to another when liquid. The labors of slaves were used :n such mines by Carthaginians and Romans alike. The African trade was of another char- acter (Scylax Periplus, 112). Ointment and Egyptian vessels, pottery from Africa, and wine, were the cargo brought to the natives of Senegal, from whom in turn the Phcenicians received ivory and ele phants hides, and skins of antelopes, lions, and panthers, and fleeces. The ships an- chored at Cerne (apparently near or at the Canaries), and the wares were landed in small boats. Hanno also brought home to Carthage from these shores the skins of gorillas, which he regarded as human but untamable savages. The influence of Car- thage is monumentally shown in these regions by the existence of an alphabet of Phcenician origin in the Canaries, and on the coins of Spain down to the third cen- tury of the Christian era. The home trade of Tyre itself was mainly in works of art and in fabrics. The Phcenician bowls, of which many still ex- ist in museums, were highly prized by the Greeks, as tvere the woven cloths dyed with the famous purple of the murex. This shell is still found in the bays of the Syrian coast, after storms, as far south at least as Mount Carmel. The fishers used ozier baskets with cork floats, baited ~vith mussels and frogs. The smaller shells were crushed, but the finer ones were bored, and the coloring matter in its sac was extracted unharmed. The fluid was boiled with salt in a leaden vessel, and the color obtained varied from yellow and green to red and true purple. Dyeing is still a trade in Sidon, and was a very usual occupation of the medileval Jews, but the art of preparing the twice dipped robes, the color of black roses, which the Ro- mans admired, seems to have been lost in early times. The Tyrians were highly prosperous in the days immediately preceding the Baby- lonian invasion, and the wide range of their commerce is evidenced by the well- known passage in Ezekiel (ch. xxvii.) about that time. The prophet describes the cedar or fir wood masts, and oars of Bashan oak, the benches of boxwood and ivory, the linen sails with Egyptian embroidery, of the galleys which crowded the Tyrian harbors; and speaks of the purple awn- ings, and the rowers from Sidon and Ar- vad. The hired troops were from Persia and Lydia, and the garrison from Arvad, with the Caucasian Gammarim. From Tarsus, on the north, the traders brought silver and iron, tin and lead; the lonians, Tabalians, and Moschians from the same ports traded in slaves. The Armenians brought horses and mules, and from Dedan and the islands of the Persian Gulf came ~Indian ivory and ebony. From Syria it- self the merchants brought precious stones and purple stuffs, linen, coral, and rubies. From Judea came wheat, honey, oil, and balm. Damascus sent its fabrics, with 26 ANCIENT TRADE. wine from Hermon, and white wool. Iron, I for the apes, which Solomons traders cassia, and the calamus or Indian cane, brought from the East, is koph, which has could be bought in Tyre, and far south been compared with the Tamil name for from Arabia came flocks and herds. From the monkey. It occurs also in Sanskrit Yemen were brought spices, with gold as kapi, and was adopted by the Greeks and gems. From Assyria choice stuffs in as ,ci~wo~, Ki~/3o~ or icei/3o~, and by the Latins chests. The trade routes of the ancient as ce~zes; but here also we are confronted world poured all their choicest products by the fact that the Egyptian ~vord for ape into the little island town, whence ships is similar. Possibly the African elephant distributed them over all the western col- was not known till later times in Egypt, onies, before Alexandria was founded and and hence received an Asiatic name, as became a ruinous rival. Thus by about did the horse and the camel. To the 500 B.C. the Phcenician commerce linked Assyrians both the two humped Bactrian, Britain with India, and western Africa and the single humped Arab camel were with the Scythian shores. well known, and the former may have Among all these products of Semitic already been used by traders in Asia trade, perhaps the most interesting are Minor, where it still is found.* It is, ivory and tin. The question still remains however, not impossible that ivory and to be finally settled as to what were the apes, in Solomons time, may have come original sources whence both these pre- from Somali land, and not from India. cious substances were obtained. As re- With regard to tin, the metal is not of gards ivory there appears to have been a common occurrence, and in the early double source, the Egyptians and Cartha- Akkadian period it was not to be obtained ginians using African ivory, while the from either the Tin Islands or from east- Assyrians and Phcenicians obtained it em India, while the supply from Spain also from India. The Carthaginians ap- would be equally impossible, even if it pear to have tamed the African elephant had once abounded there, of ~vhich we a feat now regarded as impossible. On have no evidence. Tin is said to occur the other hand, Thothmes III. encountered in the Caucasus, and is found in the Altai a herd of one hundred and twenty ele- Mountains. One of these ranges is the phants in Mesopotamia, and shows an probable source of the tin, which was elephant as part of his Asiatic spoils. already used about 2000 B.C. or earlier; Possibly the Assyrians may even at that and this agrees with the passage in Ezekiel, early period have obtained elephants from already noticed, which speaks of a trade India. The Persians used them atArbela, in tin through Tarsus, whither it was and the Greeks brought them to Palestine, brought by the tribes from the Caucasus. as Pyrrhus (unless, indeed, his elephants One of the remarkable results of such were African) did to Italy. But the range study of ancient trade is its bearing on of the Asiatic elephant may have been the usual European theory of ages distin- wider in early times than it now is, for it guished by the use of various metals. survived with the rhinoceros in Honan According to Morlots calculations the down to 6oo B.C. The elephant is cor- Bronze Age extended from about rooo rectly represented on the black obelisk of B.C. to 2400 B.C., which is the end of the Shalmanezer II. (860825 B.C.) with the Stone Age for European students of pre- rhinoceros; and other Bactrian and Indian historic times. The age of iron, accord- animals (notably monkeys) occur on Assy. ing to this view, is not to be carried back nan bas-reliefs. The Phcenicians, as we beyond iooo B.C., and an age of copper is have seen, obtained ivory from the Persian entirely omitted. Such distinction recalls Gulf. In Nineveh, on the other hand, an rather the theories of Hesiod than the ivory object carved in Egypt has been voice of serious scholarship. We have found, which is no doubt of African ma- seen that bronze was already known very terial. The word used both in Assyrian early, but that pure copper ~vas previously and in Hebrew for the elephant is kabba, used in both Asia and Europe, and that which survives to the present day in the iron was certainly worked by the Asiatics vernacular of the Malabar Coast and of before i6oo B.C. The time at which Ceylon, as the name of the Indian elephant. various metals came into use differed in This is usually regarded as conclusively showing that Solomon must have traded * The name of the camel is usually regarded as a with India; but the curious fact remains Semitic word, but is not derivablefrom any appropriate that the Egyptian name of the elephant is root. More probably it is of Akkadianthat is Mon. golicderivation, from the root gasn to bend with ab or abu, which appears to be the same the termination i/for beast, thus signifying the word. In like manner the Hebrew word beast with a hump. ANCIENT TRADE. 27 different countries, according to the dis- tribution of the natural supply, and to the acquaintance of natives with foreign traders. The Akkadians knew iron very early, and it is in their language denoted by two signs, which may be read dimmirsa, equivalent to the Turko-Mongol tirnirti, which is still a word in living dialects as the name of the metal. Iron was known by its Semitic name to the Egyptians in 1360 B.C., and in 1200 B.C. in pictures of the time of Rameses III. the meta is represented of a bluish color on the monuments. Iron mines in the Egyptian deserts are said to have been worked, but it was to Asiatics that the Egyptians seem to have owed their first acquaintance with that metal. The ancients credited the Phcenicians with the discovery of glass making, and beautiful tear bottles of glass are often found in Phcenician tombs; but here the Egyptians probably claim priority, for the Beni Hassan pictures represent glass- blowing in the time of the twelfth dynasty, and some even of the glass found in Phcenicia seems to have come from Egypt, bearing the name of Thothmes III. in hieroglyphic characters. With exception of iron the Egyptian names for metals do not seem to be of foreign origin. For gold the commonest words are nub and sani, though ketern also occurs, which is Semitic, but this is at a later period. Silver was called white gold, het nub, which seems to indicate that it was only known later. Copper is kkomt. Lead is nes in the ore or block, and Met or (diet. These metals therefore appear to have been independently discov- ered, and were not brought by traders from Asia. It is also remarkable that the Turanian, Aryan, and Semitic races had their own names for the various metals known to the ancients, and that with the possible exception of tin and gold (as shown by the Greek words for the metals), they do not appear to have derived their first knowledge of any of these articles of trade from one another. Indeed, it is re- markable how little influence the Phceni- cian and Assyrian languages had on those of their neighbors, for although many Greek words are foreign, and seem to he non-Aryan, very few of these are derivable from Semitic sources. The Turanians or Mongolsrepre- sented by the Akkadians were civilized long before the Semitic tribes began to settle down to agriculture and to trading pursuits. They had their own words for all the metals kin or guskin (the Tartar kin) for gold; dimirsa for iron; anna for tin (the Hungarian on); urud for cop- per (Basque uraida), azag for silver, abar (if correctly transcribed) for lead, and za- bar for bronze as at present transliter- ated. The language of Assyrians and Babylonians, and even of Hebrews and Phcenicians, borrowed many words from the older Akkadian, to denote civilized ideas but the Akkadians had little or nothing to learn from the Semitic peo- ples, and such evidences as may be de- rived from philology, in the case of the Greeks, and of Asiatic vocabularies of the early Aryan tribes, seem rather to point to a trade with the Akkadians, as the first civilizing influence encountered by the barbarians of Thrace and of lonia, than to the exclusive teaching of Arameans or Phcenicians. Our ideas as to the birth of civilized customs among the Aryans in pre-historic timesfor Aryan history begins some two thousand years later than that of the great races of Asia and Africa are based mainly on the evidence of comparative philology; and special attention has been given by scholars to the subject of Aryan names for metals, and for other articles of trade, from which we may endeavor to discern the influences which were first brought to bear upon the various Aryan peoples. The results have been summa- rized in an interesting manner by Dr. 0. Schrader,* although a more intimate ac- quaintance with Akkadian might perhaps have assisted him in some points of his subject. Although it is believed that the earliest Aryans, before they spread from the Volga over Europe, had some knowledge of cop- per, yet the value of the metals was learned by the Mediterranean races from the older civilized peoples of Asia, and was by them transmitted to the peoples whom they conquered, or with whom they traded in the North. The term bronze age of Europe beyond the Alps, is indeed a complete misnomer, for bronze appears in such regions suddenly developed in its latest proportions, and was obtained by trade with Phcenicians, Etruscans, and Romans. Its gradual perfecting, already noticed, can only be traced in Egypt and Chaldea, where the value of the alloy was first discovered. Indeed it would appear that iron may have been used by the east- ern Europeans before bronze, although this was not the case in Italy. The re * See Pre-historic Antiquities of the Aryan Peoples. English translation: London, 890. 28 ANCIENT TRADE. cent discovery of the history of bronze may profoundly affect the question of the antiquity of pre-historic remains among Celtic and Teutonic races. The earliest native culture of Aryans is believed to be represented by the lake dwellings of Swit- zerland and Umbria, and here, while iron and bronze are alike unknown, and stone extensively used for weapons, pure cop- per is found employed for daggers, fish- hooks, arrow-heads, hammers, and axes. Some have supposed the existence of jade in these early settlements to betoken a trade with central Asia, but jade is also found native in Europe, and the material is distributed over all parts of the earths surface. The value of gold appears to have been taught to the early Greeks by a Semitic race, for the common word apia6~ is gener- ally accepted as being the khurasu of the Assyrians. The Hebrews generally used another word (zahab), but the Phcenicians called gold kharas, and the gold mines of Thasos were Ph~nician. The Aryans nevertheless had a native word for gold as the yellow metal, which is recogniz- able in the Phrygian ytovp6~ and in Teu- tonic and other languages. The western Aryans very generally adopted the Latin name, which meant the glowing metal, and this may have been due to the fact that Imperial Rome, while allowing its subjects to coin copper, and even silver in the case of favored cities, reserved the gold coinage as the currency of the Ein~ pire, stamped only at the Capital. The Armenian Aryans appear to have adopted the old Akkadian word. The Finns took the German name for gold, and the Phce- nicians in this instance influenced none save the Greeks. Gold was found in many parts of Europe, but its value was apparently little regarded, until civilization penetrated from Asia, and from Italy towards the north. For silver in like manner the names were numerous, but not derived from a Semitic source. The Ossetes, or Aryans of the Caucasus, seem to have taken an Akkadian name for the metal. The Akka- dians called it azag, whence may be de- rived the Siberian words ezis or azves, and the Hungarian ezilsi, which in Ossetic becomes avzist. Other Aryans in Asia used a word meaning the white metal, and western Aryans had their own term of like significance. Armenia itself was rich in silver, but in Teutonic countries it was little known, save when imported, as Tacitus describes. Copper in later times was called the Cvprian ore, as being brought by the Phcenicians from Cyprus, but its common Semitic name was never used by Aryans. The old term raudus in Latin, has been thought to mean the red metal, but is very similar to the Akkadian terud and Basque urraida, which would favor the supposition that a trade with Asiatic Mongols preceded the Aryan trade with Phc~nicia. There is much confusion in all the terms which denote copper and bronze, and the reason is clearly discover- able in the fact of the late and gradual evolution of the alloy. As regards iron, the metal was known at least as early as 500 B.C. among the Scythians, and the inhabitants of Asia Minor were famous as miners of iron. Jeremiah (xv. 12) also speaks of iron coin- ing from the north, but it does not appear that either the Semitic or Akkadian name for the metal was adopted by Aryans. In the north of Europe it was little known in early Roman times, but it has been found at Troy in ruins perhaps as old as the sixth century B.C. Tin and lead were some- times confused by the ancients, though a knowledge of lead is shown by the same Trojan remains; tin was probably an Ak- kadian discovery, and the Akkadian name of the metal was known to Greeks and Armenians, as well as the Semitic term which was also borrowed from Akkadian. Thus on the one hand we have the Greek tThot, which may be comparable with the Akkadian anna or annag for tin, found also in the Armenian anag and Hungarian on; while on the other hand the Greek icaaairepo~, widely spread in Slavonic lan- guages and found in Sanscrit, appears to be the Assyrian kasa/irra, from the Ak- kadian ikasduru. The Cassiterides were thus named perhaps by the Phcenicians themselves, but the old Akkadian name for tin was given to lead among the Hebrews, for tin was not found in any quantity in the mines of Syria. Such an examination of the relations with the Aryans seems therefore to show that the Egyptians did not trade with them at all, but received only Phcenician traders and knew their words for iron and gold; that the same hardy race brought gold and tin to Greece, but that an over- land traffic with the East may have existed quite as early, which brought the Akka- dian name of tin to Armenians and Greeks; that the Latins on the other hand had their own names for all the metals, and taught their use to northern tribes; that iron was an export of Asia Minor and Greece, exchanged for Cyprian copper; ANCIENT TRADE. 29 and that silver, though first shown to the Scythians and Caucasinns by Akkadians, was independeutly known in Europe. The Ph~nician trade was a barter of art ob- jects and woven stuffs, in exchange for the raw products of savage Aryan lands; but the Phcenicians were not the only Asiatic merchants with whom the Greeks and Scythians came in contact. Turning our eyes to the East we next must seek to understand Assyrian trade. For although the early Assyrians were robbers, who carried away to their homes the riches of all surrounding countries, still there is evidence that they also had peaceful relations with their neighbors, along routes already explored by the civ- ilized Mongolic population called Akka- dian, who preceded them. Cappadocian texts, in an Assyrian dialect, seems to refer very early to such trade, and Herod- otus (i. i) represents the Ph~nicians as bringing to Argos both Egyptian and As- syrian merchandise. The slave trade was no doubt a source of revenue to Assyrians, as well as to Hittites and Ph~nicians, and many slaves were kidnapped, or were taken captives in ~var, although the rude peoples of Asia Minor sold their own chil- dren, as did also the Thracians accordinu to the father of history (v. 6). At what period the Assyrians first came into direct relation with the tribes of the Indus val- ley is unknown, but certainly, as we have seen, they knew the Bactrian hounds, the elephant and the rhinoceros, in the ninth century B.C., while not impossibly the ele- phant had been imported as early as i6oo B.C. Teak from India is said to have been found in Assyrian palaces, but this would not give earlier evidence than that already noticed. The monkeys, pictured on the obelisk already mentioned, are ap- parently Indian, and were evidently unfa- miliar, for they receive the name of udumi or human beings. In this connection the question whether silk ~vas known as early as the time of Ezekiel, and whether the Sin ites of Isaiah were dwellers on the borders of China, are important. F. Lenormant maintained that the Babylonians traded, not only to India but also to Little Thibet, while their routes also led to Armenia and Lydia, to Bactria and the laxartes (Manuel i. 496; ii. 203). it is at least clear that an overland trade existed from early days with lonia, for the Assyrian standard of weight found its way thither as well as the Ph~nician; but the evidence of eastern commerce from Nm- evch is at present less conclusive. The Hebrew word rendered silk in the Author- ized Version (Ezekiel, xvi. 1013) appears to have been understood by Jerome as meaning some sort of gauze. The Greek gives 1-pixalrTov, which Hesychius renders the web of the bombyx, but the exact meaning of the word [meshij is doubtful. The Roman knowledge of silk may be mentioned later. Of the Babylonian home trade during the Persian period we have very complete information through the recovery of twenty-five hundred contract tablets of various ages, now in the British Museum. Most of them range from the time of Cyrus down to that of Artaxerxes 1. (442 B.C:), but some are earlier. They are written in cuneiform, but docketed at times in Phce- nician letters of the period, and some of the names suggest that the merchants and money-lenders were Jews. From these tablets we learn that houses fetched an annual rent of 2 to 4 of our money, and that the price of a ship was from 3o to 50. Female slaves ranged from 7 to 15, which is about the same price now paid in Egypt; and male slaves were sold for s or io. These slaves were natives of the country, if we may judge by their names, and even daughters were so sold, as among the peasantry of Judea in the time of Nehemiah. Agreements for the transfer of property occur in this collec- tion, and are believed to be as old as 2500 B.C.; and others of great antiquity refer to the loan of corn for seed. Usury was an early institution in Chaldea, and fifteen per cent. interest was only accepted as a special favor, the more general de- mand being for thirty or forty per cent. A field and plantation of palms sold for14o. Purple cloth for dresses is mentioned be- fore the time of Cvrus Women as well as men contracted for the sale of property and of slaves; and slaves were hired out and apprenticed for their masters benefit. By the li~ht of such enquiry into the relations of ancient nations we are better able to understand the conditions of He- brew trade. It is a mark, perhaps, of the antiquity of the story of Joseph, that the exports carried by the Midianite caravan to Egypt, as therein described, are prod- ucts of Syria itself, and not the Indian canes and gums and ivory which Ezekiel mentions later. It has also been noticed that in the law, copper is mentioned eighty-three times to four notices of iron; and this indicates also an early period, since iron was known at least in the four- teenth century B.C. in Egypt, at which time also Jabin had iron chariots. Iron was regarded as unholy (Deut. xxvii. 5), 30 ANCIENT TRADE. no doubt because of its use in war, and till after the captivity, when the daric is the word occurs more frequently in the mentioned. The earliest forms of barter later books of the Old Testament. A new with metal, mentioned in texts or shown word is also there used (Nah. ii. 4) in de- in pictures, were rings and bars of gold scribing the iron war chariots, and the and silver, or bricks of lead. The Car- Chaldee term in Daniel shows a dialectic thaginians had leather coins, but this was variation from the older form in the Pen- in later days, when the Greek coinage tateuch (Dan. ii. 33 ; iv. 20; vii. 7.) of the was already perfected. The Assyrians, Semitic name of iron. Hittites, and others had, however, standard The trade of Solomons time has been weights, and so had the Hebrews in the already mentioned, with the Indian words times of their earlier kings. Only last for ivory, apes, and peacocks, which his year standard weights were found, for the sailors brought home; and we have seen first time, in Palestine, inscribed with an- that Assyrian overland trade with India cient Hebrew letters. These were quarter may perhaps date back several centuries shekels weighing eighty grains, and thus earlier than Solomons time, and was cer- proving that the Hebrew and Assyrian. tainly established not much later. On the standards, and that used by the Greeks at other hand there is little reason to believe Naucratis in the sixth century B.C., were that Spain had been discovered so early, the same, namely, a shekel of three hun- or that Tarshish is to be identified with dred and twenty grains, which, as a silver the Spanish Tartessus. Tarshish is al- coin, would have been worth about three ways noticed in connection with Asia shillings and sixpence. We are thus able Minor, and Tarsus was a seaport as late to discover the value of chariots and horses as 30 B.C. It is also very generally recog- in Solomons time (I Kings, x. 29), ~vhen nized that Ophir was not in India, but as Hebrew merchants were bringing them distinctly stated in Genesis (x. 59) is to be from Egypt to Palestine, and to the Hit. placed in Arabia near Hadramaut. The tites and Syrian princes. A chariot horse Indian objects might be there obtained cost 25, and a chariot an hundred guineas. from Arab or Babylonian traders, already In our own times such a price is rather coasting from the Persian Gulf to the high in Syria for a well bred Arab hack- Indus, just as in later times ivory was ney. brought to Tyre by the inhabitants of the The trading conditions of the ancient same region. The Biblical account, how- world were very little affected by the suc- ever (i Kings, x. ii), speaks only of gold, cess of the Persians. The Phenicians incense trees, and precious stones as still flourished, and the road to India was coming from Ophir, and (verse 22) of gold not closed, but rather made safer by the and silver, ivory, apes, and peacocks, as conquest of intervening regions. The brought by the navy of Tarshish. two events which revolutionized the con- Some have suggested that these were ditions of commerce were the foundation African exports found in Spain, but the of Alexandria, replacing the older Greek nomenclature of the far West, even if then settlement of Naucratis, and the fall of known, is not likely to have been the same Carthage, which transferred the Mediter- as that of India, for the words are not ranean trade to the Romans, who soon Hebrew or Phcenician, but Tamil or San- became masters of all the routes, after skrit terms. The parallel passage in defeating the pirate fleets of Mithridates. Chronicles (2 Chron. xx. 36) shows that Antioch also arose at the same time, and the later author regarded the trade as be- became the great emporium of the over- ing with the East; and perhaps the most land route; but under Roman rule Alex- probable view is that from Tarsus, the andria enjoyed a monopoly down to the Phc~nicians and Hebrews obtained the time of Hadrian, who put an end to it in products of the overland route through the second century AD.; after which the Assyria and Asia Minor. highway was restored to Syria, and Pal-. The whole of this great commerce in myra attained to its highest prosperity, Asia was carried on for many centuries during the period when Rome was at without the use of stamped coins. Only peace with the early Sassanid monarchs about 700 B.C. at earliest, did coinage be- of Persia, whose strong rule restored tran- gin roughly to be represented by lumps of quillity on the great Indian highway. gold and silver alloy, stamped on one side; The discovery of the monsoons made and though coins occur in Babylon shortly the fortune of the Alexandrians. About before Cyrus, it was the Persian dezric 50 A.D. Hippalus, the commander of a which was the first currency of an Asiatic ship engaged in Indian trade, ventured, empire. In the Bible coins are not noticed instead of coasting along the southern ANCIENT TRADE. 3 shores of Asia, to steer direct before the steady eastern wind, which experience taught him would serve his purpose, to Musiris on the Malabar coast, and his name was given afterwards to the wind he trusted. The route then established led by Coptos, in Upper Egypt, across the deserts to Berenice, near Kosseir, and by 100 A.D. Dion Chrysostom notices the presence of Indians (probably Buddhists) in Alexandria, side by side with Italians, Bactrians, Persians, and Scythians. The Jews had their ghetto in this cosmopolitan city from Alexanders time, and were scat- tered all over western Asia, Africa, and Europe as traders. India was not un- known to the Romans, and Indian embas- sies were sent to Augustus, Claudius, and later emperors, down to Justinians time.* Not only was the history of Buddha known to Jerome, but the customs of Brahmins and Sramans were familiar to earlier Chris- tian fathers. Clement of Alexandria (Strom. iii. i) knew much about them; Porphyry speaks of the Buddhist tonsure and monastic life; Iren~us (Lib. iii.), even in Gaul, had heard of the Brahmins; and Clement of the topes in which Buddhas relics were adored. But it was not only India from which the Alexandrians de- rived their wealth. The caravans came down the Syrian coast, and at Gaza met the merchants who travelled west from Petra, and brought the products of Arabia to Egypt. The Arabs, in the second cen- tury AD., had sailed far south of Zanzibar to the Zambesi, and brought gold from its upper waters, leaving stone towns in Ma- nica land, which later Portuguese found in ruins, and which Englishmen have re- cently photographed. The Romans levied tolls in the Red Sea, and Yemen was then famous for its wealth of gold and frankin- cense, its ivory and silver plate. The lux- ury of Alexandria, Antioch, and Rome, in and after the Augustan age, is almost unbelievable; and Roman geographical knowledge extended far beyond the east of India, through Turkistan and Thibet, to the borders of China. Virgil had already heard not only of Indian cotton, but also of the Seres, combing silk, as he believed, from the leaves of trees. The Chinese trade, which became more fully devel- oped in Byzantine times, had already been founded in the Augustan period of peace. On the west, also, through Gaul, the Romans brought their exports from Brit- ain, and British trade across the Channel * Indian Travels and Embassies. 0. de Beauvoir Prisuix. London, 873. was older than C~sars invasion of Kent. Diodorus Siculus speaks of the route which led to Marseilles and Narbo (v. 22), and C~sar found the merchants crossing from Dover and Deal. The exports, in Strabos time, were of gold, iron, and silver, with cattle and dogs, fleeces and skins ; the imports included pottery and salt, bronze implements, and cooking uten- sils, ivory and amber cups, drinking ves- sels, and gold chains, with bridles for horses. Such ~vas the early British trade with Italy and Gaul. Antiquaries once believed that China was early in communication with Egypt, on account of certain Chinese snuff-bot- tles found in Egyptian tombs. This assertion is still often made, but it has been shown to be fallacious through the researches of sinologists. Similar bottles were found by Layard and Cesnola at Arban and in Cyprus, but the writing upon them is not only in a late character but also consists of quotations from Chinese poetry of known date; and other examples. have been discovered in Canton dating from 584 A.D. The Egyptian examples date from 702 A.D. down to 1085 A.D., and were brought by the Arab traders, who were still visiting Canton as late as 127& A.D. The characters and material alike show that they are not earlier than the Han dynasty.* The condition of China was indeed not sufficiently civilized to allow of such an early commerce, and even in the Augustan age these regions were hardly known in the West, when silk was still believed to grow on trees. Pau- sanias (vi. 26) and Clement of Alexandria, in the second century, knew, however, that it was of insect origin, and a certain bombyx -as already introduced at Ceos, though, according to Gibbon (ch. xl.) it was not the true silkworm; and Pliny, who knew of this manufacture, still re- garded silk as derived from a plant. Ptolemy the geographer (about 150 B.C.) made maps which include Ireland and In- dia, and reach from Briton to the Niger, but China still lies beyond their limits, though the country of the Seres is de- scribed to the sources of the Yellow River and the Lake of Koko-Nor. From this distant region silk was brought to Rome, and fetched twelve ounces of gold to the pound of weight, or about 48 per pound, which would be about thirty times the modern value. It was not apparently ti~l the sixth century that the culture of silk began in the West. Two monks from Per * Williamss Middle Kingdom, vol ii., p. 27 32 ANCIENT TRADE. sia (Nestorian Christians) then succeeded in carrying the eggs from China, and silk has ever since been made in Syria. The earlier supply was by the caravan route a journey of two hundred and forty-three days by Samarkand and Bokharah to An- tioch; or by Thibet to the Ganges and the Indus, and thence by sea to Egypt. About the same time Chinese records speak of the people of the western em- pire as tending silk worms (in 530 A.D.), and having their capital at An-/u, by which possibly Antioch is intended.* The relations of the Chinese with the Romans, as noticed in their own accounts, have formed the subject of minute study by Dr Edkins, T. W. Kingsmill, and other scholars, whose researches have been devoted to sinology. The Chinese accounts are somewhat vague, and the exact meaning of Ta-/sinthe name given to a great western empire is dis- puted. It was a region where the lion was not unknown, and where the silkworm was, as stated, bred by the Westerns ; but it appears to be fairly certain that the east- ern or Asiatic dominion of the Roman emperors is intended to be understood, and its ruler, An-/on, may have been one of the Antonine emperors. According to the Chinese, he sent an embassy, bearing tortoise-shells and rhinoceros horns, and traveiling through Cochin China about i66 A.D; and in the third century Ronians (or westerns subject to Rome) penetrated to Nanking, while a further embassy or expedition arrived in 285 AD. Ahout this time the products of India, as the Chinese state, were regularly sent to the West, in- cluding coral, amber, and gold, sapphires, mother-of-pearl, and perfumes, as well as the cotton and silk already noticed. The third century ~vas the period of Palmyras greatest prosperity as an empo- rium on the land route to the East. It still retained in native speech as we learn from extant inscriptionsthe old name of Tadmor, under which it is noticed in the Bible as founded by Solomon. Its civilization was Greco-Roman, and Jews and Christians alike were found at Zeno- bias court; but its native population was of the old Semitic stock, whose language and alphabet survive on Palmyrene in- scriptions. The important position held by the merchants in this desert city is shown by one of the most interesting of the Greek texts there discovered, which speaks of a caravan leader in 142 A.D, engaged in the trade with Vologesia near the Tigris, eighteen miles from Babylon, who was thought worthy of an honorary tablet. Worod, one of the rulers of the city in the third century, to whom a statue was erected, also bears the same title of caravan leader. Such, then, was the splendid heritage which later ages owed to the energy of Phcenicians, Assyrians, Jews, Arabs, and Italians, and which was never lost by their children and successors. In Byzan- tine ages the road to the East remained still open, and the trade of the West in- creased. Under the Arab khalifs Bagh- dad became the centre of a widespread commerce, and the Jews and Arabs still brought Oriental precious things to Eu- rope. In the eighth century the Nesto- nan monks from Persia had settled in China (as shown by an inscription in their own alphabet still extant), long before the famous medi~val journeys of the thir- teenth century, when PIano Carpini and Rubuquis reached Mongolia, and Marco Polo wandered over China; and during the later century of Norman rule in Pal- estine, the trade in fur extended north- wards to the dark regions of Siberia, whence squirrel skins were brought to Italy and France. The Constantinople trade, which was perhaps older than the days of the great change of capital which finally ruined the Roman Empire, can be traced in the ninth century, while the En- glish had as yet hardly ventured to cross to the Netherlands to barter wool. From Pera the Genoese merchants passed along the south shores of the Black Sea, and crossed the Caspian, or went south to Baghdad. Rubuquis found not only Per- sians but Germans and other Europeans in the far distant capital of Mongolia at Karakorum; and when, after the great Mongol outbreak into western Asia and Europe, the Genoese trade declined, the Venetians from Alexandria took up the sea route to India, and an Italian trade in Egypt has never ceased from that time. Thus two centuries before Vasco de Gama rounded the Cape of Good Hope, which the Ph~nicians had discovered t~vo thousand years earlier, and before Colum- bus, or even the Greenlanders, had dis- covered the eastern shores of America, a steady commerce with India, China, and Siberia had prospered and become estab- lished. In the sixteenth century, when Queen Elizabeth had her consuls in the Levant, and her fleet of boats on the Eu Journal R. Asiatic Soc. N. China Branch, ~ phrates, English merchants were busy at ~- U- Aleppo and Alexandretta, as well as in AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FRIENDSHIP. 33 Italy and Greece; and the Levant Com- pany was founded in 1583 A.D. The lesson of history is, therefore, the same in all ages, since the Egyptians ven- tured to Punt, or the Phcenicians saw the mountains of Cyprus from the slopes of Lebanon, and dared to steer thither across the tideless sea. In a planet of which three-fourths are covered by water, riches and power belong to those who hold coin- mand of the sea. The Romans struggled with the Carthaginians for such command, and thus became the masters of the world. The Arab power decayed when Normans and Italians drove their traders from the Mediterranean; the wealth and prosperity of Britain, in our own age, depend upon the power of our fleet, and on the daring of our merchant sailors. C. R. CONDER. From Lougmans Magazine. AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FRIENDSHIP. IT would be an interesting inquiry, and not an uninstructive one, to examine into the lives and deaths of friendships, by collecting evidence, comparing one with another, and collating statistics, to dis- cover their average length of days, the circumstances which tend to shorten or prolong the terms of their existence, the diseases to which they are subject, the causes that most frequently prove fatal to them, the manner in which they depart this life, and lastlynot least in impor- tance the fashion of their burial. It is a fact that must be frankly con- fessed that it is not by the visitation of God that all, or even, one fears, most friendships perish. Lifelong friendships, friendships that are found by death, when it comes, unimpaired, do indeed exist it were faithless and ungrateful to deny it but surely it is no less true, if a truth less creditable to human nature, that many, if not the majority, are hardly more than episodes, long or short, important or trifling, in the lives which they affect. It could scarcely indeed be otherwise, human nature being what it has proved itself, rash in entering upon such relation- shipsin building the tower without counting the costand fickle in repudiat- ing them; but even setting aside such natural causes, how many perils and dan- gers of other kinds beset a friendship, dangers for which no one is to blame, perils which are nobodys fault, which are merely the inevitable result of time and LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXVIII. 4003 the changes which time brings with it; how many storms must be weathered if the vessel often not more than a pleas- ure-boat, manned for fair weatheris to escape the destruction that awaits it. But the age of miracles is not yet past, and there are still found bonds, unce- mented by ties of blood or kinship, and unprotected by the legal guarantees with which it has been found by universal con- sent necessary to fence about other unions, which do nevertheless escape the perils of the way, and emerge triumphant from the dangers by which they have been envi- roned. But, again, it must be repeated, these are the exceptions which prove the rule. An inquiry, however, which should deal with the whole subject would be too wide a one, covering, as it would do, in its di- rect and side issues, not a small portion of the area of human life. It is with a more iimited subjectwith a single friend- ship, that is, and one typical rather of a past than of the present generation that we are now concerned, a friendship which has already lain in its grave more than a century, and which, distinguished from others of its kind more by the sort of brutal candor with which the changes and chances that befell it are unveiled for the edifica- tion of the student than by any other in- herent quality, may serve as a fair example of the class to which it belongedpossi- bly as a warning. It is a friendship between a man and a ~voman, of the intellectual rather than the sentimental type, but into which we cannot but detect the intrusion, on the womans part, at least, of an admixture of senti- ments of a more dangerous and ferment- !ng nature. Such accidents are the tax which, on one side or the other, is not in- frequently levied upon such relationships, and towhich the bitterness and acerbity which, in the case in question, marked some of its stages may not unfairly be ascribed. Mrs. Inchbald was already in her for- tieth yearan age at which, if ever, such a friendship might be considered safe from disturbing elementswhen she ap- pears to have first crossed the path of William Godwin, himself two or three years younger. Both were, in the eyes of their contemporaries as well as in their own, noticeable figures. It is from differ- ent causes that individuals are singled out for distinction in their own time and are held in remembrance by those who come after. In the case of the majority it is for what they have done, in consideration 34 AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FRIENDSHIP. of some monument, of whatever kind, that they have left behind, with their name thereto affixed, as a bequest to posterity. But in other, though more uncommon in- stances, their performances have little to do with the matter. The immortality of this second classthat precarious and provisional immortality conferred by their fellow-men is due, not to the tangible results of their labors or of their genius, but to a personality strong enough to print itself upon their age and make them stand out, living and individual figures, upon the comparatively colorless background of their contemporaries, so that they con- tinue, after they have passed away, to form a feature of the age to which they belong, which catches and compels the attention of those who look back. Thus was it with Mrs. Inchbald. It is not now chiefly as the writer of a score of forgotten plays, as the second-rate actress, or even as the authoress of A Simple Story, the most successful of her literary achieve- ments, that she attracts our interest, but as the farmers daughter who, coming to London in her early girlhood to seek her future, unfriended and alone, succeeded in finding it; whose robust common sense carried her unharmed through the perilous adventures which marked the launching of her bark in London life; as the only authoress in whose society Sheridan de- clared himself to find pleasure; who, wherever she made her appearance, is said to have become at once the centre of the circle which she entered; in whom the author of Political Justice found the mixture of the milkmaid and the lady so piquante; whose figure, now vanished from the worlds stage for more than sev- enty years, still stands out, in bold and striking relief, even from a society in which individualities were more than usu- ally pronounced. There, in the picture-gallery of the last century, for to that century she belongs, though her life extended nearly twenty years beyond its close, her portrait con- fronts us, sketched by her own hand and that of her contemporaries, boldly out- lined, vivid and clear, somewhat deficient in delicacy and grace, blemished here and there by touches of vulgarity and coarse- ness; to speak truth, a not altogether pleasant and yet most individual feature in the group to which she belongs; made up of incongruous virtues and inharmoni- ous foibles, fullas she is set before us by the daughter of her friend of con- trasts and inconsistencies, her spirit of adventure bridled by a saving grace of self - command; at once penurious and generous, susceptible and emotional, yet guarding herself successfully against pas- sion; kind-hearted, yet with a bitter tongue and an envenomed pen that we cannot but feel must have gone far to counteract the effects of her practical good-nature; and combining, as years went by, with the frank and hardy egoism which had been the earlier attitude in which she faced the world, a prudent pharisaism which is per- haps the most incongruous and unattrac- tive trait her character presents. It is pleasanter to view her as the reckless ad- venturess, bold, eager, ambitious, vain, rashly confident one day, at starvation point the next, indiscreet in her friend- ships and prompt in her compunction, than as she appears later on when prosperity and success have invested her with the sober garb of a responsible respectability which is the least pleasing of its kind with a reputation, social and literary, of which, as a newly acquired possession, it behoves her to be careful, and which she declines to imperil by extending the hand of fellowship to those who have been more rash or less fortunate in their ventures than herself. It was at this later period of her life, when she was doubtless engaged, as her biographer graphically expressed it, in cultivating her literary talents and in in- vesting her gains in the funds; when, according to the same authority, coro- nets were seen waiting at the door of her lodgings to bear her from household toil to take the airing of luxury and pride, that she became acquainted with God- win. Her wild oats had long been sown. Twenty-one years had elapsed since she had quitted her mothers home, intending, with the magnificent optimism of seven- teen, and in spite of the impediment in her speech which, to a less sanguine spirit, might have appeared an insuperable obsta- cle to her scheme, to make herself a name and carve herself out a career on the stage. Over, too, were the adventurous years which had followed, together with the days when, married to the second-rate actor who had rescued her from the obvious dangers incident to the life which she had chosen, she had starved, feasted, de- spaired, been happy. Poor Inchbald, with his not altogether unreasonable jeal- ousies, his sanguine hopes and unfulfilled anticipations, his visions, by means of the French acquired by a few lessons, of tak- ing a Parisian audience by storm, while his wife should achieve a corresponding success in literary and social circles AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FRIENDSHIP. 35 poor Inchbald had been many years in his grave; whilst his widow, resigning her- self, we feel sure, after a week of grief, horror, and almost despair, to the inevita- ble, had, left to herself, made a far greater success of life than would have been pos- sible to her weighted by his presence, and had achieved in the field of literature a triumph denied to her on the stage. It was at this point in her career that the friendship was inaugurated of the vicissitudes of which the letters published in the life of William Godwin tell the tale, presenting us with the record, not indeed complete, but more candid than such chronicles are wont to be, of a not unin- teresting chapter in human history. In the autumn of 1792, when the ac- quaintance was formed, Godwin, though not yet at the height of his literary reputa- tion, was already well known in the world of letters. Two years earlier, although at the time a stranger to the authoress, he had read and reviewed A Simple Story, and the first letter we find is one in which Mrs. Inchbald recognizes the tenderness and justice of the criticism passed by her new friend upon a tragedy from her pen. During the next five years the friend- ship thus inaugurated seems to have run a prosperous course. There were fre- quent meetings and frequent interchange of letters. Godwin was a man to whom the society of women was a necessity, and who ~vas peculiarly open to the species of flattery, in part literary, in part personal, which is an art at which they are com- monly more adroit than men, or would it be more just to say that it is a cordial which each sex is best adapted to admin- ister to the other? As we read Mrs. Inchbalds comments they can scarcely be termed criticisms upon his works, we are not surprised to find that his biog- rapher considers that her friendship was a great comfort to him at this period of his life. * God bless you! she cries, when en- trusted with the proof sheets of Caleb Williams, that was the sentence I ex- claimed when I had read about half a page. if you disappoint me you shall never hear the last of it, and instead of God bless, I will vociferate God .-n you.~ And a day or two later, writing of the same work, she says * Your first volume is far inferior to the two last. Your second is sublimely horrible, captivatingly frightful. Your third is all a great genius can do to delight a great genius, and I never felt myself so conscious of, or so proud of giving proof of a good understanding as in pronouncing it to be a capital work. Thus the one great genius to the other! What author, philosopher though he might be, could fail to be touched by a like tribute? Eleven years later it will be necessary to quote another criticism, also from Mrs. Inchbalds pen. It is curious to compare the two. In these halcyon days even, when she presumes to suggest an improvement, it is with a smile at her own audacity. I wish, she says, I could always write so excellently comic as when I undertake to dictate to you. But it is not always to the literary man that her letters are addressed. I have received, she writes, a note this moment from a very Beautiful Lady, requiring I would direct it to you, as she does not know your address. I am afraid to send it by post for fear it should fall into the hands of the Privy Council, who might not set a proper value upon it. I trust you will, for 1 assure you it contains her real sentiments. And Mrs. Inchbald will be at home all the following day, and Mr. Godwin had better call for her friends tribute in person. That she was exacting we can believe when we find her instructing Mr. Godw in, then and at all times overwhelmed with work, not to come and see her till he can pay her a visit of three hours duration; but there is no evidence to indicate that it was not a tax he was ready and willing to meet. So far all had gone wellmore than well with the course of the friend- ship. But, no more than that of true love, was it destined to run smooth, and now came its first interruption. Godwin had been unmarried when Mrs. Inchbald had become acquainted with him, and had re- mained so for the five years which fol- lowed, during which we find no trace of a disagreement between them. But a change, vital in its nature, and, so far as the rela- tionship between the two was concerned, disastrous in its effects, was about to take place. It was some months since he had first met Mary Wollstonecraft, and he had now determined to make her his wife. How the announcement was made to Mrs. Inchbald we have no means of knowing, but as to the manner of her reception of it we are not left in uncertainty. Upon whatever woman his choice had fallen, Godwins marriage would undoubt- edly have been felt by her as a severe blow. Whether or not she would have desired to marry him herself, she was a 36 AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FRIENDSHIP. woman in whom the possessive quality always dangerous to the continuance of a friendshipwas strongly developed; and she was far too astute and experienced in knowledge of the world to blind herself to the inevitable alteration in the existing relations between a man and a woman caused by the marriage of either. Hence- forth she was well aware that, whether present in the body or not, there would always be a third person to be reckoned with, and that to herself it would be left for the future to take the lower place out- side the sacred circle within which there is but room for two. Mrs. Inchbald was not a woman to accept the situation meekly. In my re- ligion, she writes long afterwards to Godwin himself, not perhaps without a backward glance at the present time, in my religion we never trust secrets to a married man, and men make vows of celi- bacy on purpose to gain our confidence a singular method, by the way, of ac- counting for the vows of the priesthood of the Catholic Church; and Godwin having failed to prove himself ready to purchase the continuance of Mrs. Inchbalds confi- dence in the manner indicated, her own action in the matter was marked with her usual promptness and decision. Being a woman to whom, at least in the question at issue, no bread was plainly preferable to half a loaf, she at once decided to dis- pense with his friendship altogether rather than, acquiescing in the altered conditions under which it could alone continue, to accept that which it would be in his power for the future to offer. Two ladies, says Mary Shelley, God. wins daughter, in narrating the event, shed tears when he announced his mar- riage Mrs. Inchbald and Mrs. Reveley. Mrs. Inchbald did more. Availing her- self, without remorse or compunction, of the first: weapon supplied to her hand, she took the opportunity of insulting the woman who had become her friends wife. * I must sincerely wish you and Mrs. Godwin joy, she writes, when the news of the marriage had reached her; but, assured that your joyfulness will obliterate from your memory every trifling engage- ment, I have entreated another person to supply your place and perform your office in securing a box on Reynolds night. If 1 have done wrong, when you next marry I will act differently. And when God win, owing either to ex- traordinary obtuseness, or more probably to the singular and stubborn obstinacy characteristic of the man, persisted, in spite of the intimation that his presence was no longer desired, in presenting him- self together with his wife, in Mrs. Inch- balds box on the night in question, the latter ~vent so far as to express her senti- ments, in no ambiguous language, to the bride herself. It does not surprise us, after this pas- sage of arms, that durino the brief period covered by Godwins first marriage we find no record of further intercourse be- tween Mrs. Inchbald and himself. It is a stranger factone, indeed, so astonish- ing that it is difficult, from the standpoint of ordinary human nature, to account for itthat on the very day of Mary God- win s tragic and premature death he should be found appealing to his own for- mer friend and to his wifes enemy for sympathy in his bereavement. The cor- respondence that follows indicates, so to speak, the high-water mark of interest at- taching to the story. Of the friendship itself it marks the veritable close. That Godwin should, after all that had passed, have turned to Mrs. Inchbald at what was probably the darkest hour in his life, is in itself the strongest proof that could be given of the strength of the at- tachment which had survived the test to which she had already put it. In the let- ter, evidently written under the influence of strong feeling, in which he announces his wifes death, there is plainly discernible the desire, if not wholly to ignore the past, at least to pass it over as lightly as was compatible with loyalty to the dead. But Godwin, philosopher and student of human nature as he was, had mistaken the woman with whom he had to deal, and in the rapid interchange of well-directed fire that fol- lows sharply upon the flag of truce we see reconciliation in any true sense ren- dered impossible, and the death-wound given to the friendship which, with a haste so strange and ill-judged, he had striven to renew. As letter follows letter, and ~ve perceive the increasing rancor on either side, the venomous and vindictive passion with which the dead woman is pursued by her living rival, as Godwin, roused from the softened mood which had dictated his appeal to his former friend, and moved by her attack to responsive bitterness, finds time even at that moment to elaborate with careful and effective skill his deliberate indictment against his wifes assailant, we feel that Mary is avenged, that she has proved more powerful dead than living, and that in the grave to which she will presently be borne will also be buried the friendshipor all that was worth having AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FRIENDSHIP. 37 of itwhich once united, and might have united again, the man who had loved and the woman who had hated her. * My wife died at eight this morning, Godwin writes. I always thought you used her ill, but I forgive you. You told me you did not know her. You have a thousand good and great qualities. She had a very deep-rooted admiration for you. Yours, with real honor and esteem, W. GODWIN. Among Mrs. Inchbalds good and great qualities, reverence towards the dead and forbearance towards the living were not included. Reading the letter with which she responded to his announcement, and making every allowance, for the haste and agitation which is visible in it, we never- theless cannot but feel that it is in mo- ments such as these that the true woman betrays herself. Scratch the Russian and you will find the Tartar. The veneer of civilization has been applied, but it has gone no deeper than the surface. Mrs. Inchbald is still the same as when, more years a go than she would care to remem- ber, she flung the dish of hot water in the face of a stage manager who had had the misfortune to offend her. * You have shocked me beyond ex- pressio n, she writes, yet, I bless God, without exciting the smallest portion of remorse. Yet I feel delicately(!) on every subject in which the good or ill of my neighbor is involved. I did not know her. I never wished to know her. As I avoid every female acquaintance who has no husband, I avoided her. Against my desire you made us acquainted. With what justice I shunned her your present note evinces, for she judged me harshly. She first thought I used her ill, for you would not. Be comforted. You will be com- forted. Still I feel for you at present. Write to me again. Say hat you please at such a time as this. I will excuse and pity you. And again the following day she takes up her pen. She has by this time recov- ered from the first hot indignation aroused in her, perhaps in equal measure, by God- wins s simultaneous charge and expression of forgiveness. Possibly, too, though too proud to say so, she does not feel alto- gether easy at the recollection of her own reply. At any rate, she now, in a cooler mood, offers him condolence, together with encouragement for the future, de- duced from her own experience. She too had suffered and had recovered more, had lived to think with indifference of what she had endured. With indifference, and possibly, as we cannot help suspect- ing, bearing in remembrance certain bick- erings with poor lnchbald, lover and husband of her youth though he had been, not without an acknowledgment that Prov- idence might have done wisely in removing him to another sphere. Another consola- tion, too, and a somewhat singular one, she offers * You have been a most kind husband, I am told. Rejoice the time rnzght have come when you would have wept over her remains with compunction for cruelty to her. . . . I lament her as a person whom you loved. I am shocked at the unex- pected death of one in such apparent vigor of mind and body, but I feel no concern for any regret she endured at parting from this world, for I believe she had tact and understanding to despise it heartily. But her amende, if as such was intended her tribute to the tact and wisdom which would have made Mary ready to quit a world which, with Mrs. Inchbald as its spokeswoman, had treated her so unmerci- fully, came too late. Two days later God. win writes to substantiate the accusation she had so hotly resented, and this time in a tone which indicates clearly how deeply the insult to his wife had rankled: * I must endeavor to be understood, he says, as to the unworthy behavior with which I charge you towards my wife. I think your shuffling behavior about the taking places to the comedy of the Will dishonorable to you. I think your con- versation with her that night at the play base, cruel, and insulting. I think you know more of my wife than you are will- ing to acknowledge to yourself, and that you have an understanding capable of doing some small degree of justice to her merits. I think you should have had magnanimity and self-respect enough to have showed this. I think that while the Twisses and others were sacrificing to what they were silly enough to think a proper etiquette, a person so out of all comparison their superior as you are should have placed her pride in acting upon better principles, and in courting and distinguishing insulted greatness and worth, I think that you chose a mean and pitiful conduct, when you might have chosen a conduct that would have done you immortal honor. You had not even their excuse. They could not (they pre- tended) receive her into their previous circles. You kept no circle to debase and enslave you. I have now been full and explicit on 38 AN EIGHTEENTHCENTURY FRIENDSHIP. the subject, and have done with it, I hope, forever. I thank you for your attempt at conso- lation in your letter of yesterday. It was considerate and well-intended, although its consolations are utterly alien to my heart. W. GODWIN- But it is naturally the woman who has the last word. * I could refute every charge you allege against me in your letter, Mrs. Inchbald answers, but I revere a man, either in deep love or deep grief; and as it is impossible to convince, I would at least say nothing to irritate him. Yet surely this much I may venture to add. As the short and very slight ac- quaintance I had with Mrs. Godwin, and into which I was reluctantly impelled by you, has been productive of petty suspi- cions and revilings (from which my char- acter has been till now preserved), surely I cannot sufficiently applaud my own pen- etration in apprehending, and my own firmness in resisting a longer and more familiar acquaintance. And a month later: * With the most sincere sympathy in all you have suffered with the most per- fect forgiveness of all you have said to me there must nevertheless be an end to our acquaintanceforever. I respectyour j5re/udices, but I also respect my own. E. INCHBALD. There is one reflection which is inevi- tably suggested by a perusal of this corre- spondence, namely, that should one great genius to use Mrs. Inchbalds own ex- pression conceive itself to have cause of quarrel with another, especially where both are versed in the art of lending the fullest force to the expression of feeling, it is well that they should not quarrel on paper. The art of quarrelling well is at all times no easy one to acquire, but a dispute which is conducted on the most approved method, and in which the blows are each and all nicely calculated to find their way home to the most vulnerable points in the enemys harness, though possibly admirable enough from the point of view of art and science, is apt to fail in paving the way, as a good quarrel between friends should do, to a more satisfactory adjustment of the relations between them, or, especially when the letters are pre- served, in leaving a convenient loophole open for future reconciliation. In God wins last letter there were not wanting thrusts, veiled though they might be, which Mrs. Inchbald would find it hard to forgive and harder still to forget notably the assertion that while others were to some degree justified in pleading their position in society as an excuse for their refusal to admit into their circles a woman with Mary Wollstonecrafts past history, Mrs. Inchbald had no such excuse, since she had no circle from which to exclude her. We are not surprised to find that the latter, violent and resentful as she was, declares the friendship to be at an end. We feel, indeed, that she is rightthat the breach has become too wide to be re- paired; and that, such being the case, it would have been well that intercourse between those who had been friends and could be friends no longer should cease. Mrs. Inchbald, to do her justice, would have had it so. Her dramatic instinct, no doubt, no less than her theatrical training, taught her that it is contrary to the princi- ples of true art that scenes on a lower level of emotion should be allowed to fol- low the catastrophe, and that, the climax having been reached, it was time that the curtain should fall. But Godwin was of another mind. It is curious to find him, through the succeed- ing years, attempting with patient and dogged pertinacity, to gather up the links that have been broken, and to reknit the ties that have been wrenched apart. Again and again he returns to the charge, and again and again he is repulsed. Mrs. Inchbald never wavers in the course she has laid down for herself, never evinces a sign of relenting. As an acquaintance, as a comrade in the literary field, she has no objection to meet him, to associate with him, to seek his counsel and bestow her own ; but as the friend she has loved she will admit him to her intimacy no more. She has learnt to be careful. * While I retain the memory of all your good qualities, she writes on one occasion when he had striven to shake her determination, I trust you will allow me not to forget your bad ones, but warily to guard against those painful and humiliat- ing effects which the event of any singular circumstance might again produce. Even over her literary criticisms, frankly appreciative as they often are, a change has passed. The old enthusiasm, the glamour with which personal affection had once invested the philosopher, is gone, never to return. Whilst her admiration for the writer still continues, though in modified form, something not unlike con- tempt for the man makes itself felt, now piercing through her praise, now finding vent in covert sarcasms. Thus, on one AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FRIENDSHIP. 39 occasion she blames him for taking the eventually decreed by the discretion of public unnecessarily into his confidence her confessor. as to a change in his opinions: Let the It is perhaps natural that a man who has readers wonder at the writers art, she read, admired, and criticised four volumes advises, rather than at his inconstancy, of manuscript should feel himself entitled . Let them merely talk of your differ- to a reward. At all events it appears that~ ent productions under the title of God- some months after the correspondence wings Head and Godwins Heart. that has been thus cited, Godwin, presum- While a little later on she offers him her ing upon her readiness to meet him upon somewhat equivocal congratulations upon literary ground, ventured upon a final having produced a tragedy which will hand effort to induce Mrs. Inchbald to rescind him down to posterity among the hon. the decree by which she had annulled the ored few who, during the present century, friendship between them. The answer, have totally failed in writing for the however, was sharp and decisive : stage. I have a letter or two of yours in my It is curiously illustrative of the confi- possession, she writes Mrs. Inchbald, dence which, in spite of the breach be- like Godwin himself, was careful to pre- tween them, Mrs. Inchbald still retained serve her correspondence the contents not only in his literary judgment, but in of which I perfectly forgive and perfectly his sense of honor that, while still inex- excuse, or I should have been the meanest orable in her refusal to renew the old of mortals to have asked a favor of you friendly relationship, we find her solicit- this spring. Still these letters must ever ing his opinion upon a matter which so prevent any premeditated renewal of our intimately concerned herself as her own personal acquaintance. My manners or autobiography a work subsequently my conversation so deceived you to my destroyed at the instigation of her director. disadvantage, that I cannot knowingly and Even the fact that the manuscript has been willingly risk the possibility of such an- entrusted to him is to remain a secret other disgraceful mortification . . . while between them, and it is clear that she you are in the self-same predicament awaits his sentence upon it as a matter of thus she characterizes Godwins second life and death importance and with breath- marriage which gave rise to your for- less anxiety. I am so ashamed of it, mer errorthe seeing through the eyes she writes, after begging that he would and feeling through the heart of another. name an early day for the return of the I revere the passion which can blind you, manuscript; I am impatient to have it and I revere blindness as the sole proof back and yet I am so fond of it, I am in which can be given of the genuine pas- terror lest fire or some other accident sion; but so few men are gifted with should destroy it while from under my refined sensibility like yours, that I have protection. And if it should ever be pub- never yet been obliged to practise the art lished, perhaps I shall wish a thousand of pleasing them through those they love, times it had been burnt. - . . Indepen- and I dare not hazard the want of this dently of my reputation as a woman, do power with you. you think as a writer I should be more or Which pronouncement Godwin laid less esteemed by this publication? And away with the rest of Mrs. Inchbalds let- again, when Godwin, whom she had im- ters, accepting it, we cannot but believe, plored to mark the disgusting as well as as final. the dull parts, ventures to suggest some And so, at length, the friendship is not curtailment, she replies that while no one only dead but buried. There are different can acknowledge the efficacy of compres- modes of sepulture. Some nations were sion more than herself, in the present accustomed to embalm their dead and to production (where my real feelings only preserve their mummies. It is a practice no cold, correct, imaginary ones have not yet wholly discontinued. Some, with been concerned) I am totally at a loss less reverence, allow their bones to bleach where to curtail. above-ground. In the case of a friendship How completely she succeeded in sepa- neither course is to be recommended, nor rating the critic from the man is curiously is any good purpose answered by the at- shown by the fact that, while relentless tempt to galvanize it, as Godwin would in her determination to keep him person- have done, to a show of life. Mrs. Inch- ally at a distance, she should have placed bald was wiser. The shortest method, in Godwins hands a work concerning harsh as it seems, is, after all, the best. which she was herself torn by so many The spirit being gone, as we may hope, doubts, and of which the destruction was elsewhere, it is rank materialism to pre 40 MADAME BODIC RON: A REMINISCENCE. serve the body which it has forsaken. Let it have speedy and decent burial, but and in this we fancy Mrs. Inchbald would not agreelet it be given in silence. A panegyric over the grave of an outworn friendship would be, to say the least of it, out of place, but it is well to speak no harm of it either, since it is dead. The little French rhyme might fitly form its epitaph La vie est breve: Un peu damour, Un peu de rave, Et puis bonjour! La vie est vaine: Un peu despoir, Un peu de haine, Et puis bonsoir! 1. A. TAYLOR. NOTE. Letters marked with an asterisk are pub. tished in Mr. Kegan Pauls Life of Godwin. From The Fortnightly Review. MADAME BODICHON: A REMINISCENCE. THERE was one person, perhaps only one, privileged to invite herself to the two oclock luncheon of George Eliot and George Lewes. This gifted friend and neighbor, Madame Bodichon, recounted to me how once she rang the gate bell of the Priory a few minutes too soon, to be ad- mitted, of coursethe Grace and Amelia of those days understood their duty as gate-keepers but on crossing the thresh- old, out rushed her hostess, pale, trem- bling, her locks disordered veritable Sibyl, disturbed in the fine frenzy of inspi- ration. Oh, Barbara! Barbara! she cried, ex- tremely agitated, what have you done? The ever-welcome guest had interrupted her friend in a scene of Romola. I felt ready to cry like a naughty child, said the narrator, but from the opposite door rushed Mr. Lewes, who in the kindest manner put things right. A greater contrast than that presented by these close friends of almost a lifetime could hardly be found. The author of Adam Bede, sublime in her ugliness, angular, her large, sallow features lighted up by those sad, intermittently flashing eyes, ever peering, as it seemed, into the unknown and unknowable, her domestici- ties and humanities painfully strained, her very laugh having a lurking dreariness behind it, her black dress in harmony with the sombre, Rembrandt-like picture. The foundress of Girton College, still in middle life fresh as a rose, her blue, frank eyes beaming with ~the wild joy of liv- ing, her magnificent complexion and masses of wonderful golden hair set off by draperies bright as those worn by Mr. Morriss happy folk in Nowhere, her tremendous animal spirits caught by every one near except George Eliot, to her, Marian ever. Madame Bodichons por- trait is in every picture-gallery of Europe, said one who had known her from child- hood. She might, indeed, have sat for the Titian in our own National Gallery, or the hardly less sumptuous and lovely Bor- done in the Louvre. In spite of these differences of look, temperament, and character, never were two women knitted by closer ties. In Madame Bodichons library was a first copy of Adam Bede, in which the au- thor had written, a short time after its appearance, To her who first recognized me in this work. And who can say? It is quite possible that, but for Barbara Leigh Smith, afterwards Madame Bodi- chon, Adam Bede would never have been written. The actors in the little scene I am about to relate have now passed away. There can be no motive for withholding an incident which, indeed, I was never bidden to keep secret. The acquaintance of the pair had ri- pened into friendship whilst Mary Ann Evans was unknown to fame, and before she had taken the perilous leap, in other words, thrown down her gauntlet to the world. On the brink of that decision, when womanly pride and love were bat- tling for mastery, when the great novelist to be, trembled before the shadow hanging over what seemed otherwise a perfect life, the lovers and Barbara Leigh Smith spent a day together in the country. As she thus stood at the parting of the way, Mary Ann Evans unbosomed herself to her friend, even asked counsel. What right had Ito advise? Madame Bodichon after~vards said to the present writer. I told her that her own heart alone must decide, and that, no matter what happened, I would stand by her while I lived. We all know the share that George Henry Lewes had in the career of the nov- elist. But what if, at this juncture, his influence had been wholly withdrawn? What if, like her own Dorothea, she had married a Mr. Casaubon? Perhaps it was the conviction that she had been the si- lent, the unconscious umpire of their des- tinies, that knit the pair so closely to their MADAME BODICHON: A REMINISCENCE. 4 ataunch, beautiful, magnanimous friend. Their affection for her and joy in her, were delightful to witness. Her presence had ever power to brighten them as a sun- beam. Madame Bodichons attitude in this matter affords a key to her character. For her, the individual was everything; conventionalities, public opinion, the hom- age or approval of the world, of no account. It was this intense respect for humanity in the concrete, this profound sense of justice, this power of rising above preju. dice, sentiment, and commonplace, that made her life so salutary and stimulating. The foundress of Girton College, the orig- inator of the movement which led to the passing of the Married Womens Property Act, the re-planter of vast tracts of Algeria by means of the Euca/y5/us Globulus, has won for herself an incontestable place in contemporary history. As an education- alist, social reformer, and philanthropist, she is hardly likely to be forgotten by fu- ture biographers. But there were eminent men and women among her friends to whom she was something else; who loved and admired her as the artist only. Fre- quenters of exhibitions five-and-twenty years ago will hardly have forgotten the brilliant water-color sketches dashed off in North Africa, Spain, South America, and elsewhere, bearing the signature B. L. S. B. Critics, among these Mr. Rus- kin, were not slow to recognize the orig- inality, imaginativeness, and poetic feeling displayed in every one. It was universally admitted that only persistent study and uncompromising devotion were necessary to develop really rare gifts, and secure for their possessor a foremost position among living artists. Dearly as she loved art, delightful as would have been to her the recognized position of an artist, she de- cided to give up her, life to what she con- sidered higher objects. Perhaps it was in the society of men like her friend the eminent painter, Dau- bigny, that the happiest hours of a happy life were spent. To Madame Bodichon, George Henry Lewes and George Eliot were kindred spirits; for the author of Romola she entertained a feeling akin to reverence. But how different even dinner-table talk with these two to the joyous, light-hearted camaraderie of fellow artists ! The contrast came out strikingly during the winter of 187071, when I was privileged to spend some time with all three under my friends roof. She had hired a large, handsome, high-church rec- tory in the neighborhood of Ryde, and here Mr. and Mrs. Lewes spent Christmas. Certainly he was captivatingly genial and clever, pranksome also as a monkey, yet one could but feel that over his companion there hung a perpetual shadowby no means the shadow of personal remorse none who knew her could for a moment suppose that it had anything to do with her defiance of conventional standards. Her brooding, deep-seated melancholy had not only one poor life, but all humanity, the life of humanity, for its cause. On her shoulders seemed to rest the spiritual burdens of the world. There were, of course, gay, mirthful intervals. The vicars study had been assigned to Mr. Lewes for his use. When we sat down on Christmas day as we supposed, to our Christmas turkeythere was a mo- mentary consternation, followed by uncon- trollable, hearty laughter. Mr. Lewes had discovered in the study a scourge, used, I presume, by the vicar for purposes of self- flagellation, and this scourge was served up instead of the turkey. What a change when they had gone and Daubigny came! The great landscape- painter was in grievous anxiety, not only for his country, but for the lives of those nearest to him. The weather was arctic. Sketching out of doors was a matter of bodily hardship. French gaiety, genial companionship, and artistic enthusiasm overcame all obstacles. In the exhilarat- ing society of his hostess, a Frenchwoman. by marriage and at heart, Daubigny could shake off the gloom of that awful period. Ah, Madame Bodichon, you always inspire me!~ he said again and again, the scenery of the Isle of Wight, however, not delighting him nearly so much as the fishmarket of Hastings. Later on we accompanied him thither, and he settled down in the little inn over against the lifeboat-house. Before a stone of Girton College was laid Madame Bodichon had achieved good work. It is mainly owing to her exertions that working women can call their earn- ings their own, and also obtain divorce from a brutal husband. She wrote, as she spoke, admirable English. Her Brief Summary of the Laws of England affecting Women, and other pamphlets, are models of their kind; lucid, dispas- sionate, unanswerable. For years she devoted alike time, money, and talents to a cause of which she lived to witness the triumph. Another cause taken up by her no less warmly triumphed in her lifetime also. In 186667 we had traversed the fever- stricken plains of Oran together, journey- 42 MADAME BODICHON: A REMINISCENCE. ing to Algiers by way of Spain. The fever, the fever, I wrote at the time; every one was falling ill, was ill, or had beenill of the fever. We were particu- larly warned from exposing ourselves to the smell of freshly turned soil. The earth emitted a kind of poison, and there is no remedy for the evil but draining and planting. From the same spot, Le Sig, Oran, I wrote, We returned to the au- berge to see a pitiful sight. It was a little Arab child of fourteen months sick of the fever; he was riding on the shoulder of his grandfather, or, perhaps, great.grand- father, a patriarchal-looking old man with silky-white hair and beard. I dont think I ever saw anything more touching than his care of the little suffering thing. Its poor little face was perfectly livid, its eyes leaden, its limbs shrunken. What could we do for it? Quinine was a palliative, and we be- stowed all that we had with us, but the true philanthropist, the moral inventor, to use the phrase of Mr. Cotter Morrison, possesses, above all things, a vivid imag- ination. Madame Bodichon said little, but no doubt had in her mind some such picture as that of Faust A swamp below the mountain stretches wide, Poisoning all husbandry. To draw away The deadly damp, that were the highest gain, I open place for millions here to dwell Busy and free, if not secure from ill. The dream, if, indeed, dream it were, has been fulfilled. Since that picturesque, but painful journey the physical and cli- matic conditions of hundreds of thousands of acres in French Africa have been transformed by means of the Eucalyptus Globulus, and among the first and most zealous planters were Madame Bodichon and her husband. The dense masses of forest that have sprung up in the interval are not, perhaps, conducive to the beauty of Algerian scenery. They have rendered vast tracts healthful and fertile. Such changes are not effected without outlay. Madame Bodichon was not a rich woman, but could always find money for the causes she had at heart. Large sums were spent by her upon convoys of seed ordered direct from Melbourne, and her whole-hearted action stimulated others. Her pen, indeed, first drew attention in England to the marvellously febrifugal qualities of the Eucalyptus Globulus, or blue gum-tree. She had hastily put down a few facts and conclusions on paper, which she read to George Henry Lewes in i868. He touched up the manuscript, and carried it off straight to the office of the Pall Mall Gazette, in which paper it appeared next day, entitled Australian Forests and Alo~erian Deserts. It was in 866 that the scheme of a university for women was matured by Madame Bodichon and Miss Emily Davies at the country house of the former, The pair discussed the matter morning, noon, and night, and the result of their confabu- lations was the experiment of Hitchin, a house temporarily opened for the accom- modation of a few students later. I well remember the enthusiasm with which my friend carried me off to see the college of her dreams in embryo. As we lunched with the half-dozen busy, ~animated girls a little family party I recalled a passage in Miss Emily Daviess book on the Higher Education of Women. In dwelling on the dead alive monotony of so many girls lives, she mentions that terri- ble infliction of being .invited out to spend a long day. Those merry students most of whom afterwards devoted them- selves to teaching, would at least never again be invited out to spend a long day. Hitchin had made their time of more value. Who, at that moment, could foresee the magnificent building to arise within a decade just outside Cambridge? Educationalists of all shades of opinion rallied round the co-foundresses of Girton, but without the self-sacrifices of these two, the scheme might have fallen through. Madame Bodichon contributed a thousand pounds towards the initiatory outlay, and Miss Emily Davies for several years charged herself ~vith the onerous duties of mistress. Madame Bodichon threw heart and soul, not only into the organization and develop- ment of her college, but into the individual lives of the studentsone and all were her children, her friends. With other educati onalists, perhaps, she over-rated the value of mere mental training; in her generous ardor she was too apt to regard examinations and certificates as talismanic. In early life, with so many others, she had suffered at the hands of incompetent gov- ernesses. We need hardly wonder that the altered standard of womens education should appear to her in the light of a moral and spiritual revolution. A Girton student, in her eyes, ever had a shining nimbus round her headwas no mere woman. Laws are not changed, wildernesses not made to blossom like the rose, colleges not founded, without wear and tear of muscle and brain. At fifty years of age PRETTY POLL! 43 From The Corohill Magazine. PRETTY POLL I Madame Bodichons health, never robust, Madame Bodichon was not without one completely broke down. But not one weakness of magnanimous natures. She stroke of paralysis after another could was apt, especially of late years, to endow check the enthusiasm of that richly en- others with her own noble qualities, to dowed nature, or chill the warmth of that bestow her confidence and affection upon large heart. It is a benediction to see those utterly unworthy of either. From you! had been Brownings greeting pne littleness, self-seeking, worldliness, she day years before. It was a benediction to was herself absolutely free. No woman see her still, enfeebled, unable any longer ever possessed in larger degree the manly to exert herself mentally or bodily, yet, to attribute of moral courage. the very last, living not in her own sick- She died in June last, bequeathing room, but in the large life of othersthe io,ooo to her College of Girton and future of humanity. An evolutionist, saner 1,000 to Bedford Square College. intelligence never existed. She had long M. BETHAM-EDWARDS. since discarded dogma and theologies of human invention. Theosophy, spiritism, psychical research so called and sim- ilar aberrations, were equally repugnant to her. She calmly accepted existence as it is, finding consolation for personal ills and bereavements in human progress. In 1857 Barbara Leigh Smith had mar- ried Dr. Eug~ne Bodichon, of Algiers, a man of no mean attainments and in fullest sympathy with his wifes aims. One of the little knot known as the Republicans of 30, amongst these being his friends Ledru RoIlin and Louis Blanc, Dr. Bodi- chon rendered good service to the cause of colonization and democracy. Strange as it may appear, after nearly twenty years of conquest, slavery existed in full force throuahout Algeria. Rulers and legisla- tors had apparently forgotten the famous declaration of the Rights of Man abolish- ing slavery in France. When, in 1848, Dr. Bodichon was named corresponding member of the provisional government, he immediately recommended the liberation of slaves in French Africa, a measure as promptly put into force. There can be little doubt that with Rochefort he helped to destroy the Napoleonic prestige. His analysis of the character of the first Napo- leon was not allowed to appear in France under the Second Empire; the types of the work were broken up and the authors movements strictly watched. Carlyle read and re-read this monograph. The vol- ume containing it lay for several days near his bed, and he owned to a friend that up to that time he had entertained a different idea of the modern Ca~sar. Long before the introduction of the Eucaly~tz~s Globulus into Algeria, Dr. Bodichon had insisted on the necessity of replanting the colony, in many regions denuded by Arab incendiarists, in others rendered pestilen- tial by miasma. His works on the coun- try, especially from the ethnological point of view, are cited by R~clus and Henri Martin. IT is an error of youth to despise par- rots for their much talking. Loquacity isnt always a sign of empty-headedness, nor is silence a sure proof of weight and wisdom. If Von Moltke knew how to hold his tongue in six separate languages, Napoleon on the other hand was an inces- sant tattler; and is it not recorded of Macaulay as a peculiar feat that on one memorable occasion he treated the com- pany to several brilliant flashes of silence? Need I cite once more Cole- ridges famous friend who opined of baked dumplings, Thems the jockeys for me? Need I pair Cato and Wellington, those taciturn souls, with Pericles, Demos- thenes, Cicero, Pitt, and Mirabeau? Are the silent Spartans, who enriched the world with the adjective laconic, more generally esteemed for their intellectual qualities than the talkative Athenians, ever eager to hear or to say some new thing, who endowed it only with Attic salt? No, nQ; let us get rid of such Puri- tan prepossessions. Silence is not always or necessarily golden; for its chief prophet has himself sung its praises in twenty-four volumes octavo of close small pica, which form his main title to the admiration of posterity. If hed taken his own advice and practised what he preached, hed be remembered now at Ecclefechan alone as an indifferent stone-mason who mended the auld brig and built a new wall round the U. P. schoolhouse. Biologists, for their part, know better than that. By common consent, they rank the parrot group as the very head and crown of bird creation. Not, of course, because pretty Poll can talk (in a state of nature parrots only chatter somewhat meaninglessly to one another), but because 44 PRETTY POLL! the group display on the whole, all round, a greater amount of intelligence, of clev- erness, and of adaptability to circum- stances than any other birds, including even their cunning and secretive rivals, the ravens, the jackdaws, the crows, and the magpies. What are the efficient causes of this ex- ceptionally high intelligence in parrots? In the words of the young man to Father William in the immortal parody, What makes them so awfully clever? \Yell, Mr. Herbert Spencer, I believe, was the first to point out the intimate connection that exists throughout the animal world between mental development and the power of grasping an object all round so as to know exactly its shape and its tactile properties. The possession of an effec- tive prehensile organa hand or its equivalent - seems to be the first great requisite for the evolution of a high order of intellect. Man and the monkeys, for example, have a pair of hands; and in their case one can see at a glance how de- pendent is their intelligence upon these grasping organs. All human arts base themselves ultimately upon the human hand; and even the ajies approach nearest to humanity in virtue of their ever active and busy little fingers. The elephant, again, has his flexible trunk, which, as we have all heard over and over again, usque ad nausearn, is equally well adapted to pick up a pin or to break the great boughs of tropical forest trees. (That pin, in par. ticular, is now a well-worn classic.) The squirrel, once more, celebrated for his unusual intelligence when judged by a rodent standard, uses his pretty little paws as veritable hands, by which he can grasp a nut or fruit all round, and so gain in his small mind a clear conception of its true shape and properties. Throughout the animal kingdom generally, indeed, this correspondence, or rather this chain of causation, makes itself everywhere felt; no high intelligence without a highly de- veloped prehensile and grasping organ. Perhaps the opossum is the very best and most crucial instance that could pos- sibly be adduced of the intimate con- nection which exists between touch and intellect. For the opossum is a marsu- pial; it belongs to the same group of lowly organized, antiquated, and pouch- bearing animals as the kangaroo, the wombat, and the other belated Australian mammals. Now everybody knows the marsupials as a class are nothing short of preternaturally stupid. They are just about the very dullest and silliest of all existing quadrupeds. And this is reason- able enough, when one comes to think of it, for they represent a very antique and early type, the first rough ske tchofthe mammalian idea, if I may so describe them, with wits unsharpened as yet by contact with the world in the fierce compe. tition of the struggle for life as it displays itself on the crowded stage of the great continents. They stand, in short, to the lions and tigers, the elephants and horses, the monkeys and squirrels, of Europe and America, as the Australian blackfellow stands to the Englishman or the Yankee. They are the last relic of the original sec- ondary quadrupeds, stranded for ages in a remote southern island, and still keeping up among Australian forests the antique type of life that went Out of fashion in Europe, Asia, and America before the chalk was laid down or the London Clay deposited on the bed of our northern oceans. Hence they have still very nar- row brains, and are so extremely stupid that a kangaroo, it is said though I dont vouch for it myself when struck a smart blow, will turn and bite the stick that hurts him instead of expending his anger on the hand that holds it. Now, every Girton girl is well aware that the opossum, though it is a marsupial too, differs inexpressibly in psychological development from the kangaroo and the wombat. Your opossum, in short, is ac- tive, sly, and extremely intelligent. He knows his way about the world he lives in. A possum up a gum-tree~~ is ac- cepted by the observant American mind as the very incarnation of animal clever- ness, cunning, and duplicity. In negro folk-lore, the resourceful possum takes the place of Reynard the Fox in European stories; he is the Macchiavelli of wild beasts; there is no ruse on earth of which he isnt amply capable, no artful trick which he cant design and execute, no wily manceuvre which he cant contrive and carry to an end successfully. All guile and intrigue, the possum can circumvent even Uncle Remus himself by his crafty diplomacy. And what is it that makes all the difference between this cute Yan- kee marsupial and his backward and be- lated Australian cousins? Why, nothing but the possession of a prehensile hand and tail. Therein lies the whole secret. The opossums hind foot has a genuine, opposable thumb; and he also uses his tail in climbing as a supernumerary hand, almost as much as do any of the monkeys. He often suspends himself by it, like an acrobat, swings his body to and fro to get PRETTY POLL! 45 up steam, then lets go suddenly, and flies away to a distant branch, which he clutches by means of his hand-like hind feet. If the toes play him false, he can recover his tip, as circus-folk put it, with his pre- hensile tail. The consequence is that the opossum, being able to form for himself clear and accurate conceptions of the real shapes and relations of things by these two distinct grasping organs, has acquired an unusual amount of general intelligence. And further, in the keen competition of the American continent, he has been forced to develop an amount of cleverness and low cunning which leaves his Australian poor relations far behind in the Middle Ages of evolution. At the risk of seeming to run off at a tangent and forsake our ostensible subject, pretty poll, altogether, I must just pause for one moment more to answer an objec- tion which I know has been trembling on the tip of your tongue any time the last five minutes. Youve been waiting till you could get a word in edgeways to give me a friendly nudge and remark very wisely, But look here, I say; how about the dog and the horse in your argument? Theyve got no prehensile organ that ever I heard of, and yet theyre universally allowed to be the cleverest and most intelligent of all earthly quadrupeds. True, 0 most sa- pient and courteous objector. I grant it you at once. But observe the difference. The cleverness of the horse and of the dog is acquired, not original. It has probably arisen in the course of their loncr hered- itary intercourse and companionship with man, the cleverest and most serviceable individuals being deliberately selected from generation to generation as dams and sires to breed from. We cant fairly compare these artificial human products, therefore, with wild races whose intelli- gence is all r~ative and self-evolved. Moreover, the horse at least has to some slight extent a prehensile organ in his very mobile and sensitive lip, which he uses like an undeveloped or rudimentary pro- boscis to feel things all over with. So that the dog alone remains as a contradic- tory instance; arid even the dog derives his cleverness indirectly from man, whose hand and thumb in the last resort are really at the bottom of his vicarious wisdom. We may conclude, then, I believe, that touch, as Mr. Herbert Spencer admirably words it, is the mother tongue of the senses; and that in proportion as ani- mals have or have not highly developed and serviceable tactile organs will they rank high or low in the intellectual hie rarchy of nature. Now, how does this bear upon the family of parrots? Well, in the first place, everybody who has ever kept a cockatoo or a macaw in domestic slavery is well aware that in no other birds do the claws so closely resemble a human or simian hand, not indeed in outer form or appearance, but in opposability of the thumbs and in perfection of grasping power. The toes on each foot are ar- ranged in opposite pairs two turning in front and two backward, which gives all parrots their peculiar firmness in clinging on a perch or on the branch of a tree with one foot only, while they extend the other to grasp a fruit or to clutch at any object they desire to take possession of. True, this peculiarity isnt entirely confined to the parrots alone, as such. They share the division of the foot into two thumbs and two fingers with a whole large group of allied birds, called, in the charmingly concise and poetical language of technical ornithology, the Scansorial Picarians, and more generally known to the unlearned herd (meaning you and me) by their several names of woodpeckers, cuckoos, toucans, and plantain-eaters. All the members of this great group, of which the parrots proper are only the most advanced and developed family, possess the same ar- rangement of the digits into front-toes and back-toes. But in none is the arrangement so perfect as in the parrots, and in none is the power of grasping an object all round so completely developed and so pregnant in moral and intellectual consequences. All the Scansorial Picarians, however (if the reader with his proverbial courtesy will kindly pardon me the inevitable use of such very bad words), are essentially tree-haunters; and the tree-haunting and climbing habit, as is well beknown, seems particularly favorable to the growth of in- telligence. Thus schoolboys climb trees but I forgot ; this is a scientific article, and such levity is inconsistent with the dignity of science. Let us be serious! Well, at any rate, monkeys, squirrels, opossums, wild cats, are all of them climb- ers, and all of them, in the act of cling- mg, jumping, and balancing themselves on boughs, gain such an accurate idea of geo- metrical figure, perspective, distance, and the true nature of space-relations, as could hardly be acquired in any other manner. In one word, they thoroughly understand space of three dimensions, and the tactual realities that answer to and underlie each visible appearance. This is the very sub- stratum of all intelligence; and the mon- keys, possessing it more profoundly than 46 PRETTY POLL! any other animals, have accordingly taken the top of the form in the competitive examination perpetually conducted by sur- vival of the fittest. So, too, among birds, the parrots and their allies climb trees and rocks with ex- ceptional ease and agility. Even in their own department they are the great feath- ered acrobats. Anybody who watches a woodpecker, for example, grasping the bark of a tree with its crooked and pow- erful toes, while it steadies itself behind by digging its stiff tail-feathers into the crannies of the outer rind, will readily understand how clear a notion the bird must gain into the practical action of the laws of gravity. But the true parrots go a step further in the same direction than the woodpeckers or the toucans ; for in addition to prehensile feet, they have also a highly developed prehensile bill, and within it a tongue which acts in reality as an organ of touch. They use their crooked beaks to help them in climbing from branch to branch; and being thus provided alike with wings, legs, hands, fingers, bill, and tongue, they are in fact the most truly arboreal of all known animals, and present in the fullest and highest degree all the peculiar features of the tree-haunting ex- istence. Nor is that all. Alone among birds or mammals, the parrots have the curious peculiarity of being able to move the upper as well as the lower jaw. It is this strange mobility of both the mandibles together, combined with the crafty effect of the sideways glance from those artful eyes, that gives the characteristic air of intelli- gence and wisdom to the parrots face. We naturally expect so clever a bird to speak. And when it turns upon us sud- denly with a copy-book maxim, we are in no way astonished at its surpassing smart- ness. Parrots are vegetarians; with a single degraded exception to whom I shall recur hereafter, Sir Henry Thompson himself couldnt find fault with their regimen. They live chiefly upon a light but nutri- tious diet of fruit and seeds, or upon the abundant nectar of rich tropical flowers. And it is mainly for the sake of getting at their chosen food that they have developed the large and powerful bills which charac- terize the family. You may have perhaps noted that most tropical fruit-eaters, like the hornbills and the toucans, are remark- able for the size and strength of their beaks; if you havent, I dare say you will generously take my word for it. And, 1~er contra, it may also have struck you that most tropical fruits have thick or hard or nauseous rinds, which need to be torn off before the monkeys or birds for whose use they are intended can get at them and eat them. Our little northern strawberries, and raspberries, and cur- rants, and whortleberries, developed with a single eye to the petty robins and finches of temperate climates, can be popped into the mouth whole and eaten as they stand; they are meant for small birds to devour, and to disperse the tiny undigested nut- like seeds in return for the bribe of the softpulp that surrounds them. But it is quite otherwise with oranges, shaddocks, bananas, plantains, mangoes, and pine- apples; those great tropical fruits can only be eaten properly with a knife and fork, after stripping off the hard and often acrid rind that guards and preserves them. They lay themselves out for dispersion by monkeys, toucans, and other relatively large and powerful fruit-eaters; and the rind is put there as a barrier against small thieves who would rob the sweet pulp, but be absolutely incapable of carrying away and dispersing the large and richly stored seeds it covers. Parrots and toucans, however, have no knives and forks to cut off the rind with; but as monkeys use their fingers, so the birds use for the same purpose their sharp and powerful bills. No better nut- crackers and fruit-parers could possibly be found. The parrot, in particular, has de- veloped for the purpose his curved and inflated beak a wonderful weapon, keen as a tailors scissors, and moved by pow- erful muscles on either side of the face which bring together the cutting edges with extraordinary energy. The way the bird holds a fruit gingerly in one claw, while he strips off the rind dexterously with his under-hung lower mandible, and keeps a sharp lookout meanwhile on either side with those sly and stealthy eyes of his for a possible intruder, sug- gests to the observing mind the whole living drama of his native forest. One sees in that vivid world the watchful mon- key ever ready to swoop down upon the tempting tail-feathers of his hereditary foe; one sees the canny parrot ever pre- pared for his rapid attack, and ever eager to make him pay with five joints of his tail for his impertinent interference with an unoffending fellow-citizen of the arbo- real community. Still there are parrots and parrots, of course. Not all this vast family are in all things of like passions one with another. The great black cockatoo, for exampler PRETTY POLL! 47 the largest of the tribe, lives almost en- tirely off the central shoot or cabbage of palm-trees; an expensive kind of food, for when once the cabbage is eaten the tree dies forthwith, so that each black cockatoo must have killed in his time whole groves of cabbage-palms. Others, again, feed off fruits and seeds; and not a few are entirely adapted for flower-haunt- ing and honey-sucking. As a group, the parrots are compara- tively modern birds. Indeed, they could have no place in the world till the big tropical fruits and nuts were beginning to be developed. And it is now pretty cer- tain that fruits and nuts are for the most part of very recent and special evolution. To put it briefly, the monkeys and parrots developed the fruits and nuts, while the fruits and nuts returned the compliment by developing conversely the monkeys and parrots. In other words, both types grew up side by side in mutual depen- dence, and evolved themselves ~ariPassu for one anothers benefit. Without the fruits there could be no fruit-eaters; and without the fruit-eaters to disperse their seeds, there could just to the same extent be no fruits to speak of. Most of the parrots very much resemble the monkeys and other tropical fruit-feed- ers in their habits and manners. They are gregarious, mischievous, noisy, and irresponsible. They have no moral sense, and are fond of practical jokes and other schoolboy horseplay. They move about in flocks, screeching loud as they go, and alight together on some tree well covered with berries. No doubt they herd to- gether for the sake of protection, and screech both to keep the flock in a body and to strike alarm and consternation into the breasts of their enemies. When dan- ger threatens, the first bird that perceives it sounds a note of warning; and in a mo- ment the whole troop is on the wing at once, vociferous and eager, roaring forth a song in their own tongue which may be roughly interpreted as stating in English that they dont want to fight, but, by Jingo, if they do, theyll tear their enemy to shreds and drink his blood up too. The common grey parrot, the best known in confinement of all his kind, and unrivalled as an orator for his graces of speech, is a native of xvest Africa; so that he shares with other west Africans that perfect command of language which has always been a marked characteristic of the negro race. He feeds in a general way upon palm-nuts, bananas, mangoes, and guavas, but he is by no means averse, if opportunity offers to the Indian corn of the industrious native. His wife accom- panies him in his solitary rambles, for they are not gregarious. In her native haunts, indeed, Polly is an unsociable bird. It is only in confinement that her finer qualities come out, and that she develops into a speechmaker of distinguished at- tainments. A very peculiar and exceptional offshoot of the parrot group is the brush-tongued lory, several species of which are com- mon in Australia, India, and the Molucca Islands. These pretty and interesting creatures are in point of fact parrots which have practically made themselves into humming-birds by long continuance in the poetical habit of visiting flowers for food. Like Mr. Oscar Wilde in his ~sthetic days, they breakfast off a lily. Flitting about from tree to tree with great rapidity, they thrust their long, extensible tongues, pencilled with honey-gathering hairs, into the tubes of many big tropical blossoms. The lories, indeed, live entirely on nectar, and they are so common in the re,,ion they have made their own that all the larger flowers there have been developed with a special view to their tastes and habits, as well as to the structure of their peculiar brush-like honey collector. In most parrots the mouth is dry and the tongue horny; but in the lores it is moist and much more like the same organ in the humming-birds and sun-birds. The prevalence of very large and brilliantly colored flowers in the Malayan region must be set down for the most part to the selective action of these ~sthetic and color-loving little brush-tongued parrots. Australia and New Zealand, as every- body knows, are the countries where every- thing goes by contraries. And it is here that the parrot group has developed some of its strangest and most abnormal off- shoots. One ~vould imagine beforehand that no two bircts could be more unlike in every respect than the gaudy, noisy, gre- garious cockatoos and the sombre, noc- turnal, solitary owls. Yet the New Zealand owl-parrot is, to put it plainly, a lory which has assumed all the outer appearance and habits of an owl. A lurker in the twilight or under the shades of night, burrowing for its nest in holes in the ground, it has dingy brown plumage like the owls, with an undertone of green to bespeak its par- rot origin ; while its face is entirely made up of two great disks, surrounding the eyes, which succeed in giving it a most marked and unmistakable owl-like ap- pearance. 48 PRETTY POLL! Now, why should a parrot so strangely dering deeply on this abstruse problem, disguise itself and belie its ancestry. The solved it at once with an emphatic affirma- reason is plain. It found a place for it tive. And he straightway proceeded to ready made in nature. New Zealand is a act upon his convictions, and invent a remote and sparsely stocked island, peo- really hideous mode of procedure. Perch- pled by mere casual waifs and strays of ing on the backs of the living sheep he life from adjacent but still very distant has now learnt the exact spot where the continents. There are no dangerous ene- kidneys are to be found; and he tears mies there. Here, then, was a clear chance open the flesh to get at these dainty mor- for a nightly prowler. The owl-parrot sels, which he pulls out and devours, leav- with true business instinct saw the open- ing the unhappy animal to die in miserable ing thus clearly laid before it, and took to agony. As many as two hundred ewes a nocturnal and burrowing life, with the have thus been killed in a night at a single natural consequence that it acquired in station. I need hardly add that the sheep time the dingy plumage, crepuscular eyes, farmer naturally resents this irregular pro- and broad, disk-like reflectors of other ceeding, so opposed to all ideals of good prowling night-fliers. Unlike the owls, grazing, and that the days of the kea are however, the owl-parrot, true to the vege- now numbered in New Zealand. But from tarian instincts of the whole lory race, the purely psychological point of view the lives almost entirely upon sprigs of mosses case is an interesting one, as being the and other creeping plants. It is thus es- best recorded instance of the growth of a sentially a ground bird; and as it feeds new and complex instinct actually under at night in a country possessing no native the eyes of human observers. beasts of prey, it has almost lost the One word as to the general coloring of power of flight, and uses its wings only as the parrot group as a whole. Tropical, a sort of parachute to break its fall in de- forestine birds have usually a ground tone scending from a rock or tree to its accus- of green because that color enables them tomed feeding-ground. To get up again, best to escape notice among the monot- it climbs, parrot-like, with its hooked onous verdure of equatorial woodland claws, up the surface of the trunk or the scenery. In the north, to be sure, green face of the precipice. is a very conspicuous color; but that is Even more aberrant in its ways, how- only because for half the year our trees are ever, than the burrowing owl-parrot, is bare and even during the other half they that other strange and hated New Zealand lack that breadth of tropic shade which lory, the kea, which, alone among its kind, characterizes the forests of all hot coun- has abjured the gentle, ancestral vegeta- tries. Therefore, in temperate climates, rianism of the cockatoos and macaws, in the common ground-tone of birds is brown, favor of a carnivorous diet of singular to harmonize with the bare boughs and ferocity. And what is odder still, this evil leafless twigs, the clods of earth and dead habit has been developed in the kea since turf or stubble. But in the evergreen the colonization of New Zealand by the tropics green is the right hue for conceaL- English, those most demoralizing of new- ment or defence. Therefore the parrots, comers. The settlers have taught the the most purely tropical family of birds on Maori to wear tall hats and to drink strong earth, are mostly greenish; and among liquors ; and they have thrown temptation the smaller and more defenceless sorts, in the way of even the once innocent na- like the familiar little love-birds, where tive parrot. Before the x~hite man came, the need for protection is greatest, the in fact, the kea was a mild-mannered, fruit- green of the plumage is almost unbroken. eating or honey-sucking bird. But as Of the tiny Pigmy parrots of New Guinea, soon as sheep stations were established in for instance, Mr. I3owdler Sharpe says: the island these degenerate parrots began Owin~ to their small size and the resem- to acquire a distinct taste for raw mutton. blance of their green coloring to the forests At first, to be sure, they ate only the they inhabit, they are not easily seen, and sheeps heads and offal that were thrown until recent years were very hard to pro- out from the slaughter-houses, picking the cure. And of the green parrot of Ja- bones as clean of meat as a dog or a jackal. maica, Mr. Gosse remarks: Often we But in process of time, as the taste for hear their voices proceeding from a cer- blood grew upon them, a still viler idea tam tree, or else have marked the descent entered into their wicked heads. The first of a flock on it; but on proceeding to the step on the downward path suggested the spot, though the eye has not wandered second. If dead sheep are good to eat, from it, we cannot discover an individual. why not also living ones? The kea, pon- We go close to the tree, but all is silent PRETTY POLL! 49 and still as death. We institute a careful survey of every part with the eye, to de- tect the slightest motion, or the form of a bird among the leaves, but all in vain. We begin to think they have stolen off unperceived ; but on throwing a stone into the tree, a dozen throats burst forth into a cry, and as many green birds rush forth upon the wing. Green may thus be re- garded as the normal or basal parrot tint, from which all other colors are special decorative variations. But fruit-eating and flower-feeding crea- tures like butterflies and humming~ birds seeking their food ever among the bright berries and brilliant flowers, almost invariably acquire in the long run an ~s- thetic taste for pure and varied coloring, and by the aid of sexual selection this taste stereotypes itself at last in their own wings and plumage. They choose their mates for color as they choose their foodstuffs. Hence all the larger and more gregarious parrots, in which the need for concealment is less, tend to diversify the fundamental green of their coats with crimson, yellow, or blue, which in some cases take posses- sion of the entire body. The largest kinds of all, like the great blue and yellow or crimson macaws, are as gorgeous as Sol- omon in all his glory; and they are also the species least afraid of enemies; for in Brazil you may often see them wending their way homeward openly in pairs every evening, with as little attempt at conceal- ment as rooks in England. In the Mo- luccas and New Guinea, says Mr. Wallace, white cockatoos and gorgeous lories in crimson and blue are the very commonest objects in the local fauna. Even the New Zealand owl-parrot, however, still retains many traces of his original greenness, mixed with the dirty brown and dingy yel- low of his acquired nocturnal and burrow- ing nature. If fruit-eaters are fine, flower-haunters are magnificent. And the brush-tongued lories, that search for nectar among: the bells of Malayan blossoms, are the bright- est-colored of all the parrot tribes. In- deed, no group of birds, according to Mr. Alfred Russel Wallace (who ought to know, if anybody does), exhibits within the same limited number of types so extraor- dinary a diversity and richness of coloring as the parrots. As a rule, he says, parrots may be termed green birds, the majority of the species having this color as the basis of their plumage, relieved by caps, gorgets, bands, and wing spots of other and brighter hues. Yet this general green tint sometimes changes into light or LIVING AOL VOL. LXXVIIL 4004 deep blue, as in some macaws; into pure yellow or rich orange, as in some of the American macaw parrots; into purple, grey, or dove-color, as in some American, African, and Indian species; into the purest crimson, as in some of the lories; into rosy white and pure white, as in the cockatoos; and into a deep purple, ashy, or black, as in several Papuan, Austra- lian, and Mascarene species. There is in fact hardly a single distinct and definable color that cannot be fairly matched among the three hundred and ninety species of known parrots. Their habits, too, are such as to bring them prominently before the eye. They usually feed in flocks; they are noisy, and so attract attention; they love gardens, orchards, and open sunny places; they wander about far in search of food, and towards sunset return homeward in noisy flocks, or in constant pairs. Their forms and motions are often beautiful and attractive. The immensely long tails of the macaws and the more slender tails of the Indian paroquets, the fine crest of the cockatoos, the swift flight of many of the smaller species, and the graceful motions of the little love-birds and allied forms, together with their affec- tionate natures, aptitude for domestica- tion, and power of mimicry, combine to render them at once the most conspicuous and the most attractive of all the specially tropical forms of bird life. I have purposely left to the last the one point about parrots which most often at- tracts the attention of the young, the gay, the giddy, and the thoughtless; I~mean their power of mimicry in human language. And I believe I am justified in passing it over lightly For in fact this power is but a very incidental result of the general in- telligence of parrots, combined with the other peculiarities of their social life and forestine character. Dominant woodland animals, indeed, like monkeys, parrots, toucans, and hornbills, at least if vegeta- rian in their habits, are almost always gregarious, noisy, mischievous, and imita- tive. And the imitation results directly from the unusual intelligence; for, after all, what is the power of learning itself at least, in all save its very highest phases but the faculty of accurately imitating another? Monkeys for the most part imi- tate action only, because they havent very varied or flexble voices. Parrots and many other birds, on the contrarylike the starling and still more markedly the American mocking-bird being endowed with considerable flexibility of voice, imi- tate either songs or spoken words with 50 MENSERVANTS IN ENGLAND. great distinctness. In the parrot the power of attention is also very consider- able, for the bird will often try over with itself repeatedly the lesson it has set itself to learn. But people too generally forget that at best the parrot knows only the general application of a sentence, not the separate meanings of its component words. It knows, for example, that Polly wants a lump of sugar is a phrase often fol- lowed by a present of food. But to believe it can understand an abstract expression, like the famous By Jove! what a beastly lot of parrots! is to confound learning by rote with genuine comprehension. A care- ful review of all the evidence makes almost every scientific observer conclude that at most a parrot knows a word of command as a horse knows Whoa! or a dog knows the order to hunt for rats in the wainscot. From The National Review. MENSERVANTS IN ENGLAND. THE soul of a lacqueyis an expres- sion generally used as a term of oppro- brium. It is supposed to denote a certain measure of low cunning and grovelling meanness. Yet the race of lacqueys has always existed, and continues to be looked upon with considerable favor. No large establishment is complete without its staff of menservants; and the ambition of small people tends to the keeping of a male domestic, be he even of the hybrid order called single-handed. These sin- gle-handed men are types of the worst species. They have all the evils and none of the consummate manner and the perfect gentility of the high-class servant; they are generally married men, who have drifted down from a higher estate through drink or other misfortunes; they are slov- enly and lazy, and lord it over the ~vidow and the orphan with whom it is their lot to be cast. 1 remember one of these gen- try, a good specimen of his class, and looked upon as a model by his mistress, a widow of my acquaintance. One day he was suddenly dismissed, to the astonish- ment of her friends, who knew how highly she valued his services. Her explanation of the matter was that a deputation of the maids in the house waited upon her urgently imploring her to send away the treasure; they were tired, they said, of sitting up for him till two or three in the morning whenever she was out of town. They trusted she would dismiss him with a months wages, for he had threatened to kill them if they told her, and they firmly believed he would. Single ladies are fearfully tyrannized over by the domestic of this class the old butler, who decides what they shall drink, how much they shall drink, and how they shall live, and whom they dare not disturb at odd hours, or in the enjoyment of his meals, by ring- ing the bell or sending him on a message. Single-handed servants do not enter into the generic category of flunkeys of whom Leech made such fun in the pages of Punch, and who have been satirized so keenly by Thackeray in his Diary of J eames de Ia Pluche. The latter is a functionary conventionally arrayed in plush breeches and silk stockings, with well-developed calves and a supercilious expression. Several times a day he par- takes freely of nourishing food, including a surprising quantity of beer. He has a wholesome contempt for poor people, small families, and genteel poverty; and talks of us and we in connection ~vith his mas- ter. His meals and his pipe appear the be.all and end-all of existence. After, there comes the washing of his head. This has to be done daily (so he avers) in order to prevent the powder he wears from injuring his luxuriant hair. More prosaic persons believe the reason to be that when he walks out he prefers to look the private gentleman all over, rather than show the badge of servitude in his floured head. The arnour~roj5re of a flunkey is variously compounded. He likes to strut about in a pot-hat, with a light cane and a cut-away coat, and appear as if he had nothing to do. That is one side of his amour5roj5re. The other is satisfaction in his calves, his livery, his six feet two, and the fine turn- out of his people. He owns to a great deal of vicarious pride in these matters; and whatever may happen, as far as he is concerned, he is determined to keep up the credit of the family. He may be seen lounging superciliously on the door-steps of a summer afternoon, his coat thrown back, his thumbs in his waistcoat armholes, regarding the passing carriages and their well-dressed occupants with approval, or glaring contemptuously at the small boy with a parcel, and the poor music-mistress who arrives on foot and timidly asks whether the young ladies are at home. The tone of the flunkey is carefully grad- uated according to what he considers the rank of the caller; and it is sometimes an amusing experience to pay an early visit, plainly dressed, when, after being looked over from head to foot as if you were a MENSERVANTS IN ENGLAND. 5 thief or a beggar, you give your card as Lady X., and note the instant change from haughtiness to respectful servility. The philosophy of clothes is a lesson which the flunkey never learns. He always judges you by your rich apparel and your sur- roundings, rather than by your innate worth and your refined and distingud man- ner, for to him the tailor makes the man. Jeames considers it a part of his duty to be beautiful. Sois belle in tu peux, sois sage situ veux mais sois consid6r6e, il le faut is his axiom of life. Beauty and uselessness go together, he believes; so he heaps all the duties he can decently delecxate, to the housemaid and the odd man (a most useful and necessary append- age to every large establishment). He rises as late as possible ; he exerts himself as little as he need ; he declines to take up the governesss supper or to clean her boots; and he insists on his own breakfast being brought to him in bed whenever his mistress is out of town. A jolly, lazy, magnificent fellow is the flunkey, though occasionally troubled by some peculiar ailments, which the doctor bluntly attrib- utes to overfeeding, but which Jeames puts down to the unhealthiness of his sleeping apartment and the rarity of his days out As he generally spends his days out in the comfortable seclusion of the public-house, or in that of the ser- vants club, they are not always conducive to his good health. Clubs are an immense institution and a great resort of servants. They are of all sorts, from those as exclu- sive as the Marlborough or Arthurs to others bristling with as many secret rules and regulations as the Freemasons broth- erhood are popularly supposed to enjoy. One ordinary rule is that which makes it imperative on a servant not to stay more than two years in a situation, howsoever comfortable he may be, a capital way of ensuring what the French police call circulation, and preventing any undue at- tachment to the household he inhabits pro lem. Although Jeames rigidly keeps up the prestige of the establishment before the outside world, in his own heart and to his intimates of the club he discusses and criticises his employers pretty freely. Their faults, their vices, their tempers, their stinginess, and their folly are nowise extenuated; and to know the real man thoroughly you need only consult his valet- de-chambre, whose contempt for his master is equalled by his insolence when he dares. As an instance we may quote the speech of a footman who, when told that his mis- tress a lady of fidgety temper and high degree had rung her bell already several times, calmly replied, as he sipped his glass of beer, Let her ring! Kindly contempt sometimes takes the place of insolence, as in the case of the servant who happened to be travelling second-class with a friend of mine. As the train stopped at a station he observed of his master a well.known magnate I must look out here, for my bloke always gets hisself left behind! Strange and weird are the traditions of household customs, the etiquette of the back stairs, the precedence of the servants hall. The incessant squabbles about whose place it is to do such and such a thing are so aggravatingly prolonged that an exasperated master was once heard to exclaim, Well, Thomas, as its nobody elses business to take up the coals, I suppose it must be mine ! On another occasion the equanimity of a whole family was disturbed by an argu- ment between the footman and the lad es- maid as to the precise position of the ladys boots when brought up-stairs; the footman maintaining it was not his place to put them inside, and the maid peremptorily declining to take them from outside the door of the bedroom. The weighty mat- ter could be decided only by the dismissal of both the superfine domestics. Servants lay special stress on their meals reglar, on an unlimited supply of beer, and on a license to waste and spoil according to their pleasure. We all know and dread the unfailing answer we receive when we request a servant to bring up a plate, or a decanter, or a glass not in ordinary use. Please, sir, there aint no more of that set !thus effectually upset- ting your hospitable arrangements and disturbing your equanimity for the day. Or, again, the book, that instrument of domestic torture, which the manservant politely places on your table once a month, and which swells to undue proportions on the most trivial pretexts. How generous is your servant with your money; how lavishly he tips porters and railway ser- vants; how magnificently he pays the cab- men and the coal-heavers, sending them away rejoicing; what a splendid example of open.handedness and genial benevolence he sets you; and how mean and parsimo- nious your notions of life are, compared with his I The family butler or steward, if less beautiful, is perhaps a more practical ne- cessity than the flunkey. In his hands are placed the safe routine and thorough re 52 MENSERVANTS IN ENGLAND. spectability of the establishment. It is he worker that causes silent revolutions in who wields the rod of office, dispenses the the machinery of the universe. He cleans hospitality of the wine-cellar, and locks knives and boots, carries coals, and does the area gate for fear of thieves. It is he everything disagreeable and arduous for who calls Jeames to order for his forget- everybody else. He gets cursed and fulness and shortcomings, and con suIts sworn at; he rises early and goes late to with the housekeeper on weighty matters rest; all the misdemeanors of the house- of state and prudence. He is a magnifi- hold are laid on his patient back; he does cent personage, with a figure of ample the ~vork of two menservants and is paid proportions, and the benign and important half the wages of one. He bears his ap- expression of an archbishop. He is om- parently miserable life with equanimity niscient at dinner (though at other times and possesses his soul in patience, snatch- generally invisible); he knows your pref- ing such mundane consolations as he can erences (especially if you have tipped him in the shape of a few poor perquisites for on the occasion of your last visit); he his sick mother or his little brothers and whispers Very old brandy and Ch~- sisters at home, knowing (sturdy lad of six teau Margot confidentially in your ear, feet that he is!) that the day will come and pours you out repeated bumpers of the when he in his turn may taste the joys of 74 champagne. He knows all the family prosperity, may lord it over the others, lie gossip; drinks the health of the young in bed in the morning, smoke the pipe of ladies and gentlemen, in the housekeepers peace, and chuck the housemaid unre- room, on their various birthdays; and, provedly under the chin when he meets having married the ladies-maid, retires in her on the staircase. These are the prizes the prime of life to the sanctities of a and honors of service to be looked for. comfortable public-house a blessed end- ward to the rewards which sweeten toil ing to many well-spent years. and console a man for the insolence, the The man-cook is a specimen of quite hardships, and the overbearing demeanor another kind. He is an artist, and as such it is his temporary lot to endure. a Bohemian. He is always out, excepting Perhaps the king of domestics, while he when he is concocting some specially is certainly the pleasantest, the most use- delicate tZa/ (the ordinary family dinner ful, and the smartest of officials, is the being provided by the kitchen-maid) ; he valet, or gentlemans gentleman. A very enjoys a wide liberty denied to the other butterfly, the Figaro of existence is he; servants; he stays out late for is he not gay, gallant, fascinating in the eyes of assisting his friend Alphonse in the prep- ladies-maids, and agreeable in the sight aration of a banquet at the duke of S.s, of their mistresses. Generally the trusted and is not this part of the necessary expe- confidant of his employer, a lively bach- rience and deftness required in his stock elor like himself, he mentally divides the in trade? He is independent, very; he is world into two sectionshis master and expensive likewise. While the wages of his friends, and the rest of the world. He a flunkey range from 30 to 4o, merely knows all about his employers intrigues; the salary of a clerk, the butlers from he carries his notes; he purchases his 80 to ioo, the salary of a curate, the flowers; he visits in the same country wages of a chef including his perquisites, houses and is familiar with all the sporting range from 200 to 300 or even 400 a gossip of his set. He describes to the year. As a greatgourmet once observed, admiring audience down-stairs how ~vell Good cooking is hygiene, and hygiene is we went in the good thing from Ranks- life; who would not pay for life? The borough Gorse, how we cut them all man-cook practises his extortions and down in the Brigade Cup at Sandown, raises his demands daily. Year by year how we killed the biggest stag in the Italians and Frenchmen invade our shores, dukes forest. He has associated with and take possession of our kitchens, wield- smart people and the crdrne aYe Ia ing their casserolles in kingly fashion crJme until he has entirely forgotten he and ruling obsequious kitchen-maids and is not one of them by birth. He receives scullions with a rod of iron. After a few high wages, of course; he lives in the lap years they wax fat and retire from the of luxury; he is selfish and untruthful fleshpots of Egypt, with their sausages, occasionally; but he is an invaluable their garlic, and their wives, to an old age person. His memory is like unto Ma- of comfortable competency in their native caulays; he never forgets a single port land. manteau or bag or hat-box; he reads The odd man, like the humble earth- Bradshaw excellently; he takes the worm, is the invisible but necessary tickets, and, tipping the guard efficiently, MENSERVANTS IN ENGLAND. 53 secures a reserved railway compartment; he brings his master tea or brandy and soda at the stations; he engage stheonly fly at their destination; he has every- thing unpacked and ready by the time his master leisurely strolls up-stairs to dress. He is a factotum in a hundred. He has the soul of a perfect army commissariat; he lays his plans in advance; he caters like an old campaigner; he is as reserved as Macchiavelli. A word or a glance is sufficient; he understands the merest nod. He ingratiates himself with the maids be- longing to the ladies his masteror, as he prefers to call him, the guy nor admires; he knows their taste in flowers, their style of dress, their peculiar idiosyn- cracies and flirtations. He looks after the ouv s ~ interests in a fatherly way, and advises him to pay an occasional visit to the paternal home, or reminds him to write to his mother and sisters. All this he does without any undue expres- sions of familiarity, though he may venture occasionally on a word of advice. He has always the same noiseless step and per- fect sleekness and politeness of manner, the same absolute good temper and gen- tleness of tone, with the same subserviency and perfection of voice, the same ardor and energy in his work. Your boots are polished till you can see your face in them; ties are carefully arran~ed ; clothes are ironed; and brushed hats are glossy; the buttonhole is laid out invitingly; hot water is to your hand; your slippers lie in front of the fire; and the obsequious valet stands ready. Who would grudge so many guineas a year for service like this? If he smokes your cigars, your loose cash may lie about freely; he will not touch it You who are so careless with your studs and sleeve-links and pins possess an attendant who counts and looks after them. If he occasionally helps him- self to a glass or two of wine, he pays your bills punctually and in order. if he uses bad language to his inferiors, and haughtily calls the stewards-room boy an idiot, have you never sworn at him when you were in a hurry and your shirts were not sufficiently starched, or the exact brickdust red of your tops not quite to your taste? If he di verges from the truth occasionally, can you expect him to do violen~ to his real nature always, to be forever smiling, handy, and obliging, and never to suffer from the toothache or the heartache? Is he a hypocrite? Yes; he is paid for it. Does he feather his own nest amply? have you not yourself taught him the value of number one? The gentlemans gentleman remains an unique specimen of high civilization act- ing upon a naturally uneducated nature. There is veneer, but no real value under- neath. Yet, take him all in all, the gentle- mans gentleman is agreeable to live with, easy to manage, unobtrusively useful, faithful as far as his lights go, devoted to what he thinks your interest and his, ami- able and good-tempered, light-hearted and ready-witted. What better can we say of most of our friends? The gamekeeper, who is not exactly a domestic servant, is yet a functionary of immense importance. Unless he is con- ciliated by largesses and sympathetically inclined towards you, you will fare badly in your attempts at sport. He will put you in the coolest corners, station you in the outlying boxes at the grouse drive, send you to tramp through the useless spinneys, and generally weary and dis- courage you. Especially are you in the hands of the forester in a Scotch deer forest. He may do as he likes with you if he bears you a grudge, or merely serve his master docilely, as that one did who asked a titled employer, Will I give the gentleman a walk or a shot to-day? Some of these men, born and bred on the hills, and living amidst the grandest and wildest of scenery, possess a keen, homely wit, which renders them interesting com- panions, and an innate courtesy and refine- ment of feeling that stamps them as a very different race from the mercenary and un- scrupulous town servants. Many are the stories related of their good-natured con- tempt for the ignorance and clumsiness of the enterprising Saxon, audaciously confident in his skill and helpless as a child in the hands of his guide. Note the sarcastic reply of the stalker, after having swept the hillside with his glass and re- ported that some stags were on the hori- zon, to the foolish question of a gentleman, Such a distance off how do you know they are stags? Stags has horns I or the curt and pregnant answer of the for- ester to the despairing tyro ~vho, while a shining light in the political world, yet carefully and persistently missed the easiest shots all through the day, when he piteously inquired, What is the reason I cannot hit the deer? Eh, mon, its well theres beef in Aberdeen! On an- other occasion a poor unfortunate sports- man, in his anxiety to do the right thing, apologetically exclaimed, I was so afraid of haunching him, I shot at his head. Deed, said his companion shortly, that was no airthly use. A book might 54 MENSERVANTS IN ENGLAND. be written about the shrewd sayings of gamekeepers and their acute judgments of the superior beings committed to their charge; but it would be somewhat stray- ing from the lines of this paper to enlarge further on such an interesting topic. Suf. fice it to say that tips to gamekeepers, un- grudgingly rendered by the votaries of the chase, form no inconsiderable item in the expenses of a popular and impecunious young man. The whole system of fees to servants demands revision. It amounts, in large establishments, to a system of blackmail; for many are the unwritten penalties of the law to which the unwary visitorexposes himself if he tries to evade them, or is known to be what servants callmean He is ill-valeted, ill-served, treated with neglect by the butler in his official capacity as cup-bearer, with civil contempt by the coachman, and calm in- difference by the footman. He is, as it were, boycotted; and his name is inscribed on the tablets of the book as one of those who, when they enter palatial mansions, must leave all hope behind them. If, on the contrary, he is, in the language of the servants hall, a real~ gentleman, he may bid good-bye to carking care. His bed will be a bed of roses; the coachman touches his hat with a grin as he meets him at the station with the cosy brougham instead of the dogcart; the footman flies to help him out and carry his dressing- case and hat-box; the butler greets him with a kindly inquiry after his health, ora Glad to see you back again, sir;~ the housemaid makes up his fire to the best of her ability, and brings in his hot water punctually; he feels that he is among friends ; the warm atmosphere of grati- tude and affection pleasantly encompasses him. Our servants are our severest critics, our sternest mentors; they read our let- ters; they examine our weekly bills; they judge our expenditure; they are posted up in all our affairs. If we are lavish and in- different, and dont inquire, but leave mat- ters pretty much in their hands, they serve us willingly and call us good masters and mistresses. Laissezfair is their high- est idea of employers morality, and a masterly inactivity meets their full ap- proval. Then, and then only, will they condescend to smooth the crumpled rose- ieaves in our paths and study all those comforts of homethat refined elegance, that delicate art of livingwhich makes an English house the perfection of luxuri- ous order. It is for the enjoyment of these unique privileges, and on the ex- press understanding that we shut our eyes to the old-established rights of tips, per- quisites, followers, and hangers-on, that Englishmen cheerfully forego the inde- pendence of the foreigner, the economy of a small staff of servants, and the supe- riot advantage of expending ones income on ones self and not on ones servants. The French, who know how to obtain the maximum of enjoyment with the minimum of expense, often wonder at our allowing ourselves to be eaten out of house and home by an army of idle, extravagant re- tainers. There are several reasons for this. The arrangement of English houses necessitates more domestics, owing to the number of stairs and the constant ringing of the front and area door bells. (The latter a tax on time and labor entirely re- moved by the visits of the white-capped French cooks, basket on arm, to the marchi.) Then, everybody in England considers it his privilege to have some other person to wait upon him. The cook requires a kitchen-maid, the butler a foot- man, the coachman a helper or groom, and so on ad infini/nm. The delightful sim- plicity of the French mdnagewith its cook, its va/et-de-chambre, and its frrnme- de-chambre, sufficing for all reasonable wants continues to be ignored in this country. And truly it would here be im- possible to find the cleanly, active bonne, who cooks her dinner over the stove in the adjoining kitchen, and carries it in her hands, smoking hot, to the guests in the dining-room. Often have I assisted at such a family repast in Paris; and never do I wish for a better, though on these occasions there were six people at table, and the apartment was a small one. Such things, however, are out of the question in England, and I dare say service in France has its own special drawbacks too. No English mistress, for example, would sanction the independence, the familiarity (sometimes critically affectionate), or the calm annexation of the sou du franc perquisite in her Mary Jane. No! our servants belong to our climate like our christmas fogs, our roast beef, and our cricket. Perfect service can be had at a perfect price; those who keep many men- servants, and do not count the cost, fare well and sumptuously. As for the rest of us, the employers of one or two menser- vants, the plagues and idols of our homes, there is nothing to be done but for us to be very kind and indulgent to them, and blandly to hope they will return the com- pliment. There is a dignity, a solemnity, and a pretentiousness about flunkeys that English people will newr dare to dispense with. VIOLET GREVILLE AN AIDE.-DE-CAMP OF MASSENA. 55 From Temple Bar. AN AIDE-DE-CAMP OF MASSENA. THE fascinating memoirs of General Marbot* throw a flood of light on the campaigns of the great Napoleon and his marshals which will be invaluable for future historians. As the aide-de-camp of Augereau, Lannes, and Massena, he had unequalled opportunities of observing and judging correctly. We see Napoleon at his best in his intercourse with his officers and soldiers. The characters of the mar- shals are wonderfully portrayed in their strength and their weakness. We know them now. Before we read Marbot they were shadows. How they did quarrel! We see the selfish Bernadotte, instead of succoring Davoust at the battle of Auer- stadt, where he was engaged against tre. mendous odds, coolly ordering his soldiers to make their soup. The heroic Lannes, the Roland of the army, having been all day under the fire of three hundred cannon at Aspern, by way of finishing the evening, proposed to fight a duel with the detested Marshal Bessi~res. Ney, in Portugal, defied his chief, Marshal Massena, and had to be removed from his command. Junot declined to assist Ney at the battle of Valoutina. What a wonderful portrait is given of Saint Cyr, who had met with great success as an actor in early life! He was equally fortunate as a soldier, and pos- sessed great military talents. When only general he ~vas serving under the brave but unskilful Marshal Oudinot, who, when he got into a mess, always inquired of Saint Cyr what he should do. The only answer he received was Monsezgneur Le Mar& hal/as much as to say, How can such a poor creature as I am give ad- vice to the great Marshal Oudinot! When Oudinot was wounded, Saint Cyr took the command, made an admirable disposition of his troops, beat the Rus- sians, and was made marshal by Napoleon. When Oudinot returned, Saint Cyr de- parted. Marbot tells us that Saint Cyr passed most of his time in playing the fiddle. How vivid is the description of battles in these memoirs, especially that of Wa- gram; the contending hosts meeting in a vast plain, whilst the steeples and roofs of Vienna, the country houses, and the hills were covered with a vast assembly of spec- tators, who waved frantically their hats and handkerchiefs as they saw their splen We are authorized by Messrs. Lougman to say that a translation of General Marbots work will be published by them early in the spring. did cavalry drive in wild confusion the left wing of the French army to the Dan- ube. Every one anticipated victory, but the Prince de Ligne, entertaining at his country house a party of the aristocracy to view the battle, observed Do not re- joice yet, in a quarter of an hour Prince Charles will be beaten, for he has no re- serves; and you see the masses of Napo- leon encumber the plain. Great men have lived since, as before, the time of Agamemnon, whose names are unknown because they have not had the good fortune to find a bard or historian to celebrate their exploits. There was a young aide-de-camp of Massena present at the battle of Wagram, whose name we never heard of before, but whose brief but glorious career, as described by Marbot, was of such extraordinary merit that we hope we may be pardoned in attempting to give a summary of it for the benefit of the readers of Tern~Ze Bar. Charles dEscorches de Sainte Croix, son of the Marquis de Sainte Croix, who was formerly ambassador at Constantino- ple in the reign of Louis XV I., the first aide-de-camp of Massena during the cam- paign of Wagram, was undoubtedly the most brilliant young officer in the French army. His early inclination was for a military career, but his family desiring that he should adopt the profession of his father, placed him in the Foreign Office, under the auspices of M. de Talleyrand. As long as the peace of Amiens lasted, Sainte Croix remained quietly at his post, but on its rupture his military instincts revived; and although his age (twenty- three) prevented him from entering a mili- tary college, a fortunate circumstance allowed him to follow the career he so much longed for. Napoleon, after the battle of Austerlitz, desiring to attach to his service some drnigrds and young nobles who would not enter into military service as privates, conceived the idea of forming regiments on the model of the Swiss and German troops who formed part of the army dur- ing the ancien rdgime. Six thousand of the finest soldiers, taken prisoners at the battle of Austerlitz, were chosen to form part of the two new regiments; the first of which was to be commanded by the nephew of the celebrated La Tour dAu- vergne, the second by the Prince dIsem- bourg, a great noble from Germany. Before the formation of this new force Napoleon requested Talleyrand to search in the archives of the Foreign Office for the regulations which prevailed during the AN AIDE-DE-CAMP OF MASSENA. reign of the Bourbons, with respect to the engagement of foreign troops. Talleyrand, ~vell aware of the military tastes of Sainte Croix, gave him the task of preparing a report on the subject for the consideration of the emperor. Napo- leon was delighted with the mimoire pre- sented by Sainte Croix, which not only traced the history of ancient foreign regi- ments, but proposed modifications which Sainte Croix thought necessary. Without even seeing him, the emperor nominated him chef de ba/aillon, and shortly after- wards inajor in the regiment, commanded by La Tour dAuvergne. This promotion bitterly offended Monsieur de M, a cousin of the Empress Jos6phine, who challenged Sainte Croix on a most frivo- lous pretext, and a duel ensued~ Mon- sieur de M, well skilled in arms of all kinds, and confident as to the result, was accompanied by a cavalcade of friends, who waited outside the cluster of trees in the Bois de Boulogne, where the duel took place. The result was that Sainte Croix shot the cousin of the empress dead. The second of Monsieur de M, horrified at this unexpected event, rushed out of the wood and, without mounting his horse, ran away in the direction of Paris. The cavalcade of friends dismounted and en- tered into the clump, but found no one there but the body of the unfortunate duellist. They discovered their friend had not only been shot in the breast, but there was also a wound at the back of his head caused by failing on a stump. They immediately accused Sainte Croix of not only shooting their friend in the breast, but that he had also fractured his head with the butt of the pistol. Leaving the wood, the cavalcade was re-formed, and, no doubt swearing and gesticulating as only Frenchmen can, they rode to St. Cloud to inform the empress that her cousin had been murdered! The em- press demanded justice from the emperor. Sainte Croix was arrested, and it would have gone hard with him but for the in- terference of Fouch~, who, being a friend of the family of Sainte Croix, knew well how incapable the young officer was of committing so base a deed. Fouch~ or- dered a search to be made for the fugitives second, who was discovered in the country, and, when brought back to Paris, at once declared that the duel had been a loyal one, and of course Sainte Croix was re- leased and joined his regiment, which was then in Italy. The Colonel La Tour dAuvergne was devoid of military knowledge. It was the Major Sainte Croix who organized the regiment with such zeal that he made it one of the finest in the army. He served with great distinction in the suppression of the revolt in Calabria, and acquired the esteem of Massena, who quickly recog- nized his great talents; and when recalled from south Italy, to take part in the cam- paign of Friedland, contrary to the regu- lations of the army, he took Sainte Croix with him. Napoleon, remembering the death of the cousin of the empress, received Sainte Croix coldly, and blamed Massena for re- moving him from his regiment. There was another reason, we are told, for Napoleons dislike of Sainte Croix. The emperor, though himself of small stature, had a predilection for tall men of martial appearance. Now Sainte Croix was small, thin, fair, with a charming feminine figure ; but under that frail ex- terior was to be found a boundless ambi- tion, an iron will, a courage truly heroic, and, what is most essential in a commander of men, une ac/ivild ddvoian/e. The em- peror, thouTh recognizing the great quali- ties of Sainte Croix, did nothing for him after this campaign; but on the war against Austria breaking out in t8o9, Massena, who was recalled from Italy to command an army corps, demanded that Sainte Croix should accompany him as his aide-de-camp. This request was granted. In one of the battles which occurred on the march to Vienna, Sainte Croix took a standard from the enemy, and the emperor made him colonel. He performed prod- igies of valor, and showed a rare intelli- gence at the battle of Essling. After the retreat, caused by the breaking of the bridges of the Danube, into the Isle of Lobau, the services of Sainte Croix be- came so valuable that, although only first aide-de-camp of Massena, he acted as the chief of the staff of the corps darrnde which defended that precarious position. Napoleon, who was in a state of great anxiety lest the Archduke Charles should attack the island, passed seven or eight hours every day in visiting the fortifica- tions he was erectiang, and Massena, already a little broken, not being able to accompany him, it was Sainte Croix who became the daily companion and adviser of the emperor. After a hard days work he accompanied Napoleon to the palace of Schdnbrunn, then returning to the island, after a few moments repose, passed all the nights in visiting the different posts. At break of day he was ordered to be in the bedchamber of the emperor to report AN AIDE-DE-CAMP OF MASSENA. his nights work. For forty-four days, during an appalling heat, this delicate- looking young officer endured this tre men- dous strain without relaxing one moment in his duty. Napoleon conceived such a high idea of the value of Sainte Croixs opinion on great military questions that he constantly invited him to be present at the confer- ences which he held with the Marshals Massena and Berthier. The great ques- tion was how to cross the small arm of the Danube in face of the fortifications which the archduke had erected at Essling and Aspern. Sainte Croix advised that they should be turned by executing the passage at Stadt-Enzersdorff. This proposition was adopted. General Becker, the chief of Massenas staff, disapproved of Sainte Croixs plan, but he was quickly sent off to France in disgrace. Napoleon was so enchanted with his new favorite that he said to the Russian envoy: Since I com- manded armies I have never met with an officer more capable, who comprehends better my ideas, and who executes them so well. He reminds me of Lannes and Desaix. Thus, unless a thunderbolt strikes him, France and Europe will be astonished at the career I will open for him. The three favorites of Napoleon were Lasalle, the famous cavalry general, Junot, and Rapp. Two of these, mauvais sujels, Lasalle and Junot, were always coming to the emperor to relate their follies, and ask him to pay their debts, which he always did. Sainte Croix never abused the favor shown to him. One day, as he was walk- ing arm in arm with Napoleon on the sands of the Island of Lobau, Napoleon said to him: I recollect that after the duel with my wifes cousin I wanted to shoot you; I allow it would have been a fault and a very great misfortune. That is true, answered Sainte Croix; hut now that your Majesty knows me better, you would not exchange me for one of the cousins of the empress? Say for a/i, was the reply of Napoleon. Another day, when Sainte Croix arrived at the Palace of Sch6nbrunn, Napoleon, whilst drinking a glass of water drawn from the celebrated fountain, asked Sainte Croix whether he was fond of fresh water. Ma fol, no, said Sainte Croix; I pre- fer a good glass of claret or champagne. The emperor turned to his valet and said: You will send to the colonel a hundred bottles of claret and the same quantity of champagne. The mules of the emperor brought their precious burden to the Isle 51 of Lobau, and the aides-de-camp of Mas- sena that evening drank with enthusiasm to the health of their emperor. Napoleon was adored by his soldiers. There is an amusing account of an alter- cation between him and an old soldier, who demanded the Cross of the Legion of Honor because he had once given a melon to General Bonaparte during the frightful heats of the desert. Napoleon thanked him again for his melon, but declined to decorate him on that ground. The soldier, in a paroxysm of passion, cried out: Ek, you count for nothing seven wounds re- ceived at the bridge of Arcole, at Lodi, Castiglione, the Pyramids, St. Jean dAcre, Austerlitx, Friedland, eleven campaigns in Egypt, Austria, Prussia Ta, Ia, Ia, said the emperor, how you storm; you ought to have begun with this story, which is worth more than your melon. I make you ChevaiierdeiErni5ire with a dotation of twelve hundred francs. Are you content? Sire, I prefer the cross, was the answer. It was with great difficulty the old soldier was made to un- derstand that the cross went with the title of chevalier. At last Napoleon took the cross and placed it himself on his breast, and the veteran went away contented. It was determined by Napoleon and Massena that an attempt should be made, on the evening of the 4th of July, to surprise Enxersdorff. Napoleon proposed that a colonel, with twenty-five hundred of his b2st troops, should pass the Danube and seize the town. Sainte Croix de- manded that he should take the comman& Napoleon granted his claim with pleasure. In the middle of a tremendous thunder- storm, Sainte Croix, with his Grenadiers, crossed the Danube and stormed the for- tified town, after a desperate fight with the Croats who guarded the place. Sainte Croix, always at the head of his men, per- formed prodigies of valor and skill. The French army then rapidly passed over the eight bridges, and the archduke, ~vho imagined that the passage would be at- tempted between Aspern and Essling, was stupefied to behold, on the morning of the 5th of July, Napoleon and his one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers, with six hun- dred pieces of artillery, in battle array. The archduke, finding his position turned, was obliged to retreat in every direction in order to form a new one. At the battle of Wagram, Massena, in consequence of a fall from his horse, ap~ peared in a carriage drawn by four grey horses. The Austrians, rightly imagining that the occupant was a great personage, AN AIDE-DE-CAMP OF MASSENA. directed a concentrated fire in that direc- tion. The aides-de-camp had a lively time of it. Sainte Croix, hitherto unharmed, received a severe wound in the leg, and was removed to Vienna, where he remained in bed for many weeks. Napoleon showed his appreciation of Sainte Croixs ser- vices by making him, after hardly four years service, general of brigade, count of the empire, with a dotation of twenty thou- sand francs yearly, grand cross of the or- der of Hesse, and commander of that of Baden. During the illness of Sainte Croix a cu- rious circumstance occasioned a slight coolness between him and Massena. The coachman and postilion of Massena had been personally complimented by Napo- leon for remaining unmoved in such a storm of fire, and he told Massena that he considered them the bravest men in the battle, for they were under no obligation to expose themselves. He would have rewarded their zeal, but he feared he might hurt the feelings of Massena. Na- poleon need not have been anxious about that. One day Massena and his aides-de- camp ~vere sitting by the bed of Sainte Croix when Massena announced he was abdut to give his faithful servants twenty pounds each. Marbot, rather maliciously, said he thought twenty pounds a year for each in rentes viage~res would satisfy them. At the mention of this terrific sum, Mas- sena, who had only forty-five thousand a year, roared like a tigress whose cubs were attacked. Wretch! he cried out, you want to ruin me. Sainte Croix ex- pressed strongly his opinion that the twenty pounds must be paid yearly. An- other aide-de-camp, a most distinguished officerDe Ligniville, a member of one of the four great families of Lorraine, allied to the house of Hapsburg (it is characteristic that after the battle of Wagram the emperor of Austria sent an officer with a flag of truce to express a hope that his cousin had not suffered any harm)declared that to give them only twenty pounds each would be unworthy of the character of the marshal. Massena, on hearing this, ran about the room break- ing the furniture, and screamed out: You want to ruin me; I would rather see you all shot, and receive myself a ball through the arm, than sign a dotation of twenty pounds a year in rentes viag?res. Go, all of you to the devil! In the end, fear- ing the wrath of Napoleon, the marshal unwillingly paid the twenty pounds a year. General Marbot blames Napoleon for not himself proceeding, after the Austrian campaign, to Spain, in order to stamp out the insurrection but the emperor was at that time too occupied with his divorce from Jos~phine and the subsequent nego- tiations for his re-marriage. It was in the autumn of i8io that Massena, Lenfant chin de la victoire, was directed to march on Lisbon, and expel the English from the Peninsula. The Duke of Wellington has often stated that Massena gave him more trouble than any other marshal, bdt it was only the shadow of the great Massena that Wellington had to deal with. Cherchez la femme! Although there was a Madame Ia Mar~chale and a large family, Massena was accompanied by a certain Madame X, who seems to have been one of the chief causes of the failure of the cam- paign. On Massenas arrival at the palace at Valladolid, then inhabited by the Duc and Duchesse dAbrant~s, a painful scene took place, for although Junot kissed the hand of his chiefs innatnorata (in his capacity of an old hussar,as he afterwards explained), the duchess reared at the sight of her unexpected guest. Nothing is more astonishing than the follies which a silly woman can make an elderly admirer com- mit. So Massena consented to the de- mand of Madame X, that she should accompany him on horseback through the mountains of Portugal. What makes the matter worse was that his amiable son, Prosper Massena, was with him as aide- de-camp. Even in the days when Louis Quatorze kept about him in scores what the noblesse in courtesy called his Jane Shores they were called by a far coarser name out of doorssuch a scandal could not have happened. M. Thiers, who had never read the memoirs of Marbot, else his history would have been consider- ably altered, calls Madame X a courtesan, a coarse word. But he was quite unaware of the pranks she indulged in, which had the most disastrous influ- ence on the plan of campaign against the cdl?bre Wellington. Ladies in camp are not generally a suc- cess. The lovely Chryseis and the fair Briseis did not improve the prospects of the Greek army by causing a painful mis- understanding between Agamemnon, king of men, and Achilles, swift of foot. Ma- dame X was the cause of a quarrel between Massena and his generals. At the beginning of the campaign in Portugal Massena nearly lost the whole of his artil- lery by sending it without an efficient guard, and it was only saved by a miracle from falling into the clutches of Brigadier AN AIDE-DE-CAMP OF MASSENA. 59 Trant and his Portuguese. Marshals Ney and Junot, General Reynier, and Mont- brun, who commanded the cavalry, imme- diately went to remonstrate with General Fririon, the chief of the staff; but to their surprise they were assured that he was entirely ignorant of the artillery march, everything having been arranged between Massena and Commander Pelet, his first aide-de-camp. Upon this a stormy inter- view took place with the commander-in- chief; but Massena succeeded in pacify- ing them, and asked them to partake of a banquet, the table for which was laid in a lemon grove. Mas sena then, with incred- ible folly, sent for Madame X, and asked Ney to hand her to the table. Ney nearly exploded; however, he gave the tips of his fingers to Madame X , but never opened his lips to her, and confined his conversation to Monthrun. Upon this the hysterical ladys nerves gave way, and she went off in a fainting fit. Neyand the others went off too, loudly expressing their disgust at the conduct of their chief. Even the reprobate Junot held up his hands with horror at such an outrage. Massenas march was delayed by the fa- tigues of his companion; he stayed for a week at Viscu, a delay which no military man could understand. When he arrived at Mortagoa, instead of inspecting the position of Lord Wellington, he was searching for a lodging for Madame X. M. Thiers states that the pres- ence of the lady in a carriage had a bad effect amongst the troops. She was obliged to ride on horseback on account of the rocky roads, and in the retreat from Santarem she kept tumbling off her horse, and was at last obliged to be carried by Grenadiers, whilst Massena kept exclaim- ing, What a fault I have committed in bringing a woman to the war! Queue faute / The unfortunate General Van- damme, before his catastrophe at KuIm, was always impressing on his officers the maxim, 11 ny a point de petite faute ~ la guerre; un seul instant suffit pour faire perdre le fruit de plusieurs ann~es dutiles et glorieux services. When Massena at last came before the position of the English at Busaco, where his army had been placed by Ney, he made but the slightest inspection of the mountain, and said, I shall be here at daybreak tomorrow, and we will attack, and then, to the stupefaction of the army, he returned to Mortagoa. Oh, for one hour of Sainte Croix! was the cry of the aides-de-camp of Mas sena; but the good genius of his chief was now commanding a cavalry brigade and escorting a convoy. On their ride back with Massena to Mortagoa Generals Fri non, Marbot, and Ligniville, by conver- sation amongst themselves, tried to im- press on the mind of Massena the danger of attacking an impregnable position whilst it might be easily turned. Massena was struck with their remarks, and in the night sent his aides-de-camp to find out if there were a road by which a flank march might be successfully carried into execution. Marbot and Ligniville galloped off to search, and soon discovered a gardener, who stated that there was a road from Mortagoa to Boialva which would com- pletely turn the position of Busaco. But when they returned with this good news for Massena, they found his mentor, Pelet, with him, who stoutly expressed his dis- belief in there being a road, because he with a telescope surveyed the country without discovering any signs of one. Massenas habitual hesitation began. In vain did General Fririon, his chief of the staff, and the two aides-de-camp sup- plicate their commander not to risk a de- feat. Commander Pelet ruled the mind of the marshal. Pelet was a geographical engineer officer, and had at this time no knowledge of the ~ratique of war. He was a great theorist, as is shown in the books he has written; but theory is one thing, and practice another. Hannibal, after hearing a theorist lecturing on the art of war, exclaimed: Many an old fool have I heard, but such as this never! Pelet, although afterwards he performed distinguished services, was certainly by his advice on this occasion one of the causes of the failure of the campaign. The next morning, the 27th of September, at daybreak Massena proceeded to inspect the position at Busaco. When he saw it he said to Fririon and Marbot, There was some goodin your proposition of yes- terday; and they got him again to change his mind and adopt the turning movement, when Ney, Reynier, and Commander Pelet interrupted the conversation. Massena, after some hesitation, again changed his mind. Of course the result was that the troops of Wellington, admirably disposed, repulsed the French with frightful loss. Four thousand five hundred of the sol- diers of Austerlitz and Friedland were killed or wounded. A great controversy immediately took place, Ney and the other generals throwing the blame on Massena, Ney insisted on an immediate retreat into 6o THE GERMAN EMPERORS WAR WITH DISBELIEF. Spain. This Massena very properly re- fused, but the army was torn with the dis- sensions of their chiefs. In the middle of the confusion the good genius of Massena, the young Sainte Croix, arrived, and the state of affairs being communicated to him by his chief, Sainte Croix strongly advised him to resume the project of turning the posi- tion. Massena assented, and Sainte Croix, with his activild ddvoran/e, was soon in the saddle, galloping with Ligniville and Marbot in search of the gardener of the convent, who was engaged as a guide, and laughed at the idea of there not being a road to Boialva. Sainte Croix, with his brigade of dragoons, opened the march, the other troops followed, for Massena, stimulated bySainte Croix, had spoken as a commander and chief should to his sub- ordinates. Through the night of the 28th of September Sainte Croix continued his march to Boialva, and the position of Busaco was turned. Lord Wellington, on the evening of the 29th, became aware of the French movement. He looked at the distant columns, ~vrites General Na- pier, with great earpestness, his counte- nance bore a fierce, angry expression, and, suddenly mounting his horse, he rode away without speaking; one hour after- wards the whole camp was in movement. It was time, for Sainte Croix with his dragoons was rapidly approaching the great city of Coimbra, whose inhabitants, after illuminating for the battle of Busaco, were horrified to hear that the French army, instead of retreating was advancing in force. A scene of wild confusion en- sued, thousands of fugitives followed and encumbered the British army when it re- treated through the town. Sainte Croix attacked the rear~uard with success be- fore Coimbra; Massena arrived at Coim- bra and stayed there three days instead of pursuing the English army, on the pretext that the corps of Junot and Ney were in confusion owing to their repulse at Busaco. Sainte Croix led the advance to Lisbon, M. Thiers writes, with as much bravery as skill;~ but on its arrival on the Tagus the French army was horrified to find, in- stead of an easy entrance to Lisbon, the celebrated lines of Torres Vedras. Mar. bot writes we know not on what author- itythat Lord Hill has declared that if the French had attacked in the first ten days they would have been successful. There is no doubt there was considerable confusion in the English army, Craufurd and his division lost their way, and part of the lines were for a time undefended. Sainte Croix recommended an immediate attack. Unfortunately for Massena and France, the young general, the rising hope of the French army, so bright in his prom- ise, was, whilst reconnoitring the lines near Alhandra, killed by a cannon-ball. The thunderbolt struck the hero, ~vho would have been marshal, duke, prince! After his death Massena sent Marbot and Ligniville to report whether an attack was l)racticable. On their return they in- formed Massena that it was, as they had found several weak spots where the fortifi- cations had not been finished. Massena, roused by this information, determined to make the attempt, and was supported by J unot and Monthrun. Ney and Reynier violently opposed the marshals opinion, and Ney, on receiving his orders, posi- tively refused to execute them. There was no Sainte Croix to support Massena, and he gave way to the disobedience of his subordinates. The other day at Vienna the remains of the famous cavalry general, Lassalle, killed at Wagram, were escorted with great cere- mony by the Austrian troops on their way to Paris. We suppose the body of the young Sainte Croix lies in an unknown grave; but if it ~vere possible to disinter it, a fitting receptacle might be found for it in the vicinity of the tomb of the great emperor whom he loved and served so well. From The Economist. THE GERMAN EMPERORS WAR WITH DISBELIEF. THE German emperor at length appears to be taxing the Inyalty of his subjects by an overstrained use of his personal pre- rogative. He has contracted the idea, it would seem, not uncommon among the clergy of our own country, that Anar- chism, Socialism, and the like are due mainly to the spread of irreligious opin- ions, and that they can be counteracted by giving a definitely religious bias to pri- mary instruction throughout the hereditary kingdom. He has accordingly introduced into the Prussian Parliament a bill on education, having two definite objects: One is to compel all parents of strongly sceptical or Atheistic views to allow their children to be educated by Christians, among Christians, and in Christian prin- ciples; and another is to restore the gen- eral influence of the clergy over religious education. By a series of clauses drawn THE GERMAN EMPERORS WAR WITH DISBELIEF. with considerable adroitness, what would be called in England the conscience clause is got rid of as regards all parents of neg- ative opinions. All children, it is declared, must attend classes for definite religious instruction, though the parents if they belong to any acknowledged confession, that is, denomination recognized and reg- istered by the State authorities, may settle what this instruction is to be. That seems perfectly fair, especially as any sixty fami- lies living in one school district can insist upon a separate buildinga provision which will prove exceedingly costly in districts with mixed beliefs; but, unfortu- nately, Anarchists, Socialists, Atheists and the like avoid registering themselves as belonging to any confession whatever. Their children will therefore be brought up as Christians, that is, in Protestant districts as Lutherans, and in Catholic districts as Catholics, education of some sort being, of course, comphlsory. This is felt by all these classes, who together dispose of some five hundred thousand votes, as exceedingly arbitrary, and has been strenuously denounced, especially by the Jewish orators, who all over the Con- tinent make themselves the spokesmen of what they describe as unrestricted reli- gious liberty. Herr Eugen Richter, for example, condemns the bill utterly, as, in fact, containing a military word of com- mand to all children that they be not Atheists, under penalties. That is per- fectly true, but then, as it is also perfectly obvious, and is admitted almost in words by Count Caprivi, who spoke on the sub- ject with unwonted acerbity, the argument would not of itself suffice to defeat the bill, more especially as the majority are rather disposed to treat the anti-social parties as in some sense outcasts. The Liberals, therefore, with great adroitness, are availing themselves of certain other clauses in the bill, the motive for which is not so readily intelligible. It is prob- able that the emperor and his advisers desire strongly, on political grounds, to conciliate the Papacy, and possible that they think the separation of the clergy from the work of State education socially injurious. They have consequently in the bill authorized the fullest interference of the clergy of all recognized denominations, not only allowing them to be present in the schools whenever religious instruction is conveyed, but permitting them to re- buke and revise any such instruction, should they deem the lay teachers to be wandering from the true path. Prussian Liberals hardly know how to bear this. Even when they have no sympathy what- ever with negative religious opinions, they share that jealous dislike of the clerical order, as persons hostile to science and enlightenment, which is common all over the Continent, and their leaders conse- quently use this feeling to defeat the bill as fatal to modern progress. So great is the storm that three cabinet ministers will, it is believed, resign, and it was at first believed that the government majority, which is very steady in the Prussian Parliament, would disappear. As a con- sequence, however, of some secret nego- tiations with the National Liberals, or Imperialist fraction of the party, this disaster for the government will, it is be- lieved, be avoided, and the bill, though modified in committee, probably will go through. We cannot but think, nevertheless, that the emperor has committed his first great mistake. It is essential to his plans as well as to his personal power that he should be a favorite with the masses of his people of all opinions, and he has on this matter allied himself with the reaction- aries. That would not matter much as regards the anti-social section of his peo- ple, for they are detested or dreaded by the majority with a bitterness which is almost fatal to abstract justice, and which has produced strong repressive laws; but it does matter as regards the new position given to the clergy. That is unpopular with a majority of Protestants, who prefer education to be in lay hands as a guaran- tee for its efficiency, and who foresee that the clergy, if allowed to interfere during one hour of the day, will make themselves felt during all hours, and is not cordially liked even in the Roman Catholic districts. A great number of persons there, though they never oppose their priesthood as regards education, which every Roman Catholic admits to involve matters of faith and morals, are pleased to see them de- prived of effective power in the schools, and know that if re-admitted they will at once become the dictators of the teachers opinions. The emperor is considered, therefore, to have taken a retrograde step, and though he cannot be resisted, will lose much of prestige as the sovereign who, though he claims too much of polit- ical initiative, still uses it to promote mod- ern ideas, and especially to render the position of the poor more than tolerable to themselves He will be considered a man who holds the old opinion that religion is a necessary support of thrones, and who in reality is thinking not of the welfare of 62 A HUNDRED AND THREE DAYS ON A DESERT ISLAND. his subjects, but of that kind of social order which tends most to strengthen his own authority. The suspicion is probably unjust, the emperor, who is a pious man, being mainly influenced by a dislike of Atheism, and cultivating clerical influence only in order to obtain support in his cru- sade against it; but still, most English. men will perceive that he has committed an error. The conviction of the modern world that religion is a matter of individual conscience, and unless the law is broken or civilized morality disregardedas, for example, by a sect inculcating, as one Russian sect does, the duty of suicide it should be left alone by the State, may hereafter be subject to revision; but at all events it exists now, and that in so strong a form as to be the basis of a vast mass of modern legislation. To reject it, and de- clare war on it, is therefore to quarrel with the modern spirit, and to lose the support of all those, usually a majority, who look forward and not backward, and to excite a sympathy for the anti-social parties as men unjustly used. These latter have hitherto been considered as common enemies all over the Continent, so much so, that in Spain a premier has just announced his intention of shooting them down without evoking any European horror, but now they must in Germany be regarded as allies of the Liberals upon a single but important branch of politics. This is an injurious result, and one that will be in- creasingly visible as the immense depar- ture from Liberal principles which the Prussian bill involves becomes more clearly perceived. There is no guarantee that the emperor will always be a man who hates only Atheism, which will always be a protest rather than a regular creed. The next emperor may be a fanatic Protestant, as several Hohenzollerns have been, or may be, like the late Emperor Frederick, impatient of all clerical influence, and if the royal authority can be used to put down one form of belief or misbelief, it can also be stretched against another. There is no logical standing-point between the ascendency of some one creed and perfect toleration for all creeds which are not incompatible with Western civiliza- tion, and the emperor, in trying to discover such a point, has stepped off a safe and broad rock on to a comparatively fluid soil, which may slip beneath his weight. It is an odd mistake for a man with his keen perceptions to have made, and he may yet retrace his steps, but his habit of hurry has brought him this time into col- lision with a very powerful force. The day of complete tolerance may not have come, but the day of persecution is cer- tainly over; and to pass a law that a scep- tic shall lose control of his childrens education is certainly as near persecution as, without physical pains and penalties~ it is well possible to go. From Chambers Journal. A HUNDRED AND THREE DAYS ON A DESERT ISLAND. THE shipwrecked crew of the barque Compadre, eight hundred tons register, Captain Jones, bound from Calcutta to Talcahuano, Chili, recently arrived in New Zealand, after a series of remarkable ad- ventures, having escaped the successive perils of fire and shipwreck, and the hard- ships of a prolonged sojourn on the bleak and desolate islands to the south of New Zealand, known as the Auckland Islands. The vessel left Calcutta on the 22d of January, last year, bound for Talcahuano with a cargo of jute bags. All went well until the i6th of March, when a fire was discovered by the captain in the after- hold. The subsequent events are very well told in a clear and graphic narrative which the chief mate, Mr. F. Bates, has given of the affair. The captain, it ap- pears, at once called all hands on deck to cope with the fire. Holes were cut in the cabin deck, and water was poured in in- cessantly from to A.M. to 6 P.M., but with- out much result. Finding it impossible to extinguish the fire, the captain ordered his men to batten all down, and then shaped a course for the Benif, a harbor in the extreme south of the middle island of New Zealand, that being the nearest port. Before finally closing the hatches, several men tried to obtain bread from below, but were rendered insensible by the smoke, and had to be carried on deck. The attempt, therefore, had to be aban- doned. The vessel made fair way until the night of the i8th of March, when to the peril of fire that of tempest was added. A furious westerly gale caine down upon the ill-fated vessel, accompanied by ter- rific squalls. At 7 AM. on the 19th of March land was discovered on the star- board bow, distant about twelve miles. It was very hazy at the time, and, o~ving to the fearful sea, the vessel labored heavily. One tremendous wave swept the foresail and foretopmast staysail out of the bolt ropes, burst the forecastle ports, smashed the scuttle forebatches, and A HUNDRED AND THREE DAYS ON A DESERT ISLAND. 63 swept the decks of everything movable. Worse than this, it burst in the cabin, thus giving air to the fire, which could not be prevented from breaking out, though im- mense quantities of water were flooded in. The men could not man the pumps, being washed away by the seas which con- tinually broke on board. It is almost impossible to imagine a situation of greater peril. The carpenter sounded the well and found eight feet of water in the hold. The vessel was rapidly sinking under foot, and it was quite im- possible to lower the boats in such a sea. Only one hope remained, and that of the slenderest possible character. The land which had been sighted was the Auckland Islands, and the vessel was now to the windward of the North Cape. The cap- tain therefore ordered the mainyard to be squared, and steered for the land in the hope of saving life. It must, however, have indeed seemed a forlorn hope in such an angry sea, with a rock-bound coast backed by precipitous cliffs towering hun- dreds of feet above the sea-level. Still, with the indomitable pluck and resolution of British seamen, those on board deter- mined to make the best fight they could for their lives. Just before the vessel struck, oil was poured on the waters over the stern, which greatly reduced the vio- lence of the sea; and then all hands hastened to the bow and hung on the bow- sprit, waiting for the critical moment. Their coolness and prudence were re- warded with good fortune. The vessel struck with a great crash, every one mak- ing a jump for the rocks; and all got safely to land, although some were much bruised by the violence of the concussion. In ten minutes nothing of the vessel but loose wreckage was to be seen. Although the men had safely reached land they were in a pitiable plight. The Auckland Islands in the winter are as drear and desolate a place as one can im- agine. They are swept by furious tem- pests and almost incessant rain. They are the homes of such sea-birds as love the storm; but exceptfor the occasional visits of sealers or of a government steamer searching for shipwrecked mariners, the islands see no trace of human life, save only, as in the present case, when ship- wrecked seamen are cast upon their inhos- pitable shores. On several occasions the place has been the scene of disastrous wrecks. The Invercauld, Grafton, Gen- eral Grant, and Derry Castle are the names of a few of the vessels which occur to the mind. In many cases the loss of life has been total and complete. In the case of the Invercauld, out of nineteen men who scrambled ashore, three only were rescued after twelve months of fearful suffering. The surface of the islands for the most part is mountainous, and a great deal of it is covered either with dense bush or a wilderness of high tussock, standing in deep peat, almost equally impassable. The prospect which met the Compadre castaways, therefore, was by no means hopeful. They had of course been able to save nothing in the shape of food from the vessel, and were barefooted and scant- ily clothed, each man having partially stripped, preparing for a swim for life. It so happened, however, that assistance in the shape of food and clothing was within their reach, although they were not aware of it, and only discovered the fact by a sad and curious accident, although it turned out fortunately for the bulk of them. After getting on the rocks, the whole ships company climbed the cliffs, which, as already stated, were several hundred feet in height. They saw a mountain in the distance, and made straight for it, to get a better view of the island they were cast upon. They reached it with some difficulty, and looking round, saw a flag- staff close to the beach. They at once went to~vards it; but losing their way in the bush, and night coming on, they made for the nearest beach, where they found a few limpets and one little fish, which they divided into sixteen parts, one for each man. This scanty fare was greedily de- voured, as they had only had one meal since the fire broke out, four days before. What stores were saved from the lazarette had been kept for the boats, and were therefore lost when the ship went to pieces. While the men were dividing their miserable meal, it was discovered that one of the seamen, named Peter Nel- son, was missing. An attempt was made to find him; but the night was so dark that the attempt had to be given up. A miserable night was spent owing to the rain and snow, which fell incessantly. In the morning, they divided themselves into parties, and proceeded to search for Nel- son, but with no success. In the course of their wanderings, however, they came upon a neatly built hut, and on examining it, found that it contained a store of food and clothing. It was a dep6t, established by the New Zealand government for the relief and succor of shipwrecked seamen cast upon the islands. By a strange over- sight, however, the existence of such a dep6t is not mentioned in any of the ship- 64 UNPUBLISHED LETTERS OF WASHINGTON. ping directories; and but for the fact of poor Nelson wandering away to his death in the bush, his comrades might never have hit upon the dep6t, and, like him, might have perished of starvation. From a record in the hut, the castaways learned that the New Zealand government steamer Hinemoa had visited the islands only a week before on her periodical cruise, and they made up their minds that they would have to make a prolonged stay on the islands before there was any chance of being rescued. Consequently, they had to be very careful with the food in the dep6t. There is scarcely any fish to be caught at the Aucklands; and the cast- aways found that the seabirds and seals, which were comparatively easy to ap- proach at first, became so wild after a week or so of contact with human beings that it was impossible to get near them. The shipwrecked people, however, found some goats and sheep, which had been placed on the island by the New Zealand government. Of the former they caught three, and of the latter eight. The sheep, never having been shorn, were covered with very long, fine wool, which also proved very serviceable to the men. It is not necessary to enter into details of the life of the castaways on the islands. They suffered a good deal of pain and discomfort from the exposure; but the government stores preserved them from danger of absolute starvation, and they enjoyed fairly good health during their stay. On Monday, the 6th of July, to their great joy, the sealing schooner Janet Ram- say called at the islands; and the men, having been there exactly one hundred and three days, were taken on board and brought to New Zealand. At the nautical inquiry which was held, the court, it is needless to say, adjudged that the wreck was entirely due to misadventure, and that the captain and crew had done all that was possible under the circumstances. From The Athenxum. UNPUBLISHED LETTERS OF WASHINGTON. Mt. Vernon 8th May 1798 DEAR SIR, Having occasion to write another letter to Sir John Sinclair I take the liberty of giving you the trouble of it, and Mrs. Washington begs the favor of you to put her letter, to her old neighbor & friend Mrs. Fairfax into a channel for safe delivery, if you should not see her yourself. Knowing from experience, that Masters of Vessels, never sail at the time they first appoint, Mrs. Washington and I propose to call upon you on our return from the City, in full confidence of seeing you then. If however, contrary to expectation, the Captn of the Vessel you embark on, should be more punctual than usual, and we should be disappointed in this, we beg you to re- ceive our ardent wishes for a safe and pleasant passage to England the perfect restoration of your healthand happy meeting with your family & friends when you return To these wishes let me add assurances of the affectionate regard of Dear Sir, Your Obed. Servant, Ge WASHINGTON. Our Compliments to Mrs. Fairfax & the family The Revd Mr. Fairfax Mount Eagle. Monnt Vernon 30th Dec. 1798. M~ DEAR SIR, If General Pinckney should have left Richmond, let me request the favor of you to forward the packet herewith sent, in the manner he may have directed; or, as your own judgment shall dictate, to assure its delivery to him in Hallifax, or on the Road thro North Carolina.-The Alien and Sedition Laws having employed Many Pens and we hear a number of tongues, in the Assem- bly of this State,the latter, I under- stand, to a very pernicious purpose, I send you the production of Judge Addison on these subjects, Whether any new lights are cast upon them by his charge, you will be better able to decide when you have read it. My opinion is, that if this, or other writings flashed conviction as clear as the Sun in its Meridian bright- ness, it would produce no effect on the conduct of the leaders of opposition, who have points to carry, from which nothing will divert them in the prosecution. When you have read the charge give it to Bushrod Washington, or place it to any other uses you may think proper I wish success to your election, most sincerely and if it should fail (of which I hope there is not the least danger) I shall not easily forcrive myself for being urgent with to take a Pen I offer you the compliments of the Sea- son and with much truth remain Dear Sir, Your Most Obed and Affecte Hble Servant G. WASHINGTON. General Marshall.

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The Living age ... / Volume 193, Issue 2493 Littell's living age Every Saturday; a journal of choice reading Eclectic magazine The Living age co. inc. etc. New York etc. Apr 9, 1892 0193 2493
The Living age ... / Volume 193, Issue 2493 65-128

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. Volume LXXVIII. ~~~ Vol. CXCIII. Fifth Series No. OAflO April io~. I From, CONTENTS. THE GENIUS OF PLATO. By Walter Pater, TEA AT THE MAINS THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN, NORWAY IN WINTER SOME POSSIBILITIES OF ELECTRICiTY, STATESMEN OF EUROPE. Russia, DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE, THE SIMIAN TONGUE THE LADIES GALLERY UPON BEARDS AFTER WATERLOO, Contemporary Review, Black cods Magazine, National Review, Temple Bar, Fortnightly Review, Leisure Hour, Quarterly Review, New Review, chambers 7ournal, Chambers ~ournal, PG E T R Y. 66 A VOLUNTARY TESTIMONIAL, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL & 00., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EsGssT DOLLARS remi/~ed directly ~o the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year,free of jIos/age. 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 monc.y-ordera should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single copies of the LIVING AGE, s8 cents. I. II. ILL IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. Ix. x. 67 74 78 88 - 93 98 - 105 - 121 - 124 - 127 66 66 AFTER WATERLOO, ETC. AFTER WATERLOO. ON the field of Waterloo we made Napoleon rue That ever out of Elba he decided for to come, For we finished him that day, and he had to run away, And yield himself a prisoner on the Billy- ruffium. Twas a stubborn fight, no doubt, and the fortune wheeled about, And the brave Mossoos kept coming most uncomfortably near, And says Wellington the hero, as his hopes went down to zero, I wish to God that Blijeher or the night was only here! But Bliicher came at length, and we broke Napoleons strength; And the flower of his army thats the wonderful Old Guard They made a final sally, but they found they could not rally, And at last they broke and fled after fight- ing bitter hard. Now Napoleon he had thought, when a British ship he sought, And gave himself uncalled-for, in a manner you might say, Hed be treated like a king, with the best of everything, And maybe have a palace for to live in every day. He was treated very well, as became a noble swell, But we couldnt leave him loose, not in Europe anywhere, For we knew he would be making some gigan- tic undertaking While the trustful British Lion was repos- ing in his lair. We tried him once before near the European shore, Having planted him in Elba, where he promised to remain, But when he saw his chance, why he bolted off to France, And he made a lot of trouble but it wouldnt do again. Says King George to him, You know, far away youll have to go, To a pleasant little island off the coast of Africay, Where they tell me that the view of the ocean, deep and blue, Is remarkable extensive, and its there youll have to stay. So Napoleon wiped his eye, and he wished King George good-bye, And being stony-broke made the best of it he could; And they built a l)leasant dwelling on th~ island of St. helen, And Napoleon Buonaparty is provided for for good. Now of that I dont complain, but I ask, and ask in vain, Why me, a British soldier, as has lost a useful arm Through fighting of the foe, when the trum- pets cease to blow Should be forced to feed the pigs on a little Surrey farm, While him, as fought with us, and created such a fuss, And in the whole of Europe did a mighty deal of harm, Should be kept upon a rock, like a precious fighting cock, And do no work whatever, which would suit me to a charm? Longmans Magazine. R. F. MURRAY A VOLUNTARY TESTIMONIAL, By ONE WHO KNEW HER. UNDER the daisy quilt, Snug, in the sun, Old Sallys tucked away Her storys done. Friends, an old friend lies Under this knoll Green in our memories Lives a Good Doll! When a fickle world frowned On poor babes in disgrace, What comfort we found In her pink, smiling face! How oft for some mourner, Dear Sally, you drew Its sting from the Corner By cornering, too! TIer end its ill talking Of griefs while theyre green; But her funeral walkinc~ Was a sight to have seen. Inky-plumed, sable-suited, Four friends bore the pall To right dolesomely tooted - The Dead March in Saul! O robin, sing sweetly! Columbines, wave! Leaves, rustle lovingly Over her grave. Children, step lightly, And, should ye draw near, Hats off, politely: A Good Doll sleeps here! Corohill Magazinc~. THE GENIUS OF PLATO. 67 From The Contemporary Review. THE GENIUS OF PLATO. BY WALTER PAYER. ALL true criticism of philosophic doc- trine, as of every other product of human mind, must begin with an historic estimate of the conditions, antecedent and contem- porary, which helped to make it precisely what it was. But a complete criticism does not end there. In the evolution of abstract doctrine as we find it written in the history of philosophy, if there is always. on one side, the fatal, irresistible, me- chanic, play of circumstance the cir- cumstances of a particular age, which may be analyzed and explained; there is always also, as if acting from the opposite side, the comparatively inexplicable force of a personality, resistant to, ~vhile it is moulded by, them. It might even be said that the trial-task of criticism, in regard to litera- ture and art no less than to philosophy, begins exactly where the estimate of gen- eral conditions, of the conditions common to all the products of this or that particular ageof the environment leaves off, and we touch what is unique in the indi- vidual genius which contrived after all, by force of will, to have its own masterful way with that environment. If in reading Plato, for instance, the philosophic student has to re-construct for himself, as far as is possi- ble, the general character of an age, he must also, so far as he may, re-produce the portrait of a person. The Sophists, the Sophistical world, around him; his mas- ter, Socrates; the Pre-socratic philoso- phies; the mechanic influence, that is to say, of past and present; of course we can know nothing at all of the Platonic doctrine except so far as we can see it in well-ascertained contact with all that; but there is also Plato himself in it. A personality, we may notice at the out- set, of a certain complication. The great masters of philosophy have been for the most part its noticeably single-minded ser- vants. As if in. emulation of Aristotles simplicity of character, his absorbing in- tellectualism impressive certainly, he- roic enough, in its way they have served science, science in vacuo, as if nothing beside, faith, imagination, love, the bodily sense, could detach them from it for an hour. It is not merely that we know little of their lives (there was so little to tell !) but that we know nothing at all of their temperaments; of which, that one leading abstract or scientific force in them was in fact strictly exclusive. Little more than intellectual abstractions themselves, in them philosophy was wholly faithful to 1L5 colors, or its colorlessness; rendering not grey only, as Hegel said of it, but all colors alike, in grey. With Plato it was otherwise. In him, the passion for truth did but bend, or take the bent of, certain ineradicable predispo- sitions of his nature, in themselves perhaps somewhat opposed to that. It is, however, in the blending of diverse elements in the mental constitution of Plato that the pecul- iar Platonic quality resides. Platonism is in one sense an emphatic witness to the unseen, the transcendental, the not-expe- rienced the beauty, for instance, which is not for the bodily eye. Yet the author of this philosophy of the unseen was: Who can doubt it who has read but a page of him? this, in fact, is what has led and kept to his pages many who have little or no turn for the sort of questions Plato actually discusses: The author of this philosophy of the unseen was one, for whom, as was said of a very different French writer, the visible world really existed. Austere as he seems, and on well-considered principle really is, his temperance or austerity, ~sthetically so winning, is attained only by the chastise- inent, the control, of a variously interested, a richly sensuous, nature. Yes! The visible world, so pre-eminently worth eye- sight at Athens just then, really existed for him ;~ exists still-theres t hepoint!is active still, everywhere, when he seenis to have turned away from it to invisible things. To the somewhat sad-colored school of Socrates, and its discipline towards apathy or contempt in such mat- ters, he had brought capacities of bodily sense with the making in them of an Odyssey; or (shall we say?) of a poet, after the order of Sappho or Catullus; as indeed also a practical intelligence, a pop- ular management of his own powers, a skill in philosophic yet talkable Greek prose, which might have constituted him 68 THE GENIUS OF PLATO. the most successful of Sophists. You cannot help seeing that his mind is a storehouse of all the liveliest imageries of men and things. Nothing,if it really arrests eye or ear at all, is too trivial to note. Passing through the crowd of hu- man beings, he notes the sounds alike of their solemn hymns and of their pettiest handicraft. A conventional philosopher might speak of dumb matter, for in- stance; but Plato has lingered too long in braziers workshops to lapse into so stupid an epithet. And if the persistent hold of sensible things upon him thus re- veals itself in trifles, it is manifest no less in the way in which he can tell a long story, no one more effectively! and again, in his graphic presentment of whole scenes from actual life, like that with which The Republic opens. His Socrates, like other people, is curious to witness a new religious function; how they will do it. As in modern times, it would be a pleas- ant occasion also for meeting the acquaint- ance one likes best: ~vvea6j~teOa iroaiotc rc7w v& ,n, ~vr6Ot: We shall meet a number of our youth there; we shall have a dialogue there will be a torchlight procession in honor of the goddess, an equestrian proces- sion; a novel feature ! What? Torches in their hands, passed on as they race? Ay! And an illumination through the entire night. It will be worth I that old midnight hour, as Carlyle says of another vivid scene, shining yet on us, ruddy-bright through the centuries.~~ Put alongside of that, and for lifelike charm, side by side with Murillos beggar- boys (you catch them, if you look at his canvas on the sudden, actually moving their mouths, to laugh and spea~ and munch their crusts, all at once), the scene in the Lvsis of the dice-players. There the boys are; in full dress, to take part in a religious ceremony. It is scarcely over; but they are already busy with the knuckle- bones, some just outside the door, others in a corner. Though Plato never tells one without due motive, yet he loves a story for its own sake, can make one of fact or fancy at a moments notice, or re-tell other peoples better; how those dear, skinny grasshoppers of Attica, for instance, had once been human creatures, who, when the Muses first came on earth were so absorbed by their music that they forgot even to eat and drink, till they died of it. And then the story of Gyges in The Republic, and the ring that can make its wearer in- visible ; it goes as easily, as the ring itself round the finger! Like all masters of literature, Plato has of course varied excellences; but perhaps none of them has won for him a larger number of friendly readers than this im- press of visible reality. Forhim, truly (as he supposed the highest sort of knowledge must of necessity be) all knowledge was like knowing a person; and the dialogue itself, being, asit is, the special creation of his literary art, becomes in his hands, and by his masterly conduct of it, like a single living person; so comprehensive a sense does he bring to bear upon it of the slowly developing physiognomy of the thing its organic structure, its symmetry and expression combining all the various, disparate, subjects, of The Republic, for example, into a manageable whole, so entirely that, looking back, one fancies this long dialogue of at least three hundred pages might have occupied perhaps an afternoon. And those who take part in it!If Plato did not create the Socrates of his dialogues, he has created other char- acters perhaps as lifelike. The young Charmides, the incarnation of natural, as the aged Cephalus of acquired, temper- ance; his Sophoclean amenity as he sits there, pontifically, at the altar, in the court of his placid house; the large company, of varied character and of every age, which moves in those dialogues, though still oftenest the young in all their youthful loveliness; who that knows them at all can doubt Platos hold on persons, that of persons on him? Sometimes, even when they are not formally introduced into his work, characters that had interested, im- pressed, or touched him, inform and color it, as if with their personal influence, show- ing through what purports to be the wholly abstract analysis of some wholly abstract moral situation. Thus, the form of the dying Socrates himself is visible pathet- ically in the description of the suffer- ing righteous man, actually put into his THE GENIUS OF PLATO. 69 own mouth in the second book of The Republic; as the winning brilliancy of the lost spirit of Alcibiades infuses those pages of the sixth, which discuss the na- ture of one by birth and endowments an aristocrat, amid the dangers to which it is exposed in the Athens of that day; the qualities which must make him, if not the saviour, the destroyer of a society which cannot remain unaffected by his showy presence. Gorru~tio o~/imi ~essirna / Yet even here, when Plato is dealing with the inmost elements of personality, his eye is still on its object, on chczrac/er as seen in characteristics, through those details, the changes of color in the face as of tone in the voice, the gestures, the really physiognomic value, or the mere tricks, of gesture or glance or speech,which make character a sensible fact. What is visibly expressive in, or upon, persons; those flashes of temper which check yet give renewed interest to the course of a conversation; the delicate touches of in- tercourse, which convey to the very senses all the subtleties of the heart or of the in- telligence; it is always more than worth his while to make note of these. We see, for instance, the sharp little pygmy bit of a soul that catches sight of any little thing so keenly, and makes a very proper la~vyer. We see, as well as hear, the rhapsodist, whose sensitive performance of his part is nothing less than an interpretation of it, artist and critic at once; the personal vanities of the various speakers in his dialogues, as though Plato had observed, or overheard them, alone; and the inevitable promi- nence of youth wherever it is present at all, notwithstanding the real s~veetness of manner and modesty of soul he records of it so affectionately. It is that he loves best to linger by; to feel himself in contact ~vith a condition of life, which translates all it is, so immediately, into delightful color, and movement, and sound. The eighth and ninth books of The Repub- lic are a grave contribution, as you know, to abstract moral and political the- ory, a generalization of weighty changes of character in men and States. But the observations on the concrete traits of in- dividuals, young or old, which enliven us on the way; the difference in sameness of sons and fathers, for instance; the influ- ence of servants on their masters; how the minute ambiguities of rank, as a fam- ily becomes impoverished, tell on manners, on temper; all the play of moral color in the reflex of mere circumstance on what men really are ;the characterization of all this has with Plato a touch of the pe- culiar fineness of Thackeray, one might say; Plato enjoys it for its own sake, and would have been an excellent writer of fiction. There is plenty of humor in him also of course, and something of irony,salt, to keep the exceeding richness and sweet- ness of his discourse from cloying the palate. The affectations of sophists, or professors; their staginess or their inele- gance; the harsh laugh, the swaggering ways, of Thrasymachus, whose determina- tion to make the general company share in a private conversation, is significant of his whole character; he notes with a finely pointed pencil, with something of the fine- ness of malice ma/in, as the French say. Once, Thrasymachus had been actually seen to blush. It is with a very different sort of fineness Plato notes the blushes of the young; of Hippocrates, for instance, in the Protagoras. The great sophist was said to be in Athens, at the house of Cal- licles, and the diligent young scholar is up betimes, eager to hear him; rouses Socrates before daylight. As they linger in the court, the lad speaks of his own in- tellectual aspirations; blushes at his confi- dence. It was just then that the morning sun blushed with his first beam, as if to reveal the lads blushing face: ica~ & ~ el7rev tpvOpt4oa~, ~ yc~p ~7r atve TL %sipa~, care saraSbavi~ avT6P yev~aGat. He who noted that so precisely had, surely, the delicacy of the artist, a fastidious eye for the subtle- ties of color as soul made visibly expres- sive. Poor creature as I am, says the Platonic Socrates, in the Lysis, con- cerning another youthful blush, Poor creature as I am, I have one talent: I can recognize, at first sight, the lover and the beloved. So it is with the audible world also. The exquisite monotony of the voice of the great sophist, for example, once set in THE GENIUS OF PLATO. 70 motion, goes ringing on like a brazen pot, which if you strike it continues to sound till some one lays his hand upon it. And if the delicacy of eye and ear, so also the keenness and constancy of his observa- tion, are manifest in those elaborately wrought imaaes for which the careful reader lies in wait. The mutiny of the sailors in the ship,ship of the State, or of ones own soul; the echoes and beams and shadows of that half-illuminated cav- ern, the human mind; the caged birds in the Thextetus, that are like the flighty, half contained notions of an imperfectly educated understanding. Real notions are to be ingrained by persistent thoroughness of the dialectic method, as if by con- scientious dyers. He makes us stay to watch such dyers, as he had done, busy with their purple stuff; adding, as it were, ethic color to what he sees with the eye, and painting while he goes, as if on the margin of his high philosophical dis- course, himself scarcely aware; as the monkish scribe set bird or flower, with so much truth of earth, in the blank spaces of his heavenly meditation. Now Plato is one for whom the visible world thus really exists because he is by nature and before all things, from first to last, unalterably a lover. In that, pre- cisely, lies the secret of the susceptible and diligent eye, the so sensitive ear. The central interest of his own youthof his profoundly impressible youth as hap. pens always with natures of real capacity, gives law and pattern to all that succeeds it. Tit tp6)TtIci~, as he says, the experi- ence, the discipline, of love, had been that for Plato; and as love must of necessity deal above all with visible persons, this discipline involved an exquisite culture of the senses. It is as lovers use, that he is ever on the watch for those dainty mes- sages, those finer intimations, from eye and ear. If in the later development of his philosophy the highest sort of knowl- edge comes to seem like the knowledge of a person, the relation of the reason to truth like the commerce of one person with another, the peculiarities of personal relationship thus moulding his conception of the, properly invisible, world of ideas, this is partly because, for a lover, the entire visible world, its hues and outline, its attractiveness, its power and bloom, must have associated themselves pre-emi- nently with the power and bloom of visible living persons. With these, as they made themselves known by word and glance and touch, through the medium of the senses, lay the forces, which, in that inexplicable tyranny of one person over another, shaped the soul. Just there, then, is the secret of Platos intimate concern with, his power over, the sensible world, the apprehensions of the sensuous faculty; he is a lover, a great lover, somewhat after the manner of Dante. For him, as for Dante, in the impassioned glow of his conceptions, the material and the spiritual are blent and fused together. While, in that fire and heat, the spiritual attains the definite visibility of a crystal, what is material, on the other hand, will lose its earthiness and impurity. It is of the amorous temper, therefore, you must think in connection with Platos youth - of this, amid all the strength of the genius of which it is so large a constituent in- dulging, developing, refining the sensuous capacities, the powers of eye and ear, of the fancy also, which can re-fashion, of the speech which can best respond to, and reproduce, their liveliest presentments. That is why, when Plato speaks of visible things, it is as if you saw them. He who i-n the Symposium describes so vividly the pathway, the ladder, of love, its joyful ascent towards a more perfect beauty than we have ever yet actually seen, by way of a parallel to the gradual elevation of mind towards perfect knowledge, knew all that, we may be sure Ti~ epuTtlc& all the ways of lovers, in the literal sense. He speaks of them retrospectively indeed, but knows well what he is talking about. Plato him- self had not been always a mere Platonic lover; was rather, naturally, as he makes Socrates say of himself, i~rrcov r~vica2~d~v, subject to the influence of fair persons. A certain penitential color amid that glow of fancy and expression, hints that the final harmony of his nature had been but grad- ually beaten out, and invests the temper- ance, actually so conspicuous in his own nature, with the charms of a patiently elaborated effect of art. For we must remind ourselves just here, that, quite naturally also, instinctively, and apart from the austere influences which claimed and kept his allegiance later, Plato, with a kind of unimpassioned passion, was a lover in particular of tem- perance; of temperance too, as it may be seen, as a visible thing, seen in Char- mides, say, in that subdued and grey-eyed loveliness, clad in sober grey; or in those youthful athletes which, in ancient marble, reproduce him and the like of him, with sound, firm outlines, such as temperance secures. Still, that some more luxurious sense of physical beauty had at one time greatly disturbed him, THE GENIUS OF PLATO. 7 dividcd him against himself, we may judge from his own words in a famous passage of the Ph~drus concerning the management, the so difficult management, of those winged steeds of the body which is the chariot of the soul. Puzzled, in some degrees Plato certainly remains to the last, not merely in regard to the higher love and the lower, Aphro- dite Urania, and Aphrodite Pandemus, as he distinguishes them in the Sympo- sium ; not merely with the difficulty of arbitrating between some inward beauty, and that which is outward; with the odd mixture everywhere, save in its still unap- prehended but eternal essence, of the beautiful with what is otherwise ; but he is even more harassed still by the expe- rience (it is in this shape that the world- old puzzle of the existence of evil comes to him), that even to the truest eyesight, to the best trained faculty of soul, the beau- tiful would never come to seem strictly concentric with the good. That seems to have taxed his understanding as gravely as it had tried his will, and he was glad when in the mere natural course of years he was become at all events less ardent a lover. It is he is the authority for what Sophocles had said on the happy decay of the passions as age advanced; it was like being set free from service to a band of madmen; as his own distinguishing note is tranquil after-thought upon this conflict, with a kind of envy of the almost disem- bodied old age of Cephalus, who quotes that saying of Sophocles amid his placid sacrificial doings. Connect with this quiet scene, and contrast with the luxuriant power of the Ph~drus, and the Sym- posium, what, for a certain touch of later mysticism in it, we might call Platos evening prayer, in the ninth book of The Republic: When any one, being healthfully and tem- perately disposed towards himself, turns to sleep, having stirred the reasonable part of him with a feast of fair thoughts and high problems, being come to full consciousness, himself with himself; and has, on the other hand, committed the element of desire neither to appetite, nor to surfeiting, to the end that this may slumber well, and, by its pain or pleasure, cause no trouble to that part which is best in him, but may suffer that, alone by itself, in its pure essence, to behold and aspire towards some object, and apprehend what it knows not, some event, of the past, it may be, or something that now is, or will be here- after: and in like manner has soothed hostile impulse, so that, falling to no angry thoughts against any, he goes not to rest with a troubled spirit, but with those two parts at peace within, and with that third part, wherein rea- son is engendered, on the move: you know, I think, that in sleep of this sort he lays special hold on truth, and then least of all is there lawlessness in the visions of his dreams. For Plato, being then about twenty- eight years old, had listened to the Apol- ogy of Socrates; had heard from them all that others had heard or seen of his last hours ; himself perhaps actually wit- nessed those last hours. Justice itself the absolute justice had then be. come almost a visible object, and had greatly solemnized him. The rich young man, rich also in intellectual gifts, who might have become (we see this in the adroit management of his written work) the most brilliant and effective of soph- ists; who might have developed dialogues into plays, tragedy, perhaps comedy, as he cared; whose sensuous or graphic capac- ity might have made him the poet of an Odyssey, a Sappho, or a Catullus, or, say, just such a poet as, just because he was so attractive, would have been disfranchised in the perfect city; was become the crea- ture of an immense seriousness, of a fully adult sense, unusual in Greek perhaps even more than in Roman writers, of the weightiness of the matters concerning which he has to discourse, and of the frailty of man. He inherits, alien as they might be to certain powerful influences in his own temper, alike the sympathies and the antipathies of that strange, delightful, teacher, who had given him (most precious of gifts!) an inexhaustible interest in him- self; he inherits, in this way, a preference for those trying seventies of thought which are characteristic of the Eleatic school; an antagonism to the successful sophists of the day, in whom the old scep- tical philosophy of motion seemed to be renewed as a theory of morals; and henceforth, in short, this master of visible things, this so ardent lover, will be a lover of the invisible, with, Yes! there it is constantly, in the Platonic dialogues, not to be explained away, with a certain as- ceticism, amid all the varied opulence, of sense, of speech and fancy, natural to Platos genius. The lover, who is become a lover of the invisible, but still a lover, and therefore, literally, a seer, of it, carrying an elaborate cultivation of the bodily senses, of eye and ear, their natural force and acquired fine- ness, gifts akin properly to rc~ & pwTLKi~, as he says, to the discipline of sensuous love, into the world of intellectual ab- stractions; seeing and hearing there too, associating forever all the imagery of 72 THE GENIUS OF PLATO. things seen with the conditions of what primarily exists only for the mind, filling that hollow land with delightful color and form, as if now at last the mind were veritably dealing with living people there, living people who play upon us through the affinities, the repulsion and attraction, of persons towards one another, all the magnetism, as we call it, of actual human friendship or love: There, is the frrmuk of Platos genius, the essential condition of the specially Platonic temper, of Pla- tonism. And his style, because it really is Platos style, conforms to, and in its turn promotes in others, that mental situation. He breaks as it were visible color into the very texture of his work; his vocabulary, the very stuff he manipulates, has its de- lightful ~sthetic qualities; almost every word, one might say, its figurative value. And yet no one perhaps has with equal power literally sounded the unseen depths of thought, and, with what may be truly called substantial word and phrase, given locality there to the mere adumbra- tions, the dim hints and surmise, of the speculative mind. For him, all gifts of sense and intelligence converge in one supreme faculty of theoretic vision, Owpia, the imaginative reason. To trace that thread of physical color, entwined throughout, and multiplied some- times into large tapestried figures, is the business, the enjoyment, of the student of the dialogues, as he reads them. For this or that special literary quality indeed we may go safely by preference to this or that particular dialogue ; to the Gorgias, for instance, for the readiest Attic wit, and a manly practical sense in the handling of philosophy; to the Charmides, for something like the effect of sculpture in modelling a person; to the Tim~us,for certain brilliant chromatic effects. Yet who that reads the The~tetus, or the Ph~drus, or the seventh book of The Republic, can doubt Platos gift in pre- cisely the opposite direction; his gift of sounding by words the depths of thought, a plastic power, literally moulding to term and phrase what micrht have seemed in its very nature too impalpable and abstruse to lend itself, in any case, to language? He gives names to the invisible acts, proc- esses, creations, of abstract mind, as mas- terfully, as efficiently, as Adam himself to the visible living creatures of old. As Plato speaks of them, we might say, those abstractions too become visible living crea- tures. We read the speculative poetry of Wordsworth, or Tennyson; and we may observe that a great metaphysical force has come into language which is by no means purely technical or scholastic: what a help such language is to the understand- ing, to a real hold over the things, the thoughts, the mental processes, those words denote; a vocabulary to which thought freely commits itself, trained, stimulated, raised, thereby, towards a high level of abstract conception, surely to the increase of our general intellectual powers. That, of course, is largely due to Platos successor, to Aristotles lifelong labor of analysis and definition, and to his success- ors the Schoolmen, with their systematic culture of a precise instrument for the registration, by the analytic intellect, of its own subtlest movements. But then, Aris- totle, himself the first of the Schoolmen, had succeeded Plato, and did but formu- late, as a terminology of art, as technical language, what for Plato is still vernacu- lar, original, personal, the product in him of an instinctive, imaginative power, a sort of visual power, but causing others also to see what is matter of original in- tuition for him. From the first, in fact, our faculty of thinking is limited by our command of speech. Now it is straight from Platos lips, as if in natural conversation, that the lanxuage came, in which the mind has ever since been discoursing with itself concerning itself, in that inward dialogue which is the active principle of the dia- lectic method as an instrument for the attainment of truth. For, the essential, or dynamic, dialogue, is ever that dialogue of the mind with itself, which any converse with Socrates or Plato does but promote. The very words of Plato, then, challenge us straightway to larger and finer appre- hension of the processes of our own minds; are themselves a discovery in the. sphere of mind. It was he made us freemen of those solitary places, so trying yet so at- tractive; so remote and l~igh, they seem, yet are naturally so close to us; he peo- pled them with intelligible forms. Nay, more! By his peculiar gift of verbal ar- ticulation he anticipated the mere hollow spaces which a knowledge, then merely potential, and an experience still to come, would one day occupy. And so, those who cannot admit his actual speculative results, precisely his report on the invisi- ble theoretic world, have been to the point sometimes, in that their objection, by sheer effectiveness of abstract language, he gave an illusive air of reality or sub- stance to the mere nonentities of meta- physic hypothesis, of a mind trying to feed itself on its own emptiness. THE GENIUS OF PLATO. 73 Just there,in the situation of one shaped, by combining nature and circum- stance into a seer who has a sort of sen- suous love of the un-seen, is the paradox of Platos genius, and therefore, always, of Platonism, of the Platonic temper. His aptitude for things visible, his gift of words, empower him to express, as if for the eyes, what except to the eye of the mind is strictly invisible, what an ac- quired asceticism induces him to rank above, and sometimes, in terms of harsh- est dualism, oppose to, the sensible world. Plato is to be interpreted not merely by his antecedents, by the influence upon him of those who preceded him, but by his successors, by the temper, the intellectual alliances, of those who directly or indi- rectly have been sympathetic with him. Now it is noticeable that, at first sight somewhat incongruously, a certain number of Manicheans have always been of his company; people who held that matter was evil. Pointing significantly to an un- mistakable vein of Manichean, or Puritan, sentiment actually there in the Platonic dialogues, these rude companions or suc- cessors of his, carry us back to his great predecessor, to Socrates, whose personal influence had so strongly enforced on Plato the seventies, moral and intellectual alike, of Parmenides, and of the Pytha- goreans. The cold breath of a harshly abstract, a too incorporeal, philosophy, had blown, like an east wind, on that last depressing day in the prison-cell of Soc- rates; and the venerable commonplaces then put forth, in which an over-strained pagan sensuality seems to be re-acting, to be taking vengeance, on itself, turned now sick and suicidal, will lose none of their weight with Plato: That all who rightly touch philosophy, study nothing else than to die, and to be dead; That the soul reasons best, when, as much as possible, it comes to be alone with itself, bidding good-bye to the body, and, to the utmost of its power, rejecting communion with it, with the very touch of it, aiming at what is. It was, in short, as if for the soul to have come into a human body at all, had been the seed of disease in it, the begin- ning of its own proper death. As for any adornments or provision for this body, the master had declared that a true philosopher as such would make as little of them as possible. To those young hearers, the words of Socrates may well have seemed to anticipate, not the visible world he had then delineated in glowing color as if for the bodily eye, but only the chilling influence of the hemlock; and it was because Plato was only half convinced of the Manichean or Puritan element in his masters doctrine, or rather was in contact with it on one side only of his complex and genial nature, that Platonism became possible, as a temper for which, in strictness, the opposition of matter to spirit has no ultimate or real existence. Not to be pure from the body, but to identify it, in its utmost fairness, with the fair soul, by a gymnastic fused in music, became, from first to last, the aim of edu- cation as he conceived it. That the body is but a hindrance to the attainment of philosophy, if one takes it along with one as a companion in ones search, a notion which Christianity, at least in its later though wholly legitimate developments, will correct, can hardly have been the last thought of Plato himself on quitting it. He opens his door indeed to those austere monitors. They correct the sen- suous richness of his genius, but could not suppress it. The sensuous lover be- comes a lover of the invisible, but still a lover, after his earlier pattern, carrying into the world of intellectual vision, of Owpia, all the associations of the actual world of sight. Some of its invisible realities he can all hut see with the bodily eye : the absolute temperance, in the per- son of the youthful Charmides; the abso- lute righteousness, in the person of the dying Socrates. Yes, truly all true knowled~e will be like the knowledge of a person, of living persons, and truth, for Plato, in spite of his Socratic asceticism, to the last, something to look at. The eyes which had noted physical things, so finely, vividly, continuously, would be still at work; and, Plato thus qualifying the Manichean or Puritan element in Socrates by his own capacity for the world of sense, Platonism has contributed largely, has been an immense encouragement towards, the redemption of matter, of the world of sense, by art, by all right education, by the creeds and ~vorship of the Christian Church, towards the vindication of the dignity of the body. It was doubtless because Plato was an excellent scholar that he did not begin to teach others till he was more than forty years old, one of the great scholars of the world, with Virgil and Milton; by which is implied that, possessed of the inborn genius, of those natural powers, which sometimes bring with them a cer tam defiance of rule, of the intellectual habits of others, he acquires, by way of habit and rule, all that can be taught and learned; and what is thus derived from 74 TEA AT THE MAINS. others by docility and discipline, what is rang~ comes to have in him, and in his work, an equivalent weight with what is unique, impulsive, underivable. Raffaelle, Raffaelle as you see him in the Blen- heim Madonna, is a supreme example of such scholarship in the sphere of art, Born of a romantically ancient family, understood to be the descendant of Solon himself, Plato had been in early youth a writer of verse. That he turned to a more vigorous, though pedestrian, mode of writ- ing, was perhaps an effect of his corrective intercourse with Socrates, through some of the most important years of his life, from twenty to twenty-eight. He belonged to what was just then the discontented class, and might well have taken refuge from active political life in political ideals, or in a kind of self-imposed exile. A traveller, adventurous for that age, he certainly became. After the Lehr- Jakre, the Wander-jakre/all round the Mediterranean coasts as far west as Sicily. Think of what all that must have meant just then, for eyes which could see. If those journeys had begun in angry flight from home, it was for purposes of self- improvement they were continued; the delightful fruit of them is evident in what he writes; and finding him in friendly in- tercourse with Dionysius the elder, with Dio, and Dionysius the younger, at the polished court of Syracuse, we may under- stand they were a search also for the philosophic king, perhaps for the oppor- tune moment of realizing the ideal state. In that case, his quarrels with those capri- cious tyrants show that he was disap- pointed. For the future he sought no more to pass beyond the charmed theoretic circle, speaking wisdom, as was said of Pythagoras, only among the perfect. He returns finally to Athens; and there, in the quiet precincts of the Acad~mus, which has left a somewhat dubious name to places where people come to be taught or to teach, founds, not a state, not even a brotherhood, but only the first college, with something of a common life, of com- munism on that small scale, with Aristotle for one of its scholars, ~vith its chapel, its gardens, its library with the authentic text of his Dialogues upon the shelves; we may just discern the sort of place, through the scantiest notices. His reign was after all to be in his writings. Plato himself does nothing in them to retard the effacement which mere time brings to persons and their abodes; and there had been that, moreover, in his own temper, which promotes self-effacement. Yet as he left it, the place remained for centuries, according to his will, to its original use. What he taught through the remaining forty years of his life, the method of that teaching, whether it was less or more eso- teric than the teaching of the extant Dialogues, is but matter of surmise. Writers, who in their day might still have said much we should have liked to hear, give us little but old, quasi-supernatural stories, told as if they had been new ones, about him. The year of his birth fell, according to some, in the very year of the death of Pericles (a significant date!) but is not precisely ascertainable; nor is the year of his death, nor its manner. Scribens est mor/uus, says Cicero; after the man- ner of a true scholar, he died pen in hand. From Blackwoods Magazine. TEA AT THE MAINS. WE might not, at another time, have looked upon a tea-drinking at the Mains as a very exciting form of dissipation. But to Ella and me, aged ten and eleven respectively, it was a serious and respon- sible business, as it was our first entrance into society unguarded by anybody old enough to set us an example of good man- ners. Our parents being absent, the kind farmers wife had thought it would be a divert for the young gentlefolks, and had invited the whole party, including the gov- erness, to partake of her genteel hospi- tality. But our governess was a martyr to neuralgia, and dreaded the evening air. She was also afraid of being left alone at home. What if a strange man should enter the house? she said. So Daphne, our eldest sister, decided to stay behind and protect the nervous lady, and dis- missed us with an admonition to behave politely, but not to eat more cake and jam than we could help. Mr. Affleck was our fathers principal tenant, but had seldom or never, as far as I understood, been able to pay his rent. Nevertheless he maintained a prosperous and thriving appearance. He was a re- markably big, strong man, with bushy black hair, whiskers, and beard, and a very long, straight upper lip, shaven but stubbly. We looked upon him as a type of masculine ugliness, and considered that he exactly fulfilled our ideal of a gorilla, except that the ape probably pos- sessed a more sportive and genial char- acter for Mr. Affleck was a very serious TEA AT THE MAINS. man, an elder of the Free Kirk, and an authority upon all religious questions. This alarming fact recurred to St. Clairs mind as he walked between Ella and me on our way to the farm. St. Clair was our only brother. Our youngest sister Rosie followed with Petite, the little Mal- tese terrier. I say, said St. Clair, stopping sud- denly with a tragic start, what are we to say if Mr. Affleck asks us why we were not in church on Sunday? What duffers we were to go to the Established Church 1 It had hitherto been our usual custom to attend public worship at the Free Church, not by any means as a matter of principle, but simply because the parish church happened to be a mile and a half farther off, and was thought to be too long a walk for little Rosie. But the Sun- day before being a fine day, and Rosies sixth birthday, we had thought it time to make a change, to our great satisfaction for the moment. Would it be rude to say we had been at the Established Church? I inquired diffidently. Of course it would, returned St. Clair the height of rudeness. Ive heard Mr. Affleck say there is no salvation in the Establishment. Better let him think we didnt go to church at all. Perhaps he wont ask us, said Ella. Hes sure to, said St. Clair gloomily. Oh dear ! sighed Ella, how I wish we had Daphne! Even Miss Tucker would be better than nobody. Mr. Affiecks dwelling was rather a pretty one, and as we opened the gate we stopped to admire the well-kept garden. A gravel walk led straight up to the door, on each side of which bloomed late crim- son tulips, wallflower, and London pride, while the house itself was covered with a jargonelle pear-tree, now white with blos- som. We had no need to ring the bell, for the farm lass at once appeared at the door, and ushered us, with much solemnity, into a bedroom to take off our things. This apartment did not seem to be inhab- ited. It was elegantly furnished, and abounded with crochet mats, shell pin- cushions, and china lambs and dogs, from the contemplation of which we had great difficulty in tearing Rosie away. On the chest of drawers a looking-glass was placed for our use, and there too were laid out a comb and brush, a paper of pins of all sizes, Boga tskys Golden Treas- ury, and the shorter Catechism. Here were also to be seen daguerreotypes of ~be family, very 6lfludgy and washed out, besides a modern photograph representing Wilhelmina, the married daughter of the house, and Wilhelminas baby, and her husband standing behind, with his hand on her shoulder. We might have spent a much longer time in admiring these treas- ures but for the remonstrances of St. Clair, who, being a singularly well-behaved boy himself, was in mortal dread that we should disgrace him. He dragged Rosie forcibly away, and opened the door; and the lass, who, we were shocked to find, had been waiting patiently outside, next conducted us to the parlor, where, on this festive occasion, Mr. and Mrs. Affleck were both sitting, although in general they lived in the kitchen. Mrs. Affleck was a fat, comfortable woman, good-na- tured and motherly. She had a habit of turning up her eyes and making Scriptural quotations; but this, I am sure, was only assumed in deference to her husband, to whom she was a most dutiful and admir- ing wife. She had put on her best gown in honor of our visit, a grey alpaca with black and gold buttons; and some laven- der bows adorned the limp black net cap which was her invariable headdress. Mr. Affleck had made no change in his dress, except that he had taken off his boots and substituted a pair of green car- pet.slippers, ornamented with brown dogs heads. XVhen the pair had welcomed us with polite formality, and invited us to take chairs, had inquired for missy and the go-verness, and remarked that Mr. St. Clair was a very tall boy, and Petite a very small dog, the conversation began to lan- guish. I was painfully conscious that I was the only member of the company who had not contributed a remark; and St. Clair, whose chair was next to mine, frowned fiercely upon me, and formed with his lips the words say something, which sealed my lips effectually. Finding me still dumb, St. Clair gave me a con- temptuous but severe kick, and said some- thing himself. What a beautiful picture that is, Mrs. Affleck! said he, in a voice which sound- ed so high and unnatural in the silence that we all jumped. The work of art to which my brother referred represented a dark and rocky scene, in which a group of figures in plaids was dimly to be dis- cerned, and underneath it was written, The Covenanters Retreat. We made a point of admiring this pic- ture every time we came, and Mrs. Affleck always made the same speech in reply. She said that whenever she looked upon 75 TEA AT THE MAINS. it she was thankful she was not driven to living in dens and caves of the earth, where many a one must have lost his health. We next turned our attention to a leopard skin which was spread on the floor, and heard how XVilhelminys husband, when he was in the East Indies, had killed the dangerous beast. St Clair examined the skin all over to find the shot-holes, and Rosie danced upon it, causing Mr. Affleck to compare her to a weaned child putting its hand on the cockatrices den, and his wife to quote the lines Our feet on dragons trample shall, And on the lions young. Mrs. Affleck was now called out of the room by the lass, who opened the door, looked at her in a mysterious manner, and then withdrew. Mr. Affleck being left alone to entertain us, an alarm once more possessed St. Clairs mind lest he should reprove us for our defection as regarded church-going, and he telegraphed vigor- ously to each of us to talk, and so divert attention from the subject. We under- stood his signs perfectly; but unhappily the volatile Ella was seized with an incli- nation to giggle, while nervousness de- prived me of the power of speech. Mr. Affieck meanwhile was looking at his watch impatiently, and presently he said, Rintouls late. At this our alarm in- creased; for the Rev. Hercules Rintoul was the Free Kirk minister at whose feet we ought to have sat on Sunday, and whom we were evidently to meet at tea. At the same instant the door-bell rang, and the lass, instead of answering it, en- tered precipitately, came to a stop in front of my chair, and said breathlessly, Please to rise. I obeyed, wondering, whereupon the lass snatched up my chair and carried it off to the dining-room, I suppose for Mr. Rintoul to sit upon, leaving me help- lessly rooted to the spot. At this sight Ella could no longer control herself; she broke into peals of laughter, and I joined her, for I was easily infected with fits of unseasonable gi ogling. We laughed until we cried; while St. Clair sat lookino- as if he would like to kill us, and Mr. Affleck, who at first had looked merely surprised, was heard to murmur something about the crackling of thorns under a pot. Mr. Rintoul presently came in, followed by Mrs. Affleck, and we ~vent down to tea, which was laid outin the dining-room, and presented a very magnificent appearance. There was a nosegay of flowers in the middle of the table, bound very tightly to- gether, and packed into a blue hyacinth- glass. There was a large silver teapot at least it looked like silver, it was so brightand a highly interesting butter- dish with a silver cow upon it. There was every imaginable variety of scones and cakes, also a beautiful honeycomb, and different sorts of jam in glass dishes. Our host authoritatively desired Mr. Rintoul to ask a blessin, which he did rather nervously, contriving to convey a delicate compliment to the excellence of the food he saw before him. He was obviously very much afraid of his host, who was the chief pillar of his church, and Mr. Affleck seemed to regard the minister rather as his pupil than as his spiritual guide. Mr. Rintoul was young, and had but lately come to the neighborhood. He was small, lame, and sickly looking, but more refined than many of his class; and was so shy and nervous that he evidently did not know what he ate, but buttered his short- bread and put raspberry jam into his tea, protesting all the time that it was most excellent. We were all pressed to eat both by our host and hostess, and few had the strength of mind to refuse anything offered to them. Take it up, Miss Elly -itll do you no ill. Take another cup of tea, Mr. St. Clair, if you please. Miss Lettice, )0ull take some apple jeely, and pass it to Miss Rosie. I must have Mr. Rin- touls opeenion of our honey. The unhappy minister protested, though in vain, against taking any more sweet. meats; but observed that the honeycomb was a wonderful structure to be raised by the insect race; to which Mrs. Affleck an- swered, sighin ~, that they little creatures of bees might well be an example to the human frame. These remarks showed that the meal was nearly at an end, for at first a solemn silencehad reigned, broken only by the necessary civilities of the table. Mr. Affleck pushed back his chair and called for some more hot water; he disdained tea, and had been drinking strong whiskey toddy steadily, and now, having mixed himself a still stiffer tumbler, he invited Mr. Rintoul to partake. But the little minister declined, urging that he was a total abstainer from alcoholic beverages. Thats bad, said Mr. Affleck, in rather an offended tone. Not that I disapprove of the use of alcohol, Mr. Affleck, in the case of a gen- tleman like yourself. Far from t, sir far from it. But the cause of temperance is better promoted by example in my case. TEA AT THE MAINS. 77 Youre wrong, Rintoul youre missy? asked Mr. Rintoul kindly, and wrong! said Mr. Affleck, waxing argu- with an attempt at playfulness. mentative under the influence of the toddy. Rosie seldom gave a direct answer to Tak the case of Teemothy. Teemothy any question. Daphne says were al- was a man shuperior, doubtless in speer- ways to go there now, she said. And itual gifts, but no so unlike yourself in Im glad. It has a nicer smell. forrm. I would say, he continued, sur- You see what it is, Rintoul, said Mr. veying his guest with a calm and dispas- Affieck, regarding the minister sternly sionate eye, that in respect of size ye with one eye, when the very babes re- were justsomethingseemilar. What does ject ye. Paul recommend? We all looked at our host in alarm. It A little wine for the stomachs sake, was a relief to see that he did not notice answered Mr. Rintoul meekly; but then us at all; but why did he seem angry with Mr. Rintoul? and what was the mat- Wine, said Mr. Afileck, may in this ter with his eyes? One of those orbs had passage be also interpreted speerits, as I become fixed in its gaze, while the other have been informed by first-class co-men- revolved in a curious manner without tators; and in like manner I would rec- seeming to see anything. ommend speerits to you, Rintoul. Youre as bad as Goodall himself, he Its a pity but you had turned your continued; as bad? youre worse, a mind to the ministry in early life, said La-odicean a lukewarm veshel. And me Mr. Rintoul, changing the subject dexter- that has labored for ye to come to this ously. You would have made a fine vineyard! Ive wrestled for ye, man speaker. Ive just wros/Zed here Mr. Affleck I would not say that I could preach a made a demonstration with his arms to sermon, replied Mr. Affleck modestly, express the violent nature of the mental yet not without sternness; but I hope struggle. This is a terrible place, he that I can draw an inference, and the in- went on, dropping his voice and becoming ference I draw here is speerits. slightly affected. Oh, its a terrible Mr. Rintoul looked appealingly at his place! When I was in Aberdeen I never hostess; but that worthy matron was sit- wanted a freend that would come and take ting with downcast eyes twirling her me by the hand and say, Mr. Affleck, thumbs, as she usually did during her hus- hows your soul? But here they care no bands flights of eloquence. He next more about your soul than if it was made sought by 6ur help to divert the current of of cast-metal ! Mr. Afflecks thoughts, and turning to Ella, With these melancholy words Mr. Af- who sat next to him, he said, blunderingly fleck laid down his head upon his arms and helplessly, that he hoped we were all and remained apparently overcome by his well at home. feelings. I did not happen to observe any of The minister turned very red, looked you on Sabbath, he xvent on, and I doubtfully at Mrs. Affleck, and rose from feared some domestic affliction had kept his seat. you absent from worship. II doubt Ill need to be moving,~~ Oh, no, answered Ella, with ready he said. Its getting late, and Im pretty presence of mind, speaking very fast to busy at present. Mr. St. Clair, and you, bring in as long a story as she could. missies, would you be inclined to give Papa and mamma have gone to Edin- me your company a bit, as we go the burgh for a week. They started on Fri- same road? day by the one oclock train, and St. Clair rose, evidently relieved, and And what keptyou from the house of bade good-night to Mrs. Affleck, who, to prayer? demanded Mr. Affleck. our surprise, made no attempt to detain us. The dreaded question had come. St. But Ella and I doubted whether it was Clair trod violently on my foot under the either kind or polite to leave our host thus tablenot that I had any intention of overcome by sorrow without offering any doing anything; and we all looked at our consolatory remarks. We stopped and plates in confusion. looked at him, and at length Ella touched I like Dr. Goodalls church best, ob- him on the shoulder and said timidly, served Rosie calmly, after a silence, dur- Good-night, Mr. Affleck. He raised ing which she had evidently been weighing his head, and seemed to collect himself. the respective merits of the two places of Thats these pigeons of your broth- ~worship. ers, he said. Theyre mischeevouS And what makes you like it best, little brutes. 78 Our pigeons 1 I said in surprise. The fantails? But they are not here they are at home. And will ye hinder them coming here to eat my hens meat? demanded our host. Will ye hinder them coming in at my vera door, even on the Sabbath-day, and working their abominations in my vera scullery? If I had gotten a grip of that beast, I would have wrung its neck I would have wrung its neck. Tuts, Affleck! said his wife, taking compassion on us, what way would you scare the young misses? Theyre but bairns. Its just that he was put about, Miss Lettice, on Sabbath morning, when he was going to shave himself for the kirk, to see the creature sitting curdookit- ing and curdooing before its own image at his glass in the scullery. They are so tame, I pleaded. They often come into our room. You know pigeons are fond of a looking-glass. Maybe so, said Mr. Affleck, but yon beast was a spectacle of vanity and of sin, the which was an offence to be seen. We stood irresolute, afraid to bid our judge good-night, and afraid to go away without doing so. Mrs. Affleck brought a cup of tea to her husbands side, but he waved it away. None of your tea for me! I began life, he said, waving his arm feebly, at the pleughs tail, and Ive raised myself to my present poseetion by my own industry, and worldly vanities I spurrned them. And or ever I came here to this land o corruption, where Satans seat is Here we were hurried out of the room by Mr. Rintoul, who seemed to think we might resent this unfavorable description of my fathers property; but as we went through the passage we still heard Mr. Afilecks sonorous voice concluding his harangue, I joined a seeck society, and I joined a buryin society, but Im for none of your dd temperance. Wheres the speer- its ? From The National Review. THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. THANKS to the daily increasing facilities with which railway enterprise is tempting us to indulge our truly Athenian craving continually for some new thing, Am- mergau has become almost a household word among us. Everybody has heard of its Passion Play. Every tenth year THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. sees Britons rushing in shoals to the picturesque banks of the Ammer, to wit- ness there, while it may be witnessed, the last surviving specimen of that popular religious drama which in bygone times helped the Church so materially, and over so wide an area, to impress her truths upon mens minds. But I question, if among all those thousands of sight-seeing Britons, who gather as interested specta- tors, there are many who realize in what very close relation that same little valley stands to the early fortunes of the ancient family whose head now occupies our throne, and whose deep-seated hold on the affections of the English people has recently been testified, in a striking if melancholy manner, on the occasion of the lamented death of the Duke of Clar- ence and Avondale. How many, indeed, among us can be said to know very much at all about that race? And yet its history ought to be of some interest to us. In these latter days it has become intertwined with our own. It is marked by striking contrasts of ups and downs, at one time leading the Guelphs on a rapid triumphal progress up to the very steps of the im- perial throne, then again dropping them down to the obscure level of paltry in- significance. It tells of a race endowed with a strong individuality manly, chiv- alrous, generous; but generally also head- strong and reckless. It is interwoven with pathetic legend. Its early beginnings are lost in the dim haze of a prehistoric age. Its latter end has not yet come. There is no dynasty now surviving equally ancient there is but one which can join in the boast that on the throne on which it was planted centuries ago it has retained its hold to the present generation. That second dynasty, I may explain, is the family, originally Slav, of the Obotrite Grand Dukes of Mecklenburg, the same race whom our Alfred the Great speaks of as Apdrede. The present grand dukes are the direct descendants of that terrible Prince Niklot, of the twelfth century, whom among German princes only the Guelph, Henry the Lion, was found strong enough to subdue. But before Bodrician Niklot had mounted his barbarian throne, Henry the Generous had already been in- stalled as chief over Liineburg the prin- cipality over ~vhich his family continued to rule down to i866, when the cruel for- tune of war decided against the last Guelph prince. In the adjoining Duchy of Brunswick, over which, as forming part of ancient Saxony, the Guelphs were set as heads in 1127,the family continued to~ THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. hold sway till 1884, when death removed the last scion of their older line, in the person of the late Duke of Brunswick. The Guelph pedigree, however, goes very much farther back than the time of Henry. Long even before Guelph Odoacer, at the head of his Teuton hordes, dethroned that caricature of an emperor, Romulus Augustulus, there were Guelph Agilol- ~ngs leading to battle, as trusted chiefs, their own Scyrian tribes. What the later history of the family might have been, if to its constitutional valor and generosity had been joined the less showy but far more useful qualities of prudence and caution, we may now, by the light of past events, readily imagine. The Guelphs were in Henrys day by far the strongest dynasty in Germany, at a period when for the imperial throne above all things a strong dynasty was needed there have been no breaks in their succession. Had Germany elected Henry the Generous as emperor, as everybody expected that she would, the Guelphs might still be wearing the crown of Charlemagne, and Germany might have had a different tale to tell, both of her past experiences and of her present position. For it deserves to be noticed that all the troubles which came upon the empire, by minute subdivision of its ter- ritory, and by the setting up of opposition emperors, sprang directly and demon- strably from contests provoked with the Guelphs. It was Henry IV.s resistance to WeIf IV. that led to the multiplication of vassal crowns which subsequently be- came a curse to Germany. It was the powers pledged to the support of the Guelphs most notably the popes and our Cc~ur-de.Lion who put forward those troublesome opposition emperors, the forerunners and direct cause of the ruinous interregnum die kaiserlose, die schreckliche Zeitand by such means of the political prostration of the country enduring through centuries. But our interest, in England, lies more with the Guelph, than with Germany. One cannot help sympathizing with a race which, being evidently designed for great- ness, advanced towards it with giant strides, only to find the prize at which it ambitiously grasped snatched from its hand in the very moment of seeming at- tainment. Of the very early history of the Guelphs we have fairly definite, but only very frag- mentary, information. They were leaders of the Scyri, we learn a Teuton race of the Semnone family, mentioned by Pliny, by Zosimus, and by Jornandes who poured over Germany, in the days of Val- entinian, along with hosts of other Germar~ tribes, and who, having been all but ex- terminated by the Goths, united with some other tribes of the same family, the Rugii~ the Heruli, the Turcilingi, to form a com- posite nation which, for convenience, adopted the common name of Bajuvarii.. Bavarians accordingly the Guelphs origi- nally were, as the historian Theganus is careful to point out not Swabians, as German historians have often named them; Bavarians, as seem to be evidenced, among other things, by the dark features and black hair which for a long time dis- tinguished them, more especially from. their opponents of a century, the fair- haired and light-complexioned Hohen- staufens. Of the confederate Bajuvarii,. the Agilolfings or Guelphs still continued chiefs. Under a Guelph Eticho whom Priscus Rhetor praises as a man of ex~ ceptional capacity and high character we find the nation attaching themselves as auxiliaries to the host of Attila, and. rendering the Hunnish king signal service. Eticho was by no means a mere rough warrior. He fully appreciated Romaa culture and civilization which led the eunuch Chrysaphas to propose to him the murder of his chief, a suggestion which the honest Guelph rejected with scorn. From the midst of the Bajuvarii the Guelph Odoacer went forth on his march to Rome. The Bajuvarii were then set- tled on the banks of the Danube roughly speaking in what is now Austria, and Ba-~ varia, and the Tyrol. Hence we find the earliest known seats of the Guelphs in the Bavarian Highlands. Ammergau was theirs, and Hohenschwangau was one of their earliest castles, founded indeed by a Guelph. When, after a revolt of the Rugii which was successfully sup- pressed by Odoacer some of the allied tribes dispersed to seek new homes in the tempting districts on the banks of the Ens and around the lake of Constance both at the time sorely devastated and depopu- lated by the Goths the Guelphs, without giving up their old seats, accompanied their men. And thus it came about that the earliest castle which we hear of as having been built by the Guelphs is sup- posed to have stood in Thurgau, of which country the Guelphs subsequently became counts. This is all mere inference; but as such it seems legitimate. For the mon- astery of Rheinau is known to have been founded by a Guelph. And such monas- teries were never built far away from the founders stronghold. Hen cetheGuelphs 8o THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. connection with the Black Forest, of which the Guelph St Conrad is the cherished patron saint; and hence their connection with Alsace, of which they were long counts such powerful counts that Pepin the Short judged it advisable to reduce them to the position of removable gov- ernors missi carner~. St. Odilia, the patron saint of Alsace, whose name is a household word among her own country- men, and about whom Goethe grew en- thusiastic, was an undoubted Guelph. Hence, also, their connection ~vith the whilom country of the Burgundians, among the nobles of which land we find a Guelph chief, in 605, standing up manfully against the aggressive usurpati ons of Protadius, a Frankish major-domo, and acting as spokesman. As inissi camerce the Guelphs had a serious brush with the Church the only tiff, practically speaking, which ever oc- curred between them and Rome. Of this quarrel, in which the Guelphs were prob- ably in the right, we find a tradition kept up for some centuries. The abbot of St. Gall figured in those days in Germany as the exact counterpart to the rich and grasping Abbot of Canterbury of our ballad. For some pilfering of crown lands, the Guelph \Varin, as a conscientious missus carnerce, had Abbot Othmar im- prisoned, which brought about the abbots death. Rome at once canonized her martyr, and exacted heavy retribution from his persecutors, not merely in the shape of severe penances and the founda- tion of masses, carried on for many gen- erations, but by the more substantial satisfaction, also, of large transfers of landed estates to the injured abbey Affeltangen and Wiesendangen, and I know not how many properties more, till even to the pious Guelphs the demands appeared to grow beyond all measure of reason. It is true, they recouped them- selves elsewhere quod si Cut minus credi bile videatur, say the monkish chroni- clers which, if to any it appear a little incredible, let him read the ancient histo- ries, and he will find nearly all their terri- tories to have been violently taken and held by them of others. It is with Warms son Isembart, living in the time of Charlemagne, that the bet- ter known history of the Guelphs begins. He was the hero of that ridiculous fable about the pups, ~vhich has been in- vented to explain their adoption of their peculiar name, but which one may well be surprised to find recorded on something resembling official authority in the cata logue of our recent Guelph Exhibition. Isenibarts wife Irmentrude, it is said, having uncharitably reproached a poor beggar woman for having borne triplets which she held to be a proof of unfaith- ful conduct towards her husband~vas punished for her unwarrantable accusation by being herself made to bear at one birth, not three sons, but twelve. To screen herself from a reproach such as shc had unkindly fastened upon the beggar, she hit upon the rather inapt device of having eleven of those newly born sons drowned as supposed whelps. The twelfth she keptand he is said to have become WeIf, the founder of the race. The other eleven were happily rescued by their father, who came up just in time to save them. What our catalogue writer omits to mention, but ~vhat is really a very essential feature of the myth, is that the eleven rescued whelps with the exception of one who became a bishop all lived to be the founders of princely houses. One of them is said to have been Thassilo, the reputed ancestor of the Hohenzollerns. The meaning of all this is that, by survival and intermarriage with other royal families of Europe, the Guelphs have in course of time become, in a sense, the parent of most royal lines Zahringens, Hapsburgs, Hohenzol- lerns, Capets, Bourbons, and the rest of them. The fable of children being sent to be drowned as whelps and in every case rescuedis, as it happens, by no means peculiar to the Guelphs. It occurs in the Black Forest, in connection with a family bearing the name of Hund. It occurs in Lower Lorraine in that pretty trouv?re legend recording the doings of Helias, the Chevalier au Cygne, whom we moderns know as Lohengrin It is interesting to note that, along with that fable, Guelph tradition in Bavaria shares with the tradition of Lorraine the far more attractive and poetical myth of an enchanted swan the swan, in fact, of Lohengrin ~ a bird specifically em- blematizing purity whence the extinct Order of the Swan of the Margraves of Brandenburg. That order was an aristo- cratic social purity league, which Frederic William IV. would have been glad to revive could he but have found sufficient candidates for it among his nobility. But his proposal met with very poor support. Hence, also, the equally ancient Order of the Swan of Cleves, having a like ob- ject. regards the whelps of the THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. Guelphs, the existence of very different and contradictory versions helps to show what a made-up story the whole legend is. The only authority for it is the monk Bucelinus, who himself quotes no more ancient source. And he is said to have invented it for the mere purpose of show- ing off his monkish Latin, in order to deduce from the Latin word for whelp catulus an imaginary descent, sup- posed to be complimentary, from a fab- ulous Roman senator Catilina, and through him from the ancient Trojan kings. In opposition to this, it is a fact that there were Welfs long before Isem- bart. The name, therefore, could not have been first suggested by Irmentrudes unsuccessful trick. Isembart lived in the ninth century. But, as early as in the fifth, Odoacer had a brother called WeIf. Welf and Eticho were in fact the two favorite names of the family from pre- historic days downward. Sir Andrew Hallidays suggestion, that the name may have been first taken from an ensign which the Guelphs are supposed to have borne in battle, is equally wide of the mark. For that ensign, we know, from. the Aailol- fings down to the Hanovers, never was a ~vhelp at all, but a lion. In truth, the name Welf has nothing whatever to do with whelp, but is derived from hwelpe, huelfe help. As Eticho means hero, so WeIf means helper auxiliator. The popular Latin render- ing for it in olden days was Bonifacius. Salvator would be a more exact render. ing, but would obviously be liable to mis- interpretation. In confirmation of this theory, we find that, migrating into Italy about Charlemagnes time, a Guelph, be- coming Count of Lucca, as a matter of course takes the name of Bonifacius. And in his line, for further confirmation, we observe the same peculiarity which marks the Guelphs, that is, the naming of all sons of the family, without distinction, by the style of Counts a practice altogether unknown in those days among other races. So much for the name and origin of the Guelphs. Now I must ask the reader to return with me to Ammergau, which is peculiarly sacred to the memory of Eticho, styled the Second, who was probably the son of Isembart. Eticho lived in the days of Emperor Lewis the Pious, who in second nuptials married the Guelphs sis- ter Judith. Judiths birth of little Charles who became the Bald gave rise to that unnatural war between Lewis and his three elder sons, in the course of which LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXVIII. 4006 alike Judith and two of her brothers were imprisoned in Tortona, from which place of confinement Bonifacius II. of Lucca, marching to their relief avowedly as a kinsman, loyally rescued them. Etichos daughter, Lucardis, again married an emperor, Arnulf of Carinthiaof whom Carlyle need not have spoken quite so un- kindly as of a Carolingian Bastard, see- ing that he made a far better ruler than any of his legitimate kinsmen of his time. Thanks to Lucardis it was that Eticho was driven to seek a refuge, as a hermit, in the wild seclusion of Ammergau. He went there to mourn, with t~velve chosen com- panions, over the loss of Guelph inde- pendence, which his son Henry, so he thought, had, at the instigation of his sis- ter, ingloriously bartered away for a mess of pottage a pretty substantial one, it must be admitted. In truth, Henry did exceedingly well for his house. This is how the Saxon annalist relates the story. Henry, ambitious for wealth and power, agreed to swear fealty to the emperor, if in return, in addition to his own lands, he were given in fee as much territory as he could drive around with a car, or else with a plough on that point the versions differin the time between sunrise and the conclusion of the emperors afternoon nap. Arnulf thought the bargain a cheap one for himself. However, Henry had stationed relays of the swiftest horses that he could procure at different points, and with their help he raced round the coveted territory with such marvellous speed that having started from the Lech by the time when the emperor awoke he had actually reached the Isar. The emperor was just beginning to move restlessly in his chair and to show signs of returning consciousness, when Henry ar- rived at the foot of a mountain which he had designed as the extreme limit of his new possessions. If his mare would but last out the journey, one brisk gallop would carry him to th~ appointed goal. Unfortunately, the mare refused in con- sequence of which for many centuries the Guelphs would mount no mare. The hill which Henry just failed to obtain still goes by the name of Mahrenberg, the Mares mountain. Arnulf considered that he had been done. But, having pledged his word, he held himself bound. Eticho, grieved, mourned out his life in his hermits cell in Ammergan. Henry who was after his adventure named Heinricus cum aureo cut-ru does not appear to have made any particular effort to propitiate his father. But when the 82 THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. old man was dead, he carried his remains with great pomp and show to the monas- tery of Altomiinster, very near his own new seat of Altorf, where he raised a gor- geous tomb to Etichos memory, at which Guelph chiefs made it a practice to kneel for generations after, thus evidencing their respect for an ancestor who came tq be looked upon as specifically the emblen~ of independence. The homage paid be- came a cult; and in Ammergau shortly after rose up, where Etichos cell had stood, a wooden memorial church, to be replaced, in 1350, by a much larger mon- astery, built at the expense of Emperor Lewis the Bavarian, a descendant of Eti- cho. The monastery is still known as Ettal that is, Etichos Thal, Eti- chonis vallis Altomiinster, I may mention in passing, was the Minster supposed to have been founded by St. Alto, a Scottish saint, the companion and disciple of St. Boniface, who managed, like Moses, to make a hard rock give forth a spring of rushing water by striking it with his staff. The spring still flows; and, as it was specially blessed by St. Boniface, its water is no doubt en- titled to the peculiar veneration in which it is still held. From their new seat at Altorf, up to the death of Weif III. the Guelphs continued to take their name. XVhile there, they managed to better their fortune not incon- siderably. It was a rough neighborhood then, with nothing but forest all round, forest spreading out for miles, stocked with wolves, and bears, and all manner of game. To the present day some thirteen thousand acres remain under timber. There are plenty of dales, and caves, and peaks, and the like, in the district, ~vhich have given rise to an innumerable host of legends. One of Henrys sons was that excellent Bishop Conrad, who became the family saint par excellence, and who first inaugurated the tr~di tional friendship with Rome. WeIf II., feeling his power grow- ing, ventured to break a lance with the emperor, in support of his friend Ernest of Swabia, whose Burgundian possessions very large ones the emperor had wrongfully seized. It did no good to Ernest; but it taught the emperor that the Guelphs had become a power to be reckoned with a power with whom it was advisable to stand well. And accordingly we find the next emperor, Henry III., with a view to propitiating the succeeding Guelph, WeIf III., preferring him to the dukedom of Carinthia, which was a very important office in those days Carinthia being a frontier march, and embracing Verona and part of Venetia. So great was the importance attached to this position that for seven years Henry had, for want of a sufficiently strong candidate, advis- edly kept it open. XVelf took the duchy and then pursued his own course, defying the emperor at Roncaglia, and refusing to render him service which was politic and, according to the notions of his day, not dishonest. Weif III. was the last Guelph of the male line. After him we find the Guelphs of the female branch succeeding to the family honors the Guelphs of Ravens- burg, as they were fond of styling them- selves. These are the Guelphs from whom our queen is descended. To what extent the family had added to their estate while settled at Altorf was seen when, in 1055, WeIf III. died. The possessions which he left embraced a good bit of Ale- mannia, the greater half of Bavaria (which then included the present Austria), the greater part of the Tyrol, and a tidy slice of northern Italy. It is no wonder that Mother Church, always alive to tem- poral opportunities, cast her eyes a little longingly on so fair an estate, and, in default of a male heir, demanded it for herself. But there was a Guelph be- forehand with her Welf IV., the son of Chuniza, the sister of WeIf III., by her marriage with Azzo (a direct descend- ant of the Guelph Bonifacius). WeIf IV. proved himself a particularly strong and able rul-er vir armis s/renuus, con- cl/jo ~rovidus, st4 len/ia lam forensi guam civili prceditus, the monkish chroniclers call him. Hence his surname, which he well deserved the Strong. By his accession he added to the family terri- tories those rich estates in Italy which for a long period made his family one of the most wealthy in Europe. For Azzo was reputed the richest and one of the most powerful Marchiones of Italy. WeIfs younger brother was Hugo, who first took the name of Este, and so became the founder of a race which has been held par- ticularly noble. Welf IV. secured his family other gains. Man of war that he was, the emperor Henry IV. was thankful to have him for a supporter in his strug- gles with the rebellious Saxons, before whom the Swabian companies had re- coiled. At the battle of the Unstrut WeIf completely broke their power, and thereby secured to Henry for a time the peaceful possession of his purple and for himself, as a reward, the dukedom of Bavaria. That office was worth even more than THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. 83 the dukedom of Carinthia. For at that time Germany owned but four regular dukes, representing severally the four principal tribes which made up the nation. And with these four dukes, under the emperor, rested in the main the power in the empire. Following in the footsteps of his uncle, we find WeIf IV. drawing closer the links which connected him with Swabia, while correspondingly loosening his proprietary relations with Bavaria, and in token of such policy fixing his residence in pretty Ravensburg. The reason evidently was, that the laws of Swabia conceded to vassal lords more extensive rights than did the laws of Bavaria. Accordingly, we find Henry the Generous, when dispossessed of his duchy by Conrad III., appealing specifically to the laws of Swabia against the emperors monstrously unfair judg- ment. But, apart from that political rea- son, Ravensburg was also no doubt more attractive on the score of its pleasant sit- uation and its delightful surroundings. You may identify both sites, when sailing down the lake of Constance, among that picturesquely outlined cluster of hills, on which your eye is sure to re~t instinctively the hills rising on the northern bank, in the very face of the tail Alps of Appenzell, among which the lopsided S~ntis is partic- ularly conspicuous. From Ravensbur~, both the lake and the Alps are clearly vis- ible, and, moreover, a charming landscape nearer than either, with that pretty Schus- senthal right in front, and a multitude of rocky peaks dotted about the forest, alter- nating with shady dales, smiling fields, and lush meadows. Of the castle there is now but a crumbling, weather-worn old gateway left. The town still exists, and flourishes after a fashion consisting of a group of faint, picturesque, out-of-date houses, looking for all the world like a piece of grey antiquity recalled to life. At Ravensburg used to be stored the archives of the Guelph family. A valu- able and interesting collection they must have been. XVhat has become of them nobody knows. They may have been de- stroyed by fire. They may, with heaps of other precious material for history, have been carried to greedy Vienna, to be there preserved as so much lumber. During Weif IV.s reign happened that historic conflict between Church and State, Pope Hildebrand and Henry IV. of Germany, for his share in which Henry has been censured a good deal more than in justice he deserves. Really, in going to Canossa, the emperor did so far as his intention was concerned a very pru- dent thing. The German princes had bluntly informed him that while he r& mained at feud with the pope, he would look in vain for their obedience. With the pope, accordingly, Henry strove to set himself right. Could he certainly foresee that, urged on by the malignant Countess Matilda, Gregory would take advantage of2 his duress, while he was literally hemmed in between two outer ~valls of the castle, to force upon him so bitter a cup of hu- miliati on? Matilda was a Guelph des- tined to play a very important part in Guelph history. XVelf IV was her near kinsn~an, and had, moreover, become a zealous supporter of the pope. Therefore it is no wonder that we find him with Hildebrand and Matilda at Canossa, wit- nessing his chiefs degradation. It is no wonder, either, that when Henry once more fell out with the pope, we should find Welf commanding the rebel forces raised to support the opposition emperor, Ru- dolph of Swabia. And, being a Guelph, it is no wonder that he should have taken advantage of the opportunity of his vic- tory, to extort from the emperor terms materially benefiting his own house namely, the recognition of his private property in Swabia as held directly from the emperor, and, which was more impor- tant, the recognition of his Bavarian duke- dom as hereditary in his family. How great was the power wielded at that pe- riod in Germany by this early Guelph prince, is evident from the fact that after his conclusion of a separate peace with the emperor the opposition practically col- lapsed, and Hermann, the new opposition emperor, found himself almost without support. Welf IV., I ought to mention, was the first Guelph to connect his family in a manner with our island. He married Judith, the daughter of Count Baldwin of Flanders, and the widow of Tostig, king of Northumberland, the son of Earl God- ~vine of Kent, and brother of the unfortu- nate Kin~~ Harold. Leaving Judith at home with the two sons whom she had borne him, Welf and Henry, Welf IV. started in 1098, at an advanced age, on a crusade to the Holy Land, which he suc- cessfully accomplished. But on his return home he was struck down by a fatal ill- ness, which overtook him in the island of Cyprus. This brings us down to the time of a tragic little incident which has furnished the subject for the favorite family legend of the Guelphs. At the time of their fathers death both WeIf and Henry were 84 THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. mere boys, left in charge of a good monk, it to Baldwin of Flanders, from whom, in Kuno,aBenedictineof Weingarten. Con- her turn, Judith got itcarrying it with sidering how important a part Weingarten her to Northumberland, and then on to 1~as played in Guelph historythat its Ravensburg, where she dutifully made it monks have become the carefully minute over to her husband. And when Welf but provokingly inaccurate chroniclers of started on his crusade, he, as observed, the Guelph familyand that, thanks to entrusted the relic to the monastery of the pious liberality of the late king of Weingarten. The monks knew well how Hanover, in the Abbey church of Wein- to turn so valuable a possession to ac- gar ten the gathered bones of most of the count. The Good Friday ceremony of early Guelph lords have found an honored worshipping the sacred blood became resting-place, perhaps I ought to say just one of the most frequented, most impres- a word about that monastery. It was sive, and most honored ceremonies of the WeIf the Thirds foundation, set up at a Church. As many as thirty thousand peo- short distance only from Ravensburg,on a pIe have been known to flock to the place site commanding a magnificent view of the from all quarters, turning the hillside into country all around, and was intended to a huge pilgrims camp, and contributing provide accommodation for those pious not a little to the prosperity of the reli- monks, originally of Altomiinster, who had gious house. Under the circumstances, been twice at very short intervals burnt the monks decided to restrict the attend. out of Altorf. It still stands; its three ance at the processionwhich was the towers form a conspicuous landmark in main part of the ceremony to horsemen the Schussengau; and to its shrine still only, whence the whole function came to are undertaken pilgrimages from a wide be popularly named Der Blutritt. As circuita survival that from a worship many as fifteen thousand horsemen are of olden days which was one of the great known to have joined in the monster cay- spectacles of the medi~val Church. Be- alcade. At the head rode the custos of fore setting out for the Holy Land, WeIf the relic, a monk, holding up the blood IV. entrusted to the monks of Weingarten for adoration. He was followed by a for safe keeping a relic which was at the horseman doing duty for Longinus, clad time held in far more than ordinary es- as a Roman warrior, having in his hand teem. It consisted of some drops of the the supposed sacred spear. After him Saviours blood, believed to be thoroughly marched a small squad of other horsemen, genuine, and preserved; enclosed in a representing Roman legionaries. Next costly vessel made of pure gold of Arabia followed a goodly muster of princes and and valued at three thousand forms, counts and lords. And the rear was There was a history to those drops. Pious brought up by a long file of mounted sol- inquirers have ascertained that the name diers, contributed by the surrounding of the centurion who was present at the dozen or so of petty principalities, all gay Saviours crucifixion, as the Gospel re- in their best uniforms, reflecting in the lates, was Longinus, and that he was a variety of their dress the unhappy division native of Mantua. Seeing the precious of the empire, and joining lustily in the drops trickling down, it is said, he caught sacred song Salvator Mundi. them up in a vessel, and, becoming con- But we must now return to Ravensburg verted by what he witnessed, returned and young WeIf. Notfarofffrom Ravens- home to Mantua, still reverently carrying burg still stands, conspicuous upon its them with him. He was in due time hap- lofty hill, the old castle of Waldburg, the tized, and became a missionary and a mar- cradle of the noble race of the Truch- tyr. For something like eight hundred sesses of Waldburg, who were at times years the holy blood remained buried in rather a rough set. There is a story of his garden at Mantua. Then it was dis- one particularly brusque count who, hay- covered by accident, only to be once more ing rallied the Abbot of Weingarten upon concealed somewhere or other. But in his sumptuous living and soft raiment, 1049, when Pope Leo IX. happened to be and having been told in reply that such at Mantua, once more it came to light, to things were far more creditable than rid- be instantly claimed by the pope on behalf ing about the country robbing and steal- of the Supreme See. The Mantuans ob- ing, promptly retorted with a vigorous box jected; but in the end Leo obtained, at on the abbots ear at the abbots own any rate, part of the precious treasure, table. The count thereupon withdrew, but Of his share he kept half. The other half shortly after paid the monastery an even he gave away to his friend the emperor more hostile visit, setting fire to the vil- Henry III., who, on hisdeath,bequeathed lage and burning it down to the ground. THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. In punishment he was sentenced by the emperor to abstain for life from wearing a helmet. Hence the bare head and flowing locks of the Knight of Waldburg, always to be seen in the thick of the fray, ~vhich became a valued figure in the family es- cutcheon. But at the time of which I am speaking the Waldburgs were thoroughly peaceable folk. The particular knight of WeIfs day had, as it happened, a lovely daughter, just about two years younger than young WeIf, who, of course, fell des- perately in love with Bertha, as in return Bertha did with him. Hundreds of inno- cent little amatory interviews of the two took place, either at Waidburg or else in the forest, with the full acquiescence of Kuno, who saw nothing to object to in the proposed match. However, Kuno died, and was in his guardianship replaced by a monk of a very different characterAn- thony, a schemer and intriguer who would without doubt have been a Jesuit, if the order had been then established. To Weifs utter dismay, this Anthony, one fine morning, informed his young charge that in the interest alike of the Guelph family and of the Church he, a youth of eighteen, must forthwith marry Gregory the Sevenths friend, Matilda of Canossa, Spoleto, Parma, etc., the per- secutress of Henry IV., a Guelph herself, the widow of Godfrey the Hunchback of Lorraine, very rich and very powerful nobilissirni ac defissimi marchionis Boni- faclifihia but mannish fernina yin/is anirniaccustomed to leading her own men in battle, scheming, ugly, ill-tempered, and forty-three to boot. Hers were splen- did possessions Parma, and Mantua, and Ferrara, and Spoleto, and Reggio, and Lucca, and Tuscany. But all these riches were as nothing in the eyes of WeIf, who had made up his mind that he must marry Bertha, aged sixteen, or no one. A little plot was quickly concocted, and one fine night Weif, in disguise, might be seen slyly escorting Bertha, likewise in dis- guise, and accompanied only by her pri- vate maid, Francisca; through the forest down to Lindau, on the border of the lake, where a boat was in readiness to bear the fugitives across to Constance. From that place, Weif saidprobably thinking of his mothers connections with our country we will make our way straight to En- gland, where a Guelphs arm and sword are sure to be welcome and to find employ. ment. The lake was reached, and the oars splashed briskly over the smooth surface when all of a sudden, at half- way, over goes the boat, capsizing, and Bertha sinks down to the bottom, to be seen no more. Diving, and swimming, and calling proved all in vain. Thoroughly unhappy, indifferent to all that might hap- pen, Weif consented to wed the elderly Matilda, with whom he settles down to live at Spoleto, in such relation as is pos- sible. One day a nun begs to be allowed to see him. She turns out to be Francisca, the maid, driven by pangs of conscience to make a frank confession of a horrid crime committed. Bribed by Monk An- thony, she said, she had on that disastrous night drugged poor Bert ha with a hand- kerchief then, when she was thoroughly drowsy, on the sly tied a stone to her feet whereupon Anthony, disguised as a boatman, had overturned the boat. An- thony had told her there was no sin in all this, it was an act ad majorern Dci glo- niarn; but her conscience would leave her no peace. Next day, at her own wish, Francisca was executed as a murderess, and Weif left his wife who turned out to have been a party to the conspiracy in anger and disgust, vow ingto see her no more, and formally repudiating her before long nescio quo intervenienfe divorcio, says the monkish chronicler. We have now reached the very eve of that brilliant period when the Guelphs appeared to have risen, rapidly, high above other dynasties only to drop even more suddenly to a humble level of prosaic ob- scurity, on which they were destined to continue for centuries. The records of that brief spell of meteoric greatness read like a romance. The Guelphs were giants, visibly overtopping all their contempora- ries, Henry the Great, Henry the Generous, Henry the Lion their very names tell of vigor and influence, of strength of character and striking individ- uality. Their domains came to stretch from sea to sea, from the Northern Ocean, which we call the German, to the Medi- terranean and breadth ways across the whole continent of Germany, eastward into those still only half-explored Slav regions in which dwelt the uncultured Bodricians and Luticzians, backed by the Russians and the Poles. Even Denmark was in a state of dependence under them And the Guelph duchies represented a power almost superior to that of the em- pire. Had not Frederick Barbarossa been so very great a ruler, it is said, Henry the Lions realm would infallibly have either swallowed up the rest of Germany or else have been constituted a separate empire. Under Henry the Generous the imperial crown seemed to be actually at the feet 86 THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. of the Guelph dynasty. They need but have stooped a little to pick it up. But stooping was the one thing which they could not bring themselves to do. As a result they were jockeyed out of this prize just as their late successor was the other day jockeyed out of his kingdom of Han- over. Germany, it is to be feared, lost more by that dishonest trick than did the Guelphs. Under a race of heroes like those Henries, with plenty of power of their own at their back to support them against rivals and malcontents, it did not seem too much to expect that something like the halcyon days of the Saxon em- perors might have been brought back. All ended in smoke. There was that family quarrel between Guelphs and Ghibeliines, which ruined both houses unfortunately, the Guelphs first. It seems a strange coincidence that the two rival cousins, Frederick Barbarossa and Henry the Lion, should both have been born at Ravensburg. It seems odd, also, that after being long the warmest of friends the two houses should have become such implacable foes. The Hohenstaufens had no one but Welf IV. to thank for the Swabian crown. It was he who had ex- torted it from Henry IV. And it seems more than strange, it seems hard, cruel, and unjust, that not only should the (Jueiphs a second time have been pun- shed in their private capacity for what ~hy had done in the service of the em- pir~, but that, moreover, the emperors persecution, which led to their fall, should have been, as I shall show, the direct con- sequence of loyal service rendered to the imperial crown. Welf the Fifths was a brief reign and about the only pacific one in that early period. A staunch friend to the pope, but at the same time strictly loyal to the em- peror, he managed to overcome resistance, say the monks of Weingarten, by liber- ality and graciousness rather than by cru- elty and force. His brother, Henry, surnamed variously the Black, and the Great, was a man of entirely different mould. He it was who about iioo first acquired by marriage ~vith Wulfhilde, the daughter of Magnus, Duke of Saxony, the valuable allodium of Liineburg, which up to i866 formed the nucleus of Guelph possessions in northern Germany. Henrys son, Henry the Generous, bet- tered that example by obtaining the Saxon dukedom. He was a staunch friend to Lothair of Saxony, the emperor of his time married his daughter Gertrude and in his support made war upon the Hohenstaufens, who had seized, without claim or title, imperial territory, more es- pecially the city of Nuremberg. In 1126 his troops carried Nuremberg by storm, and as a reward Lothair conferred the dukedom of Saxony upon his son-in-law, who thereby came to hold two dukedoms at the same time. The victory over the Hohenstaufens was completed a few years later by Henrys capture (on behalf of the empire) of Ulm. Clearly Henry was altogether in the right. But the Hohen- staufens, smarting under deserved defeat, seized the opportunity of his absence in Italy, where he was, to attend the em- perors coronationto ravage his lands in revenge. Of course, he retaliated. And thus was begun that memorable great feud which rent Germany in two and brought it down to the very brink of ruin and disintegration. The sad result might still have been averted if the general ex- pectation had been fulfilled, and Henry the Generous had been elected to the imperial throne. So confident was Lothair of his succession that at his death he en- trusted the imperial insigniathose pre- cious clenodia of Trifels to him for keeping. But the Hohenstaufens baulked him by a clever election trick. Summon- ing the electing princes a very indeter- minate body at that time with the exception only of the Bavarians and the Saxons, privately to Coblenz not by any means a proper place for the purpose they easily secured the choice of Conrad, in which the Saxons weakly acquiesced being then still new to the rule of their duke and which the pope, just as weakly, confirmed Little he knew what a scourge he was binding for the punishment of his successors. Those two confirmations practically decided the issue. Neverthe. less, so little assured did Conrad feel of his position that he fled from Augsburg by night, fearing an attack from the Guelphists. Arrived at Wiirzburg, con- trary to all law and justice, lie condemned Henry unheard, proclaimed against him the sentence of proscription (reicksacht), and declared him to have forfeited both his duchies. A furious contest ensued, Welf VI. fighting in Bavaria, Henry in Saxony. In Germany the two factions are commonly spoken of as Welf and Waiblingen. Bu t it is by no means certain that the latter name is correct. It is quite as possible that Ghibelline is intended to stand for Giebelingen, the name of the castle in which Frederick Barbarossa was brought up, and near which the Hohenstaufens gained one of THE EARLY ANCESTORS OF OUR QUEEN. 87 their first decisive victories over the fit companion for his brother-in-law and Guelphs. In the south things went for the staunch ally, Richard Cceur-de-Lion. For most part against the latter. WeIf VI. has a time fortune favored Henry. The been christened the German Achilles. XVends were constantly making incursions He tried to justify that name being into German territory, keeping the border seconded, rather feebly, by the kings of provinces in a state of perpetual disturb- Hungary and of Sicily. But in spite of ance. The emperor alone was no match all his fighting, as the Bavarians showed for them. Henry was sent for; and, like themselves lukewarm, his efforts felt short a German Charles Martel, he struck down of adequate success. In the north things Prince Niklot and his host with crushing went better. The Saxons, holding strong blows. The result was a short-lived rec~ views in favor of what we should term onciliation with the emperor, and Henrys State rights, manfully stood by their duke, reinstatement, for a brief period, in both who pressed the Hohenstaufen emperor so his duchies Bavaria having, however, hard, that before long Conrad was almost previously been reduced in size by the compelled to ask for an armistice. The cutting off of what is now Austria. Had armistice was granted; and before it came Henry but had the prudence to use his op- to an end Henry died at Quedlinburg, portunities, all might still have been well. it is said by poison. That left the Guelphs For WeIf VI. made him an offer of his at a serious disadvantage. For Welf VI. Italian possessions Spoleto, Tuscany had quite as much to do as he could man- and Sardinia a valuable point dap~ui, age, to maintain himself as a belligerent which must have helped Henry to main- in the south. And in the north, besides tam his balance in Germany, or at the very the Duchess Gertrude and her mother, the least to save more than he did out of the Empress Richenza, there ~vas only Henry subsequent wreck. In the course of a life the Lion, a boy of ten, to head the rebel of lavish prodigality, WeIf had come to tribe. Conrad skilfully disarmed Ger- an end of his available resources. He trude by persuading her, still quite a young wanted money. Now, would Henry buy woman, to marry Leopold of Austria, the those Italian possessions of him? Henry new Duke of Bavaria, and to consent, as declined, calculating a little too securely a condition of that marriage, to her sons upon an unbought inheritance at Welfs waiver of his rights in the south. In the death. In that calculation he made a great north we find Berlin stretching out its mistake. WeIf, angry at his refusal, re- hands eagerly for the Guelph duchy peated the offer to his other nephew, just as in i866but without success. Frederick Barharossa, who as a matter of The covetous Margrave of Brandenburg, course jumped at it. And so the opportu- I ought to explain, was not a Hohenzol- nity was lost. Fresh contests ensued, lern, but Albert the Bear. The Hohen- fresh proscriptions, banishments, out- zollerns were at that time still very small lawry. As an exile Henry was driven to folkso small that some years later, seek the protection of his ally Richard, when WeIf VI., disgusted with affairs of taking refuge repeatedly in Normandy and State, and grieving over the loss of his son, in England. Then he managed to renew gave himself up to a life of reckless pleas- the fightand at last, by the emperors ure, and held a private court at Zurich, in grace, he received back, of all his vast ostentatious magnificence, we find the territory, those little principalities of Count of Zollern of those days in attend- Brunswick and Liineburg, which to almost ance upon him, as a sort of noble retainer, the present day have remained specifically Once Henry attained his majority, he identified with Guelph rule, and in which quickly made his power felt. He must the Guelph counts and duke~subse- have been a character whom one could quently electors and kingsmanaged to not help admiring. Brave, chivalrous, live on in their prosaic, humdrum, humble frank, generous to a fault, and zealously way, powerless and uninteresting prince- solicitous for the welfare of his subjects, lets of the great German family of little for the extension of commerce, the im- sovereigns till an accident, lucky for provement of agriculture, the development them, called them across to England. of self-government, a friend and supporter One brief flickering-up there was, before to every kind of progress but, at the their candle finally went out on the larger same time, headstrong, rash, impetuous scene of Continental politics. But it was he seemed the very beau-ideal of knight- a very poor flickering indeed, and no hood, a man morally as well as physically credit to any one concerned. A Guelph of the colossal stature that the sculptor became emperor at last. But no thanks has attributed to him at Brunswick a to his own prowess or his own merit, or to 88 NORWAY IN WiNTER. a bond}ide popular choice. It was our C~ur-de-Lion who, at the popes partisan instigation, to avenge his humiliation at Hagenauwith the help of his mu//a ~e- cunta, as chroniclers relate forced his nephew, Otto IV., on the throne which, according to strict law, had already young Frederick II. for an occupant. It was a poor, weak travesty of a reign. Ha dnot Philip of Swabia opportunely died, it would have been no reign at all. For many a century the star of the Guelphs seemed set. The yin nobiles, egregice liberia/is of ancient times counted for little in the game of European politics. Early in the present century the elder line, that of Wolfenbiittel, brought forth one more hero of the old Guelph type that brave Brunswicker who, in the great war of German liberation, by his brilliant gallantry quickened all young Germanx to a more fiery patriotism. The younger line, that of Liineburg, found a new sphere of action opened to it in this country, and now lives to perpetuate on a throne even greater than that which the Generous and the Lion had filled, that Dynastia Guelphicorum Inter Flores lilium, Inter Illustres Illustrissimus Eorum memoria in I3enedictione. Under the new aspect of things, if, for- tunately, Henry the Lions bold bent for war be wanting, his characteristic care for the welfare of his subjects has been re- tained; and it is a satisfaction to know, in a reign that has already happily out- lived its jubilee, that there is no longer occasion for that sorrowful plaint to which, in the warlike days of the race, Countess Itha gave expressionthe wife of the great-grandson of Eticho II., of Ammer- gau that No Guelph was ever known to live to a great age. HENRY W. WOLLF. From Temple Bar. NORWAY IN WINTER. IN summer Norway is familiar holiday ground; but among the crowd who sock to its shores during the season of long days and warm weather, few have hitherto cared to make trial of the country during ihe reign of frost and snow. In the breasts of certain travellers, however, who bad seen what summer had to show, and yet felt that Norway was not completely revealed, there arose a strong desire to find out by actual experiment what attrac- tions the country had to offer to visitors during the winter months. The Norway of literature, too, presents pictures of sea- sons and weather with regard to which the experience of ordinary tourists is a blank. Impelled by curiosity upon these and other points, a small party of travellers, of whom the present writer was one, set out at the end of January last * for a short visit to Norway. The plan of the trip did not include much moving about, as time was limited, and we were uncertain how far locomotion was possible; but we in- tended to reach the nearest inland point from Bergen at which we could find the country fully under snow, and where we should have an opportunity of enjoying the snow sports proper to the season. We promised ourselves much sledging, skating, and, in the words of a Norwe- gian correspondent, gliding down smooth slopes on hand sledges, i.e., tobogganing. Besides these gross and material attrac- tions there gleamed before our imagina- tion visions of snowy landscapes and a brilliant atmosphere, and altogether it was with high hopes that we embarked on board our old friend the Norge at New- castle, Halvorsens line, en route for Ber- gen. Beyond a couple of commcrcial men, Norwegians, ~ve had the ship to our- selves, otherwise there might have been some difficulty in stowing away the enor- mous quantity of rugs and wraps with which, in anticipation of an Arctic cli- mate, ~ve were provided. The voyage, which as a winter experi- ence had some terrors for us, proved calm and prosperous, but the precise time of our journey was unfortunate, a general thaw having set in over the whole of Eu- rope. We reached Bergen in a storm of rain which boded ill for our prospects, but afforded some compensation by giving us a magnificent view of the approach to the harbor. Hitherto ~ve had known the quaint northern city only as a gay cluster of many-colored houses nestling in the inmost recesses of a calm fjord beneath a circle of bare green hills. Now driving mists blurred its outlines, and towers and houses loomed dimly purple under a can- opy of beetling rocks thickly streaked with snow. Wrapped in storm and cloud, with a grey, rough sea around, and frown- ing hil Is above, the huddled settlement on the barren rocks looked every inch the haunt of sea robbers that once no doubt it NORWAY IN WINTER. 89 was. On landing, we found that the snow had entirely disappeared from the streets, sledges were replaced by wheeled car- riages, and an umbrella was the unfailing companion of every Norseman who stirred abroad. Yet in some respects the town looked more itself than in summer, an effect to which the absence of English tourists no doubt greatly contributed. Men in fur caps and bearskin coatsthe hair worn outwards thronged the streets, and in the fish-market groups of women darkly dressed, and with woollen shawls round their heads, chaffered with the sail- ors for their catch. The little fishing- boats bobbed up and down on a cold, wintry water, and men in sou-westers and oilskins handed out the fish, while behind rose the red eaves of the warehouses, and above, the snow-clad hills. It was Bergen in its work-a-day dress, engaged in the hard winter labor which is the real life of the people. Though the rain poured, therefore, we were content, and took the astonished exclamation of the street boys Englisk as a token that we were now, for the first time, seeing the Norwe- gians at home. At this season too, it may be noted, the Norwegian host is at his best. Even in summer he treats you as a friend, and you leave him with a feeling that whatever your bill may be you still owe him something; but in ~vinter there is literally nothing that he ~vill not do for his guests. As for mine host of Smebys Hotel, he took us so completely under his charge that we began to wonder whether we could possibly get along anywhere without him. But our destination was Vossevangen, between sixty and seventy miles from Bergen, for there, knowing the greater se- verity of the inland climate, we hoped to find the snow that was lacking on the coast. The railway ride, a four hours affair, is interesting enough in summer, but in winter it is doubly fine. First we passed through a landscape of low hills and patches of water, where Bergen mer- chants have their country houses in sum- mer, and their skating-grounds in winter. Here the ice was breaking up, and lying piled in masses of great thickness. After a while we again touched the sea, skirting the shores of the S6refjord, an open sheet of blue water, whose surface, dotted with sails, was shining in the sunlight. We escaped from the stifling heat of the car, and stood on the platform enjoying the keen air. Then again the line turned in- land, and we were soon in the midst of as frowning and inhospitable a landscape as could well be conceived. Grey mountains with white peaks, and grey lakes beneath, mirroring their outlines; no level ground but the sheets of ice reaching to the rocks in whose steep sides the railroad was cut; a country of iron, a landscape of steel, with no relieving color save the pale blue sky above. 1-lere and there a hamlet clinging to the sides of the rock; no other signs of life. Such an austere wintry scene was worth coming all the way from En- gland to see, and it was with regret that we ~vere at length forced by cold and dark- ness to retreat once more within the car. Arrived at Voss we were not ill-pleased to be greeted by the cheery laughter of Mr. Fleischer, the well-known innkeeper, who, with his wife, made us warmly welcome. The large hotel, we found, was at our sole disposal, for other visitors there ~vere none. Next morning we were glad to throw open the windows of our stove-heated rooms, and let in the fresh, keen air. With eager eyes we scanned the prospect. It was not what we expected or desired, but it was surpassingly lovely all the same. The lake lay before us, covered with ice, and wrapped in rolling mists, which as they turned and twisted, rising here and falling there, gave glimpses of wooded hills beyond, thickly streaked with snow. Then again the curtain fell, and the land- scape resolved itself into a grey, dim shimmer; earth, sea, and sky seeming to float in mist together. Ever and anon came the tinkling of sleigh-bells and the sharp runners on the ice, as a dark sil- houette of sleigh and driver passed across the lake, its image being reflected in the wet ice (for there had been much rain) ~vith perfect clearness. These shadowy figures were constantly passing along a track which was evidently the winter high- way, and the misty landscape, with the tinkling sounds of the bells in the clear, still air, combined to throw such a spell upon us that the unfavorableness of the weather was for a time forgotten. To gaze upon a scene of such weird beauty was for the present enough. Unfortunately for our visit there had been much less snow than usual in ~vest- em Norway this winter. What little had fallen at Voss had been turned by the re- cent rain and partial thaw into ice. Men and boys skated along the roads as the easiest and by far the quickest way of getting over the ground. The ponies, with their spiked shoes, were perfectly sure- footed, and it was pretty to see them pick- ing their way through the water which 90 NORWAY IN WINTER. covered the ice for some yards around the edge of the lake. Every now and then a boy would come skating rapidly down the ice slope that led to the margin, appar- ently about to take a header into the pool; but a swift turn at the very edge would send him off in a different direction, and away he would glide undismayed. Chil- dren careered wildly down the icy roads on their little toboggans, but the incessant rain and the wetness of the ground hardly made the fun inviting for other than na- tives. It may be mentioned, however, that a small party of English visitors who were at Voss at Christmas had excellent skating on the lake, and in ordinary win- ters there would probably be no lack of other amusements. At last the weather began to show signs of clearing, and our host agreed that we might safely take a sleighing expedition to Stalheim, to get a view of the famous Naerodal, familiar enough to English trav- ellers in the summer, but little visited in the ~vinter season. We had a merry starting, Mrs. Fleischer and the maid packing up the ladies of the party in count- less wraps, encasing our feet in woollen socks and huge fur boots, and our heads in shawls and hoods, till we felt sure that our nearest relatives would hardly know us; Mr. Fleischer settling us into the sledges and covering us with bearskins, to the sound of his unfailing, cheery laugh- ter. The young horse ~vhich was to lead the way, he informed us proudly, had won three trotting prizes in succession. Off we started, the sledge-bells jingling, just as the sun, a welcome visitor, was touch- ing the mountain-tops with gold. A swe passed along the little street, the villa,.ers gazed at us with an expression that was nothing less than awe.struck. What these unmistakable English people could be doing there in winter they evidently could, not imagine. The single street of Voss was an ice Causeway, crossed here and there by narrow streams running a foot or so below the level of the road. The horses stepped carefully over these places, and the sleighs bumped slowly after them. The prize horse proved equal to his reputation, and distinguished himself by occasional attempts to bolt, performances which set the sleigh swaying wildly, but which the occupants were too full of the spirit of the morning to mind. After such mixed winter weather as had recently been experienced, Norwegian roads become so much raised in the centre that the natives aptly describe them as round, and for walkers to hold their footing at the side when making way for a passing sleigh is a work of some difficulty. The natives are accustomed to it, and execute a rapid skating movement towards the edge which appears to bring them into imminent dan- ger of descending the ever-present preci- pice, but they always stop in time. We, however, were not to the manner born, and in consequence occasionally found our- selves in a kneeling posture, thankfully embracing a boundary stone. When sleigh- ing on a road of this description, especially where a stream or a thawing mass of snow has been pouring over it, a very slight twist suffices to send the sleigh swirling sideways, particularly as the way in which the shafts are fixed to the runners al?nost lifts the forepart off the ground. But the driver on his little stool behind is equal to the emergency; he jumps off, seizes the sleigh by handles provided at the back for the purpose, and pulls it bodily into its place again. Leaving Voss behind us, we crossed a bridge over the river that feeds the lake, and noticed that but for a narrow channel the stream was ice-bound. XVooden but- tresses have been placed in midstream to protect the bridge, and these now stood out from a solid mass of ice. Then we turned our faces towards the wild country of the Sognfjord. As we glided along throu_ h the snow in the sharp morning air, the scene was one of perpetual change but of unceasing beauty. The streams, buried in deep ravines, were almost com- pletely frozen, pools of light green alone showing where the water had forced a way over the ice. The waterfalls were silent (a great improvement, some of us were heretical enough to think), and pris- matic colors tinged the curtains of ice and frozen foam which took the place of fall- ing water. During a partial thaw the water had poured over the rocks through which the road was cut, and the frost that fol- lowed had congealed the whole into a mantle of transparent green, clothing the rocks from head to foot, and finished here and there with a fringe of icicles. The trees had lost their frosty spangles, but the stems of feathery birches rose gracefully from their snowy beds, and wherever a wider landscape opened out the eye met nothing but a wide sweep of snow rising to the mountain-tops, broken only by patches of black rock. The shad- ows were blue in the sunlight, and a pale, turquoise sky shone above. On we whirled in the growing sunlight, past the old, brown cottages of Tvinde and the Lake of Opheim, now hard frozen, but which our NORWAY IN WINTER. 9 drivers, for reasons best known to them- selves, declined to cross. We stopped to change borses at Vinje, and entered the deserted-looking inn. A brisk business goes on there in summer, but now the inn was evidently out of use, and a bottle of Si was the utmost refreshment that its re- sources could provide. The innkeeper came with us as driver, a picturesque fig- iire in fur cap and fur-lined coat, with a long scarlet muffler twisted round his throat and waist. On again we drove in the sparkling sunshine, through the lightly wooded country, where in summer chil- dren stand to open gates, till, turning round a sharp corner, the fissure of the Narrow dale came suddenly into sight, the cleft opening almost at our feet. I do not hes- itate to say that the gorge is many times grander in winter than in summer. The form of the valley, with its steep, pillar- like hills, can never be anything but fine, but in summer it is all green grass and grey rocks, while the top of the Jordalsnut bears a painful resemblance in shape and color to a bald head. Now, however, the flanks of the mountains had darkened into deep purple, warmed with golden tints of grass and lichen, while the peaks were all crowned with snow. Below lay the dale a picture of desolation. A slender stream meandered, half frozen, through a carpet of brown grass, and a grey ddbris of fallen stones trailed like a ladys skirt at the foot of every crag. Only the white crown of snow above relieved the severity of the scene. Nor did the inhospitable appearance of the glen belie its real char- acter. We much desired to go on in our sledges to Gudvangen, where dale deepens into fjord, and the narrow inlet of sea- water is hemmed in by high, precipitous rocks. But the hills, we are told, were taking advantage of the recent thaw to re- lieve themselves of superfluous burdens, casting down large stones at intervals into the valley. We might see the screes in process of formation if we liked, but the experiment would be dangerous. Further down, the hills of the Naerofjord were im- itating the bad example of their neighbors, and were playing the game of stone-throw- ing with considerable vigor. The houses of Gudvangen, nestling under the rocks, were in some danger, and a barn had been crushed in by a falling stone. The fjord, as is often the case with these narrow ex- tremities, was frozen over for a length of many miles; the branch of the Hardanger fjord leading to Odde being likewise, we heard, in the same condition. When the ice is firm there is no difficulty, and sledges may sometimes be seen unloading cargo under the ships side; but when it becomes unsafe, or has water on U, as was now the case, the only method of conveying mails and cargo is by dragging boats along the surface, the men jumping in whenever the ice gives way. Truly the exigencies of a Norwegian winter are no light matter, and one ceases to wonder at the expression of patient endurance ~vhich stamps the faces of a race engaged in such a close and con- stant struggle with the forces of nature. The discipline has tamed the wild Norse- man till he is as gentle as a child. We were reluctant to leave Stalheim, but the narrow limits of daylight (about this season from 8.30 A.M. to 4.30 P.M.) com- pelled us to move on. We strolled down the zigzag road to look at the, twin water- falls, now but shadows of their former selves gathered some juniper berries and alder catkins in evidence of where we had been, and, after a cup of coffee at the hotel (now rebuilding and tenanted only by work- men), again packed ourselves into the sleighs. If we had thought for a moment about the condition of the road we should have deferred the embarkation for a few hundred yards. Immediately below the hotel the road descends a steep hill, down which, on our arrival in the morning, we had seen children triumphantly toboggan- ing. We soon found that we were following their example, sleighs and horses sliding at a rapid pace down the slope. The drivers got out, and, holding the reins tightly, stuck their spiked boots into the ground, stiffened their backs, and in fact turned themselves bodily into brakes. Matters were further complicated by the second horse, who, in his anxiety to pass his rival, got himself entangled with the sledge in front. For a few minutes the scene was lively ; the ponies slid, the sleighs slid, the drivers cried Burr-rI ~ (Norse equiv- alent for Woa!) and ground their spikes into the ice, and the whole caval- cade descended in a sliding mass to the bottom of the hill, the second sleigh nearly rolling into the ditch by way of a finish; after which the ambitious horse, having secured the lead, set off at a gallop, and we all laughed heartily at our new experi- ence in Norwegian wayfaring. When we reached Opheim we found a number of men engaged in marking out a course upon the lake with birch stems, and inquiring the reason we learned that a trotting-match with light sledges was to take place on the lake in a day or two. The day was now growing grey; soon dusk changed to evening, and it became 92 NORWAY IN WINTER. interesting to know how the driver man- aged to discern the colorless road from equally colorless surroundings; but these details are generally left to the horse. It was in complete darkness, and with a few drops of rain on our faces, that we trotted into the lights and icy thoroughfare of Voss. As the weather still remained uncertain, we determined, after a few days, to make a move towards the fjords. The Sognfjord being impracticable, we fixed our thoughts upon Eide on the Hardanger fjord, whence a steamboat could be taken to Bergen. Our host seemed doubtful; the roads were round; we rnzgk/get through. Dis- regarding all gloomy hints, however, we set off on a sunny morning which turned Voss with its now visible circle of shining snowy hills into a fairy place. The scenery between Voss and Eide is less grand than that towards Stalheim, the whole 1-lardanger district being softer in character than that of the Sogn; but it was full of beauty, nevertheless. At the Graven Lake came the great pleasure of the day. The drivers stopped to parley with some men and inquired about the ice. Was it safe? Ja, ja, ja I and accord- ingly the horses heads were turned down a short, steep slope; we splashed slowly through a watery border, and with a gallop our steeds set off across the frozen sur- face, the prize horse getting up an im- promptu race with another and beating him hollow. It was an exhilarating drive. Sometimes the ice was hard, sometimes rough and heavy; and sometimes cat- ice cracked sharply as we passed over it, suggesting catastrophes to nervous im- aginations. We traversed in this way the whole length of the lake, several kilome- tres, and as we went we thought of the fish in the depths below, for whom we had angled in summers gone by. At last we turned up the slope at the other end of the lake, where the leading sleigh distin- guished itself by an attempt to roll bod- ily into a ditch; past the few huddled cottages, whose inhabitants seemed all crowded into a singFe window. In sum- mer we had visited these cottages, and the men had sung folk-songs to the accom- paniment of a Hardanger fiddle; Ingo- mard, a fine old woman in Hardanger dress, working her loom awhile for our edification. But we had no time now to look up our friends. Down the steep slope of Skjervet we hurried, reaching Eide at sunset, to find fjord and the mountains bathed in a golden light. Mae- lands hotel was in full order for visitors, and an hours interval was sufficient to put a good dinner upon the table. At night ~ve went on board the Hardan- ger, which was to sail soon after midnight. Small steamer though she was, her berths were comfortable; but for some hours we preferred the open deck and the sight of the winter heavens. The air was-cold but still. Dark hills hemmed in the narrow fjord, in whose black water the stars trailed golden lines. The spell of north- ern enchantment was upon the scene, so strange in its utter stillness and in the sense of remoteness which it conveyed. Even when stowed away in our berths and the steamer in motion, it was difficult to lie still, for every now and then there was a sound like the crunching of ice, and the open porthole disclosed visions of black water, and dim hills streaked with white. At length came sound sleep, and it was broad daylight when we emerged on deck as the boat stopped at Bakke. I do not ask to see anything more beautiful than the Hardanger fjord on a sunny win- ter morning. It was a harmony in blue and white, softened with pearly tints; each shade of color in rock or sky being faithfully reflected in the still water below. As we turned into the sheltered bay of Rosendal, the steamers bows cutting through a thin sheet of ice as it went, the mist in the hollows gave an added touch of unreality to the fantastic mountain shapes behind, for now the sea was solid and the dry land seemed to float. It is not from the northern summer, with its long, suave days, its clear lights, or even from the witchery of its unending even- ings, that the romance of Norway~has its rise; it must be sought in winter, when snow and storm, mist and sunlight,~strug- gling together, wrap the land in a halo of mystery, making ethereal that which, seen in summers uncompromising daylight, re- solves itself into prosaic matter of fact. Again I say, Give me Norway in win- ter Our journey was now practically over. We floated into Bergen upon the stillest of calm waters. Of course our indefat- igable landlord was upon the quay, and (equally of course) he had possession of the luggage which we had sent by train from Voss. Again he took us under his charge, and even when we had, as we thought, parted from him on the deck of the Norge, he reappeared once more, hav- ing made a special journey across the harbor to bring us a parcel of fruit. There is no getting to the end of these Norwegians; they have always a surprise SOME POSSIBILITIES OF ELECTRICITY. 93 in reserve, and for the hundredth time we had humbly to confess ourselves beaten. A. AMY BULLEY. From The Fortnightly Review. SOME POSSIBILITIES OF ELECTRICITY. WE know little as yet concerning the mighty agency we call electricity. Sub- stantialists tell us it is a kind of matter. Others view it, not as matter, but as a form of energy. Others, again, reject both these views. Professor Lodge considers it a form, or rather a mode of manifesta- tion of the ether. Professor Nikola Tesla demurs to the view of Professor Lodge, but thinks that nothing would seem to stand in the way of calling elec- tricity ether associated with matter, or bound ether. High authorities cannot yet even agree whether we have one elec- tricity or two opposite electricities. The only way to tackle the difficulty is to per- severe in experiment and observation. If we never learn what electricity is; if, like life or like matter, it should always remain an unknown quantity, we shall assuredly discover more about its attributes and functions. The light which the study of electricity throws upon a variety of chemical phe- nomena witnessed alike in our little laboratories and in the vast laboratories of the earth and sun cannot be overlooked. Without going into transcendental specu- lations as to the origin of all things, it may be mentioned that the theory which now meets with most favor as best represent- ing the genesis of the chemical elements is, that at the time each element was dif- ferentiated from the all-pervading ~5ro/yl, it took to itself definite quantities of electricity, and upon these quantities the atomicity of the element depends. Pro- fessor Oliver Lodge expresses this when he says: Every monad atom has associ- ated with it a certain definite quantity of electricity; every dyad has twice this quantity associated with it; every triad three times as much, and so on. * Helm- holtz considers it to be probable that elec- tricity is as atomic as matter, and that an electrical atom is as definite a quantity as a chemical atom. This, however, must not yet be regarded as a certainty, for it is possible that all the facts at present known may be explicable in another way. If an atom of matter is endowed with the prop- On Electrolysis, British Association Reports, i88~. erty of taking to itself one, two, three, or more units of electricity, it does not follow that electricity is atomic. Imagine the atoms of matter to act like so many bot- tles, capable o~f holding one, two, three, or more pints. Imagine electricity to be like water in the ocean, which for the purposes of this argument may be considered inex- haustible and structureless. One of the atomic bottle elements dipped into the ocean would certainly take to itself one, two, three, or more pints of water, but it would by no means follow that the ocean was atomic in that it was capable of being divided up into an infinite number of little parcels, each holding a pint or its multiple. For this and other reasons I think we must accept the hypothesis of the atomic character of electricity as not yet definitely proved, although it is not improbable. I have spoken of the !etheran impalpable, invisible entity, by which all space is supposed to be filled. By means of the ether theory we can explain electri- cal phenomena, as well as those appertain- ing to the phenomena of light. Until quite recently we have been ac- quainted with only a very narrow range of ethereal vibrations, from the extreme red of the solar spectrum on the one side to the ultra-violet on the othersay, from three ten-millionths of a millimetre to eight ten-millionths of a millimetre. Within this comparatively limited range of ethe- real vibrations and the equally narrow range of sound-vibrations all our knowl- edge has been hitherto confined. Whether vibrations of the ether, longer than those which affect us as light, may not be constantly at work around us, we have, until lately, never seriously enquired. But the researches of Lodge in England and of Hertz in Germany give us an al- most infinite range of ethereal vibrations or electrical rays, from wave-lengths of thousands of miles down to a few feet. Here is unfolded to us a new and astonish- ing worldone which it is hard to con- ceive should contain no possibilities of transmitting and receiving intelligence. Rays of light will not pierce through a wall, nor, as we know only too well, through a London fog. But the electrical vibra- tions of a yard or more in wave-length of which I have spoken will easily pierce such mediums, which to them will be transparent. Here, then, is revealed the bewildering possibility of telegraphy with- out wires, posts, cables, or any of our present costly appliances. Granted a few reasonable postulates, the whole thing comes well within the realms of possible 94 SOME POSSIBILITIES OF ELECTRICITY. fulfilment. At the present time experi- adopted, the correspondents must attune mentalists are able to generate electrical their instruments to a definite wave- waves of any desired wave-length from a length, say, for example, fifty yards. I few feet upwards, and to keep up a suc- assume here that the progress of discovery cession of such waves radiating into space would give instruments capable of adjust- in all directions. It is possible, too, with ment by turning a screw or altering th~ some of these rays, if not with all, to re- length of a wire, so as to become recep- fract them through suitably shaped bodies tive of wave-lengths of any preconcerted acting as lenses, and so direct a sheaf of length. Thus, when adjusted to fifty rays in any given direction; enormous yards, the transmitter might emit, and the lens-shaped masses of pitch and similar receiver respond to, rays varying between bodies have been used for this purpose. forty-five and fifty-five yards, and be silent Also an experimentalist at a distance can to all others. Considering that there receive some, if not all, of these rays on would be the whole range of waves t~ a properly constituted instrument, and by choose from, varying from a few feet t& concerted signals messages in the Morse several thousand miles, there would be code can thus pass from one operator to sufficient secrecy; for curiosity the most another. What, therefore, remains to be inveterate would surely recoil from the discovered is firstly, simpler and more task of passing in review all the millions. certain means of generating electrical rays of possible wave-lengths on the remote of any desired wave-length, from the chance of ultimately hitting on the partic- shortest, say of a few feet in length, which ular wave-length employed by his friends will easily pass through buildings and fogs, whose correspondence he wished to tap. to those long waves whose lengths are By codino~ the message even this measured by tens, hundreds, and thou- remote chance of surreptitious straying sands of miles; secondly, more delicate could be obviated. receivers which will respond to wave- This is no mere dream of a visionary lengths between certain defined limits and philosopher. All the requisites needed to be silent to all others; thirdly, means of bring it within the grasp of daily life are darting the sheaf of rays in any desired well within the possibilities of discovery, direction, whether by lenses or reflectors, and are so reasonable and so clearly in by the help of which the sensitiveness of the path of researches which are now be- the receiver (apparently the most difficult ing actively prosecuted in every capital of of the problems to be solved) would not Europe that we may any day expect to need to be so delicate as when the rays to hear that they have emerged from the be picked up are simply radiating into realms of speculation into those of sober space in all directions,~ and fading away fact. Even now, indeed, telegraphing according to the law of inverse squares. without wires is possible within a restricted Any two friends living within the radius radius of a few hundred yards, and some of sensibility of their receiving i nstru- years ago I assisted at experiments where ments, having first decided on their special messages were transmitted from one part wave-length and attuned their respective of a house to another without an interven- instruments to mutual receptivity, could ing wire by almost the identical means thus communicate as long and as often as here described. they pleased by timing the impulses to The discovery of a receiver sensitive produce long and short intervals on the to one set of wave-lengths and silent to ordinary Morse code. At first sight an others is even now partially accomplished. objection to this plan would be its want of The human eye is an instance supplied by secrecy. Assuming that the correspond- nature of one which responds to the nar- ents were a mile apart, the transmitter row range of electro-magnetic impulses would send out the waves in all directions, between the three ten-millionths of a mil- filling a sphere a mile in radius, and it limetre and the eight ten-millionths of a would therefore be possible for any one millimetre. It is not improbable that other living within a mile of the sender to re- sentient beings have organs of sense which ceive the communication. This could be do not respond to some or any of the rays got over in two ways. If the exact posi- to which our eyes are sensitive, but are tion of both sending and receiving instru- able to appreciate other vibrations to ments were accurately known, the rays which we are blind Such beings would could be concentrated ~vith more or less practically be living in a different world exactness on the receiver. If, however, from our own. Imagine, for instance, what the sender and receiver were moving idea we should form of surrounding ob about, so that the lens device could not be jects were we endowed with eyes not sen SOME POSSIBILITIES OF ELECTRICITY. 95 sitive to the ordinary rays of light but sensitive to the vibrations concerned in electric and magnetic phenomena. Glass and crystal would be among the most opaque of bodies. Metals would be more or less transparent, and a telegraph wire through the air would look like a long, narrow hole drilled through an impervious solid body. A dynamo in active work would resemble a conflagration, whilst a permanent magnet would realize the dream of medi~val mystics and become an everlasting lamp with no expenditure of energy or consumption of fuel. In some parts of the human brain may lurk an organ capable of transmitting and receiving other electrical rays of wave.lengths hitherto undetected by in- strumental means. These may be instru- mental in transmitting thought from one brain to another. In such a way the rec- ognized cases of thought transference, and the many instances of coincidence would be explicable. I will not speculate on the result were we eventually to catch and harness these brain-waves. Whatever be the length of the electric wave, the velocity with which it travels is constant, and is equal to th6 velocity of light, or about one hundred and eighty thousand miles a second. Professor Oli- ver Lodge, who has worked for some years on these subjects, gives * formul~ for cal- culating the frequency of vibration and the wave-length of the electrical rays given by the discharge of Leyden jars of differ- ent capacities. The bigger the jar and the greater the size of the circuit the longer will be the waves. Thus, a pint jar discharging through a two-yard circuit will give waves of a length of fifteen or twenty metres, and they will follow each other at the rate of ten millions a second. A jar the size of a thimble will give waves only about two or three feet long, and they will succeed one another at the rate of two hundred and fifty or three hundred millions a second. With every diminution in size of the apparatus the wave-lengths get shorter, and could we construct Leyden jars of molecular dimen- sions, Professor Lodge considers the rays might fall within the narrow limits of visi- bility. We do not know the ultimate structure of a molecule sufficiently to un- derstand how it could act as a Leyden jar; yet it is not improbable that the discontin- uous phosphorescent light emitted from certain of the rare earths, when excited by a high tension current of electricity in a * Modern Views of Electricity, pp. 2467. good vacuum, is really an artificial produc- tion of these electric waves, sufficiently short to affect our organs of vision. If such a light could be produced more easily and more reoularly, it would be far more economical than light from a flame or from the arc or incandescent lamp, as very little of the energy is expended in the form of heat rays. Of such production of light nature supplies us with examples in the glow-worm and the fire-flies, whose light, though sufficiently energetic to be seen at a considerable distance, is accompanied by no liberation of heat capable of detec- tion by our most delicate instruments. By means of currents alternating with very high frequency, Professor Nikola Tesla has succeeded in passing by induc- tion, through the glass of a lamp, energy sufficient to keep a filament in a state of incandescence without the use of connect- ing wires. These lamps possess one in- teresting feature they can be rendered at will more or less brilliant by simply alter- ing the relative position of the outside and inside condenser coatings. If exhausted glass tubes are used as the source of light, very beautiful effects are produced. The electric generator is capable of exciting the tubes at a considerable distance, and the luminous effects are very striking. For instance, if a tube be taken in one hand, the observer being near the gen- erator, it will be brilliantly lighted, and will remain so, no matter in what position it is held relatively to the observers body. Even with tubes having no electrodes there is no difficulty in producin0, by this means sufficient light to read by, and the light will be considerably increased by the use of phosphorescent materials, such as yttria, uranium-glass, etc. The ideal way of lighting a room would be by creating in it a powerful, rapidly alternating electrostatic field, in which a vacuum tube could be moved and put any- where, and lighted without being metalli- cally connected with anything. Professor Tesla has obtained such a condition by suspending, some distance apart, tw~ sheets of metal, each connected with one of the terminals of the induction coil. If an exhausted tube is carried anywhere between these plates it remains always luminous. In such a room, in addition to the luminous phenomena mentioned, it is observed that any insulated conductor gives sparks when the hand or any other object is approached to it, and the sparks may often be powerful. Alternating currents have at best a somewhat doubtful reputation; but it fol 96 SOME POSSIBILITIES OF ELECTRICITY. lows from Teslas researches that, as the rapidity of the alternation increases, they become incomparably less dangerous. It further appears that a true flame can now be produced without chemical aida flame which yields light and heat without the consumption of material and without any chemical process. To this end we require improved methods for producing excessively frequent alternations and enor- mous potentials. The energy required is very small, and if light can be obtained as efficiently as, theoretically, it appears pos- sible, the apparatus need have but a very small output. For the production of light at least, the heavy machinery at present in use would seem to be unnecessary. There being a strong probability that the illumi- nating methods of the future will involve the use of very high potentials, one of the problems in the near future will be to per- fect a contrivance capable of converting the energy of heat into energy of the re- quired form. The extent to which this new method of illumination may be practi- cally available experiment alone can de- cide. In any case our insight into the possibilities of static electricity have been extended, and the ordinary electrostatic machine will cease to be regarded as a mere toy. Another tempting field of research, scarcely yet attacked by pioneers, awaits exploration. I allude to the mutual action of electricity and life. No sound man of science endorses the assertion that elec- tricity is life; nor can we ever venture to speak of life as one of the varieties or manifestations of energy. Nevertheless, electricity has an important influence upon vital phenomena, and is in turn set in ac- tion by the living being, animal or vegeta- ble. We have electric fishesone of them the prototype of the torpedo of mod- ern warfare. There is the electric sluo which is reported to have been met with in gardens and roads about Hornsey Rise, and which, if touched, occasioned a mo- mentary numbness of the finger-tip. There is also an electrical centipede. In the study of such facts and such relations the scientific electrician has before him an almost infinite field of inquiry. If we take a birds-eye view of the solid work that lies ahead, the first requisite is certainly a source of electricity cheaper and more universally applicable than the tedious conversion of chemical energy into heat, of heat again into mechanical power, and of such power into electric current. It is depressing to reflect that this roundabout process, with losses at every step, is still our best means of ob.. taming a supply of electricity. Until this is accomplished, we are still haunted by the steam-engine with its clouds of smoke and its heaps of cinders and ashes. Water power to set dynamos in action is only available in exceptional cases, and very rarely indeed in our country. Whilst we are seeking for cheaper sources of elec- tricity, no endeavor must be spared to tame the fierceness of those powerful alternating currents now so largely used. Too many clever electricians have shared the fate of Tullus Hostilius, who, accord- ing to the Roman myth, incurred the wrath of Jove for practising magical arts, and was struck dead with a thunderbolt. In modern language, he was simply working with a hiah tension current, and, inad- vertently touching a live wire, got a fatal shock. We know that the rays of the arc light, allowed to act judiciously on plants, may, to a more or less extent, compensate for lack of solar heat and light; but so long as electric energy is so costly, we cannot bring this interesting fact into industrial practice. In respect to vegetation, it is still uncertain whether electrical currents exercise any decided or uniform influence upon growing crops of grain or fruit; or whether such influence would be favorable or the reverse. Experiments tried by the late Sir W. Siemens lead to the opinion that electricity may induce earlier and better harvests; but much further study is here needed. Nor have we yet solved the equally important and closely con- nected question, whether we may by elec- trical action rout the parasitical insects and fungi which in some seasons rob us of no less than the tenth of our crops. A moderate estimate puts the mean loss in the home kingdoms at iz,ooo,ooo per annum. In India and some of the colo- nies, a number of destroyers, which it is not my business to specify, are less easily contented. Like Falstaff, in the words of Dame Quickly, they seek to take, not some, but all. The attacks of the phyl- loxera have cost our French neighbors more than did the Franco-Prussian war. It has been found in not a few experi- ments that electric currents not only give increased vigor to the life of the higher plants, but tend to paralyze the baneful activity of parasites, animal and vegeta- ble. Here, then, is unlimited scope for practical research, in which the electrical engineer must join forces with the farmer, the gardener, and the vegetable physi- ologist. We have definitely to decide SOME POSSIBILITIES OF ELECTRICITY. 97 whether, and under what circumstance, electricity is beneficial to our crops; and whether, and under what conditions, it is deadly to parasitic pests. With regard to the possible applications of electricity to agriculture, 1 may mention that the total amount of vis viva which the sun pours out yearly upon every acre of the earths surface, chiefly in the form of heat, is eight hundred thousand horse- power.* Of this mighty supply of energy a flourishing crop utilizes only thirty-two hundred horse-power, so that the energy wasted per acre of land is seven hundred and ninety-six thousand eight hundred horse-power. We talk loudly of the im- portance of utilizing the refuse of our man- ufactures; but what is the value of alkali waste, of furnace slags, of coal tar, or of all of them together, compared to the loss of seven hundred and ninety-six thousand eight hundred horse-power per acre? The application of electricity to sanitary improvements is another possibility, turn- ing again mainly on a cheap supply of current. The electrical treatment and purification of sewage and industrial waste waters is a demonstrated reality which merely requires a reduction in the cost of the agent employed. The sterilization, i.e., the destruction of disease germs by electrical means, of the water supply of cities has been pro- posed and discussed. Theoretically, it is possible, but the practical difficulty of dealing with the vast volumes of water required for the daily consumption of Lon- don is prodigious. But, a difficulty, said Lord Lyndhurst, is a thing to be overcome. There is a still more impor- tant consideration the living organisms in water are by no means all pathogenic many are demonstratively harmless, and others are probably beneficial. Pasteur proposed to bring up young animals on sterilized food and drink with a view to determine whether their health and devel- opment would be affected for the better or for the worse. Decisive results are not yet forthcoming. Before the sterilization of our water sources can be prudently un- dertaken, this great question must be first decided by experimental biologists. Another point at which the practical electrician should aim is nothing less than the control of the weather. We are told that these islands have no climate * The Perplexed Farmer, by George Ville. English edition, by W. Crookes. LIVING AGL VOL. LXXVIIL 4007 merely samples that an English summer consists of three fine days and a thunder- storm, and that the only fruit that ripens with us is a baked apple. There is more than a grain of truth in this sarcasm. The great evil of a thunderstorm in this coun- try is not that the lightning may kill a man or a cow, or set barns or stacks on fire. The real calamity consists in the weather being upset. The storm is fol- lowed by a fall of temperature; and a fit of rain, clouds, and wind, which rarely lasts less than a week, sadly interferes with the growth and ripening of grain and fruits. The question is, Cannot the accumulations of electric energy in the atmosphere be thwarted, dispersed, or turned to practical use? In like manner we may hope to abate the terrible fog nuisance, ~vhich is now in point of time no longer confined to the month of November, and by no means limits its attacks to London. It has been shown that during a genuine London fog the air is decidedly electro-positive. What the effect would be of neutralizing it would not be very difficult to show. We hear of attempts at rain-making said to have been more or less successful. Shall we ever be able, not to reduce our rainfall in quantity, but to concentrate it on a smaller number of days, so as to be freed from a perennial drizzle? I shall, perhaps, be styled a dreamer, or something worse, if I remotely hint at still further amending the ways of nature. We all know, too well, that cloudiness and rainfall occur chiefly by day, and clear skies at night. This is precisely the op- posite distribution to that which our crops require. We need clear heavens by day, that the supply of sunshine may not be interfered with, and we want clouds at night to prevent the earth losing by radia- tion the heat which it has gained in the day. As we have just seen, nature sup- plies energy amply sufficient. How is this enormous quantity of power to be made available? These are problems which may safely be left to the devices and the inspirations of our electrical engi- neers. I have thus glanced at some of the intri- cate electrical problems to be solved some of the enormous difficulties to be surmounted. Progress, a word now in the mouth of every one, may as Dean Swift observed be too fast for endurance. Sufficient for this generation are the won- ders thereof I WILLIAM CROOKES. 98 STATESMEN OF EUROPE. From The Leisure Hour. STATESMEN OF EUROPE. RUSSIA. I. IN speaking of Russian statesmen we are able only to consider those men who occupy posts which in western Europe would be called ministerial, because, in point of fact, Russia has no statesmen according to our acceptation of the term. Of official administrators Russia has enough and to spare; the life of a man would not suffice to enumerate and de- scribe them all. The country is eaten up by a very plague of officialdom. Had it five-sixths fewer of these men and a larger measure of self-government and personal liberty, our daily papers would be less full of thrilling and heart -rending tales re- garding the deeds and misdeeds of official tyranny in Holy Russia. But Russia, as we all know, is an autocracy, the most terrible, most crushing that exists in Eu- rope; indeed, the last survival of that system which was long ago abolished in more civilized lands, and to which the French Revolution gave the coupdegrdce. In constitutional countries the will of the people counts for something, indeed, for much ; the monarch or the president is only the emblem of that power merely its visible impersonation; the min- isters are the executors and commentators of the will of the nation. If they mis- represent or misinterpret this will, they must cede their posts to other function- aries more perspicacious or more honest. There are, of course, men whose patriotic desires and ambitions are ahead of the people they represent, men who know how to point out new roads, new methods, towards progress and civilization. The will of such men is not, however, forced on the people by law, but by eloquent appeals from the tribune. Nothing of this kind exists, even in embryo, in Russia, that land of pure despotism, influenced by divers streams of tendency; that of Tartar barbarism and that of Byzantine exhaustion; a people, in short, of whom it may surely be said that it shows signs of rottenness before ever it has attained to maturity. In Russia the will of the nation is a thing unknown, the Russian czar is the only individual who has an un- limited power, and therefore possesses the possibility of manifesting his own will; hence his will is the law, and no other practically exists throughout the country. In western Europe the ministers serve the kingdom the interest of the natioa and are therefore called servants of the State; in Russia they serve the czar, and are hence known as servants of the czar. And they are nothing else. This expres- sion that they are servants of the czar is continually in the mouth of Russian offi- cials. For this reason we assert that Russia has no statesmen; still, whoever thinks that Russia is governed solely by the czar and his supreme will is utterly in error. In Russia whoever has physical force has power, says one of their prov- erbs, and on this account in Russia every petty official rules. This fact is so noto- rious that even Nicholas I., that political Torquemada, himself recognized that Russia is governed by chefs du bureau. And in point of fact wherever irresponsi- bility has sway, where law does not exist, the very sentiment of legality is absent;. where military discipline takes the place of moral force there can be no possibility either of ceding or of obeying. Each offi- cial rules according to his own ideas and methods, and consequently in Russia there are as many State functionaries as there are officials, and of these the number is innumerable. Before proceeding to describe the pres- ent Russian ministers, it may be well to say a few words about the method in which in Russia the will of the czar is made man- ifest, and what is held incumbent on a Russian minister. We must bear in mind that the czar is sufficiently independent in his actions to be able to formulate a law without his ministers, without calling to- gether the Cabinet, or without presenting the law before his councillors. The law thus formed is then promulgated by the Senate, and is made known to the minister whom it concerns let us suppose for a moment the minister of foreign affairs, who is called upon to put it into execution. On this account the ukase, for thus the personal laws of the czar are designated, is accompanied by a circular which eluci- dates the matter in question; this is sent to the governor of the city, or, if it be in the provinces, to the governor-general. The ukase is generally expounded in such a fashion that the will of the czar occupies a very small place, and that the ministerial circular, often diametrically opposed in spirit to the law in question as at first formulated, entirely overshadows the im- perial restriction. The governor or gov- ernor-general, after having received the ministerial circular, finds it necessary to furnish it with comments; and in his turn he changes the sense of the ministerial cir RUSSIA. cular according to his own views and ideas. He then sends the circular, thus retouched and corrected, to other dignitaries, who once more on their part expand it and re- touch it, and send it to their underlings furnished with their personal comments. Thus manipulated, corrected, expanded, the decree finally reaches the head officer of the district, which latter, usually with- out comment, throws the pile of papers into the waste-paper basket, and announces to the authorities that their will is exe- cuted. We have cited as an example the case of a law emanating from the czar on his own personal initiative, but in practice a similar case rarely exists; few czars, com- mencing with Peter the Great, have had or have personal initiative; and the pres- ent czar, especially, rarely signs anything except what his ministers lay before him forsi~naturethatis to say, he signs it if it happens to please him, or if his hu- mor is that way inclined; and it must be said that a Russian czar hardly ever studies seriously and carefully what is placed be- fore him for signature. The present czar, for example, has a special horror of volu- minous reports, and above all of those that relate to official questions. Docu- ments relating to matters of this kind, all of which are very long, he signs bond fide without examination in order to have done with them the sooner. The only reports that really interest him are those of the minister of war; but even here it is not so much the military and technical ques- tior~s that attract him, as nice points re- garding the cut of a uniform, or some petty detail of the soldiers dress. After the minister of war, he gives special attention to the reports of the minister for foreign affairs, and also to those of the function- aries who are charged to search after the revolutionary hydra. The minister of public instruction also enjoys some special attention from the czar, perhaps because his reports are never complicated and ex- ceedingly brief. It is thus that the law in Russia issues forth from the portfolios of the ministers, to submit to all those transformations which render the convo- lutions of the Circumlocution Office, as satirized by Dickens, a trifle in compari- son. Notwithstanding that this is how things are really done; according to the Russian Statute Book, before the project of any new law is signed by the czar, it should be considered by a committee of ministers, and if approved by them should be passed into one of the departments of the Imperial Council, where it must be 99 unanimously approved, and where, if not approved, it must be laid before the as- sembled committee of another department of the Imperial Council, inorderthat here, if possible, it may obtain a majority of votes. The law, thus approved and thus examined, should then, arid only then, ac- cording to the Russian Statute Book, be laid before the czar for signature. But since in Russia the Statute Book is one thing, and the only real Statute Book and law is the will of the czar, this order is rarely carried into effect, and a document, no matter in what manner it has been put together, is laid before the czar for his signature, and becomes i~softzcto a law. Thus recently the law regarding the ex- pulsion of the Hebrews from Moscow was decreed without acquainting the com- niittee of ministers or the Imperial Coun- cil. It was settled upon simply after a report handed in by the minister of foreign affairs, who had been encouraged to this step by the Grand Duke Sergius Alexan- drovitch. On the other hand, it must not be thought that even if a project of law has been approved and discussed by the majority of ministers, on this account it will be approved bythe czar. Itnotrarely happens that Alexander III. will accept a law in the sense desired by the minority rather than the majority of his ministers, above all if among this minority he finds some of his favorites. Thus the law re- lating to the district commanders, one of the most reactionary that has been passed in that reactionary country for many a long year, and which has produced a rad- ical transformation in the entire internal organization of the empire, and has placed in the power of the nobles all Russia that is not noble, was approved by the czar in favor of the minority of his ministers. Such preference for the views of the mi- nority can only be explained by the fact that the czar dreads the least approach to a constitutional form of government; and the system which prevailed before the re- institution of these district commanders left a certain amount of self-government in the hands of various communes. This re-institution of district commanders is the bitter root of the aristocratic tree which the late Count Tolstoi planted but too suc- cessfully in Russian soil. Russia is a peasant State; the interests of the rural classes should be paramount, their tacit support ought to be essential for the main- tenance of any form of government. Alex- ander II. recognized this, and that is why he emancipated the serfs; his son, who is anxious to undo the few reforms that his 100 STATESMEN OF EUROPE. father inaugurated, has abolished at one stroke the peasants right to self-govern- ment by thus placing above them these district commanders, and has re-introduced that system of unalloyed bureaucracy above and practical serfdom below which is the sum total of the changes introduced in Holy Russia under the reign of the present czar. But even the present czar had not the courage totally to abolish the antique institution founded about a hun- dred years ago, when a liberal wave swept over Russia, which gave to the peasants their village tribunals and a good deal of personal independence. He managed in- stead to reduce to zero the significance of this privilege, by placing above them those district commanders, whom they are not at liberty to elect, and who unite in their persons the functions both of ad- ministrators and judges, and who must be, moreover, hereditary nobles. All other qualifications for this important post, edu- cation, and even property, may be dis- pensed with ; but hereditary nobles they must be, and here lies the political mean- ing of this reform. Of the issuing of ukases, of the making of laws, there is no end in Holy Russia it is the same here as with the officials; there are too many of them, and they do not do their duty. As Count Vasili, a friendly critic of things Russian, has re- marked: The greatest misfortune of Russia is that she possesses a quantity of good laws, of excellent measures for pub lic order, but that these laws and these measures only exist upon paper, and are never put in force. There are in Russia in all ten ministers, and five assistant ministers or heads of departments who enjoy the same rights as the ministers. They consist of the impe- rial controller, who directs the chancellery of the emperor, the administrator of the chancellery of the empress, the adminis- trator of the chancellery of the supplica- tions addressed to his Imperial Majesty, and last, but not least, the procurator- general of the Holy Russian Synod. It is the czar himself who nominates the ministers, who dismisses them, who remu- nerates them, who punishes them. They are his personal servants, called on to execute his personal will. Russian min- isters, notwithstanding the multifarious duties thrust on them, have at bottom but one duty to fulfil, and this is the protection and conservation of the life of the czar and the maintenance of the monarchical principle in the most antiquated and des- potic form, The interest of the nation, of the people whose territory is the largest in the world, not only is forgotten, but does not even enter into the limit of the functions of these ministers, or into the principles upon which they govern. The most important functionary in Rus- sia is the minister of the interior. To this minister, above all others, pertains as his chief duty the protection of the sacred person of the monarch; he too must above all others uphold the inviolability of his Majestys autocracy. Now since defence in its most elementary sense means mili- tary and police force, the post of minister of the interior was for a long time given by preference to military men, such as re- tired generalsmen who did not need to have great professional courage, but who understood how to maintain a severe mil- itary discipline amoog their subordinates, and, better still, understood the art of spreading terror in the breasts of pacific citizens, so that they might not even dream of rebelling or revolting against superior corn mands. The murder of Alexander II. demon- strated two things to the Russian authori- ties : in the first instance, that the minister of the interior, chosen from among the generals of the army, was not on that ac- count necessarily in a position to protect the life of the czar; and in the second place it proved how unfounded was the idea that had become current under Alex- ander II.s more liberal rigime, that a few concessions accorded to the people would suffice to render the personal security of the czar greater, and to engender patriotic feelings. Once these facts were so plainly evinced by the murder of the autocrat, his son and successor Alexander III. decided that in future he should nominate civilians to the important post. The first person chosen under this new rigime was the ex-diplomat Ignatieff. Ignatieff is a man of whom much has been said and written, and concerning whom the most contradic- tory statements are afloat. He was cer- tainly intelligent, but he had too much of the Slav easy-going and indolent character to be a good ruler of men. Ambitious, vacillating, desirous to be all things to all men, he gave with one hand and took back with the other. Lavish in promises, he was lax in their performance. Further, he had no organizing capacity, and while desirous to change, ameliorate, and reform the chaotic conditions he found reigning in his ministry, lie was quite incapable of tackling with so gigantic a task. On his fall he was succeeded by Count Dimitri Tolstoi,one of the most despotic and retro RUSSIA. or grade officials it has been the fate of Rus- sia, which has brought about much in this respect, to produce. Certainly the assas- Lination of the late czar Alexander II. was not merely a crime, but a blunder. As George Brandes, the eminent Danish critic has justly observed: Nothing has set Russia further backward than this occurrence, which was pregnant with misfortune. It immediately prevented the formation of a sort of parliamentary constitution which had just then been promised. It frightened the successor to the crown back from the paths his father had entered upon at the beginning of his reign, and it seemed to justify the rulers in reprisals and measures of persecution of every kind. Alexander Ill, selected his instrument well when he elected Count D. Tolstoi to fill the post left vacant by Igna- tieff. A very different man was this, neither vain nor ambitiousa calm, glacial person who neither ceded nor obeyed, who was inspired by all the fatal- ism, the superstition, those dominant char- acteristics, of the Slav, but who lacked the Slav enthusiasm and power of soaring. As Vasili remarks, he was .a mathema- tician grafted upon a tyrant. Before being called to fill the post of minister of the interior, he had been chief of the department of public instruction, and his elevation to the hi~her post struck terror into the hearts of all Russians. They knew how the universities and schools had trembled under his iron hand, and could foresee that in this new post his hand would weigh upon them no less heavily. The Liberals accused him of desiring to put into practice once more the despotism of ivan the Terrible, and it is certainly beyond question that under his r/girne Nihilism and discontent in all its various forms have increased in Russia. No man was ever more hated in a country than Tolstoi was in his; his name was exe- crated, his person detested and feared, but the emperor and the officials liked him. He served their purpose, their aims, and when he died in April, 1889, they mourned his loss as that of a good public servant. His policy cannot be stigmatized as vio- lently reactionary; had it been violent it would perhaps have met with more resist- ance. No, it was rather a persistent, steady policy of quiet opposition to all modern ideas. Monsieur Durnoff was chosen as his successor, who immediately made known to all his subordinates that he should follow entirely in the steps of his predecessorand so, indeed, he has faithfully done. He does all in his power to imitate Tolstoi ; but he lacks the energy of Tolstoi, the experience. Neither does he so fully understand State questions. Tolstoi was a fervent partisan of conserv- atism; that is to say, he recognized the necessity of the imperial autocracy, not so much in the name of the czar as in the name of the privileged classes, in the name of the rights of the nobles, im- pugned, according to the ideas of Tolstoi, if the people had also enjoyed some lib- erty. The system on which he worked was to subject and subdue the peasants, and to upraise and protect as far as possible the nobility, whose rights had become cur- tailed after the emancipation of the serfs under Alexander II. Seven years did the rule of Tolstoi endure, and for seven years this policy was consistently carried through. This is not the place to demonstrate all the absurdity of a similar system, of the fruitlessness of such efforts to return into antique roads which even Russia herself had abandoned during the last thirty years. For our purpose it is enough to say that only the czars want of perspicacity, the mediocrity of his intelligence, could have forced him thus blindly into the arms of Tolstoi ; because surely there is nothing more perilous for absolutism than to be surrounded with a strong nobility. But the czar could not see anything else in the measures of Tolstoi but the aspiration to institute a class that should form the prop and stay of the empire; and when Count Tolstoi died the czar telegraphed to his widow that the death of her husband was an irreparable loss, that it would be im- possible to find any one to take his place. Still, a substitute was found, but in choos- ing Durnoff to succeed Tolstoi, the czar showed that he did not desire to have about him a man of talent, but rather an obedient public servant. He doubtless feared that a capable and independently thinking man would break with the system which had now become a part and parcel of the institutions of the land, and with which his own name had become identi- fied. If William II. chose Caprivi as his chancellor instead of Bismarck, it was be- cause William desired to hold the reins of government in his own hands; for the same reason Alexander III. chose Durnoff to succeed Tolstoi, with the sole desire that Russia should continue to be governed according to the ideas of the defunct minister. Durnoff owes his career to a mere chance. When in 1881 General Ignatieff held the portfolio of minister of the inte Io~ STATESMEN OF EUROPE. nor, he begged the czar to nominate Dur- noff as his assistant, meaning a man of the same name with that of the actual minister, a friend of Ignatieff, and a good Slavo~ phile. Which Durnoff? asked the czar. That stupid general ? The governor of Ekaterinoslaff, promptly replied the ex-diplomat Igna- tieff, instantly observing that the czar was not too much disposed in favor of his pro- /egJ, and desiring to get out of the quan- dary in which he found himself. Now ignatieff knew nothing but the mere name of this Durnoff, and yet, no/ens va/ens, he had to accept him as his assistant. Thus a man who was nothing but a simple ad- ministrator came to hold one of the most important offices of State. When Igna- tieff was succeeded by Tolstoi, Durnoff was chosen to the post of head official of the chancellery of the emperor, and then was nominated minister of internal affairs. During the two years that he has held his post he has initiated no political measures, for all those passed under his rule were already prepared by Count Tolstoi, who thus continues, though dead, still to fill his original office. in fact, at present M. Durnoff has shown himself nothing but the political executor of his predecessor i.e., wholly opposed to the modern spirit, for those are the terms of the testament to which he gives effect. In the whole Western world the march of events is all one way; government becomes more and more self-government. In Russia, in so many respects a land of change, where the material novelties of XVestern civiliza- tion are greedily adopted and copied, the rulers are for the present steaming right against the stream which carries along the rest of Europe. Not only do they seem bent upon resisting demands for further popular reforms, but they are busy withdrawing some of those introduced by the late czar. The men most influential in the counsels of Alexander III. seem fairly persuaded that the telephone and electric light may be freely used without their spreading enlightenment among the masses, and that railroads and popular government have no rational connection. One of Durnoffs latest moves has been the publication of an ukase diminishing and abridging the jurisdiction of the Jury, in fact, leaving that tribunal next to noth- ing to do. To special courts composed of judges are ai~signed many of the crimes which a free people would consider pecul- .iarly fit to be decided by a popular tribunal that is to say, offences alleged to be committed by government officials, acts of insubordination or insults to such officials, and frauds orforgeries. Trial by jury has not been, it is said in justification of this measure, very successful in Russia; it was introduced crudely and hurriedly, and the people did not make better use of it as they became better accustomed to it. In Russia the juryman has been too much emotional and lenient; he has allowed hardened offenders, ~vhose guilt was man- ifest to every one, to escape for purely sentimental reasons; he is untrustworthy where a person happens to be charged with an offence against the State. These crtti- cisms concerning the failure of the system are not entirely unfounded, but, as one competent to speak has remarked It is hard to say whether the miscarriages of justice have been due more to the unfit- ness of the Russian people in their pres- ent conditions to make good use of an alien system, or to an ill-regulated desire to protest, in season and out of season, against abuses in the system of govern ment, and to employ those systems as an engine of agitation. Much the same charge was made as to the behavior of the district justices of the peace, who, it was said, would notput sentiment and politics aside, but persisted in being philanthro- pists and reformers. That is why they too have been replaced by the new district administrators, nobles and landowners, who it is thought are likely to act more to the satisfaction of the minister of the inte- rior. Yet another backward step has been the formation of the State police into a powerful independent department entirely distinct from the Home Office. This de- partment is also presided over by a Dur- noff, cousin of the above. With bitter sad truth it may be said that in the hands of this Durnoff lies the destiny of all the Russians, since it is his office to persecute all revolutionary elements. It is a curious fact worth naming that this man is greatly interested in the young Russian literature, and that his favorite authors are Corolenco and Potapenko, the latter the author of that successful book lately translated into English under the title of A Russian Priest. Were it not for the fact that Potapenko writes in a manner that attracts the favor of Dur- noff, doubtless this exquisite literary gem would have been put under the ban of the censorship, for what are its contents but a preaching of doctrines of the truest toler- ance and freedom from prejudice? The tendency of Corolencos writings, too, is purely humanitarian, and gently opposed RUSSIA. 103 to all tyranny and oppression; and yet the man who likes to read such writers op- presses his countrymen beyond all powers of endurance, were not Russian powers of endurance so marvellously great. A sim- ilar combination of cynical arbitrariness and barbarous cruelty, even Russia, accus- tomed to much in this respect, has not possessed for some while past. It is in Durnoffs power to condemn men to exile for life on such charges as that of belong- ing to a society that intends at a more or less remote time in the future to overthrow the existing form of government. In a country in which every action of the life of a citizen, even the most private, is regulated by rules formulated by the police, it is obvious how important is this post held by M Durnoff. To read some of the police regulations ~ould raise a smile on civilized lips, did not the full sadness of it all weigh on us, and did we not realize what terrible suffering this rigid oppression means to thousands of our fellow-creatures. The legislation re- lating to the police fills more than five thousand sections in the collection of Russian laws; and it is no exaggeration to say that in the villages, away from the centres of education and enlightenment, the police are the omnipresent and omnip- otent regulators of all human conduct, a sort of incompetent bureaucrat substitute for Divine Providence. They determine when people should partake of the holy communion, they regulate the sale of tooth-powder, of soap, of starch, of bril- liantine, of insect-powder; it is necessary to offer for their supervision the visiting- cards of all the citizens, their seals, their rubber stamps; to take a book out of the library requires a permission from the police; in short it would he impossible to follow them through their multifarious duties. It is strange that the preposterous absurdity of the whole system, its expense, its ultimate inefficiency, does not strike the advisers of the czar, who, after all, are some of them men of brains and of West- ern culture. But the police are venal and corrupt, and are besides very frequently men of far less brains and intellectual re- source than those whom they are set over to watch. Hence it is possible to evade and mislead them. Were it not so, life in Russia would be even more terrible than it already is. Let us leave this sad theme and turn to yet another minister whose elevation to his post raised great hopeshopes that, however, have scarcely been fulfilled. We refer to the minister of finance, Vischne gradsky. The mere nomination of this man in i886 to be a member of the Supe- rior Council caused a sensation in the best Russian society. Up to this time there had been nominated as administra- tors in the Imperial Council only such men as occupied high posts, like gov- ernor-generals, senators, and the like. There were only two examples in which persons who had not previously occupied some post in a high administration were chosen into this Council, and they were the Count Dobrinsky and Galasce no. But the former was the chief of the nobles of the district of St. Petersburg, and by electing him as member of the Imperial Council it was shown how great an impor- tance was attached to the nobility the second had shown himself an able man on divers occasions. In any case the reputa- tion of the two members had not been in any way tarnished beforehand. With re- gard to Vischnegradsky matters stood very differently. At the time of his elec- tion he was known not so much as a professor and director of the Technical Institute of St. Petersburg, as he was notorious for being a sort of underhand stockbroker, who, in his position as presi- dent of the district and director of a rail- way, was able to bull and bear shares according to his own profit. Whoever understands what is meant by a railway company in Russia will know how these companies rob the government without mercy, and will also know how the main art of the director consists in misleading the government in the most able manner in order to enrich himself at their expense. And now all of a sudden a director of this kind, and above all one who enjoyed the reputation of being an especially sharp card, was elected to form a member of the Imperial Council that is to say, was called upon to protect the interests of the government and of society. After this, his further elevation as minis- ter of finance no longer astonished any- body, for all had foreseen that his previous nomination was only the first step towards a portfOliO. Vischnegradsky owes the high post he now occupies almost entirely to the defunct editor of the Moskowskia Vedornosli, the notorious Katkoff, a jour- nalist who enjoyed the special confidence of the czar. Katkoff knew how to per- suade his friend Tolstoi, then the minister of the interior, that no one was better suited for recommendation to the czar than Vischnegradsky, who was so learned in all financial matters. Notwithstanding, at that moment Visch 104 STATESMEN OF EUROPE. negradsky was not elected. In his place was chosen N. C. Bunghe, who held the post of president of the Council of Minis- ters. Bunghe, who had been a professor of political economy, directed the ministry from i88t to 1887, and left a good memory behind him, thanks to his attempts to regulate factory labor and his desire to lighten the burden of the taxes and to cause them to bear more heavily upon cap- ital and less heavily upon labor. As might be expected, his attempts only remained good intentions, for they met with formi- dable opposition in the Russian merchant class, especially among the merchants of Moscow, who found an able defender in the person of Katkoff. Profiting on the one hand by his own personal influence, and on the other taking advantaae of the well-known fact that Bunghe was opposed to limiting the liberty of the press, Kat- koff, by means of his paper, daily lashed the minister of finance, declaring that he was the cause of all the miseries under which the country groaned, accusing him of Liberalism, of Nihilism, and even of revolutionary leanings. This paper war continued for a long while, until at last Katkoff won, and Bunghe was replaced by Vischnegradsky Under this new minister the commercial classes rejoiced. The Russian merchant is retrograde, lazy, bigoted, and ignorant; he understands but one way of enriching himself, and that is by means of prohibi- tive taxes; and the new minister followed the protectionist policy ~ outrance. The interest of the people, of the laborino~ classes, was totally ignored. Accustomed to the manipulation of stocks and shares, the minister, instead of occupying himself with radical reforms, busied himself with various Stock Exchange interests, think- ing by this means to raise Russian credit. But these operations have not helped him whatever manipulations he may try to make with Russian paper money, the Rus- sian rouble will not on this account obtain a fixed value in the European market. All these conversions of Russian credit, the issue of new shares with or without interest, the buying of gold, and much besides, are powerless to ameliorate the state of the Russian peasant, of the Rus- sian artisan; nor do they enable the peo- ple to develop their industry or their commerce; they have not the power to satisfy the consumer. Vischnegradsky vaunts as one of his merits the lack of a deficit in his budget during the last two years; but during these years Russian harvests had been especially good, and had contributed to make the rouble rise in value, augmenting the contributive force of the people. Besides, and this is most essential, the absence of a deficit is only important when the imports are so great that they cover the exports; but if the absence of a deficit is due only to no costs having been incurred for the necessities of the people, this balance only reveals their horrible poverty, and not the normal equipoise. And under a deficit we must understand the disproportion between the needs of a nation and the means to sat- isfy them. It is only a Russian minister of finance ~vho judges the solidity of an institution in the sense of an equipoise of the budget in measures purely financial and fiscal, and not in economical measures that embrace the whole of a peoples life, industrial and social. Notwithstanding that Vischnegradsky has been a professor, and therefore is a man of some learning, notwithstanding that he was educated in Paris, scarcely did he become minister than he grew to hate publicity of every kind. A journal or review, no matter which, if it permitted itself the smallest criticisms of his meas- ures, was immediately punished. Of re- cent times the Russian press has dared to write nothing concerning the ministry of finance except dithyrambics of the minis- ter of finance. Last year (1891) Visch- negradsky was especially proud of his budget, which, contrary to custom, was published in October instead of towards the end of December. This departure may probably be ascribed to his desire to prove to his French friends the sound- ness of the Russian financial position be- fore the issue of the forthcoming loan. The realization of the budget of 1890 showed a surplus of over sixty-five million roubles in the ordinary revenue over the ordinary expenditure; the ordinary expen- diture was eight hundred and seventy- eight million roubles. In the extraordinary budget the revenue amounted to one hun- dred and four million roubles, and the ex- penditure to one hundred and seventy-nine million roubles. Any one who carefully examines these figures will see that the deficit in the extraordinary revenue is larger than the surplus in ordinary rev- enue. The late minister of Russian finance, Bunghe, was always opposed to the idea of the conversion of all loans into a sole loan; he feared that the oscillations of the Stock Exchange might be so great as to sorely shake Russian credit. The oscillations in a variety of loans, oftea DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. Os contradictory among themselves, are not being of a land, we must concede that followed by grave consequences, and para- is to be admired, and that lyze one another. The present minister, he pursues a more patriotic policy than Vischnegradsky, starts from a diametri- that of all his adversaries united. This cally opposite point of view; his great idea policy, to which a certain originality can- is to effect the Unitarian loan, and he does not be denied, and which up to date has everything in his power to bring this had successful results, is inspired by the about. It was for this purpose that he patriotic.desire to emancipate Russia from tried to negotiate a loan from Rothschilds, the domination of foreign capitalists, to a loan that was refused because of the get rid of foreign money, reducing the persecution of the Hebrews in Russia, the interest due to the State, by continual Rothschilds not caring to give money to a conversions of the national loan. His country that might turn it against their definite desire is to put together a military brethren. By means of cajolery and the resource in view of a possible war, to most transparent flattery, the Russians accumulate in the strong boxes and the have now persuaded the French people cellars of the Imperial Bank of St. Peters- to give them the money desired. The burg an inalienable war-treasure five times affection at present existing between the as great as that which Prussia preserves greatest autocracy in Europe and a repub- so jealously in the Julius Thurm, near lic is a matter that causes laughter and Spandau, where three hundred and sixty amusement to unprejudiced spectators, million of marks, taken from the war in- and the wonder is merely how long this demnity paid by the French, have lain friendship will endure. It must be said in since 1871. justice to Vischnegradsky that he is not in favor of the persecution of the Jews; he is far too acute a financier not to recog- nize the great importance of the Hebrews From The Quarterly Review. on the Stock Exchange, and for this rea- son he has always been an upholder of DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. reli~ious tolerance. But for him the per- JAMES FRANCIS FITZJAMES STUART, secution against the Jews might have Duke of Liria and Xerica, Earl of Tyne- broken out sooner, and it is possible that mouth and Baron of Bosworth, is a per- this persecution may be the cause of his sonage not without interest to Englishmen. ultimate fall. It is a subject of constant His father was the Duke of Berwick, dispute between him and the minister of natural son of James II., and his mother the interior, who is the champion of intol- was Honora, Do~vager Countess of Lucan. erance and of rigorous measures; and it He ~vas born at St. Germain in October, is possible that Vischnegradsky might 1696, and James and his queen were his have overturned his adversary Durnoff on sponsors. So certain was Berwick of his this question, if Durnoff ~vere not the man own restoration to England that, on being of straw of the omnipotent president of created duke and peer of France, he ex- the Holy Synod, Pobi~donostzeff. cluded his eldest son from the succession, This infatuated zealot, who makes con- as being destined to inherit his English versions by force, even in the bosom of possessions. When these hopes waned, the imperial family, is the great enemy Berwick relinquished to his heir the duch- with whom Russia now has to combat ies of Liria and Xerica, once the appanage a man who desires nothing better than to of the infants of Aragon; and the young exterminate all Protestants, and all Cath- duke struck yet deeper root in Spain by olics who are not of the Orthodox Church, his marriage with the sister and heiress of and every Hebrew ever born upon the the wealthy Duke of Veragua. He was, earth. The czar, who has become yet moreover, endeared to Spaniards and to more bigoted than he already was, in con- the new Bourbon dynasty by his gallant sequence of the ill-fortune that seems to conduct in the War of Succession; and follow his steps and those of his family, for his services at Barcelona the golden has already sacrificed various ministers to fleece was placed round his neck by Pobi6donostzeff, and it is quite possible Philips own hands. Naturally devoted that he will in the end sacrifice to him the to the Stuart cause, the Duke of Liria minister of finance, should any notorious followed the Pretender to Scotland in financial failure come about. If we re- gard the question of a countrys finance Diario del Viale d Moscovia del EmbaJador financial side, and not as Duque de Liriay X~rica (1727-1730). Published in merely from the Colecci6o de Documeotos Ineditos para Ia Historia representing the general and real well- de Espaiia, Vol. XCIII. Madrid, s88g. io6 DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. 1715; and after hairbreadth escapes from countries, and seen extremely well. A shipwreck and dragoons, he made good thorough courtier, he could unbend with- his retreat to France. When Alberoni out sacrifice to dignity. So peculiar was ran his tilt against the powers of Europe, his talent for languages, that he could in 1718, the duke threw in his lot with speak Latin, French, Spanish, Italian, Spain, though his father commanded the English, Scotch, Irish, German, and Rus- French invading force. Yet he had never sian like a native. Passionately devoted bowed the knee to Alberoni ; and since to pleasure, he was made for a free, varied, the peace he had lived the uneventful life and agreeable social circle, which he did of a courtier as gentleman of the chamber. not find in Spain. The magnificent Duke of Arco, and the Enolish ministers formed a less flat- satirical Marquis of Santa Cruz, with our tering estimate of the duke. Scattered sprightly Duke of Liria, formed a trio of references to him are to be found in the inseparable friends, who gave to the mo despatches of Colonel Stanhope and notonous domesticity of Philip and Elisa- Benjamin Keene, and they are rarely beth what little life the court of Spain complimentary. This was partly due to possessed. It was under these circum- Hanoverian prejudice, for his palace was stances that the duke formed a close the asylum for all Jacobite refugees and friendship with St. Simon, who visited adventurers who starved or fattened on Spain as envoy extraordinary; and who Spanish bounty and credulity. Yet it is found at Lirias palace dinners and con- noticeable that the same criticisms are not versation more adapted to his taste than applied to the party leader, the Duke of the sweetmeats and solemnity of the in- Ormond. Lirias intimacy with the Duke digenous lertulia. St. Simon composed of Wharton was perhaps hardly creditable. his Memoirs in their present form in The formidable hero over his bottle, as later life, but they do not substantially this adventurer was termed by Holzen- differ from his less formal diaries. Their dorf,* was, wrote Stanhope, hardly ever interest for the present purpose lies in sober, and never had a pipe out of his the fact that it seems tolerably clear that mouth.f Keene was not unduly moderate, the diaries formed the model for the for the Ahb~ Montgon, who accompanied work under review; and the existence him to Gibraltar, was lost in admiration at of this work may be another obligation the geniality of this shrewd diplomatist in which posterity owes to St. Simon. The drinking level with the officers of the gar short characters, in particular, of the chief rison. Yet Keene also spoke contemp- personages at the various courts which tuously of Liria as the leader of the young Liria visited recall the sharp outlines of Jacks who in their cups restored the Pre- St. Simons sketches; to which indeed tender. Even after the close of the events they are scarcely, if at all, inferior. The recorded in his diary, when Liria, with a French writer has another point of con- considerable diplomatic reputation, was tact with the Spanish noblemans diary, sent to Vienna to forward an Anglo-Im- for it seems certain from the following penal alliance, he is described by Keene passage that he had read it: From his as but a vain, weak creature, full of proj- embassy the duke returned to Paris, where ects and suspicions, and consequently he consoled himself to the best of his difficult to treat with.t Readers of the ability for the ennui of Spain, and where diary will probably convince themselves we met each other again with great pleas- that there is some truth in Keenes sharp ure. He even wished to give me some criticisms, as well as in St. Simons pane- very curious pieces of his composition gyric. upon the court and government of Rus- Early in 1725 the diplomatic conscience sia.* It was these lines that led us to of Europe was shocked by the announce- welcome the publication of this diary, and ment of the unnatural alliance between to believe that it contained more interest- the two irreconcilable rivals of the War ing matter than the average of unpublished of Succession. Ripperd~, who, if not the documents, author, had been at least the agent of this St. Simon was professedly a panegyrist of his friend. He describes him as being * Holzendorf to Delafaye, April 29, t726. Record intelligent, honorable, and reasonably am- Office: Spatn, i~9. bitious. His conversation was very gay, a The Bavarian had promised to obtain for Stanhope instructive when he was made to detailed plan by Liria for the invasion of Scotland, and also but for ten whole days he was unable to procure it, talk about what he had seen in different because the duke was incessantly drinking with Whar ton. (Stanhope to Newcastle, May 6, 1726. Ibict) ~ Keene to Delafaye, April 13, 1731. Record Office M~m. de St. Simon, ed. Ch& uel, xviii. 23. Spain, 196. DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. 107 combination, fell a victim to the fire ~~hich he had kindled; but his fall only added fuel to the flames. In the autumn of 1726 over against the allies of Vienna stood the alliance of Hanover, composing France and England, to whom the States accorded grudging, and the king of Prussia untrust- worthy, support. In September, when its prospects seemed peculiarly gloomy, the court of Madrid was cheered by the news that the emperor had formed a close alli- ance with the czarina, the widow of Peter the Great. Stanhope gives a graphic picture of the excitement which this an- nouncement caused.* The czarinas fleet was believed to be at sea, and the war in the north begun; nothing was thought more certain than that the English Baltic squadron had been destroyed, the king of Prussia frightened from the alliance, while King George would in a few months iO5C his German electorate, and the Pretender be seated on the throne of England. The Duke of Liria publicly announced that it would shortly be a crime in Spain to men- tion George as king; he and his friends at a royal concert played the old Jacobite tune, The king shall enjoy his own again; and on an explanation of its meaning, the queen replied, I wish Stan- hope would come here that we might wel- come him with this tune. It was publicly stated in King Georges speech to Parlia- ment, and has been taken for granted since, that the Pretenders restoration was one of the very secret articles which sup- plemented the Treaty of Vienna.f This was not the case, but it was unquestionably included in the somewhat visionary pro- gramm e of the Spanish court, and Albe- roni s idea of throwing a Russian force upon the eastern coasts of Britain was revived. For this purpose it was essential to form a direct alliance with the Musco- vite court. Lirias personal friendship with his king and queen, his Jacobite en- thusiasm, his high rank and great social qualities, marked him out to be, as was believed, the first Spanish ambassador to the court of Russia. In December, 1726, his instructions, which are printed in an appendix to the diary, were presented to him. They provided for the formation of an alliance similar to that already existing between the czarina and the emperor, with such alterations as the different circum- stances demanded, especial precautions * Oct. 4, 1726. Record Office: Spain, ~ These very curious articles of which Von Arneth failed to discover the imperial copy exist in the arcisives of Alcal~ de Henares: Estado: Legajo, 3369, No. 31. being taken to throw cold water upon de- mands for extensive commercial privi- leges. The main object was the execution of a diversion upon England by the mo- bilization of a fleet, under some plausible pretext, at Archangel or elsewhere. Even a small number of troops would enable the Pretenders numerous partisans and the discontented classes to declare themselves, and great results would follow in favor of the Church, and the peace of Europe. Besides official instructions, the minister received others of a less formal and a somewhat miscellaneous character. He was ordered to hasten the march of the thirty thousand auxiliaries which the czar- ina had promised to the emperor, toamuse the Russian court by a proposal for a mar- riage between the Princess Natalia and I)on Carlos, who was seriously, however, intended for the Archduchess Maria The- resa, and en rou/etoeffecta reconciliation between the Pretender and his wife, whom his bad conduct had driven from her home. After visiting the Pretender at Bologna, he was instructed to enter into confidential communications with the court of Vienna, and thence to repair to those of Dresden and Berlin. Thus the dukes journey across Europe was a substantial part of his mission; and to this journey nearly a third part of his diary is devoted. Few persons probably could have described such close relations, in the course of three years, with the old and the youn~ Pretender, the Emperor Charles and Prince Eugene, Augustus the Strong and his successor, Frederick Wil- liam of Prussia and the great Frederick, Maurice of Saxony, who was to become celebrated as Marshal Saxe, the Czar Peter II., the Czarina Anna, and the future Czarina Elisabeth, in addition to all the important ministers of the empire, Sax- ony, Prussia, and Russia. The duke left Madrid on March io, 1727, his only companions for a great part of his journey being his valet and atlacki, for whom he formed a singular attach- ment. This latter was no less than an Irish captain of dragoons, one Don Ri- cardo Wail, of whom history had much to say hereafter. The diary illustrates the dangers of the Mediterranean coasts of France from African pirates, the grim horrors of the Riviera route, relieved only by San Remo with its groves of lemon and orange, stone-pine and palm. The Republic of Genoa is seen in session, and its ballot-box with silvered and gilded sides is described. Due appreciation is bestowed upon the Certosa, and the dukes xo8 DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. Venice in a day is worthy of another At Vienna, the personality in whom the century and another continent. The splen- Spanish envoy was mainly interested ~vas dor of the Archbishop of Salzburg; the Prince Eugene, w horn he enthusiastically squalor of Mittau, capital of Courland; regarded as a hero of the first order, pos- the amber-producing shores of the Baltic; sessing all gifts, moral, physical, and in- the spotlessness of Dantzic doorsteps; tellectual. The empress was the most the filth of east European inns, and the dignified and agreeable princess that he misery of eighteenth-century travel, all had seen, except perhaps her predecessor; find their place in the Spanish envoys but his Bourbon prejudices led him per- diary. But in these pages the more im- haps to touch lightly upon the quondam portant incidents of his mission can alone Archduke Charles. He speaks sympa- receive attention. At Genoa the Duke of thetically of the Spanish refugees who. Liria had received the Order of the Garter had crowded to Vienna, laden with honors at the hands of the Earl of Inverness, who and possessions by the emperor, but abso- informed him that, finding himself to be lutelv excluded from German society, and the main obstacle to the reconciliation in danger of being stoned or starved upon of his king and queen, he had absented the emperors death. During the dukes himself from the court. At Bologna the visit the ambassadors of Spain, France, traveller was warmly welcomed by James and Holland were busily discussing the himself, and repaid his hospitality by re- preliminaries of peace, and on June 9 the establishing a modus vivendi between fact of the signature was published. A the separated pair. His letter to the few days previously the news reached queen, who had hitherto declined to dis- Vienna that the Czarina Catherine had cuss the subject, induced her to relent, died, leaving the succession to her hus- and to return to her husbands home, bands grandson, Peter, a boy of eleven This was probably the most successful years old - A regency was appointed until moment in the dukes mission. It is he should be sixteen, and the change of amusing to read the principles enunciated government was effected with unexpected by Elisabeth Farnese, the termagant of calm ; the first minister, Menshikoff, as- Spain, who was believed to rule her hus- suring the imperial government that the band with absolute authority. The Cath- foreign policy of his court would remain olic queen has ordered me to tell your unaltered. An equally important an- Majesty in her name that it is time to nouncement was that of the death of close so unpleasant a dispute, and that, George I., which, had it been earlier, even if a husband gives his wife some would possibly have prevented the signa- reason for displeasure, it is prudent on ture of the preliminaries, and which un- her part to disguise her feelings, and to doubtedly long delayed their ratification attempt to restore him to his better self at Madrid. The Duke of Liria conveyed by a gentle and blind resignation to his the news in a postscript to his letter of will. Even in the eighteenth century June 30. He felt that, as George had to domestic scandals affected political pros- die so soon, he might as well have gone pects, for the queen added that this con- to the other world a month earlier; the tinued separation was injuring the Stuart English, instead of dictating the law to cause, not only in England, but at the Spain, would then have had to come courts from which the most support could a-begginu~ for conditions. Knowing the be expected. The sympathetic Liria was character of the Prince of Wales, he be- loath to bid farewell to the Pretender, with lieved that in six months time there would whom he had been brought up, and whom be a general revolution, if not before; and he tenderly loved; and he never tired of that if Walpole had an ounce of spirit and looking at his children. The Prince of resolution, he would try to restore King XVales was a beautiful boy of six and a James, which he had the power to do. half, agile, graceful, and intelligent; he Otherwise he was a lost man, and the new could read perfectly, could speak English, king would cut his head off. Time will French, and Italian fluently, and kne\v his tell, he concludes, whether I am agood catechism as well as his tutor. Not only prophet or not. The duke was not a did he ride and shoot, but was so skilful prophet; but this confidential opinion with his cross-bow, that he killed sparrows from a leading Jacobite illustrates the on the housetops; and if a ball were current views respecting the fidelity of thrown on the ground, he would pierce it Walpole to the Hanoverian cause. running without missing once in ten times. Liria lingered at Vienna in the hope that His brother, then two years old, was the changed circumstances might render pretty, and remarkably strong. his mission to Russia unnecessary. At DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. 109 length, however, on July 8, he took his leave with greater regret than when he left Paris, his fatherland, for the first time. His reception at Dresden must have consoled the duke for the extreme discom- fort of his journey. The minister, Count Flemming, suspected indeed that he was commissioned to discuss the thorny ques- tions of succession and religion, but was assured that his only mission was to re- new a friendship too long interrupted, and at most to persuade the king of Poland to accede to the alliance of Vienna. Social life at Dresden was far too busy for poli- tics. All day long the ambassador shot with the king, and dinner at the royal table at Pilnitz was followed by concerts and French plays. The queens very recent death did not interrupt the Michaelmas festivities. On the 28th there was another play, and then we dined in a room with four small tables, and lots were drawn to distribute the guests among them. After dinner I led off the ball with the kings favorite natural daugh- ter, and we danced till 5 A. M. The whole time that the ball lasted everybody did noth- ing but drink, so that we were all cheerful, for his Majesty set the example, and at i A.M. there was a second supper. After the ball I went straight off stag-hunting, and, having killed five, returned home to mass, for it was Michaelmas day. In the evening there was another play, and a ball at night. This day also people drank quite as much as was good for them, so that the liveliness lasted two days. Notwithstanding the dancing and drink- ing and hunting, with interludes of mass, the ambassador did not fail to take notes upon the Saxon government, and regarded its form as being that of most well-gov- erned countries; consisting, as it did, of a cabinet of five ministers and two secre- taries. The real monarch was Count Flemming, who was abhorred both by king and heir; but they could not shake off his yoke, because he had become in- dispensable. A Pomeranian, and there- fore no vassal of the king, he is another striking example of the absolute cosmo- politanism in governmental and military circles in the eighteenth century. The little fat man, with his handsome face, had made a great stir in the world, yet was not the great man he was thought. Craving in vain to meddle in all the affairs of Eu- rope, he was reduced to domineering over his own court in the pettiest details, say- ing all the time that he was tired, and did not wish to interfere. A Lutheran by profession, he would turn Turk or Catholic to suit his ends. Eminently mediocre, he believed himself to be perfection, in flirt- ing, in music, as in politics and ~var. He had saved vast sums of money and had married a Polish princess, in the hope of succeeding his master, and was constantly striving to lead the king of Prussia to his views. The celebrated elector king, Augustus the Strong, with his bright eyes and dis/ingud though not hand- some features, had been the strongest man in Europe, and still excelled in all physical exercises, as in all accomplishments. No- body understood better than he the inter- ests of foreign powers and the political condition of Europe. His courtesy and kindness were unequalled, and he was liberal to excess ; yet, notwithstanding the vast sums which he was squandering, his revenue was free from debt. Liria, however, does not conceal the shady side. In the midst of these great qualities he has some incurable defects; though he works hard, he detests application to business, and this makes him lean upon his ministers. His affection for the feminine sex is notorious, for he has an infinite number of natural children; he has been a little too fond of wine, and has committed countless excesses in the company of I3acchus, as in that of Venus. In the first respect he is already somewhat reformed, and his years are bringing moderation in the sec- ond. Nevertheless, he is the most lovable monarch in Europe, and carries away the hearts of all who know him. The prince was a striking contrast to his father. He was tall and handsome, but very fat. He loathed wine, was un- swervingly faithful to his wife, and was a zealous and self-sacrificing Catholic. Not- withstanding a tender affection for his father, he lived in retirement, for fear of exciting the jealousy which Flemming was only too anxious to foster. A war of reli- gion in Germany seemed at this moment to be among immediate possibilities. Flemming and the Saxons feared that, once on the throne, the prince would cease to employ Lutherans, and gradually force his subjects into Catholicism. The min- ister was suspected of laying the train of a revolution which should place the zeal- ous Lutheran line of Gotha on the electo- ral throne, and to this were attributed his frequent visits to the king of Prussia. The Duke of Liria, however, believed that such a Protestant combination had no prospect of success against the em- peror, supported by the Catholic electors. Notwithstanding the rise of the Hohen- zollerns, Protestantism had, to all appear- ances, been greatly on the wane. During the dukes Dresden visit two hO DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. events occurred in Russia which were likely to have unfortunate results for the Spanish mission. The imperial ambas- sador Rabutin died, and it was with him alone that the Spanish envoy was to work in closest harmony, and from him alone he could obtain the necessary lights. Equally serious was the sudden disgrace of Men- shikoff, who was ruling Russia with abso- lute authority, and had hoped to perpetuate his influence by the marriage of the young czar with his daughter. It was during Lirias residence in Russia that injudicious friends caused the great ministers final fall. Banished to the Isle of Berosova on the White Sea, he died, working with his own hands for sustenance a terrible example to Russian royal favorites. The court of Berlin differed widely from that of Dresden. Here there was no Cabinet, no all-powerful minister. The king administered the whole monarchy himself. Every day the despatches were sent to him under seal, and he returned the result of his resolutions on paper to the ministers. He had, indeed, a Privy Coun- cil, but no use was made of it. The tri- bunals and departments forwarded a daily report of their proceedings to the king. Frequently as Frederick William has been described, the Duke of Lirias impressions may be worth recording. The king was of middle height and fairly fat, with a bright complexion, though much tanned, for every day he spent hours in hunting. He always wore his blue uniform with waistcoat and breeches, and never took his boots off. He liked to dine in com- pany; but his table ~vas very poor, which was not surprising in the stingiest prince in Europe. He would trust no one with money, and was his own treasurer and paymaster. Not gifted with much intelli- gence, he did not lack a cunning compre- hension of his interests, which made him the most unreliable of allies; for if it were to his own advantage he would change sides on the instant. His rule was most disastrous for his kingdom, which, if lie lived ten years more, would be entirely ruined. The beautiful town of Berlin, with all its facilities for navigation, had completely lost all its trade since his ac- cession, notwithstanding the presence of the French refugees, whose workmanship was as perfect as in Paris. All money that came into the country went to the treasury and never left it; thus the sources of trade and wealth ~vere inevitably dried up. Yet the king had his merits; he was frank, and liked others to be so; he disliked nothing so much as hints and mys teries ; he hated women, and had no inclina- tion for drink, though a great smoker. His Calvinistic zeal amounted to hypocrisy; yet full liberty of conscience was accorded, and favor was even shown to Catholics, not from any affection which he bore them, but from love for his Grenadiers, for he cared for nothing else~ and as there were six hundred Catholics in the regi- ment, he favored Catholicism to keep these men contented. On the subject of Grenadiers he was a spendthrift, and would give all the money in his treasury to keep or recruit a tall man. Liria natu- rally visited Potsdam to inspect the cele- brated regiment, and was entertained at dinner by the officers. The first battalion contained no man under six feet two, while the tallest, Jonas, a Norwegian, measured seven feet. With such a regi- ment the king naturally thought himself a great warrior, and indispensable to Eu- rope, though his personal courage was open to doubt. The Guards numbered twenty-five hundred men, and the army seventy thousand of the best quality that the duke had ever seen, while the train of artillery and military stores were unsur- passed. The whole character of the State was completely military; no official could appear before the king except in uniform. The general impression left is that of Prussia of to-day, minus its professors. At Berlin, as at Dresden, the Duke of Liria was made welcome. He hunted with the king at Wusterhausen; he begged the life of an Irish Grenadier; and the kings dinner of four courses was increased to six a most unusual distinction. Yet it is clear that he looked forward to the future rtfgi;ne, and paid his court to the prince, with whom he promised to cor- respond from St. Petersburg, as in fact he did. Frederick he regarded as a prince of great promise. Completely the reverse of his father, he was liberal, cour- teous, and yet reserved. He was fond of music and books, though he was obliged to read on the sly, for his father would have him as ignorant as himself. The people loved the prince as much as they detested the king, and the very princes of the blood spoke equally ill of the king and well of his heir in the most barefaced manner. From Berlin the Spanish minister trav- elled by way of Dantzic, K6nigsberg, and Mittau to Riga, and thence to St. Peters- burg. At Dantzic he stayed to buy his furs, and was deeply interested in the great Hanse town, now under Polish pro tectorate. He dwells on its civil and mil DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. III itary constitution, its peculiar relation to the Polish crown, its brisk commerce, the exquisite cleanliness of its inhabitants, and, notwithstanding its Lutheran estab- lishment, its toleration of Jews, Anabap- tists, and the numerous Catholic religious orders. By the senators he was greeted with a Latin speech and twelve pitchers of wine ; but a greater pleasure was the accidental meeting with Maurice of Sax- ony, the electors natural son, who in for- mer years had been his intimate friend at Paris. The future hero had started badly. Having been elected by the nobil- ity of Courland as heir to the absentee and childless duke, he had fled at the ap- proach of General Lacy, leaving his fol- lowers and his luggage in Russian hands. For the latter he was the more concerned for one portmanteau contained his love- letters, and a diary of the arnours of his fathers court, which, if once seen, might be his ruin. The recovery of this com- promising literature was one of the chief interests of the Duke of Liria during his Russian mission. The envoys stay at St. Petersburg was only sufficiently long to receive his first audience, to present his somewhat miscel- laneous gifts of snuff and chocolate, silk handkerchiefs, and perfumed pastilles, and to receive in return the inevitable furs. He was already pressed to assume the character of ambassador, instead of that of minister plenipotentiary, and to con- cede to the czar the title of emperor. To 2either of these proposals was he author- ized to consent, and he was of opinion that the imperial title should be the price for substantial advantages. After witnessing the curious ceremony of the blessing of the Neva, he followed the court to Mos- cow in company with the Polish envoy Lefort,* who did his best to compensate him for the irreparable loss of Rabutin. While the horses were being changed at Novogorod he visited the town, which he describes as typical of all Russian cities, large and badly built, the houses all of wood, very low, and distributed without plan. Its chief curiosity was the body of St. Anthony, which had come from Rome by water on a millstone. Being the seat of the primacy, Novogorod was ecclesi- astical in character, and contained one hundred and twenty-five convents. The primate was a man of learning, a phenom- t The duke could hardly have found a better in- formant than Lefort, who ia probably the heat authority for thia period. Hia deapatchea, though printed, are hidden away in the aomewhat inacceaaible S~schings Magazine, vol. ix. enon among the Russian clergy; he had studied in Rome, and knew Latin and Italian. Moscow ~vas reached on February II; and from the date of the czars formal entry on the i~th, the plenipotentiarys mission may be said to have seriously be- gun. The period of his visit to Russia has its peculiar interest as lying between two eras of premature expansion. The latter of these is naturally associated with the name of Catherine, but it may be said to have set in with the appearance of a Russian corps darmde on the Rhine in 1735. The reign of Peter II. was reac- tionary. It seemed to prove that his grandfather was but an ill-timed individual genius, and not the representative of a progressive nation. Nobles and people hated the belauded reforms, and struggled desperately to return to comfortable bar- barism. On the other hand it is already possible to trace the power, to Englishmen incredible, which an unpopular officialism can exercise over Slavonic myriads. The czar himself, his nobles, and the mob of Moscow, did their best to hamper the ad- ministration, essentially German, which Peter the Great had bequeathed to Mus- covy. Yet this bureaucracy, even in the absence of any genius of the first order, subsisted and governed, outlasted an oli- garchical revolution and a monarchical coup d61a1, and was ready to the hand of a czarina who was to all intents and pur- poses a German. It is this all-important dualism between East and West, between indigenous conservative and exotic prog- ress, the everlasting action and reaction of Teuton and Slav, which gives the in- terest to the Duke of Lirias diary. His mixed English, French, and Irish blood, and his Spanish associations ,gave him a standpoint peculiarly external and impar- tial. His social gifts procured ready admittance behind the scenes, and his mingled sympathy and satire endowed him with the choicest qualifications of a critic. Throughout the reign of Peter II. it seemed probable that Russia would turn her back upon the West. It is true that several high officials of the late r6gi~ne still surrounded the young czar. But Golofkin, the chancellor, was very old, and Apraxin hated the novelties which the great reformer had introduced. He had never left Russia, was a mortal enemy to foreigners, and would sacrifice all to re- store the monarchy to its ancient condition. The court, as the Council, was divided into two parties. Around the czar gathered all the Russians who longed to rid the country 112 DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. of the foreigners. His sister, however, served with merit. This house was more the Grand Duchess Natalia, and his Aunt hostile to Ostermans system, and he had Elisabeth adhered to the principles of consequently added Princes Basil and Peter the Great. The balance of practical Alexis Dolgoruki to the Council of Four. ability was on their side, and their main The alternative of Moscow or St. Peters- supporter was the Vice-Chancellor Oster- burg as capital was the test question be- man. The son of a Lutheran pastor in a tween the native and the foreign party. Westphalian village, he had been utilized Peter and his widow had made the latter by Peter as interpreter. On the czarinas their residence, to be in sight of their death, Menshikoff had made him guardian growing marine, and to keep the Swedes and grand chamberlain of the young czar; in awe. The young czar could not bear he was now practically first minister. He the sight of the sea nor of ships, and was was untiring, and, though avaricious, in- passionately devoted to hunting. The corrupt, desiring honestly the good of the Russians, who longed to return to Mos- Russian monarchy. Religion was of little cow, which was nearer to their estates, or no importance to him, for lie had passed dwelt incessantly on the beauty of its through three. A master of dissimulation, climate, and the abundance of game in he gave such a semblance of truth to its neighborhood. Throughout the reign statements which were directly the re- of Peter II. the attempts to make him verse, that the most experienced were return to St. Petersburg and to keep him deceived. In a word, concludes the at Moscow have more than a merely per- writer, he was a great minister; but had sonal interest; it was realized that on the he been even an angel descended from issue depended the future of Russia. heaven, the brand of foreign extraction The other subject of vital importance would be enough to make him loathed by was the maintenance of the fleet. On the Muscovites, who frequently did their June 19, 1728, the Duke of Liria wrote best to ruin him, though his ability always that the Grand Council had decided that saved him. Moscow should be the capital, and that he The continuance of Ostermans power was informed as a fact of two other deci- was doubtless facilitated by the number sions which, if true, would completely of foreigners who held high position not restore the monarchy to its ancient condi- only in the government, but in the public tion: first, that no more ships were to be services. The navy was naturally almost built, while those which existed were left exclusively commanded by strangers; but to wear out; and secondly, that commerce even in the army foreign names were nu- was to be transferred to Archangel, which merous in the highest ranks. Field Mar- would imply the ruin of St. Petersburg. shal Sapieha was a Pole, and no credit to The Spanish minister regarded the great his nation, for he neither possessed a Peters favorite creation with some con- shadow of intelligence, nor the first rudi- tempt. The grand admiral, Apraxin, did ments of strategy; he was passionate, not know the firstprinciplesof navigation. false, vindictive, and drunk every day in The other officers were excellent, but they the week. Field Marshal Bruce, vener- were all foreigners, and it seemed likely ated even by Russians, was Scotch; and that, as they died or retired, others would among the generals ~vere Lacy, an Irish- not be appointed; while the natives could man; Bohn, Weisbach, and Miinnich, never learn seamanship, for their self- Germans; and the Scotchman Keith. Yet conceit made them think that they knew Osterman could hardly have maintained more than Ruyter, as soon as they had his position but for the split in the Rus- learnt the elements of manceuvring. Sea- sian party between the two great houses men, moreover, were lamentably deficient, of Galitzin and Dolgoruki. The former for the crew of a ship in commission com- seemed most extreme in its conservatism. prised only one hundred sailors, while all What do we want new fashions for? the rest were landsmen. The Russians was old Prince Dimitris stock question; are like a schoolboy wearing a sword for as our fathers lived, so can ~ve live too, the first time; every moment he looks at without foreigners coming to impose new it, and turns it round, and tries to see if laws upon us. Less prejudiced was Field everybody notices that he has got a sword, Marshal Galitzin, the hero of Russia, and is delighted if they think that he the darling of the troops, feared by the knows how to use it. In July, 1728, the grandees and by the great czar himself, Cronstadt squadron was commissioned, to who would have been in a less barbarous impose upon the imperial minister. Sails land a truly great man. Hating foreigners were bent to make neighbors believe that as he did, he yet did justice to those who it was no mere joke; but the ships had no DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. 3 crews but scrubbers. Of the five captains appointed, two were English, two Dutch, and the other a Dane. Half the ships were bought in Holland; those of Russian build did not last more than seven or eight years. In other departments the artificial order of Peter was giving place to total disor- ganization. As to the government, wrote Liria, everything is going badly; the czar does not attend Council, nor does he think of doing so. Nobody is paid; and as nobody knows what is to be the end of the Treasury, every one goes on robbing as best he can. All the depart- ments are at a standstill; there is an in- finity of grumblers; each man does just what he fancies; nobody thinks seriously of a remedy, except Baron Osterman, who cannot apply it unaided, so that in my opinion we are daily exposed to some revolution which might redound to the irreparable ruin of the monarchy.* It is no wonder that the salvation of the na- tion was felt to depend upon Ostermans life, and that all honest men sustained a shock on hearing that the vice-chancellor had been sick fifty times in a single day. They regarded him, with reason, as the monarchys sole support. The czars character caused serious ap- prehension. Before he was thirteen he declared himself of age. He had already bad amours, which Liria stated to be not so surprising; for notwithstanding the climate, the age of puberty was earlier in Russia than in Spain, and boys of eleven were sometimes married. No one dared to correct the czar, while the Russians lured him on in his evil propensities. Os- terman alone ventured to lecture the young monarch on his mode of life; the czar turned his back upon his guardian, and answered not a word. Returning to the charge, the vice-chancellor said that a few years hence the czar himself would cut his head off, if he now failed to point out the precipice towards which he was rush- ing; as he did not wish to witness his ruin, he should resign his guardianship. The impetuous but inconsequent young Slav fell on his guardians neck, implored * Cf. Lefort, July, 1728: Scarce a feeble shadow of the government of the cza9s grandfather aeema left. We live in a state of incomparable indolence, and of carelessness so blind that it is hard to conceive how so huge a machine can acid continue to exist, when nobody puts a hand to it. Nobody will assume any responsi- bility, nobody dares open his mouth, every one passes the ball on to hia neighbor . - . The monarch by the Grace of God knows that no one dare contradict him, and people have constantly been zealous to convince him of it. Hence it is that no reasonable measure can be carried through, and everything is left to chance. LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXVIII. 4008 him not to desert him, and that very night returned to his evil courses.* Yet his death was dreaded, for fear lest worse should follow. If this monarch were to die, concludes Liria, there would be a terrible revolution. I do not venture to prophesy what would happen; I will only say that Russia will relapse to its old con- dition, without a hope of raising herself again, at least in our days. Of such a revolution the first result was expected to be a massacre of foreigners; even during the dukes embassy it was feared that the mob would fire their houses on account of their unreasoning prejudice. The heir- presumptive, the Princess Elisabeth, had strong German sympathies, and the Rus- sian party was full of projects for her mar- riage and removal. She was not unlikely to have suitors. Liria, who was a con- noisseur, regarded her sister, the Duchess of Holstein, as probably the most beautiful princess in Europe. On her early death Elisabeth had strong claims to the vacancy. The duke had rarely seen a more beautiful ~voman in his life. Her marvellous com- plexion, her roguish eyes, her perfect mouth, were set off by a beautiful throat and matchless figure. She was tall and extraordinarily lively, danced well, rode fearlessly, and was full of fun. On the other hand, she was false, avaricious, and susceptible to a superlative degree. No wonder that the amorous infant of Portu- gal loved her at first sight, and that she had to retire from court to avoid his part. ing importunities. The scion of the Stu- arts was at once amused and shocked at her being suggested as a substitute for the wife with whom the head of his house was believed to be at ill accord. A cadet of the house of Brunswick was rejected as inadequate, but it was thought that she might import an agreeably sparkling ele- ment into the Bayreuth branch of Hohen- zollern. Yet she was not a desirable wife. While yet a girl her passions led her into the excesses which disgraced her as czarina. Her fancies ranged from Prince Butlerlin to Grenadiers of the Guard. Her most serious suitor was undoubtedly the czar, her nephew. He was for long completely under her spell. If later he showed publicly his displeasure, it was perhaps rather due to pique than cooling of affection. After his engagement to Princess Dolgoruki, he still visited her in * The czars favorite pastime was, according to Le- fort, to dash through the streets at night in his sleigh. He dwells on the rapid deterioration of his character, adding that he resembled his grandfather in all but his good qualities. (Nov. 22~ 1727.) 114 DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. private, and aunt and nephew wept bitter tears over their enforced separation. But contiguity was a fatal bar to their not un- natural affection; and had the Greek Church been as lax on the subject of royal avuncular marriages as the Latin, the for- tunes of the house of Romanoff might have been somewhat different. The gross excesses of the later czarina cannot alto- gether deprive the brilliant and unfortu- nate girl of sympathy. Amid the lust, the drunkenness, the falsity, the barbaric extravagance of Rus- sian life, there was one pure pathetic per- sonality on which the Duke of Liria loved to dwell. The Spanish, French, and En- glish elements in his character all found some sympathy with the czars sister, the Grand Duchess Natalia. The pupil of St. Simon hits as hard as his master, but he redeems his scientific savagery by a ten- derer touch. It was a mere accident that he was instructed to amuse the Muscovite court by asking the hand of Natalia for Don Carlos, whom his mother destined for Maria Theresa, and none other. His feel- ing for the young girl is obviously per- sonal, and not diplomatic. In this simple character the mock-heroics, the sham sen- timentalism of Slavonic life and literature are entirely absent. She is described as adorned with all the gifts that imagination could bestow. She was no brilliant beauty, for her face was ugly, though her figure good. Lovable, generous, thoughtful, all graciousness and goodness, she attracted every one that knew her. She spoke French and German to perfection, was fond of reading, and a patroness of for- eigners. All these qualities made one wish that she might live long; but God would not allow it, and he took her to him- self after a lingering illness, on November 3, 1728, at the age of fourteen and a half, bewailed by Russians and foreigners, by small and great. These are no mere courtly phrases. A man who in ill-health and bad humor praises an ugly woman, may be believed. Post-mortem characters are justly regarded with suspicion, but the passage in the diary, dated May i8, 1728, attracts sympathy not only to the ill-fated Russian girl, but to Keenes Young Jack, who caroused with the Duke of Wharton, and to the diplomat whose head- piece was criticised by Prince Eugene as being a little English. * The health of the princess was not good, and the doctors believed that she had inflam * Ii a Ia tate no pen Angloise et parle assez libre- ment. (Von Arneth, Prinz E ugen, iii. s~6-) mation of the lungs, and treated her as a per. son whose chest was affected. But her real malady was not consumption, and the only doctor who could cure her was her brother. To understand this, we must go some way hack. When the czar succeeded to the throne he had such complete confidence in his sister, that he did whatever she told him, and could not be a minute without her. . . . Little by little he fell in love with his Aunt Elisabeth and the czars favorite, and other courtiers who disliked the grand duchess, owing to her affection for Osterman and all foreigners, tried to increase the influence of Elisabeth, who could not bear her niece. Consequently she gradually alienated the czar from his sister, so that in six months time he never talked to her on business, and their confidences entirely ceased. The grand duchess, who had the best heart that I have ever known, deeply felt her brothers estrangement, and her unhappi- ness was increased by the constant slights which he inflicted upon her, publicly showing preference for his aunt, who in turn triumphed in her victory, affecting to make no count of the grand duchess. This was the real cause of her ill-health, for heart-ache had such an effect upon her as to cause a slow fever, which was within an ace of carrying her to the grave. However, her strong constitution and tender age saved her. The czars sister was not spared for long. On the night of December 2 she slept for two hours, but in the morning was seized with a violent access of fever. In the evening it abated,andat 10.15 she knelt down to pray. Her prayers finished, she returned to bed, but at that moment was convulsed, and died in less than two minutes. She was not pretty, but what matters the beauty of the face when the heart is perfect? She was the idol of honest men, the pearl of Russia, and, in a word, too perfect for God to leave her in the midst of barbarians who do not know what true and solid virtue is. It was a Russian custom to kiss the hand of de- ceased royal persons, as though they were alive, and it was with the greatest tender- ness that the duke kissed his young friends hand. Her brother was away hunting when she died, but her bier was opened, that he might kiss the corpse.* It seems strange that in so matrimonial an atmosphere this charming princess died without having had a serious suitor, but, as the Spanish envoy remarks, few princes would care to send to Moscow to find a wife. * Lefort states that when Natalias death seemed imminent, five couriers were sent, one after another, to fetch the czar, who disregarded the summons. At the moment of death her oniy attendant was a Finnish maid, who stole her jewels. DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. IS Meanwhile reaction was observed in all departments. Peter the Greats victims were rehabilitated. Among these was his first wife, whose estrangement and impris- onment had been due partly to her dislike of foreigners, partly to the discovery of her amours. Even in prison she had found a lover, who suffered the not un- common penalty of impalement for his offence. Her restoration to the palace was expected to give fresh impetus to the reaction. Religious intolerance was on the rise. Eighteen natives of Smolensk who had become Catholics were forced to revert, and one more obstinate than his fellows was condemned to death. He finally yielded, and the whole party were despatched to Siberia until they should give proofs of their detestation of Cathol- icism. Yet complete tolerance was still extended to foreigners, and Lord Mar- shals brother, James Keith, whose Protes- tantism disqualified him for a colonels commission in Spain, was at Lirias request made a general in the Russian service. Eastern affairs naturally excited interest at the Russian court, and much enthusi- asm was caused by the return of Count Sava Jaguzhinski from China. He had, beyond all hope, re-established relations long broken, and had secured an advan- tageous commercial treaty; overcoming the national cleverness and distrust of the Chinese. In November, 1729, the news that the emperor of China had resolved to despatch a formal embassy caused the highest satisfaction. There was no prece- dent for such a mission to any European power, and it was thought glorious for Russia that the first should come to its sovereign. In Persia, also, Russia de- rived great advantages from a treaty with the usurper Esref. The acquisitions of the recent war were recognized, and al- though the merely nominal possession of the provinces of Astarabat and Mazanda- ran was abandoned, it was stipulated that they should be alienated to no other power, a precaution against the Turkish ambition to obtain a foothold on the Caspian shores. Above all, Russia obtained full rights of commerce throughout Persia, and her car- avans had for the first time access to India and Bokhara. Negotiations with the Porte related to Turkish aggression towards the Caspian, and to Russian intrigues in Georgia and Circassia. Yet the sultan declined, in consideration of his ancient friendship with the czar, to accept the request of the Prince of Daghestan to place himself under his protectorate, on the plea of com mon religion. The czar, while acknowledg- ing the friendliness of this refusal, could not refrain from saying that uniformity of religion gives no right to appropriate that which is not ones own; that as in Russia there were many vassals who professed the Mohammedan creed, so in the domin- ions of the Porte there were many who held the same religion as the Russians; and that, in conclusion, it was not uniform- ity of religion, but treaties established and confirmed which formed the guarantee of a nations possessions, and the limitations of its boundaries. The principle involved in this reply is noticeable when viewed in the light of subsequent Russian diplo- macy. Eastern complications were only a sub- ject of intelligent interest to the Spanish minister. The fortunes of his embassy were decided in the West. Even before his arrival in Russia his mission had be- come well-nigh without an object. He attempted to employ himself by coun- termining against the subterranean ap- proaches of England, acting at first for the court of Vienna as well as for his own, for the alliance of Vienna still retained apparently its solidarity in the face of the league of Hanover. But in the summer of i~z8 rumors reached Moscow that the court of Madrid had been seduced by the engagement of France and England to convey Don Carlos to Italy with a Span- ish force, and that the inevitable result was a breach with the emperor, who be- lieved his possession of Sicily to be endan- gered. The duke officially assured the Russian ministry that nothing could change the complete harmony which reigned between his court and that of Vienna; but he could not deceive himself. He had constant information that distrust was daily increasing; that Count K6nig. segg had only for the moment prevented Elisabeth Farnese from throwing herself into the arms of the allies of Hanover; but that the Imperial Alliance could not last, for the emperor would never of his own free will consent to the transport of Spanish troops to Italy. At the close of the year arrived the news of the Treaty of Seville. The English and French agents now entered into friendly relations with Liria, while Osterman and the new imperial envoy Wratislaw treated him with increasing reserve. With the latter he had never had real sympathy. A worse minister than Wratislaw could hardly have been selected, and it was sus- pected that Rabutins friends had sent him to Russia to immortalize the late minis- ix6 DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. ters memory. The Russians expected ambassadors to be courteous, well-bred, and sumptuous. Count Wratislaw be- longed to an old Bohemian family, but he showed his coarseness even in ladies so- ciety. He boasted of his extravagance, but his avarice was transparent; false to the core, he dilated on the excellence of his heart. Talking incessantly, he ~vould not listen to others, even when he let them speak. He plumed himself upon his gambling, but his dirty tricks were dis- covered the second time that he touched the cards. His intelligence was as scanty as his conceit was illimitable; and such was his credulity, that he believed any- thing to anothers prejudice. He was, concludes his critic, more fit to be an old woman, and send children to sleep with his old wives tales, than to be a minister. Henceforth the Duke of Lirias efforts were directed to counteracting the policy of Osterman and Wratislaw. Sent to Russia to hasten the march of her auxil- iaries, he stayed to retard their departure. In his heart he had always believed that a Russian alliance would be rather a burden than a boon. At the most he had fancied that an advantageous treaty of commerce might be framed, with a view of eliminat- ing the English, Dutch, and Hamburg middleman, and buying at first hand. Russia supplied Spain with masts, sails, tackle, hemp, suet, and pitch. Siberian iron was the best and cheapest in Europe while oil of hemp and linseed, flax, tow, pigskins, dried and salted fish would find a ready market in Spain, which could buy her imports with her wines, brandies, and fruits. If three or four light frigates were sent each year to Archangel, the crown would make the full profit, and also provide a training school for sailors, for one voyage to Archangel was worth four to the Indies. The export duties were two and a half per cent. higher than at St. Petersburo; but freightage, lading, and insurance were cheaper, the duties of the Sound were saved, and the North Sea was less danger- ous than the Baltic. Another alternative was to commit the Russian trade to the new Caraccas Company and the Biscay whaling fleet. To students of prices the elaborate schedule which accompanied the report, giving the prime cost, duties, pack- age, and freightage of numerous articles, is of considerable interest. Among the more fancy wares are caviare at three and a quarter roubles the cask of forty pounds Russian, and black bearskins at four rou- bles the skin. National prejudices or mere brutishness added to the diplomatic difficulties of the Duke of Liria. His gentlemen were well- nirh beaten to death by an officer of Guards, his attendants, and the mob. An- other guardsman, coming uninvited to a banquet in the Pretenders honor, drank himself mad, hit the sentinel with drawn sword, and insisted on fighting his host. Nothing could reconcile the Spanish envoy to the incurable melancholy of Russian life. He began his diary for 1729 with an ardent wish for speedy recall from a land where he found neither friendship nor amusement, and where he was losing the little health and patience which remained to him. He deeply felt the enforced de- parture of Captain Wall, who fell into such an extreme melancholy that he could not leave his room. He talked with so much pathos that I could not resist his desire to return to our own Spain. But I have felt few things so deeply, for I placed all my confidence in Wall, and unbosomed myself to him in all my disagreeables, which were many; and when he left, I had to stay without any one in whom I could repose real trust. On the score of health, an interesting passage refers to the scourge of influenza in April, 1729. In every house more than two-thirds of the inmates were ill, and the doctors be- gan to fear some contagious epidemic. The czar, however, ordered a post-mortem examination of all who died suddenly, and a diagnosis of the current complaints, and it was found that they possessed no malig- nant character. It seems probable that the czar himself was a sufferer, for he had a feverish chill with a cough; but he stayed in bed three days, and, after twice perspiring freely, was well again. It may be worth noting that in the following win- ter the epidemic spread to the western extremities of Europe. The Abb~ Mont- gon describes it as keeping the Spanish royal family indoors for four days, while Villars wrote of it as being universal round Paris, and as killing some eight hundred persons per week in London. If Russia were not amusing, it was not for lack of entertainments. These were unusually magnificent, owing to the fash- ion of inviting the czar to the more impor tant parties. Liria was notorious in Spain for the excellence of his dinners, and the brilliancy of his entertainments. His first essay in Russia was confessedly the finest feast that had yet been seen. Though the ministers house was one of the largest in Moscow, two spacious rooms were built in the courtyard, plates of which are given DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. 7 in the diary. On four buffets, ten feet wide, the choicest Chinese porcelain con- tained exquisite sweets and fruits, the huge Portuguese oranges evoking especial admiration. The ten varieties of iced drinks comprised chocolate, melon, straw- berry, and cherry syrups; but the guests did not confine themselves to these, for the evenings consumption included three hundred and ten bottles of Tokay, two hundred and fifty of champagne, one hun- dred and seventy of Burgundy, two hun- dred and twenty of Rhenish wines, one hundred and sixty of Moselle, twelve bar- rels of French wine, two of brandy, and twelve of beer. The czar arrived at 7 P.M. and opened the ball by a minuet with his sister. Dinner was served on a horse- shoe table in the second hall. The diner d /~z Rztsse does not seem to have been yet in vogue, for the hot and cold meats were on the table, though down the middle ran a long line of oranges. At midnight a second supper was served, consisting ex- clusively of fish, for the fast of St. Peter then began, and Russians were rigid in respect of fasts. Dancing lasted until 3 AM., and the czar expressed himself well satisfied, as well he might be. After the ball the guests inspected the ministers illuminations. St. Simon states that the Spaniards surpassed all other nations in this art, and the hosts detailed descrip- tion on this occasion proves an elaboration unknown in these degenerate days. The cost of the banquet amounted to two thou- sand doubloons. A later entertainment was marred by the news of the wreck of a ship which was to replenish the dukes cellars, a loss which he keenly felt in a country where much wine was drunk, and not a drop that was good was to be bought. Meanwhile the absorbing topic of con- versation was the announcement of the czars engagement. Since his arrival at Moscow the Dolgoruki inI~uence had be- come supreme and sole. Every morning after his toilet Peter was carried off by Prince Alexis to a country house, a league from Moscow. The professed object was to remove him from the fascinations of his aunt, but the real desire was to defer a return to St. Petersburg, to prevent the czar from applying himself to government, to press upon him the re-introduction of the old system, and finally to marry him to one of the princes daughters. Alexis even availed himself of his own sons neglect of duty to undermine the favorites influence with Peter. Some may think this strange, the duke writes, but it must be realized that in Russia there is no such thing as obligation to any one; each man seeks his own end, and to attain it ~vill sacrifice father, mother, relations, and friends. Patriots regarded the monopoly of Prince Alexis with extreme disfavor. While the czar amused himself the live- long day with childish games, the disorder of the government was complete. The people of Moscow respected no authority, and vented its spite upon the foreigners. The deserted Princess Elisabeth consoled herself with gallantries, which had become a public scandal. The climax of the czars fate was felt to be approaching when the Princess I)olgoruki and her two daughters accompanied him to the hunt. On No- vember 30, Peter formally announced his engagement, and on December ii the betrothal was celebrated. The function took place in a hail of the palace. The czars betrothed sat on the Epistle side of the altar in an armchair, with her relations behind her. On her left were the prin- cesses of the blood on low stools; on her right the widowed czarina in an armchair. On the Gospel side sat the czar, with the foreign ministers on his right, and the na- tive magnates on his left. In front of the altar was a gorgeous e~aidacchino held up by six field marshals. Beneath this the Archbishop of Novogorod exchanged the rings of the affianced couple, according to the Greek rite. Every one kissed the hands of the czar and the princess, and all the artillery of Moscow burst into a feu dejole. Yet, notwithstanding the fire- works and the dancing, the festivities were dreary. The fiancde was tired, and her withdrawal stopped the ball. There ~vas no supper, plaintively adds the di- arist, though divers tables were provided with all that was necessary for those who wanted supper. It was of ill-omened significance that during the ceremony the ordinary guard of one hundred and fifty men was increased to twelve hundred, and that as the czar en- tered the hall the Grenadiers, commanded by his favorite, surrounded the guests, and held the doors. Muskets were loaded; and if the function were disturbed, for which in Russian history there were sev- eral precedents, they had orders to fire. These arrangements were made by Alexis Dolgoruki without the knowledge of his uncle, the field marshal, who frankly ex- pressed surprise on the entrance of the Grenadiers. He had indeed strongly op. posed the marriage, from which he fore- saw the ruin of his house. The czars betrothal was but the prelude i DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. to his death. Rarely has there been more rigid adherence to the established se- quence of court doctors bulletins. The king is ill. The king is better. The king is dead. On January i8 the czar was feverish, and stayed indoors; three days later virulent small-pox declared it- self; on the third day copious perspiration allayed the fever; by the 28th he was out of dangers and at 1.25 A.M., on the 30th, he was dead. Notwithstanding previous criticisms, Liria regarded Peters loss as irreparable for Russia, for his excellent understanding, his ready power of com- prehension, and his reticence gave promise of a glorious and happy reign. He had shown, so far, no very particular propen- sity to any form of vice, and drunkenness, so common in Russia, was not to his taste. He was good-looking, and extraor- dinarily tall for his age. He spoke Latin, French, and German fluently, and had re- ceived a fair educational grounding. Hav- ing begun to reign, however, at eleven years old, he had never looked at a book again, and the Russians in his entourage tried to give him a dislike for reading, that he might be as ignorant as his predeces- sors. As yet he had not sufficient strength of will to act for himself, and Prince Alexis Dolgoruki, his guardian, and Prince Ivan, his favorite, abusing his weakness, gov- erned at their pleasure, and with such absolute authority, that nobody felt the young monarchs death, in whom was closed the main line of the house of Ro- manoff after a rule of one hundred and eighteen years. Peters consent to his betrothal was ex- extracted from him.* Many people thought, writes Liria, that he would never have married; it is certain that he made very little of his betrothed, and I * Lefort fully confirms Lirias impressions. The czar bites at the apple, but avithout showing good appe- tite. If the betrothed couple are not more affec- tiunate /e-~?s-z~te than they appear in public, no very grand predictiuus can be formed of their happiness Even before the engagement, when at a game of for- feits it fell to the czars lot to kiss the princess, he left the room and rode away. He would weary of hunting and go home alone, making presents of his hounds, and sending hunting, and those who drove him to it, to the devil, in no measured terms. In the three weeks suc- ceeding the betrothal he only paid two visits to his fienc~e, and his preference for his aunt was an open secret. But the princess deserves little sympathy, for within three months of Peters death Lefort writes: La chaste promise du d~funt czar eat heureusement accouch6e dune flue, digne production dun Chevalier Garde. A~5ril I7~ 1730. According to Mine. Ron- deau, the princess was a victim to her fathers ambition, or she was engaged and deeply attached to the imperial ministers brother. After the betrothal ceremony she sat passive, while the czar held out her hand to receive the salutations of the guests. When her late lover approached, she tore her hand away, and, with signs of strong emotion, gave it to him to kiss. (Letter V) could bear witness that he would scarcely look at her. One very peculiar circum- stance is that, from the day of the com- mencement of his engagement, he fell into such deep melancholy that nothing could cheer him, and he told his confidants that he should die before long, and that he had nothing to live for. An infinity of Slavonic pathos lies in that phrase, he had nothing to live for. The czar of all the Russias, with his four- teen years, his splendid physique, his rapid intelligence, his lack of resolution, and his premature amours, had exhausted life! The Duke of Liria rightly judged that Russia, with all its drink, was a mel- ancholy land; a melancholy partly the result of the Slavonic temperament, partly of hereditary vice, twin causes hard to disentangle. The death of the young Czar Peter recalls many a half-forgotten or recently read romance of Slavonic life and character, from La Cousine l3ette to Marie Baskirtseff. The latter would have found a more interesting ideal for her ambition and a more sympathetic part- ner for her morbid melancholy in the young Czar Peter than in the florid duke of her unwholesome dreams. Before the czar was dead, the Grand Council and the magnates discussed the question of succession. The claims of the czars betrothed were pressed by her family, but he had not the strength to sign a will in her favor. A majority offered the crown to the czars grandmother, who de- clined on the ground of age and gout. The Princess Elisabeth, and her sisters son, the Prince of Holstein, were respec- tively proposed by two other parties, who found small support. The house of Galit- zin, which had lost its influence, now once more lifted up its head. It had long cher- ished the idea of tying the hands of the monarch byan aristocratic constitution on the English model.* It was proposed to elect Anna, widowed Duchess of Courland and daughter of Czar Ivan, if she would accept capitulations. The Dolgoruki con- curred in the proposal, which was carried by the majority of the Junto. XVithin four hours of the czars death, the Council, the Senate, the other tribunals, and all gener- als and colonels in Moscow, were sum- moned to the palace. The chancellor being hoarse, Prince Dimitri Galitzin pro- posed the Princess Anna, whose name was received with repeated vivas. The gener- als notified the election to the troops, and * Ldort believes that the aristocratic reaction which followed the death of Charles XII. in Sweden, was the model for the Russian magnates. DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. 9 three deputies were sent to Mittau to ob- tain the czarinas signature to the condi- lions of election. These capitulations formed a remarkable attempt to replace absolutism by an oligarchy intended to resemble that of the great Whig families. It was provided that the government should rest with a Grand Council of eioht members. The czarina could neither marry, nor nominate a successor, nor de- clare war, nor make peace, nor bestow any commission above the rank of colonel. The royal domain, the treasury, the com- mand of the guards and the army, were out of her control. The monarch could levy no new taxes, nor degrade nobles without just cause; the good of the people was the sole rule for conduct. To these astound- ing conditions Anna subscribed, adding the words, If I do not govern in accord- ance with the above articles, I declare myself to have forfeited the crown. The Council summoned a convention of some eighty persons to consider the czarina~ s acceptance. Prince Dimitri Galitzin, after reading the capitulations, invited free dis- cussion, and, turning to General Jaguzhin- ski, asked him to take the articles in his hand, examine them, and state his consci- entious conviction without roundabout phrases. Jaguzhinski was at a nonplus, whereupon Galitzin ordered him not to leave the room. The general turned white, and with good reason, for Field Mar- ~shal Dolgoruki entered with a sergeant- major of Guards, and carried him off to the palace prison. After so promising a constitutional exordium, Galitzin told the nobles that any scheme for an improved constitution, if committed to writing, would be considered. Jaguzhinskis arrest caused much excite- ment. He was a personage in Moscow, owing to his resolution and capacity for intrigue. A devoted servant of the czar- ina, he had written to advise her to stand firm, for he and his friends would sacrifice their lives to give her the same sover- eignty which her predecessors had en- joyed. His envoy arrived five hours after the deputies, and his letter was intercepted. But the party of absolutism was not dis- armed. Prince Cherkaski realized that time is against a revolution, and to gain time proposed a constitutional reform lev- elled against the oligarchical ring of Dol- goruki and Galitzin. This provided for a supreme tribunal of twenty-one persons, and of a Senate of eleven members for the more rapid despatch of business. The election to these and other important offices was left to the Estates-General; and to check the dominating influence of the great families, a provision familiar to students of the Venetian Constitution was introduced, that not more than one mem- ber of a family could be elected, and not more than two could vote. The function of legislation was attributed to the Su- preme Tribunal, the Senate, the nobles, and the Commons. Measures were to be suggested for the entrance of the nobility into the army without a liability to more than twenty years~ service, and the reac- tion against the recent system was seen in the provision that no noble should be com- pelled to serve in the navy, nor to learn any mechanical duties. The clergy and the merchants were relieved from the quartering of soldiers, and the peasants, as far as possible, from taxation. A project was drafted by General Matuskin on much the same lines, adding that the czarina should be compelled to reside at Moscow; while a memorial by Prince Kurakin sug- gested that a distinction should be made between the old and the new nobility, as in other free countries. These projects were practically set aside by the determi- nation of the Council that eight persons only should form the government, and that these should belong exclusively to the two great houses of Dolgoruki and Galitzin. Public opinion was much disturbed by this resolution, and was further excited by the appearance of an unusually brilliant meteor. All the old men and women regarded this phenomenon as a divine warning of some imminent disaster. The majority believed that the very fiery color portended civil war, forgetting that noth- ing was more common in Russia than meteors, which were due to the coldness of the climate. The meteor portended, if anything, the collapse of the Constitution. The new czarina, to judge by the Duke of Lirias later sketch, was ill-calculated to be a cypher. She is tall, fat, and swarthy, and, to tell the truth, has a very mascu- line face. She is amiable, friendly, and extraordinarily attentive. Her liberality amounts to prodigality; she has an exces- sive liking for display, and has placed her court upon a footing which is unquestion- ably the most gorgeous in Europe. She likes to be obeyed and punctually in- formed of all that happens. Neither ser vices, nor yet offences, are forgotten, and she is extremely liable to nurse any dis- like that she has once conceived. People say that she is somewhat susceptible, and I am inclined to believe it; but her opera- tions are secret, and I can assert that she 120 DIARY OF A SPANISH GRANDEE. is a princess of high quality, and worthy again his sword and Order of St. Andrew. to reign many years. Anna, before en- Had the Council offered resistance, or tering Moscow, expressed to the officers had the czarina left the hall, there would of the Preobrazhenski Guards and the have been bloodshed, but the blood would Horse Guards her intention of being cob- have been that of the councillors, for they nel of the one, and captain of the other. were only five. The chancellor favored The officers were beside themselves with the lesser nobility, and Osterman had joy, kissing her hand and bathing it with since Peters death stayed in bed on pre. tears. The oligarchs had resolved to de- tence of illness, giving constant counsel prive the czarina of the command, but her to the czarina through the mcdi urn of his intrepid action reduced them to silence or wife. applause. They had no courage to pre- Basil Dolgoruki was deprived of his sent to the troops the form of oath of office of grand chamberlain. He had fidelity to the czarina and the Council, brought the czarina from Mittau almost as which they had drafted.* The czarina a prisoner, and had been the mainspring entered Moscow on the 26th of February, in the attempt to keep her as a slave in and on the 8th of March she became abso- a golden cage. Beyond this no immedi- lute. The Council, fully aware of Cher- ate punishment was inflicted. Six mem- kaskis views, had resolved to send him to bers of the late Council were included in Siberia; but he forestalled their action. the new government. But the fall of the Prepared by his wife, the czarina gave a house of Dolgoruki ~vas not long deferred. reception to the nobility. Cherkaski here Prince Alexis and his son had appropri- read a memorial, stating that the capitula- ated not only the diamonds of the ill- tions inspired alarm. He therefore prayed stared Menshikoff, but royal plate and that the schemes suggested should be ex- jewels, and the best of the horses and dogs amined, and that the proposal favored by from the royal stables and kennels. Im- the majority should be presented for the mediate restitution was demanded, though czarinas approval. Upon this, the Coun- robberies from the treasury were par- cil requested her to retire for consultation. doned. Within three months their ill- Her sister, the Princess of Mecklenburg, fortune reached its climax. Alexis and said that deliberation was unnecessary, his family were banished to Berosova, and advised her to sign Cherkaskis me- ~~here Menshikoff had expiated his ambi- morial. This was greeted by a general tion. Basil was confined in a rock con- murmur, and Anna, calling the captain on vent hanging over the Glacial Sea, which guard, ordered him to obey no orders but the climate and continuous fish diet, un- those of her uncle Soltikoff, his lieutenant- broken by bread or wine, made equivalent colonel ; adding that she did not feel her to a death sentence. The brothers of person to be safe. She then took a pen Alexis suffered lighter penalties, Alexan- and signed. The nobility withdrew, and der being condemned to serve as ships in the evening besought the czarina to lieutenant on the Caspian Sea. Thus, accept the sovereignty as her predeces- concludes the diarist, ~vas completed the sors held it, and to annul the capitulations. ruin of that branch of the house of Dolgo- It was suggested that the Council and ruki, and its fall seemed a just judgment Senate should be replaced by a Senate of of God for its ill-governance and its un- twenty-one members, and that the seats measured pride and ambition. therein, as well as the provincial govern- The last act of the Grand Council had ments and the presidencies of the col- been to order the despatch of the contin- leges, should be distributed, as of yore, gent promised to the emperor. The Span- among the nobles. It was a blow levelled ish minister had vainly protested that this as ~vell against the exotic bureaucracy as ~vas neither obligatory nor prudent, he had against the indigenous oligarchy, extolled the power of Spain and her allies, Upon hearing the petition, the members and not without skill laid bare the weak- of the Council became as graven images. ness of the imperial system. The czarina~s The czarina ordered the chancellor to coup d6/at, in which he fully sympathized, bring the capitulations, and tore them in did not advance his interests. Anna, who pieces in the sight of all. This act was fell completely under the influence of the greeted with a general viva, and nobles German party, was resolved to fulfil her and officers crowded to kiss her hand. treaty obligations. Lirias position be. J aguzhinski was released, and received came intolerable. Osterman conspired Lefort states that the Guards threatened to break with Wratislaw and the Russian am- Field Marshal Dolgorukis legs if he presented the bassador to ruin his credit. He was oath, represented as the close friend of Basil THE SIMIAN TONGUE. 121 Dolgoruki, as the opponent of absolute monarchy, as the intimate correspondent of Maurice of Saxony. For some six months the minister was boycotted by the court. He showed a brave face, but he keenly felt his isolation. He was a man of warm affections, and the death of the Swiss master of ceremonies, Habichstal, deeply touched him, especially as he died in the errors of Calvinism. This, he writes, was the greatest loss that I could experience, for this worthy friend was my sole consolation in that hell where they do not know what friendship is. A little later died Count Soltikoff, the czarinas uncle, whose death also went to his heart, for nothing was rarer in Russia than a virtuous man and a trustworthy friend, and Soltikoff had proved himself to be the latter when all others had turned their backs. It is gratifying to learn that the duke regained his credit before leaving Russia. He convinced the czarina that he had been on bad terms with Basil Dolgo- ruki; he had privately ridiculed the repub- lican enthusiasm as absurd and mad ; he had always informed his court that the situation would end in absolutism, though, as it did not matter to his master whether the czarina were absolute or not, he had not been fool enough to meddle in what did not concern him; his correspondence with Maurice related solely to Maurices billets doux, which could not affect the Russian monarchy, and which Osterman, notwithstanding repeated promises, de. layed to deliver. The czarina generously admitted her misconception ; the minister gallantly replied that his greatest consola- tion would be to pass many years at her feet, and that the order to leave Russia was the only mandate of his master which he obeyed with displeasure. This rejoinder was only diplomatically true. He had long been craving for his recall. This was now necessitated by the withdrawal of the Russian envoy from Spain. The order for departure reached Moscow in August, 1730, but the minister could not pay his debts: illuminations and banquets had brought him into too intimate relations with the Russian Jew. If the Marquis dArgenson is to be trusted, Spanish am- bassadors of this period were apt to pay with their foretopsail; but Liria was too proud for this. The English consul facil- itated an adjustment with reasonable creditors. But the Jew Liebman was un- conscionable. In vain the Comte de Biron pledged his credit, offering a bill at six months. Rescue came from the czarina. Hearing of the Jews rascality in desiring payment, she asked the minister to a fare- well dinner, and insisted on advancing the full amount. Such was the financial finale of this brilliant embassy, which cost the Spanish government two million one hun- dred thousand reals, in addition to six hundred and fifty thousand reals which its minister was unable to recover. The duke finally left Moscow on No- vember 30. On December 27 he entered Warsaw, crossing the floating ice of the Vistula, witl~ only his bag, and in complete prostration. Travelling in eastern Europe was not luxurious. For twenty-nine days he had not changed his clothes; the necessities of life could only be found in the Jews houses, and they were such a rough and dirty people, and their houses were so offensive, that he could not enter them. From Warsaw the duke passed to Vienna, where he aided in the negotiations for the Treaty of Vienna. Here he was happier than in Russia. Viennese cook- ery and Viennese ladies were thoroughly to his taste. He never returned to Spain; after a visit to his beloved Paris he served with Don Carlos in his Neapolitan cam- paign. His health had, however, been un- dermined by his residence in Russia, and he died of consumption at an early age on June 2, 1738. From The New Review~ THE SIMIAN TONGUE. A SHORT time ago I made arrangements with the superintendent of the Zoological Garden at Central Park, New York, to make some experiments with the phono- graph and the monkeys contained in that excellent collection of animals. From the vast interest manifested on the part of the reading public, and the scientific world in general, I feel called upon to give a descrip- tion of some of these experiments, and show to them how I am progressing in the solution of the Simian tongue. Early. in the morning I retired to the monkey house, and, for the first time, approached a cage containing four brown capuchin monkeys, two white-faced sapajous or ringtails, one cudge monkey, and a small spider mon- key, none of which I had ever seen or conversed with before. On approaching the cage I saluted them with the word which I have translated from the capuchin tongue to mean - food, and also as de- scribed in a former article of mine, as being used in a much wider sense, possi- bly as a kind of shibboleth, or peaces 122 THE SIMIAN TONGUE. making term among them. On delivering this word to them, almost immediately one of them responded to it and came to the front of the cage, on repeating it two or three times more the remaining three came to the front, and on thrusting my lingers through the bars of the cage they took hold of them and began playing with them with great familiarity and apparent pleasure. They seemed to recognize the sound at once, and also to realize that it had been delivered to them by myself. Whether they regarded me as a great ape or monkey, or some other kind of an ani- mal speaking their tongue, or not I am unable to say. Up to this time I had shown them no food, or drink, or anything of the kind; but soon thereafter I secured some apples and carrots and gave them small bits of them in response to their continual request, using this particular sound until I had satisfied those present that they really understood the word that I had used, and that it was properly trans- lated food. This was not only gratifying to me, but doubly so in view of the fact that I satisfied those present who had come to witness these experiments that I was correct in my solution of this word. Then, placing my phonograph in order, I made a record of the sound, and, turning the instrument upon a cage containing one small rhesus monkey, together with two or three other varieties, I recorded a word of the rhesus monkey which I had be- lieved to correspond in meaning, though quite different in sound, to the capuchin word for food. I then turned the cylinder and repeated it to some monkeys of the same variety in another cage. Then, on presenting some small bits of apple and carrot, I induced the monkeys in the other cage to use the same sound, which they continually did and appeared to me to be asking for food. The cage contained some eighteen or twenty monkeys, and I took a very accurate record of them, almost in chorus. This was just before and during the breakfast hour; I was satisfied that I had discovered the sound in the rhesus dialect which meant food, though it was used in a somewhat more restricted sense than the word which I have described as meaning food (and also with a wider meaning) in the capuchin dialect. On the same evening there arrived in Central Park a shipment of monkeys brought there from Europe. They were seven in number. At my request they were placed in the upper part of the old Armory building, entirely out of commu- nication with any other monkeys. They had never seen or heard any of the mon- keys in Central Park. Early on the following morning I re- paired to the room in which the monkeys had been placed. In company with me were the superintendent of the Zoological Garden and two or three other gentlemen who had been permitted to come to wit- ness the experiments. I requested them not to offer the monkeys anything to eat, or display anything of the kind, or by any means to attempt to induce them to talk, until I could arrange my phonograph to deliver to them the cylinder ~vhich I had recorded on the preceding day. Having arranged my phonograph I repeated this record that I had made in the monkey house. Up to this time there had not been a word spoken or a sound emitted by any of the new arrivals; but immediately upon the reproduction of the record taken in the monkey house they began to respond, using the same sounds, and gave every evidence of understanding the meaning of the sounds delivered through the horn. It is exceedingly difficult to represent this sound by any formula. But as nearly as I can express it in letters it is approxi- mated by the letters nqu-u-w, being the long u, equivalent to double o in the word shoot. One of the most difficult things in the study of the language of the Simian is to find either verbal or literal expres- sions that will adequately convey the idea of either the meaning of the word or its sound, because in the Simian tongue one word often represents an entire sentence, and this one word is generally composed of sounds which are not usually repre- sented by alphabetic characters; hence the great difficulty. The needs or de- mands in this particular language have never heretofore caused an alphabet to be invented, although it is possible to invent letters to represent their sounds as it was to invent letters to represent the sounds of the human voice. But as there has never been any use for them before, there have never been any letters invented to repre- sent the Simian sounds. Their peculiar mode of thought gives rise to their pecul- iar mode of expression, and there are no expressions in the human speech that are equivalent to the simple monophones (as I denominated them) in the Simian tongue. I next proceeded to take a record of the new arrivals. They were all of the same species, being rhesus monkeys. There were three mothers and four babes, one of the babes being an orphan, the mother having died on her passage across the ocean, Of these I succeeded in getting THE SIMIAN TONGUE. 123 two very excellent records one of the orphan babe and the other of one in an adjoining compartment. He was exceed- ingly talkative, very noisy, but quite intel- ligent for his age. These monkeys do not generally talk or make a noise, except when they really desire to communicate some idea bytheirsounds. I donotthink that they are given to habitually chattering in a meaningless or senseless way, but my opinion is that their chattering is always accompanied with definite ideas and a desire to convey them to others. After having made records of these two young monkeys, I carried the cylinders to the monkey house, where I reproduced them on the phonograph, in the presence of the rhesus monkeys confined there, and found that they gave evidences of understanding; although the great number of them pre- vented its having the effect that it other- wise would have had, because it was impossible for them to distinguish whether these sounds were made by some of their own number, or some new monkeys that had been introduced into the house. The consequence is I did not get their atten- tion in such a marked degree as I have in many other instances. And as I succeeded in getting the attention of the new arrivals, having them to themselves, where they were not interrupted by the continuous babble of the monkey house, I feel thor- oughly satisfied that the new word which I have discovered in the rhesus dialect is indeed the word for food, as used among these monkeys. And I confidently feel that one more step in the direction of the mastery of the Simian tongue has been taken. And I believe this translation to be practically correct and tenable. Re- member that these records were taken under very great difficulties, and yet I re- gard the experiments as being very con- clusive. The great difficulty of taking the records, or rather of reproducing them with the desired effect in the presence of so many monkeys, of course can only be appreciated after one has tried these ex- periments. But where one monkey is alone very much better results can be reached, since in that event you can at- tract his attention and keep it fixed on what you are trying to do; whereas a number of them occupying the same cage or even the same house are in such close proximity to one another that their chat- tering and continual talking attract the attention of the monkey upon which you are trying to operate, and thus in a meas- ure defeat your purpose. However, I am thoroughly satisfied with my experiments and their results on my last visit to Central Park. After an absence of some days I re- turned to the park, and, entering the mon- key house, approached the cage which contained my little brown capuchin friend. There were a good many visitors in the house at the time, but on the instant of my entering the door my little Simian friend recognized me and immediately set up quite a howl, begging me to come to him. I went to the cage, giving him my hand to play with; he gave every evidence of great pleasure at my visit. There was another little monkey of the same species in the same cage with him, who had shown some disposition to become friendly with me, and on former visits had manifested some interest in me. On this occasion he came playfully to the bars of the cage and de- sired to share the pleasure of my visit with his Simian brother, but this was de- nied him by the first monkey(whose name was McGinty), who pounced upon him immediately and drove him away, as he also did the other monkeys in the cage, monopolizing my entire society himself. He refused under any conditions to allow any other inmates of the cage to receive any of my caresses, or any of the food that I had for them. I have made a good many observations among the spider mon- keys, but theyare not very intelligent, and possess only a very limited number of sounds. Their vocal powers are very in- ferior, and their sounds exceedingly am- biguous. They are well disposed and docile, but their language is almost as far inferior to that of the brown capuchin as the brown capuchins appears to be below the chimpanzees and as the chimpanzees appears to be below the lowest order of human speech. For the past month I have been making records in the Zoological Garden at Wash- ington at such times and with such objects as I could find. In the collection in that Garden is still to be found old Prince, the original grey Macacus from which I made the first record in the phonograph that I ever made. I regard his language, however, as very far inferior to that of the brown capuchin which, as I believed a year ago, was supe- rior to that of any other monkey. In the Garden here I also found some four or five capuchins, some of them very good specimens, all except one being quite young. The brightest one in the collec- tion is a little brown monkey, whose name is Pedro. He is exceedingly clever and communicative. On tny first visit to him 124 THE LADIES GALLERY. a month ago I found him caged with sev- paper, he ushers us into a little dark wait- eral others. In the same cage was a small ing-room, where we must sit and possess spider monkey who was very fond of play- our souls in patience for more than half ing with little Pedrorand who had a habit an hour. The House meets at three, and of catching him by the tail and dragging the door of the Ladies Gallery is opened him around on the floor. This, Pedro a quarter of an hour before that time; but seemed to dislike very heartily. He com- in order to obtain seats in the front row, plained very frequently and very loudly, it is best to appear on the scene not long but to no purpose. The other monkeys after two oclock, or on very special nights, seemed to impose upon him, depriving even earlier than that. Wearily the time him of his food and all other liberties that drags along; unless, warned by previous a bright little monkey ought to have had experience, we have provided ourselves in a free country like this. And when I with literature of some kind, there is first visited the cage I took his part against nothing for it but to wait as cheerfully as the other monkeys, and we soon became we may, deriving some information and friends, lie would catch hold of my fin- amusement at least from the behavior of gers through the meshes of the cage and our fellow-victims. With what envied chatter and show every mark of appre- ease those who possess a personal and ciation. We soon became quite good domestic interest in some of the members friends. A little later I had him placed in comport themselves. How calmly they a cage to himself, where I have been able converse with each other on their private to handle him with comparative ease. I affairs, in not always modulated tones. have made a splendid phonographic record Look at those girls, how shy and excited of his speech. I got him to hold his they seem; they have never been here be- mouth right up to the tube and talk quite fore, it is clear. Some of these ladies loud. Each succeeding experiment gives have visited the House so often that it is me more and more assurance of the ulti- now almost a bore to come, at least they mate success of my studies. And when I no longer feel any enthusiasm over it. see how many truly scientific people and Others are enjoying the pleasant excite- great scholars and naturalists are firm be- ment of a new experience; while others, lievers in my theory, I can well afford to again, are still placidly interested and ignore the shallow wags who try to say curious, although the novelty of the thing something funny about it. Were it not has worn off. Ladies of all kinds, in short, forsuch moral support, however, one might are to be seen here from time to time feel discouraged at the great tax on time political, fashionable, young, and old, and and patience which is necessary to learn dames that are nondescript. even one word of this most singular lan- At length the guardian policeman puts guage. The discovery of the rhesus his head in at the door and announces that word for food has accelerated my efforts we can now receive our tickets. In the and intensified my hopes; and, while it order, then, of our arrival, numbered white has required many months of labor to bone or ivory discs are presented to us, learn this one new word, I feel amply re- and with these in our hands we commence warded for my pains. I hope very soon to climb the stairs. Three long, steep to be able to add one more word to the flights are there, and each step of the last list, in which event it will be duly an- flight at least is accompanied by sighs nounced. I shall soon furnish a full for a lift. Passing through the swing-door description of my work here at Washing- at the top, we find ourselves in the midst ton. R. L. GARNER. of a long, bare corridor with swing-doors at each end. Through that on our right hand men with a business-like air and sheets of white paper in their hands, occa- sionally pass and repass. These are the From Chambers Journal, reporters of various newspapers on their THE LADIES GALLERY. way to and from the Reporters Gallery, BIG BEN is striking two, and if we in- which lies immediately in front of and tend to secure good seats we must hurry. below the one set aside for ladies. Breathless with haste, we reach the little The entrance to the Ladies Gallery door through which it is necessary to pass itself is on the other side of the corridor to gain the Ladies Gallery. Here a stern from the one at which we entered, and a policeman stands guard, who demands the little lower down to the right. But there name of the member whose order we hold. are still some minutes to pass before the Having inscribed this on a sheet of blue magic door is opened. Novices in the THE LADIES~ GALLERY. 125 ways of the place generally plant them- selves as close to the door as possible, in the hope of rushing in first. Vain delu- sion! The numbers on their tickets be- tray them, and the courteous official in charge gently relegates them to their own place. There are only eighteen seats in the gallery in all, and these are divided into two rows, the back one being raised a step higher than the front. In spite of this, a position in the second row is not much to be coveted, as from it little can be seen of the House, except by standing up and craning over the heads of those seated below. In the front row the case is quite different; there you can draw your chair close up to the oft complained-of, over-abused grating, and look down com- fortably upon all that passes. As regards the said grating, it really is not so bad as it has been painted. Its meshes are wide, and, beyond rendering the gallery rather dark, and producing a slight sensation as of a veil continually before the eyes, it inter- feres not at all with the comfort of those seated behind it, or with the view they obtain. At present the House is almost entirely empty. A few officials stand idly near the door, an odd member or so wanders aim- lessly in, gazes about him vaguely for a few moments, deposits a hat on a chosen seat, and wanders out again. It is not yet three oclock. We look about us for a while. The Ladies Gallery is set far back, and com- mands a view of almost the entire hall. On the right, between the end of the Ladies Gallery and the wall, is the Speak- ers Gallery, which of course we cannot see. Just belo~v is the Reporters Gallery, extending the whole width of the House and a little round on each side. It is divided into a number of small compart- ments, just large enough to hold one man, who enters from the back, steps down, shuts himself in, and sits like a Jack-in- the-Box. Over the edge of this gallery appears the green canopy of the speakers chair, which will effectually screen him from our view when he is seated beneath. In front of the chair stands a big table, covered with books, pamphlets, etc. This is the clerks table, and along the foot of it, presently, the glittering mace will be laid. The members benches are on either side, the front Ministerial and Opposition Benches facing the table on the right and left hand of the speaker respectively. A narrow gangway on both sides of the House divides the front benches and those immediately behind them from the rest. Benches, therefore, below this are below the gangway. The principal entrance to the House is through a wide door facing us, on either side of which are the cross- benches, extending as far as the bar of the House. From where we sit, the brass knobs of the latter can only just be faintly discerned sticking out from the ends of the nearest cross-bench on each side. Here, too, is placed the big elbow-chair of the serjeant-at-arms. Above the doorway and over the cross-benches are the gal- leries for peers and strangers, the latter generally well filled. Galleries also ex- tend along the sides of the House for the use of members; on the night of a great debate these are full to overflowing, but at other times frequently empty. At length on the stroke of three, the cry of Speaker !is raised in the lobbies without, and presently the doors are swung back, and the great man appears in his wig and gown. Preceded by the serjeant-at- arms bearing the mace, and followed by the chaplain, he passes towards the chair, bowing right and left at every step. The doors are then closed, and prayers are read by the chaplain. During this ceremony the few members present fidget somewhat after the manner of schoolboys on a simi- lar occasion. Then comes Question-time. This lasts a longer or shorter period, according to the number and character of the ques- tions honorable members desire to ask those in authority. It is no doubt a most useful indispensable institution; but question-time is nevertheless, as a rule, rather dull, though sometimes enlivened by a sharp skirmish between smart speak- ers on both sides of the House. A slight pause precedes the commence- ment of the serious business of the day. The benches are by this time fairly well filled, and a slight rustle goes through the assembly as the first speaker rises to ad- dress the House on the matter in hand. On the night of a big speech by some leading orator and statesman, the House of Commons is indeed a sight worth seeing. The floor and galleries are crammed, not a vacant seat is to be found anywhere; the members are disposed in various attitudes, characteristic or peculiar, yet all listening intently. At one moment a stillness deep as death may prevail, broken only by that one voice ringing through the room, sweep- ing its hearers along in a tide of eloquence, swaying them this way and that with its persuasive eloquence. The next some chance word of the orator breaks the spell a storm arises; cheers, counter-cheers, 126 THE LADIES GALLERY calls and other expression of accord or dis- seated in state, get a near view of a ges- sent. Order! Order! Order! Hear! ticulating orator, scan the green leather. Hear! Hear! roll like waves of sound covered benches and the rows of faces, from one end of the building to the other, inspect the bar of the House, glance The wildest confusion of voices obtains, upwards to the bars of the Ladies Gallery, and it is some time before the tumult is and descry dim forms within. This peep- stayed. Such a scene is superb but inde- hole is very enticing; but we must tear scribable. ourselves away, and once more mounting How great, then, is the contrast when the weary stairs, find our way back to our some prosy individual holds the floor, old places. boring the House with his especial fad. The House has wakened up over some Rapidly the seats empty; one by one the question, and a lively debate is in process, members steal away; while those who re- amid much laughter, cheering, and cries main to suffer martyrdom for the sake of of No! No! Then comes the shout keeping a house stretch themselves Divide! Divide! It is a great misfor- comfortably to sleep if they can. Occa- tune that from our present position we sionally a stray member or two peeps in, cannot hear the words of the speaker very listens for a few minutes, then hurries well, but we manage to make out that he away; sometimes one look at the speaker puts the question, that there is a shout of is a sufficient reason for beating a hasty aye! on the one hand, and of no! on the retreat. other, and then the speaker announces It is while a particularly pronounced that the ayes! have it. No !is shouted specimen of the latter type of orator is again. So an adjournment to the lohbies holding forth that we retire for afternoon is necessary to settle the matter. A pause tea. On the fine bright afternoons of ensues, during which we can hear the at- summer, gallant members are wont to en- tendants calling I)ivision! from lobby tertain their lady friends to tea on the to lobby, till the sound dies away in the terrace, which runs along by the river, distance. Members drawn from various Here we can sit and see the boats glide occupations, and from remote parts of the up and down the Thames, or watch the building, come sauntering or hurrying in. living stream passing ceaselessly over There is a moment of expectation before Westminster Bridge. On such an occa- the speaker puts ~he question for the sion as this the terrace is a pretty sight; second time, and the same performance is the gay hues of the ladies dresses brighten repeated as at first. Ayes to the right, the sombre stone walls and add pictur- Noes to the left, says the speaker, and esqueness to the scene. Talk and laugh- the members file out. It is curious and ter float lightly round, forming a merry interesting to watch the various methods accompaniment to the demolition of cake of progression adopted: some saunter and strawberries. Our staid legislators languidly; others move with a quick, for the time being have laid aside the cares brisk, decided step; many join in groups of the State. But to-day the harmony is of two or three to hold an earnest conver- not destined to remain undisturbed. The sation as they pass out; a few rush out division bell rings imperatively, attendants the instant the word is given; far more appear to shout the summons in our deaf- hang back till the House is nearly empty ened ears, members depart hastily, and for before they slowly take their departure. a while the ladies are left forlorn. The lobby without is then cleared and the After tea, before returning to the gal- doors locked. Presently, a thin stream of lery, a walk through the building is pro- men begins to come back, while the sound posed by our entertainer. So away we go of a tellers voice falls faintly on our lis- through corridors and up staircases, mazy tening ears. At last all are counted, and and bewildering to the stranger. Every the four tellers forming into line, march now and again we catch glimpses of invit- up to the table, bow to the speaker, one ing-looking reading and smoking rooms, of the tellers on the winning side an- whither we may not enter; but at length nounces the numbers, and the episode is our pilgrimage ends in the waiting-lobby over. outside the hall of the Commons. Be- Soon after half past seven we descend tween the outer and inner doors of the for dinner to a dining-room overlooking entrance to the latter is a little seat in the the terrace. Here members may only left-hand corner. To this we are con- dine when they are accompanied by ladies. ducted, and standing on it in turn, peep At this hour numerous ladies in evening through the little glass window into the dress are to be met with flitting about the House. Now at last we see the speaker corridors and staircases, while cosy parties UPON BEARDS. 127 assemble in the privileged dining-rooms. The House is becoming more and more a dining club for ladies since the fair sex is so ungallantly excluded from other clubs in London. Dinner over, we adjourned to the terrace for coffee. The night was soft and balmy, the lights were gleaming far along the Embankment; and the scene was even more picturesque than by day. It is not till eight oclock that the speaker adjourns for his dinner; but he had long been back at his duties again, before we even thought of wending our way once more to our seats in the gallery. After the cool air of the terrace, the gallery felt hot, stuffy, and dull, particu- larly as the debate had once more settled down into a semi-somnolent condition. Our eyes and thoughts wandered, and fell on the reporters, still scribbling or occa- sionally snoozing at their posts. Did they get very cramped, we wondered, sitting in that confined position? We ourselves were nearly asleep, and began to make preparations for departure. One more look at the House first. Let us see how many members are taking a nap. What a lot of bald heads there are among them. Shining crowns are very much in the as- cendant here. Is it because they keep their hats on so much? But, dear me I how few members there are surely not forty. At this moment a member rises, and with what looks like a slightly malicious smile on his face, re- marks, Mr. Speaker, I beg to call your attention to the fact that there are not forty members in the House. But the words arouse no stir; there is no crowd- ing of members back to the scene. The thing has either been pre-arranged or there is no interest in prolonging the sitting further that night. Slowly the speaker begins to count: One, two There are not indeed forty members present. It is a Count out. All is over for that night. Who goes home? From Chambers Journal. UPON BEARDS. And wildly tossed from cheeks and chin, The tumbling cataract of his beard. Ta/es of a Wayside Inn. LIKE many another thing insignificant enough in itself, the human beard has played an important part in the affairs of mankind, so much so, that we find it to have been the cause of a long and bloody war between the Tartars and Persians, co religionists, from the former declaring the latter to be infidels merely because they refused to trim their beards in accordance with a certain rite. Some of the customs and ceremonies pertaining to this facial appendage, in vogue among different peoples at different times, are sufficiently ~curious to deserve mention; and we notice that nearly every calling and profession has in its turn been subject to stringent regulations regarding it. In the same way as the wearing of beards, with certain few exceptions, is prohibited in our army in the present day, so, among the ancient Romans, military men wore it short and frizzled. Alexander commanded the Macedonians to shave themselves, lest the length of their beards should give a handle to their enemies; while, on the other hand, among the Catti, a nation of Germany, a young man was not allowed to shave until he had slain an enemy. But perhaps ecclesiastics have suffered most. At one time they have been enjoined to wear beards, from a no- tion that it was effeminate to shave; and at another, not to, on the score that they might take pride in them, like the kings of Persia and some of the first kings of France, who had them woven and matted together with threads of gold. After the introduction of Christianity, the Anglo- Saxons obliged their clergy to shave, in obedience to the laws and in imitation of the Western churches; a distinction be- tween them and the laity of long duration, concerning which a writer in the seventh century complained that the manners of the clergy were so corrupt that the priests could not be distinguished from the laity by their actions, but only by their want of beards. As a distinguishing mark, Perseus seems to have been so convinced of the beard being the symbol of wisdom, that he thought he could not bestow a greater encomium on Socrates than calling him Magistrum barbatum. Slaves among the Romans wore their beard and hair long. It was always in olden times, and is still among the Hindus, a sign of grief or joy according as the Custom was to wear it or not; thus, the Romans, who shaved daily, suffered it in times of grief and affliction to grow; while the Greeks, who wore them, shaved at such times, like the Hindus. Potter, in his Arch~eologia Gr~ca, tells us that in solemn and public inournings it was common to extend this practice to their beasts, that all things might appear as deformed and ugly as might be. Thus Admetus, on the death 128 UPON BEARDS. of Alcestis, commands his chariot horses to be shorn: My chariot horses, too, my grief shall share; Let them be shorn, cut off their lovely manes. And Alexander, at the death of Hepha~s- tion, not only cut off the manes of his horses and mules, but took down the bat- tlements of the city walls, that even the town itself might seem to mourn, and in- stead of its former beauteous appearance, look bald at the funeral. Among the Normans, to allow the beard to grow was an indication of the greatest distress and misery. It is mentioned by some of our ancient historians, as one of the most wanton acts of tyranny in Wil- liam the Conqueror, that he compelled the English to shave their whole beards, and that this was so disagreeable to some, that they chose rather to abandon their coun- try than resign their whiskers. Among the Turks, it is more infamous for any one to have his beard cut off than almost anything else, and there are many in that country who would prefer death to such disgrace. With regard to religious ceremonies, the day on which a Roman or Grecian youth removed the first growth from his chin was held as a festival; visits of cere- mony were paid, and presents made to him, while the down itself was conse- crated to some god, usually to the Lares. Nero consecrated his in a golden box, set with pearls, to Jupiter Capitolinus. By the statutes of some of the old monas- teries, the lay monks were to let their beards grow and the priests among them to shave. The beards of all that were received into the monasteries were blessed with a great deal of ceremony; and there ~re still extant the prayers used in the solemnity of consecrating the beard to God, when an ecclesiastic was shaven. The Russians wore beards until near the close of the last century, when their czar enjoined them all to shave; but, notwith- standing his injunction, he was obliged to keep a number of officers to cut off by violence the beards of such as would not otherwise part with them. He also levied a tax on long beards, which many sub- mitted to rather than part with what was universally held to be an ornament to the person. The superstitious among them thought it to be an external characteristic of the orthodox faith; and those who were too poor to pay the tax, religiously pre served their shorn beard, and had it de- posited in the coffin with them on their decease, that they might present it to St. Nicholas, on his refusing to admit them, as beardless Christians, into the kingdom of heaven. The fact of Philip V. of Spain ascend- ing the throne with a shaved chin gave rise to the Spanish proverb, Since we have lost our beards we have lost our souls, for they were in a manner bound to follow his example. The Arabs make the preservation of the beard a capital article of religion, because Mohammed never cut his. The Moors of Africa hold by their beards while they swear, in order to give validity to their oath, which after this formality they rarely violate. The Turks when they comb their beards spread a handkerchief on their knees and gather very carefully the hairs that fall. When they have got together a certain quantity, they fold it up in paper and carry it to the place where they bury their deada cus- tom similar to that of the ancient Greeks, as we find in iEschylus : I see his hair upon the grave; and in Ovid, where Canace bewails her misfortune on being debarred from per- forming this ceremony to her beloved Macar~eus : Twas not permitted me with briny tears To bathe thy lifeless corpse, or bring my hairs Unto thy sepulchre. Anointing the beard was an ancient practice observed in serious visits, where the ceremony was to throw scented water on the visitors beard, perfuming it after- wards with aloes wood to give it an agree- able smell. Plucking the beard was a sign of contempt, a practice which tried the patience of both Stoic and Cynic, in spite of their affected insensibility to insult or injury. Touching the beard was an action performed by supplicants towards those whose compassion they wished to excite; while amono the ancient French, touching or cutting off a small part of it was the most sacred pledge of protection and con- fidence. For a long time, all letters issu- ing from the sovereign had, for greater satisfaction, three hairs of his beard in the sea). A charter of 1121, still extant, con- cludes with these ~vords: And that this writing may go down to posterity firm and stable like the oak, I have applied to my present seal three hairs of my beard.

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The Living age ... / Volume 193, Issue 2494 Littell's living age Every Saturday; a journal of choice reading Eclectic magazine The Living age co. inc. etc. New York etc. Apr 16, 1892 0193 2494
The Living age ... / Volume 193, Issue 2494 129-192

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. Fifth Series, ~ No. 2494. April 16, 1892. From Beginning Volume LXXVIII. ~ ~ Vol. CXCIII. CON TEN T S. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. Ix. I. THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT DI BORGO How SHE GOT OUT OF IT, BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON, THE ROAD FROM MASHOONALAND, RECOLLECTIONS OF TEWF1K PACHA, SOCIETY IN NAPLES WHO RANG THE BELL? NOTES ON BIRD-MUSIC, THE NEW STAR IN THE MILKY WAY, A LATTERDAY VALENTINE, A SPRING CHANSON, Pozzo Edinburgh Review, Cornhill Magazine, Temple Bar, Forinighily Review, Nineteen/k Century, National Review, P 0 E T R Y 1301 CHANGE AND REST, 130 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL & 00., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EscIsIT DOLLARS remztted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be puno~ea- t forwarded for a year,free ofg5ostage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if pos.ib~. If neither of these can he procured, the money should he sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are oi4i~~sC to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and monLy-orders should be made payab.e to ahe order of L5TTRLL & Co. Single copies of the LivING AGE, IS cents. Argosy, Chambers 7ournal, Saturday Review, 131 148 152 i6o 167 173 183 187 190 I3~ 130 A LATTERDAY VALENTINE. (LEAP YEAR: NEW STYLE.) (From Miss Anastasia 7ay, New York, to Thomas, Earl of Dunbrowne, London.) VALENTINES plebeian Cannot fix an earl Im as you may see, an Ardent Yankee girl. Nothing soft youll find here, No old-fashioned lay; Say then, youll be mine,, dear, In the modern way. You (we havent met as Yet I must record) Figure in Debrett as Out-and-out a lord: Ancestors, a thousand, Dignities, a score Hear my bashful vows, and Think this matter o er. I dont in for pa go; Pa despised New York; Porpa in Chicago Cultivated pork: Ma was born a Gerald; Birth was inormas pride As the New Ycrk Herald Mentioned when she died. Well, my piles a million, Thats a fact, you bet: Im in our cotillon Quite the Broadway pet: I can sing like Patti; And to win I wcnt For the Cincinnati Tennis Tournament. Ive a lovely right hand; For my face Ive sat By electric light and Elegant at that! I enclose the photo, Just for you to see, But deny in toto That it flatters me. You, Ive read, are rather Up the spout for cash, Owing to your father Having been so splash: I from debt could free you, And in politics Calculate to see you Bagging all the tricks. Any earl who marries Anastasia Jay Will (except in Paris) Get his little way, Fear no interference; Relatives remain, But their disappearance Beats me to explain. Thomas, I adore thee! Thomas is thy name, Isnt it? the more the Scandal and the shame! All I ask you, Tom, is Just one loving line, One type-written promise Publishing you mine. Matrimonys heart is Ilouselike, half-detached, Seldom save at parties Or in papers matched Answer Yes, or break 11 This poor heart of mine. Be my Fin-de-Silele, TIe my Yalentine I Punch. A SPRING CHANSON. Tua glad springtide is here again; The thrushes sing all day; Weve violets in the sheltered glen, And gorse-bloom on the brae; Along a green and daisied world, The lights and shadows flit; The cherry-trees with buds are l)earled, The crocus lamps are lit. From gnarled apple-boughs the buds Of perfumed white and red Are peeping forth; in scented woods, The wind-flower lifts its head; In lonely swamp and hollow springs The wild marsh marigold; Beneath the flowring currant, sings A blackbird gay and bold. The shimmering sunbeams sport and play Upon the beeches tall, And rest on the laburnums gay Beside the garden wall. Oh, glad springtime; from shore to shore Your gifts are scattered free, And best of all, you bring once more My true love back to me! Chambers Juurnal M. ROCK. CHANGE AND REST. (Zn Sight of the Pyrenees.) SnALL all our troubled life soon cease? Our life like yonder rushing stream Shall purity be ours and peace, Like yonder snowy peaks that gleam Beneath the dazzling morning light, And all unconscious slowly change? Shall we like frozen flakes, once white, Again rush on and joyous range Adown some new and happier ways? O mystery of life that flows, And ebbs again, and seeks repose: A thousand years shall seem but days. Academy. BEATRIX L. TOLLEMACHE. A LATTERDAY VALENTINE, ETC. THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. 131 From The Edinburgh Review. THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO.* THE island of Corsica, with a population of less than a quarter of a million, pro- duced, nearly at the same time, two of the most remarkable men among those who played leading parts in the great events of the closing years of the last and the early years of the present century: the one was Napoleon Bonaparte, the other Charles Andr~ Pozzo di Borgo, the great Russian diplomatist, whose official correspondence during a few eventful years is now being given to the public by his nephew. Al. most simultaneously a life of him by the Vicomte Maggiolo gives the most com- plete account yet published of his career, and shows how great was the influence that he exercised over the foreign policy of both Russia and France, especially dur- ing the years from the first restoration of the Bourbons in 1814 to their fall in 1830. The dream of his diplomatic life was to bring about an alliance between the two powers, and in the pursuit of it he did not allow himself to be troubled by any incon- venient scruples about the morality of the means by which it was to be effected, nor by regard for the interests or rights of any other nation. The Russian government is perhaps the only one which, without ever losing sight of an object it has once determined to attain, knows 1)0w to wait and to bide its time, desisting, when neces- sary, from its immediate pursuit, while watching for a favorable opportunity for taking it up again; and everything that throws light upon the basis on which it was proposed to found the alliance in the past helps to show what may be expected if it should be attempted in the future. Count Pozzos family was one of the oldest and most considerable of Corsica. At tl~e time of his birth in 1764 the strug- gle to shake off the yoke of the republic of Genoa had long been going on under the leadership of the great patriot, Pas- quale Paoli, and the Pozzo di Borgos were * s. Corresrlondance Dij5iomatique du Comte Pozze di Borgo. Par le Comte Charles Pozzo di Borgo. Paris: :890. 2. Pozzo di Borgo. Par le Vicomte Adrien Mag- glob. Paris: 1890. among the foremost of their countrymen in the cause of independence, which had been practically achieved when, in 1768, the Genoese government, recognizing their inability to reduce the island to submis- sion, sold their asserted rights over it to King Louis XVI. of France. Charles Andre Pozzo di Borgo, being born four years earlier, was thus entitled in after life to boast that he had been born free, while his great countryman and contempo- rary, Napoleon, who was no less anxious to be considered as born a Frenchman, gave 1769 as the year of his own birth, a date the accuracy of which has been much ques- tioned. The Bonapartes, like the Pozzo di Borgos, had been energetic partisans of Paoli, and, although they were of a much lower social position, a close inti- macy sprang up between the two families. Charles Andr6 was the friend and constant companion of Joseph and Napoleon Bona- parte, and in his memoirs he describes their characters at that time, when they were all mere lads. Joseph, he says, was the gentler of the t~vo, while Napoleon had more vivacity and em~orternent in his actions and in his manners; hut it was with him, the younger brother, that it was necessary to count in the small matters arising between them, which makes it difficult to suppose that, however great his precocity, there can have been as much as five and a half years difference in their ages. When the Corsicans, who flattered them- selves that they had achieved their inde- pendence, found themselves handed over to the French king without their consent or knowledge, their indignation and anger knew no bounds,and Paoii and his friends, among whom the most energetic was Charles Bonaparte, the father of Joseph and Napoleon, resolved to oppose the French as they had opposed the Genoese; but they could not offer effectual resistance to the forces sent against them, and after a brief struggle they were overpowered, Paoli himself being obliged to fly and take refuge in England. The new government, however, interfered little with existing usages and customs, and was altogether administered with so much consideration that the people were gradually reconciled 132 THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. to it, and Count Pozzos father, a former champion of the independence, became a member of the Council of Twelve under the French governor. Everything went on peaceably and well till the breaking out of the French Revolution produced in Corsica the same agitation that it had pro- voked in every other part of the kingdom, and two parties arose in the island. The one, having at its head the governor and public functionaries, wished to oppose it; the other, adopting the new ideas, was enthusiastically in favor of accepting the decrees of the National Assembly and the tricolor cockade. The magical word liberty, which was constantly in the mouth of the Revolution- ists, had an irresistible attraction for the Corsicans, and it was no sooner pro- nounced in the island than the people clamored for the return of General Paoli, who was recalled from his exile by a de- cree of the National Assembly, and the town of Ajaccio deputed Charles Andr~ Pozzo and Joseph Bonaparte to go to meet and escort him back to Bastia, where Napoleon was one of the first to welcome him. Paoli on his own authority [says Count Pozzo in his memoirs] proceeded to convoke a meeting, open to every one, at the Convent of Orezza. The convent and the valley were filled with armed men coming from every can- tori, and the general proposed and the meeting decided that a petition should be sent to the National Assembly askli~g that Corsica should be declared an integral part of France and constituted a Department, and that two dele- gates should be chosen to present a petition to this effect to the Assembly. On Paolis suggestion Gentili, a veteran of the struggle for independence, and the young Charles Andr6 Pozzo di Borgo were elected as the delegates. They proceeded to Paris and presented the petition at the bar of the National Assembly, which, after an eloquent speech by Mirabeau in sup- port of it, unanimously passed a decree in conformity with its demands. After that Count Pozzo says I passed five months at Paris, attending the sittings of the Assembly and cultivating the remarkable men of the time. Mirabeau en- couraged me much to go to him, and I some- times dined with him. I was intensely inter. ested in what I saw and heard. I shared the doctrines of the day, in the belief that they would only lead us to reforms, but not to rev- olution. I went sometimes to the meetings of the Jacobins, which disgusted me by the triv- iality, exaggeration, and bad taste that reigned in them. After the dissolution of the Constituent Pozzo was elected as one of the Corsican deputies to the Legislative Assembly, ~vhich he describes as consisting of the Girondins, who wished for power and the republic, of the Jacobins, who wanted the republic and popular tyranny, and of the Moderates, who were in favor of a consti- tutional monarchy, with which last, as morally and politically the least bad, he was in the habit of voting, and he was present at the sitting of the fatal August 10, when the king and the royal family were arrested. A National Convention was convoked; but, disheartened and dis- couraged by all he had seen, he wrote to Corsica to decline a nomination to it, and after remaining a short time longer in Paris, and becoming a silent spectator of the proclamation of the republic, he re- turned home. On his arrival in Corsica Paoli, who received him with the affection of a father, questioned him closely on the state of France, and was confirmed by his answers in the belief that not only France but Europe was about to go through a crisis which might disturb the whole world. He saw and appreciated the general danger, but in the isolated position of Corsica his first care was to see to the safety and tran- quillity of his native island and to watch the development of events on the Continent without becoming the victim of them. He decided to submit to the decrees of the Convention, without, however, putting in force the most oppressive of their dispo.. sitions, and although it was determined, while waiting for better days, to carry on the government according to the new forms, the confiscation of the small prop- erties left behind by the Corsican dmzgrls, ~vho were few in number, was not en- forced. The friendship that had sub- sisted between the Pozzo di Borgos and the Bonapartes had for some time been on the wane, and was soon to be followed by THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. 33 the animosity which lasted to the fall of the French Empire. Napoleon had re- sented the election of Charles Andre as deputy to the Legislative Assembly in preference to his own brother Joseph, and he was still further irritated when, through the influence of Paoli, his nomination as procureur g~n& al syndic gave him the most important of the ministerial func- tions and made him virtually the governor of the island. But the Bonapartes had not yet openly broken with Paoli, though they associated with the Jacobins and fre- quented the Jacobin club founded at Ajac- do in connection with those of Toulon, Marseilles, and Paris. While the Reign of Terror in France filled the prisons with suspects, and es- tablished the guillotine in permanence, a moderate and conciliatory administration kept Corsica in a state of comparative tranquillity; for the Corsicans, though de- voted to freedom, for which they had always been ready to shed their blood, were not revolutionists of the French type, Saliceti alone of their deputies to the Con- vention having voted for the death of the king. But though Paoli and Pozzo were undoubtedly acting in unison with the wishes of the great bulk of their country- men in making it their aim to save the island from the Terror, the task proved beyond their strength. The Jacobin clubs denounced them to the National Conven- tion, which sent three commissioners to Corsica with unlimited powers, the regi- cide and terrorist Saliceti being one of them. Saliceti, on his arrival, had an interview with Pozzo, who describes it in his memoirs. We could not understand or trust each other: his plan was to instal the Terror in Corsica, mine to do nothing extraordinary to preserve the peace of the island without quarelling (sans nous broniller) with France, and still less separating from her, republic as she was; and to wait for the end of the crisis, which was too violent to last. General Paoli advocated this system without any arri?re- pensie either of independence or of submission to the English. Things were in this state when, at the instigation of Lucien Bonaparte, the Na- tional Convention passed a decree in which the names of Paoli and Pozzo di Borgo were included in a list of the persons to be proscribed, the spirit that actuated him being betrayed by an intercepted letter from him to his brothers announcing the decree in the triumphant words, Paoli e Pozzo decretati e la ~zostra for/una fat/a, which, when the services of the former to their common country are con- sidered, offers a scarcely credible exam- ple of the unscrupulous self-seeking of the Bonaparte family. When the decree of the National Convention, which was equivalent to a sentence of death, was known, a perfect storm of indignation arose throughout the island, for Paoli was a national hero, adored by the whole people, and the citation addressed to him and Pozzo by Saliceti and the two other commissioners was responded to by a summons from the General Council con- voking deputies from all the communes to meet to save the country from anarchy and to demand the revocation of the de- cree. Above a thousand deputies, fur- nished with full powers from their com- munes, presented themselves at the place of meeting, accompanied by an enthusi- astic host of followers; they invited the attendance of Paoli and Pozzo, who de- clared their readiness either to resist or to leave the country, according to the de. cision of the meeting, upon which, with a burst of universal acclamation, every man present swore to defend them to the last. Paoli was confirmed in his title of Gener- alissimo and Father of the Country, while Pozzo was declared to have deserved well of his country and maintained in his posi- tion as procureur g~n~ral syndic, and it was resolved that an address should be sent to the Convention to set forth the state of affairs. The next day the text of the address was voted, the powers of the Conventional commissioners were declared null and those of the provincial adminis- trations confirmed, and Paoli was ordered to see to the defence of the country, and to resist any hostile invasion. There was still no thought of throwing off the con- nection with France, and the address de- clared that the people of the Department of Corsica, faithful to their oaths and to their promises, persist in their union with 34 THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. the French Republic, but always free and unoppressed. The next day the conventional corn mis- sioners made an attack on Ajaccio with a frigate, a corvette, two gunboats, and trans- ports, but, after five days of fruitless efforts, were obliged to abandon the enter- prise and to re-embark their troops, which were under the command of Napoleon Bonaparte, who went first to join his family at Calvi and thence proceeded to France. He was soon followed by Saliceti, upon whose report the Convention pronounced Paoli and Pozzo di Borgo, together with a number of the most considerable citi- zens of Corsica, traitors to the Republic and hors Za Zoi, and when this decree reached the island another general assem- bly was called. It expressed its horror of the system of violence and rapine that was attempted to be enforced upon the Corsicans, and especially of the persecu- tion and the destruction of all religion, and ended by pronouncing the dissolution of every connection with France, declaring Corsica a monarchical state, of which the constitution would be elaborated by a national assembly, and offering the sov- ereignty to George IlL, king of Great Britain, on condition of his swearing to respect the liberties of the country. The offer having been favorably entertained in London, Sir Gilbert Elliot, afterwards Lord Minto, and Lord Hood, commanding the Mediterranean squadron, arrived in Corsica in January, 1794, as commission- ers from the British government, with full powers to make the necessary arrange- ments; but little could be done at first, as the French, though driven by the people from the country districts, still held the strong positions of Bastia, Calvi, and San Fiorenzo, and Lord Hood concluded a con- vention with Paoli agreeing that the Brit- ish forces should assist the Corsicans in expelling them. The operations were, however, protracted by misunderstandings between the naval and military command- ers, the latter refusing for a long time to co-operate in the bolder plans of attack advocated by Lord Hood and Nelson, which, when ultimately adopted, led to the capture of Bastia, the last of the French strongholds. Immediately after This event Sir G. Elliot, who had receive(l ~is commission as viceroy, formally an nounced the kings acceptance of the :rown and sovereignty of the island, and n his Majestys name took the oath, sol- emuly promising to respect the constitu- tion and the liberties of the Corsican people. Sir Gilbert, on his arrival, had met with the most cordial reception from Paoli, whom he found old and much broken in health, and protesting that his only wish was to retire into private life after seeing tranquillity and a good government estab- lished in the island; but in his earliest letters to his government the viceroy ex- pressed some doubt whether, when it came to the point, a man who had played so great a part would willingly descend to a second place, and in this he was not mis- taken. The British government, more- over, did nothing to conciliate Paoli or to keep him in good humor, but treated him with entire neglect, seeming to ignore his very existence. It was he who had given the crown of Corsica to the king, and it was not unnatural that he should be both hurt and indignant when he did not receive from his Majestys ministers one word of acknowledgment for his services or of hope that he would continue to exert his vast influence over his countrymen in con- solidating the new order of things. He had, moreover, entertained the hope of being himself appointed viceroyan ar- rangement which the British government obviously could not sanction and, when another was nominated to that post, his resentment was at once made manifest and his attitude altogether changed. He withdre~v from all public business, remaining at home brooding over fancied wrongs, and, although the first parliament called under the new constitution at once elected him president and voted that his bust should be placed in the Chamber, he would not appear within its walls even on the occasion of its installation, and he be- came jealous of and estranged from the best of his former friends. Sir G. Elliot had quickly recognized the talents and great capacity for business of Pozzo di Borgo, who, proving himself an admirable coadjutor in carrying on the administra- tion, became the right hand of the vice- roy, as he had before been that of Paoli, and from that time dates the lasting friend- ship that was e%tablished between them. But Paoli bitterly resented what he con- sidered the desertion of his former lieu- tenant by the transfer to another of the allegiance he thought due to himself alone, and Pozzo was deeply pained by the ac- cusation. He loved and venerated Paoli as a father, and his affectionate and gen- erous nature never allowed him under any provocation, either at the time or later, to speak of his old leader otherwise than in the terms of regard and respect which he said was due to him from every Corsican. THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. 35 Paoli after a time became the centre been for the friendship and liberal assist- around which all the malcontents rallied, ance of Sir G. Elliot, by this time created causing much embarrassment to the gov. Lord Minto, to which in after years, when eminent, till he was induced to accept an at the height of prosperity and distinction, invitation from the king to proceed to En- he frequently referred in terms of grateful gland with a pension of 3,000?. a year, acknowledgment. Lord Minto was one which he received during the remaining of the most prominent politicians of the years of his life; but the spirit of disaffec- day, and the eminent men in whose inti- tion he had done so much to arouse con- macy he lived, and to whom Pozzo was tinued after his departure. introduced by him, were not slow in per- The extraordinary successes of Napo- ceiving his unusual abilities, while his leon in his Italian campaign had encour- genial character and brilliant conversa- aged the partisans of France; he was tional talents soon made him universally threatening an expedition against Sardinia, welcome in society, and gave him a leading the capture of which would render preca- place among the 6;n:~rIs belonging to the rious the position of Corsica, where many first French families who were then col- of the people were dazzled by the exploits lected in London. of their countryman, while the British When, in 1799, Lord Minto was sent as government, deaf to repeated remon- envoy extraordinary to Vienna, he invited strances, though giving no hint of abandon- Pozzo to accompany him, and treated him ing the island, did nothing to strengthen as a member of his own family as long as its means of defence against a serious at- he remained. This determined Pozzos tack. The viceroys letters had been left future career; although he had no official unread, and lay unopened on the Duke of position, it initiated him in the diplomatic Portlands table, and it was with no less transactions of the day, which he followed surprise than mortification that in October, with all the enthusiasm of his nature, and 1797, he received peremptory orders for an he was thoroughly absorbed in foreign immediate evacuation, which he had no politics long before he had any official choice but to obey. No sooner, however, connection with them. At Vienna, as in had they been sent off than the govern- London, he quickly became intimate with ment bethought themselves of the un- the Prince de Ligne, Prince Adam Czar- opened letters, and having read them toryski, and others of the same distinction, repented their decision, and in all haste with whom he discussed the affairs of despatched fresh orders countermanding Europe. But the freedom with which he the first. They naturally arrived too late, developed his own views, and probably and when they reached Corsica the last of criticised the equivocal policy of Austria, the troops were already embarked on provoked the authorities to proceed to his board the transports. Napoleon, informed expulsion, which was averted only by the of the preparations for the evacuation of prompt interposition of Lord Minto, who, the island, at once sent a force under not being able to claim for him the privi- General Gentili to take possession, and leges of a member of his legation, appealed took the opportunity of indulging in the to the emperor in his favor. animosity with which he pursued Pozzo After this, however, he seems not to di Borgo to the end of his reign by giving have considered it advisable to remain in that officer specific orders to exclude him Vienna, and towards the end of i8oo he from the general amnesty that was to be returned to England, where he renewed proclaimed, his relations with the French Irnigris, This closed forever Pozzos connection who, like himself, were hoping for the res- with his native island, of which he had toration of the royal family. Pozzo must conducted the administration with great be regarded at this time in the light of a ability at a very difficult period, and with political adventurer, anxious, as his ad- unshaken loyalty to the British viceroy, miring biographer states, to retrouver ?t whose esteem he ever aiter reta\ned. XAe Xa io\s une Vatr~~e et un champ dact\on. proceeded to England, and never saw Action was, in fact, what he panted for, Corsica again; for although his heart re- and he was ready to make apa/rieof any mained true to the land of his birth he country that gave him a field for it, and could not visit it while the Empire lasted, perceiving he could not hope for it in En- and after the Restoration he never had a gland he determined to return to Vienna. moments leisure. Arriving in London, a In announcing this determination to the proscribed fugitive, unknown and without Comte dArtois, in a letter of March, i8oz, resources of his own, his situation would he reminded him of his previous offers of have been far from enviable if it had not service, urged him to look forward to a 136 THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. restoration, and reiterated the assurances of his own devotion. To this the prince replied in terms of equal confidence, and invited further correspondence. When he reached Vienna, Metternich, Gentz, and Cobentzel were greatly impressed by him, and constantly exchanged their views on the most important public matters; but no overture leading him to hope for official employment was made to him till, chafing under inaction, he turned his eyes towards Russia. His old friend Prince Adam Czar- toryski had become the Emperor Alex- anders minister for foreign affairs, and to him, in February, 1804, he addressed a letter formally proposing to be received into the Russian service, and asking to be allowed to go to St. Petersburg if his re- quest were not summarily rejected. He expressed the strong desire he had always entertained of devoting his energies to public business, and complained of having been condemned for years to bear the ter- rible burden of doing nothing. Separated by irresistible causes from the sphere of his duties and of activity, he had often cast his eyes on the map of the world to find a country and a sovdreign he would wish to serve, and none had impressed him so much as Russia, which is the only country that is great without having developed all its natural resources; while the eminent qualities of the sovereign, his love of good, and even his youth, are an encouragement to those who aspire to serve him with constancy and integ- rity. The answer to this appeal was an invi- tation to proceed at once to St. Petersburg, accompanied by a warning not to allow the motive of his journey to be known and to let it be supposed that he ~vent merely as a traveller to visit a country he had not before seena hint on which he acted so successfully that his most intimate friends had no suspicion of the truth, as appears from a delightfully characteristic letter that he received from the well-known Prince de Ligne, which it would be a pity to spoil by translation. Les glaces de la N~va ne couvriront jamais le Vdsuve de votre cceur et de votre esprit, mon cher ami. La lave nfl pen suspendue nen coulera que micux dans la petite maison couleur de rose ~ votre retour. Vous verrez beaucoup de gens presque desprit, de beau- coup dastuce et presque aimables, et ceux qul ne seront pas comme cela bien m6diocres. Vous verrez quelques beaux restes de la grande Femme, qni savait bien quil faut de la fable et de la magie & un pays comme celni- l~, qul sans cela nest que le squelette dnn g~ant. Elle savait lul donner de lembonpoint et se servait dii mythologien Potemkin pour cela. Tons les deux vons anraient aims ~ la folie. Jesp~re quon ne vons connaitra pas assez pour vous aimer on vous d~tester. Le premier est d~ ~ vos qnaiit~s aimables, et le second aux grandes et essentielles qui hn- milient la canaille. Or le monde d~ pr~sent n est qne cela. - - Revenez-nons bien vite;. songex ~i la fable des deux pigeons. Je snis celul qul ne voyage pas. Vous ne serex pas pris dans les filets, mais vons nons reviendrez boiteux pendant trois on quatre jours dnne chute en trainean, etc. Pozzo arrived at St. Petersburg towards the end of 1804, and immediately commu- nicated to Prince Czartoryski a memo- randum containing his views upon the relations of Russia and France, quickly following it with others on the affairs of other conntries, which so much impressed the emperor that within three months he was selected for a mission to Vienna, whence he was afterwards to proceed to Italy as general commissioner to assist General Lacy, who commanded the Nea- politan forces. En route he stopped at Mittan, in order to be presented to King Louis XVIII., who was living there incognito under the title of the Comte de Lille, and by whom he was more favorably impressed than he had expected. He remained more than seven months among his old friends at Vienna, and there, immediately before his departure for Naples, he received from Prince Czartoryski the intimation that the emperor had made him a conseiller detat actuel; but he had scarcely reached his. destination when the news of the capitu- lation of Ulm, followed by the battle of Austerlitz, determined him to hnrry back to St. Petersburg. He had no sooner ar- rived there, in May, i8o6, than he wrote a letter to Czartoryski, giving his views on the state of affairs and the lines of policy it would be necessary for Russia to adopt. There were, he said, but two alterna- tives: either, in concert with England, to endeavor to secure a peace on a solid basis if Napoleon would consent to it or else to prepare resolutely for the struggle. He pointed out the danger to Russia of the relations between France and Turkey which Sebastian was endeav- oring to establish at Constantinople, and in which the fatal weakness of Sir J. Duckworth allowed him to be successful, prophesying that the day would come (fifty years later) when the French artillery and infantry would be found fighting with the Tnrkish cavalry against the Russians. In the autumn Pozzo, who had received rank in the Russian army, and was at- THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. 3T tached as colonel to the person of the emperor, was again despatched on a mis- sion of importance to Vienna, where he was to ascertain the real intentions of the Austrian court and endeavor to determine it to unite with Russia and Prussia in a campaign against France; but by the time he reached the Austrian capital Napoleon was already at the gates of Berlin, and there was clearly nothing to be done. He was then directed to proceed to the East, to assist in negotiating a peace that should put an end to the war between Russia and Turkey, which the influence of the French ambassador at ple had brought about, and he was present at the action off Mount Athos, called the battle of Monte Santo, in which the Rus- nan admiral Seniavin defeated and de- stroyed a great part of the Turkish fleet commanded by the Capitan Pasha, w~ch, however, only led to an armistice, as the negotiations for a treaty of peace were put an end to by the news of the Treaty of Tilsit, upon ~vhich Pozzo at once returned to St. Petersburg. Pozzo di Borgos conduct on this occa- sion was in the highest degree creditable to him. The arrangements of the Treaty of Tilsit were so much opposed to his owi~ views that he felt that he could not as an honest man, remain in the service of the emperor to assist in carrying out a policy of which he entirely disapproved; and this he stated to his imperial master with per- fect openness. The emperor declared that there was no occasion for his leaving the service, and that his own friendship with Napoleon did not impose any such sacri- fice upon him; but Pozzo insisted that he could not be useful to the sovereign, and would only be a cause of embarrassment; that Napoleon, who had not forgotten his old enmity, would be certain sooner or later to demand his extradition; and though the czar would be too generous to consent to it difficulties would follow on his refusal. According to Capefigue, who was an intimate friend of Pozzo, and probably heard it from himself, he concluded his conversation with Alexander with these striking words The alliance of your Majesty and Napoleon will be of no long duration; I know the false- ness and insatiable ambition of Bonaparte. At this moment your Majesty has one arm held by Persia and the other by Turkey, and Bonaparte is weighing on your breast; free your hands first, and then you will easily throw off the weight on your chest. In a few years we shall see each other again. But, whatever credit may be due to~ Count Pozzo for his readiness to sacrifice his own position and interests rather than be associated in policy that he disap- proved, it would be more satisfactory if his conduct on this occasion could be at- tributed to any high-minded objection to be a party to a nefarious scheme of rapine and plunder instead of to his deep-rooted aversion to and distrust of Napoleon. It is, however, impossible to take this favor- able view when we know that, when the emperor had fallen and the Bourbons were replaced upon the throne of France, he used his utmost endeavors to bring. about an alliance between Charles X. and the Emperor Nicholas upon much the same conditions as those agreed upon at Tilsit between Napoleon and Alexander for the aggrandizement of France and Russia. Pozzo, having received permission from the emperor to leave St. Petersburg, went at once to Vienna, where he lived about two years as a private individual in the intimacy of his numerous old friends till he was pursued by the rancor of Napo- leon, who deprived him of that asylum by demanding his expulsion, which the Aus- trian government were afraid to disobey. Prince Metternich, when informing him of this demand, pretended that the emperor had refused to comply with it, but at the same time he begged him immediately to leave the capital. He at first received the intimation haughtily, claiming his privi- leges as a Russian subject and officer at- tached to the person of his sovereign, and said that he must consult his ambassador before he gave an answer; but from the ambassador he obtained little encourage. ment. Count Schouvalow, who had evi- dently got instructions, received him awkwardly and ~vith embarrassment, de- claring that he could not enter into any official communication on the subject, and ending, like Prince Metternich, by recom- mending him to leave Vienna as though of his own free will. He perceived that he was to be sacri- ficed to his all-powerful enemy, and ad- dressed a somewhat indignant letter to Alexander, couched in firm though re- spectful language, offering to resign his appointments into his Majestys hands, and asking permission to leave Europe, but energetically declining to accept the miserable position that Metternich had proposed to him. He owed it to himself, he said, not to submit to any proposal unworthy of him; he could not forget that he was born free and a gentleman, and, 138 THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. having sacrificed everything in order to remain such in the estimation of his supe- riors and of his equals, no consideration of danger or of interest should ever induce him to descend from the rank in their es- teem to which he felt himself entitled ; and he wound up by assuring the emperor that, whithersoever his destiny might take him, his Majesty might be assured of always finding in him a faithful servant, who had taken too great an interest in the glory of the throne and of the country which had adopted him for it ever to be effaced from his heart. The day would come when all those devoted to the inter- ests of Russia would find occasion to share her dangers, and he hoped under his Majestys auspices to co-operate in her triumph. From the closing sentence of this appeal it would almost appear that he still entertained some hope that the generosity of Alexanders nature would prompt him to stand by a faithful servant whom he had treated as a friend, for it concluded with the words, Mon sort est entre les mains de votre Majest~ Imp& iale et je lattends sans inqui~tude ; and if so, he was doomed to disappointment. Russia and Austria were both far too much under the domination of Napoleon for either of them to venture to disobey or displease him, and the answer that he re- ceived to his letter ~va~ an intimation that the emperor accepted his resignation, but would continue the emoluments he had been receiving in whatever country he determined to establish himself. This gave him no choice, and he left Vienna in the last days of i8io, though we do not gather, either from Capefigue or from the Vicomte Maggiolo, whether he waited for the official order for his expulsion or finally accepted Metternichs miserable suggestion of going apparently of his own accord. He did not carry out the inten- tion of leaving Europe, which he had an- nounced to the emperor; he must have been conscious that he would be wretched if far removed from all that was going on, and in i8xi he found an asylum in England, where he had found one in 1797, and he remained in it till the course of events took him back to Russia. Pozzo must have been more than human if he did not deeply resent his abandon- ment by his sovereign, but with him resent- meut was a much less permanent sentiment than his passion for political activity, and, perhaps it should be added, his wish to aid in the destruction of his great country- man and enemy. His old friend Lord Minto, being then governor-general of India, was not among those to welcome his return to England, where, however, he was sufficiently well known not to need any introduction. Lord Castlereagh and Lord Wellesley were in the habit of apply- ing to him for the information on the state of affairs on the Continent which he was so well able to give, and towards the end of i8ui, when Napoleon was making preparations for the invasion of Russia, they made him the medium for conveying to the emperor their wish to come to an understanding upon the resistance to be offered. In a long letter to Alexander, Pozzo in- formed him of this overture, and offered to re-enter his service; but the czar, in reply, merely thanked him for the commu- nication without inviting him to St. Peters- burg, where his presence might, no doubt, be inconvenient if it became necessary for him to make peace with Napoleon; but, when the invading army had pene- trated as far as Moscow, Alexander be- came anxious for his presence, and urged him to lose no time in joining him by the quickest and safest route. The route by way of Sweden, being considered the most secure, was adopted by Pozzo, and this accidental circumstance led to impor- tant results, and to his own greatest diplo- matic success, by enabling him to gauge the feelings towards Napoleon of Berna- dotte, who was governing the country under the title of Prince Royal. When he joined the emperor at Kalisch he was received with every mark of affection and reinstated in the Russian service, and, proceeding to give an account of his in- terviews with Bernadotte, expressed his belief that he might be detached from France by suggesting that the annexation of Norway to his Swedish kingdom would be the price of his defection. Alexander, after listening to all he had to say, was struck by the importance of the object to be gained, and in a few days despatched Pozzo back to Sweden on an official mission with instructions to en- deavor to secure it. On his former visit he had been a mere private individual, able to speak only in his own name, but this time he came before the Prince Royal armed with the authority of an accredited agent of the Russian government. His task, however, was by no means an easy one, as Bernadotte at first insisted on re- ceiving a distinct pledge that Norway should be given to him, while Pozzo was not authorized to go further than to offer a conditional promise, and to encourage the expectation that this would be done; THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. 139 gut, n the end, he was entirely successful and carried his point. His description of Bernadotte. in his letters to Nesselrode, is extremely amusing. The prince was, he says, utterly unlike any statesman with whom he had ever been called upon to do business a man of undoubted talent, with manners that showed the revolution- ary school in which he had been brought up, breaking out into the rages and the language of a muleteer, and of a vanity which made him believe that it was only by his gracious permission that the sun showed itself in the heavens. It was well known that this vanity had made him en- tertain the expectation ot being Napoleons successor on the throne of France, and in the strange letter in which ~ signified his acceptance of the Russian proposal he said that, although he had always been convinced that after the death of Napoleon his empire would pass to the most worthy, and although, by continuing the ally ~f France, he would have claims like the other lieutenants of that illustrious cap- tain, he nevertheless preferred the alliance of the czar. He perceived which was likely to be the winning side, and to it he determined to attach himself. On the successful termination of his mission to Sweden Pozzo was sent to En- gland, whence he accompanied Lord Gas- tiereagh tothe headqLarters of the allies, remaining in attendance on Alexander till, on the first restoration in 1814, he was appointed to represent his sovereign at the court of the Tuileries, and the volume of his correspondence lately published by his nephew, Count Charles Pozzo, shows that he was already as completely French in feeling as he continued to be to the end of his career. He had not, however, and could not possibly have, any sympathy with Prince Talleyrand, then prime minis- ter of the king, whose character was in every respect the reverse of his own. He himself possessed in the highest degree the courage, which is so rare among diplo- matists, and in which the other was en- tirely deficient, of expressing his opinions without caring whether they were those of his employers or not, and on reading his correspondence it is impossible not to admire the fearlessness with which he supported them, sometimes braving and incurring the displeasure of the czar in a way that dismayed the more pliant Nes- selrode and Capo dIstria. From the moment of his nomination as Alexanders envoy at Paris he devoted his energies to the consolidation of the close alliance between Russia and France, which he believed to be essential to the inter ests of both countries; and he was to a considerable degree successful, although not so much so as he hoped, as he never succeeded in getting the signature of the formal treaty he wished for. The first step towards this alliance was to have been the marriage of the Duc de Berry to the Grand Duchess Anna Paulevna, the sister of the Emperor Alexander, once the destined bride of Napoleon and afterwards queen of the Netherlands. Whether the project originated or not in Pozzos fertile brain does not appear, although it seems highly probable, for he certainly took it up with even more than his usual ardor. Neglect nothing, he wrote to Nessel- rode in June, 1814, to ring it about. It is necessary and even indispensable. The peace of the world, perhaps, depends upon it. Both courts and both countries fa- vored the match, though the Russian gov- ernment was far more bent upon it than the French; but the religious question, of which Pozzo at first made light, proved an obstacle that could not be overcome, owing to the disagreement of the sovereigns as to the period at which the princess should declare her conversion to Catholicism, for the czar would not consent to its taking place as long as his sister remained in Holy Russia. The correspondence that passed on this subject was very curious, and gave Pozzo the opportunity of dis- playing amusing ingenuity in suggesting devices by which the difficulty might be removed. At one time the Catholic met- ropolitan of Mohilew was to inform the king that he had ascertained that the prin- cess had a marked disposition for the Catholic faith, and that her marriage with the Duc de Berry might decide her to proclaim it publicly. Next the pope was to be appealed to through Cardinal Con- salvi, who undertook to induce his Holi- ness to sanction the marriage, and the king ~vas to allo~v the grand duchess a private Greek chapel, en laissant aux miracles de la grace damener avec le temps la conversion volontaire de S. A. Imp. But it was all of no avail. Neither the king nor the emperor would give way, and Nesselrode, in his private letters to Pozzo, confidentially expressed his belief that the stiffness shown by their imperial master was owing to his doubt of the stability of the French throne. That a Russian prin- cess, after publicly abjuring her religion, should find that she was not to be queen of France was a risk that Alexander was in no hurry to run, and he apparently 140 THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. wished the matter to drag on till he saw the Bourbons more firmly established than he thought them in 1814. Louis, on the other hand, being impatient for the mar- riage of his heir, wished the Russian alli- ance to be either concluded or broken off, and with this view, on December io, he wrote to Prince Talleyrand, who was then attending the Congress of Vienna I have given my ultimatum. I will not en- quire what may pass in a foreign country, but the Duchesse de Berry, whoever she may be, shall not cross the frontiers of France without openly professing the Catholic, Roman, Apos- tolic religion. On these terms I am not only ready but anxious to conclude; if, on the con- trary, these conditions do not suit the emperor of Russia, let him say so, and we shall none the less remain good friends, but I will treat for another marriage. Talleyrands letter ackno~vledging the receipt of this ultimatum is a perfect spec- imen of the art with which he always strove to maintain himself in favor by saving whatever he knew would be agreeable, and by flattering his masters sense of his own dignity and importance. The king, he said, could not possibly do otherwise than insist, as a sine qua izon,on the conditions he had laid down in his ultimatum, and, proceeding to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of the Russian marriage, he found that the objections predominated. He admitted that at first, when the state of France was insecure, he had thouaht a family alliance with Russia very desirable. But now things were changed; France had no longer need of foreign help, and the king was not now called upon to make sacrifices for such an alliance. The grand duchess in herself was everything that could be wished, but her change of reli- gion for purely political motives must encourage in the people that feeling of religious indifference which is the malady of our days. For the house of Bourbon to ally itself to houses inferior to itself was a necessity not to be avoided, since an equal was not to be found in Europe; but, he declared, when the house of Bour- bon honored another by its alliance he would prefer that it should be with one that acknowledged the honor rather than with one which pretended to an equality. Of the four sisters of the Grand Duchess Anna one was married to an archduke and the three others to little German princes. Shall Russia, which had never been able to place one of her princesses on any throne, now see one called to the throne of France? It would be too great a piece of fortune for her, and it would not be pleasant to see the Duc de Berry placed in close relationship with a crowd of princes of the lowest category. After alluding to Alexanders ambitious views and revolutionary ideas, Talleyrand entreated the king to contrive that the rupture of the negotiation should not be complete till the questions that were being discussed by the Congress were disposed of, as it would only add to the indisposi-. tion the emperor was already exhibiting towards France, and he wound up by sug- gesting that the dauThter of the Prince Royal of Naples, whose marriage with the Duc de Berry was arranged in the follow- ing year, would be a suitable bride for him. Count Nesselrode, who reached Vienna to take part in the Congress in the middle of September, announced his arrival to Pozzo in a letter which is a curiosity in its way, from its entire omission of all men- tion of the great questions about to bedis- cussed, and from the evident importance he attached to the private matter with. ~vhich it dealt. I must speak to you about some private matters, and although it is always great ques- tions that have attractions for you I believe that this will still more be the case in one affecting a fair lady. Know, therefore, that. there is about to arrive at Paris Madame Phillis, actress and singer at the theatre of St. Petersburg, who, after the rest of the com- pany had been sent away, remained in the service of the Court, and is still there. The emperor has always had beaucoup de bien- veiliance for her, and his Majesty has ordered me particularly to recommend her to you. He wishes that she should he considered as still in his service, and protected from the persecution of the Th& ~tre Feydeau, ~vhere she was formerly engaged. I beg you not to treat this matter lightly; it is more serious than might be thought. It does not appear how Pozzo acquitted himself of this delicate commission, and we are deprived of the information on more important matters that would have been derived from his correspondence with Nesselrode, as a few days later the latter summoned him to Vienna, declaring that no great question could be settled without him. On arriving there he found France and Russia in violent antagonism; the emperor was bent on carrying out his projects respecting the grand duchy of Posen, and had secured the support of the king of Prussia by promising that the kingdom of Saxony should be annexed t& his dominions, and England and Austria were at first not indisposed to acquiesce THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. i~.i in the arrangement. But Talleyrand, es- pousing the cause of the king of Saxony, offered a determined resistance, conducted with consummate ability, and ultimately succeeded in detaching the latter powers from their northern allies, and obtained the signature by Castlereagh, Metternich, and himself of the secret treaty of Janu- ary 3, i8i~, which bound England, Aus- tria, and France to stand together. Nesselrode had not received from the ambassador the assistance in carrying out their masters wishes on which he had counted when he summoned him from Paris, for Pozzo disapproved of the emper- ors projects in regard to Poland, and, in his usual outspoken way, not only pointed out his objections, but insisted upon them in such strong language as to offend Alex- ander; insomuch that he had scarcely seen him at Vienna, and was on the point of sending him back to Paris. He re- mained, however, at Vienna till Napoleon, after escaping from Elba, was approach- ing Paris, when he proceeded to Ghent, whither the king had retired, and found there a field for his activityat once opening a correspondence with Nesselrode at Vienna and with Lord Castlereagh and Prince Lieven in London, in which he sketched, with his usual clearness, the po- sition of affairs and his views upon the course it would be desirable to follow. Fully recognizing the ineptitude and folly of the king in not having chosen to govern, according to the spirit of the Con- stitution, by means of a responsible minis- try, and urging that this should be pressed upon him whenever circumstances should make it possible, he insisted that in Louiss restoration lay the only safety that was to be found for France. The country was, he said, divided into three partiesthe army, which was unanimously in favor of the emperor; the Jacobins and regicides, who, aspiring to power themselves, had need of Napoleon to exclude the Bour- bons; and, finally, the Moderates, com- posing the mass of the nation, who wished for a constitutional monarchy. To sup- port these last the allies must therefore be prepared to combat Bonaparte and the army, assisted by allthe aid the existing Jacobin ministry could give them. His arrival at Ghent had, he wrote, been hailed like the apparition of an angel, though he had no pretensions to be one, and among the persons he met there was the Duke of Wellington, who told him that, just as he was leaving Paris, Fouch~, who was at the very moment ac- cepting the ministry of police under Napo leon, had made to him the curious piece of confidence that he was at the same time keeping open for himself the resource of treating with the allies. In addition to this Fouch~ sent a secret confidential agent to the king to tell him that he was ready to se d~faire de Bonaparte on receiving the promise of being maintained as minister of police under a government of which Prince Talleyrand would be the head. Pozzos comments on all this show how well he was acquainted with the wiles of the arch intriguer, and how clearly he fore- saw what occurred three months later. Fouch~, he wrote, is exhausting all the resources of his genius to secure a safe game for himself, however events may turn out. He tries to keep open an asylum in England if every hope is lost of con- tinuing minister of police in France. He shows the Duke of Orleans the throne in prospect if it is impossible to effect a rec- onciliation with Louis XVIII., while to the latter he proposes to replace him on his throne. In all this there is nothing real, but what is certain is that he is serv- ing Bonaparte in every way that can be injurious to the allies, and that he is be- traying him by views which can be useful to himself alone. The last lines of this report must be given in Pozzos own words Fouch6 sees the war approaching; as long as Napoleon can maintain himself he will re- main a spectator of the strife; if he fails, Fouch6 will be seen appearing at the barriers of Paris to receive the allies, and to try to take possession of the Government, in order to turn all the events to his own advantage and to that of his friends. Till then nothing will be obtained from Fooch~ except intrigues and sterile communications which, when the victory is assured, he will represent as real services. Pozzo was soon to find his own opinions at variance with those of his government. Towards the middle of May he received from Count Nesselrode a memorandum for his guidance, containing the views of the Russian government upon the atti- tude they wished the allies to adopt at the present conjuncture, and without commu- nicating them he was directed to ascertain whether they agreed with those of the Duke of Wellington. The Russian gov~ eminent wished the allies to proclaim that they were making war on Bonaparte alone, and that when they had expelled him and made his return impossible they would in- terfere no further; the king should release the members of the Chamber from their 142 THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. oaths to the constitution granted by his Majesty, and would announce that a new Assembly should decide upon one that would give satisfaction to the people of France. Pozzo di Borgo spoke to the Duke of Wellington in the sense of this memorandum, as though he did so of his own initiative, but the duke declared him- self entirely opposed to it. The existing charter contained all that was necessary, with some modifications, to secure every reasonable liberty, and with France in its present state nothing but confusion could result from summoning an Assembly, of which the composition was altogether un- certain, to elaborate a ne~v constitution. Pozzo reported the dukes objections to the Russian proposal at great length, and in terms so clearly indicating his own par- ticipation in them that it provoked Count Nesselrode into saying that he wished, both for his own sake and for that of the Bourbons, that he was less crfiment Bourbonnique. The Bourbons were at that moment in the czars black book. Upon Napoleons approach to Paris the king had fled with such precipitancy that the ordinary precaution of carrying away or destroying important public documents had been neglected. Talleyrand wrote from Vienna expressing the earnest hope that at least his own correspondence dur- ing the Congress had been placed in safety, as it contained matters that would not be agreeable to some of the allies ; but he had the mortification of learning that it had been left behind with the rest, and fell into the hands of Bonaparte, who thus became acquainted with the secret treaty of January 3, which had been directed against the ambitious projects of Russia and Prussia. Napoleon, with maliciou~. pleasure, forwarded a copy of the treaty to Alexander, to show him how he was treated by those who called themselves his allies but the czar declared his determination to adhere to the alliance, though his irrita- tion against Louis, whose minister was the author of the treaty, was so great that he entertained serious thoughts of getting the Duke of Orleans called to ~ throne on the expulsion of Napoleon; and this it was that made him resent Pozzos Bour- bonnique tendencies. The letter in which Pozzo replied to Nesselrodes reproaches is one that it is impossible to read without a feeling of respect and admiration for the man who wrote it. Your letter [he said] has greatly grieved me. I see in it, as usual, the proofs of your friendship, but unfortunately also of your con- viction that my way of judging the affairs of France is not approved. I have served and serve the emperor with all the devotion I owe to him as my master, my sovereign, and my benefactor. In the matters in which the orders I receive are positive I obey; in those in which my judgment is left free I act according to my conscience and my lights. I could certainly divine the intentions and write in the sense of them, whatever might at bottom be my own opinion, and thus secure favor, I will not say at the cost of truth (for I will not blame any one, or pretend to see clearer than others), but by a course contrary to my own convic- tion. No; never shall Pozzo have to reproach himself for such a fault; there lies in my heart a feeling that commands me to respect myself, and if I had the misfortune to stifle it I should no longer be anything in my own eyes. I am accused of judging the Bourbons better than they deserve, but if ever there was a man who supported their cause solely on principle I am that man. The Bourbons are an institution and not a family, and I put all sovereigns in the same category. I am persuaded that Eu- rope has need of them if it is to remain at peace, and that France, if it is to be free, can- not do without them. Count Pozzo was the servant of an auto- cratic government, little accustomed to view with indulgence any backwardness in complying with its behests, and this letter gives a good example of the fearless in- dependence which formed such a noble feature in his character. No personal consideration could induce him to express an opinion he did not honestly entertain, and he would not keep silence if he thoucrht it would appear like a tacit ac- quiescence in what he disapproved. He seems, indeed, at all times to have felt an imperative necessity for giving a free vent to his opinions upon all questions that in- ~ested him, and he considered it the duty of a conscientious servant not only to execute his orders, but to state his views freely in every matter affecting his mas- ters interests, as he invariably did in the forcible language whi he delighted in using, and which often jrovoked the anger of his employers. According to Capefigue, Pozzo was pres- ent and severely wounded at the battle of Waterloo; but, however good the au- thority, it is difficult to believe that, if this were so, no mention whatever of it should be found either in Vicomte Maggi- olos life or in his letters to or from Count N esselrode. From that time, or very soon after, Pozzo di Borgo must be regarded as much in the light of a confidential adviser of the king of France as in that of the diplo- matic representative of the emperor of THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. 43 Russia, and in the former character his correspondence shows that his advice was uniformly sagacious in all matters relating, to internal administration, and that he did his utmost to induce the sovereign to fol- low a course calculated to reconcile all classes of his subjects, without suffering himself to be guided by the narrow views of the Comte dArtois and the extreme Royalists. He remained with the king after the battle, and it was at his instance that the proclamation promising pardon and constitutional reforms was issued at Cambrai; and having secured this, to which he attached great importance, he proceeded at once to the Duke of Welling- tons headquarters, where he arrived at the moment of the capitulation of Paris, and found the duke as anxious as himself to spare the capital from occupation by foreign troops. But Bliicher, of whose hardness and brutality he often speaks with indignation, too much bent upon re- taliating on the French for thei r occupation of Berlin to listen to any remonstrances, insisted on quartering his troops in the town where leurs pillages et devastations font horreur. In his letters he constantly contrasts their behavior with that of the British under the Duke of Wellington, whose conciliatory attitude does not, how- ever, seem to have been much appreciated by the French, for a year later we find Pozzo, after again alluding to the harsh- ness of the Prussians, writing that the English government continued to act with much consistent moderation, but that En- gland was to France un p6le de r~pul- slon; that neither reason nor policy, nor even the force of circumstances, would ever diminish the bitterness and distrust caused by the rivalry of the two countries. He did not believe that there ever was a period when the two nations were more widely separated or when the two govern- ments were less so. After Napoleons abdication at Fontaine- bleau in 1814 France was allowed to retain the frontiers of 1792, and the territories conquered up to that time were restored to her; but in 1815 some of the powers, wishing to take advantage of the position to aggrandize themselves, were unwilling to grant even the frontiers of the kingdom as they were before the commencement of the Revolutionary war, and brought for- ward a draft treaty by which, among other extreme conditions, the cession to the allies of Alsace, of a part of Lorraine, and of other important provinces was insisted on. The draft treaty was submitted to Pozzo for his remarks, and he declared in his report that if the king were to consent to it France would be effaced from the map of Europe, which he believed to be the real object aimed at; that Louis could not accept what was required from him without committing an act of political suicide; but, as in his position some sac- rifices were unavoidable, there were con- cessions he might make and still have a hope of safety. He suggested, therefore, among other modifications of the project, that the old frontier of the monarchy should be retained, but that the conquered territories annexed to it by the Treaty of 1814 should be given up, and that the occupation of the kingdom by the allied armies should be limited to three years instead of being extended to seven, as was proposed. Alexander was more disposed than his continental allies to act gener- ously towards France, and, influenced by Pozzos energetic advocacy, directed him to concert with the king in drawing up such a letter to him as might be commu- nicated to the other governments setting forth his objection to comply with their demand. The letter suggested by the emperor appears to have been drafted by Pozzo with extreme art, so as to avoid awakening a suspicion of its having been inspired by the czar himself, or even be- traying a knowledge that he was not in entire agreement with the other allies. The king began, on the contrary, by ex- pressing the grief with which, in his con- versations with Alexander, he had heard him advocate the proposals that had been made, though his knowledge of his Maj- estys generous nature prevented him from believing it possible that he could be irrev- ocably in favor of ruinous and dishonor- able conditions, and he ended by a formal declaration that he would descend from the throne rather than become an instru- ment for the destruction of his people. The stratagem was completely success- ful the allies durst not insist upon terms that would lead to the abdication of Louis and to complications of which the issue could not be foreseen. The compromise suggested by Pozzo was adopted as the basis of the treaty, and, though it may well be questioned whether the part played by Alexander ~vas consistent with loyalty to the allies, with whom he was associated, there can at least be no doubt of the ser- vice rendered by Pozzo both to France and to his own government, which acquired by it the predominant influence at the Tuileries that lasted till the fall of Charles X. in 1830. Prince Talleyrand necessarily became i~p~ THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. the head of the first administration of Louis when he found himself once more upon his throne; but it was soon evident that it would not be easy for him to main- tain himself long, and he endeavored to strengthen his position by inviting Pozzo to join his administration with any port- folio he might select; but, although the emperor himself favored the arrangement, the offer was firmly declined, partly from his dislike of Talleyrand and on account of the precarious nature of a ministerial office, and partly, no doubt, because he felt that, as Russian envoy, he could more effectually serve the cause of France, which he continued to do with a zeal and impetuosity that alarmed his friends Nes. selrode and Capo dlstria, who constantly urged him to show his French sympathies less openly. The former wrote to him: 1 beseech you, my dear Pozzo, to be im- partial and not to disguise from yourself the extent of your responsibility. But to ask Pozzo to be impartial was to require of him an impossibility. When he had once formed an opinion he was not troubled by doubt or misgiving; he was perfectly indifferent to anything that could be urged in favor of views differing from his own, whether by friends or by opponents, and he must often have been an embarrassing agent for those who had to negotiate with other governments, to whose opinions they were obliged to show some deference. Being convinced that the policy of Prussia was inspired by a vindictive hatred of France, while that of Austria was guided by a wish to weaken the position of the king, and so to keep open a possibility of placing the king of Rome upon the throne, he conceived it to be his duty to oppose those two powers at every turn. Alexander had not forgiven Talleyrand for the treaty of January 3, nor for his in- clination for a close understanding between France and England, and the natural diffi- culties with which the minister was sur- rounded not being lessened by the action of the Russian ambassador, his speedy fall was inevitable, and Pozzo di Borgo exerted all his influence over the king to secure the nomination of the I)uc de Riche- lieu, who had long been in the Russian service, in which he had distinguished himself in the campaign against Turkey, and who might be relied upon for his Russian sympathies. Consequently, when the latter was appointed successor to Prince Talleyrand, Pozzos activity was redoubled, and the two worked together like members of one administration. In a letter to Nesselrode he wrote : I am obliged to twist myself about like a dog tormented by a swarm of flies: I, of all men the least of a courtier, have to pay my court to the Duke of Wellington; to urge the king to be firm; to beg his minister not to allow himself to be discouraged; to tell Mon- sieur that if he does not alter his system he will ruin himself and those belonging to him, the Jacobins that they are scoundrels, and the Ultra-Royalists that they are madmen. And this was scarcely an exaggeration. He was not over-modest in his estimate of his own achievements, for we find him assuring his government that, although they did not seem satisfied with the way in which things had been going on, they would not go on at all if it were not for himself. But the French government also was so much convinced of the services he had rendered in the negotiations for the treaty of peace that a few months after its signature, in November, 1815, King Louis proposed to create him a count and pair de France, with an annual dotation of sixty thousand francs an offer so ob- viously ill-timed, while the troops of the allies were occupying French territory, and while many arrangements had still to be combined between them, that Alexan- der refused to permit its acceptance by his ambassador, and only gave his consent three years later, when the evacuation decided upon at Aix-la-Chapelle had been carried out. In the double character in which he must be regarded at this time Pozzo di Borgo was at least as much occu- pied by the internal affairs of France as by the ordinary duties of an ambassador, and there was a striking inconsistency in his conduct with regard to them. He recognized the necessity for the establish- ment in France of a liberal constitutional government, and he threw his whole weight on the side of those who were opposing the reactionary efforts of the Ultra-Royal- ists, who wished to replace the sovereign in the exercise of the unfettered authority possessed before the Revolution. But in all other countries where a spirit of free- dom began to manifest itself he was ready to go any lengths in suppressing it, and he attended the congresses of Troppau, Lay- bach, and Verona when the Holy Alliance carried into practical effect its doctrine of intervention on behalf of arbitrary power by sanctioning the invasion of Naples and Piedmont by Austria and of Spain by France. When the Greek revolution broke out Pozzo at once perceived that sooner or later it would be followed by a war be- tween Russia and Turkey, which might THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. 45 help the realization of his long-cherished scheme of alliance between Russia and France, of which the Ottoman Empire would bear the cost, and he found his gov- ernment well disposed to support him. In June, 1825, Count Nesselrode in- structed him to make a confidential but official overture to the French Cabinet, and to intimate that if France would give Russia a loyal and energetic support the emperor might be counted upon to prove the high value he attached to the ser- vice. It was one of the last instructions Pozzo received from Alexander, who died before the end of the year, and for a time the matter went no further; but when the bat- tle of Navarino was followed by the war between Russia and Turkey, which Pozzo had from the first foreseen, the French government, remembering the overture made to them three years before, set them- selves to consider the price they might demand in return for the assistance they were ready to render to the czar. After much deliberation they resolved to pro- pose to the emperor a scheme of alliance, involving not only the partition of Turkey, but the reconstruction of the map of Eu- rope, from which Holland and Saxony, for the preservation of which France had made such efforts at the Congress of Vienna, were to be erased as independent states. It had not, however, been sub- mitted to the Russian government when the news unexpectedly reached Paris of peace between Russia and Turkey having been concluded at Adrianople in Septem- ber, 1829, and the favorable moment was considered to be past. When we remember the position then held at Paris by Pozzo di Borgo, the con- fidential footing on which he stood with the French government, the absolute agreement of the foreign minister with his own views, of which he continually boasts in his correspondence with Count Nessel- rode, there does not remain a doubt of his having been the prompter or real author of the project, and although its immediate accomplishment was interrupted by the peace of Adrianople he was not the man to be deterred from pursuing his object. The equivalent that the French govern- ment bargained for in return for the Turk- ish provinces which were to go to Russia comprised Belgium with North Brabant to the Rhine, Luxemburg, and Landau. The support of Prussia was to be pur- chased by the promise of the kingdoms of Saxony and of Holland as far as the Rhine, leaving to France the part between LIViNG AGE. VOL. LXXVIIL 4010 the Rhine and the Meuse; the assent of Austria was to be got by giving her Ser- via, Bosnia, and Herzegovina; and it was hoped that England might be squared by the offer of the Dutch colonies. It is difficult to understand how it can have been supposed that such a gigantic scheme of spoliation, requiring the assent of all the great powers, could be carried out except after a general war, but there has long been evidence, believed to be trustworthy, that in 1829 it was being ma- tured by the French govern ment, and now we have the indisputable evidence of M. Pallain to prove that during the year that followed the peace of Adrianople till the fall of Charles X. in 1830, negotiations on the subject had been going on between France and Russia, and had made much progress, all to the advantage of the latter power. In 1829 the advance of Russia into Tur- key as far as Constantinople does not appear to have been a part of the plan of the French government. The emperor was professing the warmest possible sym- pathy for the kingdom of Greece, then in the process of creation, but the fixed de- termination he after~vards expressed of never tolerating a large extension of it was not known, and it is believed that, according to the first French project, in addition to Crete and the Archipelago, Greece was to have Constantinople and a great part of Turkey in Europe, with a population of eight millions. It is evident that this could not suit the views of the Emperor Nicholas, and consequently when the negotiations were resumed in 1830 the French government found that if they were to obtain the Rhine frontier by Rus- sian assistance they must bid a higher price for it than they had at first intended. We learn from M. Pallain that they did not hesitate to do so, and that Europe was only saved from the convulsions which must have followed an attempt to realize the project by the revolution which precipitated Charles X. from the throne. M Pallains statements may be accepted without reserve or hesitation, for he has been chef de cabinet at the French Foreign Office, and, writing after having free access to its archives, he points out in his preface to the Correspondance in~dite du Prince Talleyrand that Pozzo di Borgo had never abandoned the policy of an alliance between France and Russia, which had been begun at Tilsit, and that during the whole of the Restoration his principal aim had been to carry it out. He adds 146 THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO DI BORGO. It is now known that at the moment when, by the folly of the Polignac ministers, the revolution of 1830 broke out, the plan of M. Pozzo was on the point of success. France had the promise of the Rhine frontier, while Russia avail licence de pousser jusquc~ con- stantinople; and the expedition to Algiers, carried out in spite of the ill humor of En- gland, is an indication that, in this system of alliance and partition, France was to he ad- mitted to a share of the Ottoman Empire. Nothing can be more striking to an En- glish reader than the open exhibition of regret at the failure of this conspiracy shown by M. Pallain and the Vicomte Maggiolo, who appear perfectly uncon- scious of its enormity, and who speak with complacent admiration of a project based upon the unprovoked partition of one great empire and the annihilation of the independence of two or three minor states for no object but that of the terri- torial aggrandizement of France and Rus- sia. When we think of the storm of indigna- tion that would be raised in this country if the government were suspected of entering into an engagement so offensive to every feeling of public morality, we may per- haps hesitate before believing that our neighbors would see the matter differ- ently; but when it is remembered that the project in question was deliberately adopted at a time of profound peace by the ministers, not of an ambitious con- queror like Napoleon, but of a legitimate king of the old French race, and that its failure is to this day regretted by such men as M. Pallain and the Vicomte Mag- giolo, it may well be asked whether there is any ground for feeling confident that their countrymen in general would be found more scrupulous in renewing it if they thought the opportunity favorable. Count Pozzos letters after the revolu- tion of 1830 show how deeply he grieved over it, but, strangely enough, the event which thwarted him in a policy that would have plunged Europe into war gave him the opportunity of rendering the most important service of his whole career to the cause of peace. When the news of the revolution reached St. Petersburg the wrath of the emperor knew no bounds, and he was eager to adopt immediate measures of coercion against the new king of the French, and it was chiefly through Pozzo that he was prevented from taking steps from which he could not easily draw back. The unconquerable aversion always ex- hibited by Nicholas towards Louis Phi- lippe was, in the opinion of M. Pallain, as stated in the preface already quoted, more to be attributed to his anger at find- ing his cherished designs against Turkey shattered by the revolution than to any devotion to the cause of legitimacy, which, at the time of the Restoration, Russia had been ready to abandon in favor of the same Duke of Orleans who was now placed on the French throne. England at once recognized the new king; Austria and Prussia quickly declared their inten- tion of doing the same, and Count Pozzo from the first had strongly urged upon his government that it was only by a prompt recognition that the tranquillity of France could be preserved and the danger of a republic averted; but on the very day on which Lord Stuart presented his creden- tials as British ambassador Pozzo re- ceived from St. Petersburg an instruction, couched in terms of angry and unreason- ing violence, which put him in a position of great embarrassment. He was ordered to leave the embassy house as one belong- ing to a government the emperor did not recognize, to see that every Russian sub- ject in France at once left the country, to give no passport for Russia to any French- man, and to announce that the tricolor flag would not be admitted to Russian ports; and at the same time a communi- cation was addressed to London, Vienna, and Berlin proposing concerted action. Nicholas was not a master whose orders could be safely trifled with ; but Pozzo saw the disastrous consequences likely to result from their execution. and he wrote to Count Nesselrode stating the embar- rassment in which he found himself. His first impulse, he said, was blindly to obey his instructions, but his reason told him to wait; if the powers were to act in concert, as the emperor wished, it would be neces- sary to recognize, as the others were already doing so, and if an iclat were now made Russia could not recognize ~vithout a manifest contradiction. He had there- fore decided to temporize till the emperor had the whole circumstances before him, and then things should be done as his Majesty might direct. The delay allowed the first burst of the czars anger to cool, or the more prudent counsels of Nesselrode, who was absent from St. Petersburg when the instruction was issued, to prevail; the order was not repeated, though it was not till four months after the revolution that Pozzo presented his credentials to Louis Philippe. But he had not waited for this to enter into unof- ficial communication both with the minis- THE CORRESPONDENCE OF COUNT POZZO Dl BORGO. 47 ters and with the king himself, at audiences held with the utmost secrecy either in the apartment of the Princess Adelaide or in that of Madame de Montjoye, one of the queen s ladies of honor, to whom the ar- rangement of them was entrusted. Even after Louis Philippe had been grudgingly recognized by Russia the posi- tion of Count Pozzo was one of extreme difficulty, and required the exercise of all his tact; at one time he had to labor to prevent the French intervention in Bel- gium from leading to a rupture, and at an- other to allay the anger of Nicholas at the sympathy shown in France for the Polish insurgents. He had remained as much devoted to the interests of France as he had been during the reign of the Bourbons; but the czar did not share the sympathies of his ambassador, whose ene- mies were continually representing him as too completely French to be a true Rus- sian, and in January, 1835, suddenly and without warning, he found himself trans- ferred to the embassy in London, which he and his friends looked upon in the light of a disgrace that was keenly felt. He arrived at his new post at a moment little calculated to reconcile him to the change; the secret article of the treaty of Unkiar Skelessi, by which the straits of the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles were opened to the fleets of Russia and closed against those of all other nations, extorted from the sultan as a blow against the in- fluence of Great Britain and as a means of establishing Russian predominance at Constantinople, had recently become known, and the relations of the two coun- tries were the very reverse of cordial. He had the satisfaction of finding his friends Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of Welling- ton in office, the former as prime minister and the latter as foreign secretary; but he did not enjoy it long, and when, within three months, they were succeeded by Lord Melbourne and Lord Palmerston, for ~vhom he had a profound antipathy, his residence in London became altogether distasteful. He felt that he could not be happy unless he got back to Paris, where he had spent so many years of his life and where all his interests were centred, and in 1839 he resigned his embassy on the plea of ill health. He was seventy-five years of age, and had well earned a right to rest ; but rest was of all things that which he wished for least; active work was as necessary to him as the aii he breathed. He used to say that he would rather die of fatigue than of ennui, and if he had been allowed to retain his post at Paris his death in 1842 would certainly have found him still in harness. In private life Count Pozzo was adored by those immediately belonging to him, and was a universal favorite among all who knew him, a delightful companion to both old and young, a great and admirable talker with vast and varied knowledge, a steady friend, always ready to oblige and to do a good turn when it was within his power; but he has been accused of having been vindictive in his antipathies, and of having pursued Napoleon with a hatred that was not even buried in his grave. It has been affirmed in some notices of his life that, on hearing of the emperors death, he exclaimed with vindictive exultation that if he had not killed Napoleon he had at least thrown the last shovelful of earth upon his coffin; but such stories as this may be dismissed as idle and malicious fables. In early life he had hailed with enthu- siasm the movement in France which, in common with so many men of moderate opinions, he believed would lead to the establishment of constitutional monarchy, of which he continued to the end the con- sistent advocate, and he could no more tolerate the tyranny of the Consulate and Empire than that of the early Republic, but there is no reason for attributing to hatred of the man the animosity that was directed against the ruler and the conqueror. Heartless exultation over the death of an adversary who had long ceased to be dangerous could only proceed from a want of the generosity of feeling that was a distinguishing feature in Count Pozzos character, and of which the Bonaparte family were so well aware that on various occasions many of them confidently, and never in vain, applied to him for his good offices in matters affecting their interests, and afterwards warmly thanked him for the services he had rendered. Among these were the Princess Eliza Bacchiochi and Caroline the widow of Murat, two of Napoleons sisters, as well as his brothers Jerome and even Lucien, Prince of Ca- nino, at whose instigation the National Convention had cited him to its bar by a decree that was to send him to the scaf- fold, and his exertions in their favor in all these cases showed how little the recol- lection of past injuries rankled in his mind. The truth is that there was nothing small in Count Pozzos composition; he was impatientof opposition and impetuous in the highest degree, and utterly unlike the ordinary run of statesmen, who pursue 148 HOW SHE GOT OUT OF IT. the course they believe to be called for by could not drink it under the distinguished the interests of their country with a devo- auspices which she desired without a cer- tion perhaps equal to his, but with perfect tam amount of scheming and manceuvring. calmness of temper. Pozzo di Borgo And as the various small crises of the cam- could not be calm or temperate. Every paign recurred when there were duty cause he took up he made his own, as if visits to be paid, tedious correspondences his very existence depended upon it, to be kept up, dull callers to be conversed throwing himself into it with a passion to, or attractive entertainment, where a exhibited by most men only when person- third was de trot, to be foregone the ally affected, and thus he was often sup- others had got into the habit of utilizing posed to be acting under private animosity Georgie. This had come about partly when no such feeling existed in him. His through the fact that her juniors, Sylvia admiration for the greatness of Napoleon and May, invariably backed one another was intense; he was proud of his country up on such occasions, and were commonly for having produced him, and he would joined by their mother, forming a triple never listen with patience to any attempt alliance which an isolated power has often to underrate him ; but believing that the found irresistible. But a stronger reason very greatness of the man, coupled with lay in Georgies own pliant disposition, his inordinate ambition, made it impossi- which had early gained her a domestic ble that, as long as he continued to reign, reputation for not mindino whatever Europe could hope for peace or France somebody else particularly wished to could enjoy reasonable freedom at home, shirk. The proverbial naturalist, how- he directed the whole of his energies to ever, instructs us that the imposition of his overthrow, the last straw may inconvenience the cam- The correspondence now published els owner, and even Georgie ~vas once comes down only to the earlier period of driven to rebel against her load. his embassy to France, but, if it is contin- This was the situation. The time for ued, the volumes which succeed cannot fixing on summer plans had arrived fail to contain much of the greatest inter- towards autumn and several circum- est, for his influence over the policy of stances made a decision rather unusually France, which was much greater than is difficult. At this season the Hespertons generally known, was at its height in the were always accustomed to count in some years immediately preceding the revolu- measure upon the hospitality of friends, tion of 1830. nor had they now reckoned without their hostesses; but the invitations to hand did not give general satisfaction. There was, indeed, a charming letter from the Portwyn - Selmonts offering a months From The Cornhill Magazine. board and lodging at their Brilmouth villa, HOW SHE GOT OUT OF IT. a delightful place and house, to which Where the midge dares not venture every one would joyously have resorted; Lest.herselffastshelay. but, alas, this invitation included /hree GEORGIE HESPERTON had been more persons only, and who should be the left- or less put upon most of her life, and had out fourth? An answer seemed suggested grown used to the process, if she had not by the fact that Sylvias especial friend, exactly learned to like it. I do not mean Edith Battersby, had written urgently to say that she was ever seriously ill- pressing a long visit to Dormead, a fea- treated. It was mainly that her family tureless inland village, at the mention of were wont to devolve upon her the less which Miss Sylvia disdainfully tossed up agreeable of the social functions which her chin. Yet, since no other prospect they found it expedient to perform, and opened, things began to look very much these, of course, scarcely came under the as if Dormead would be her portion, and head of hardships. Still, the mother, Sylvia herself had begun to look undis- Lady Hesperton, being a widow, not over guisedly cross, when a mornings mail richly left, her purpose, that herself and changed the aspect of affairs by bringing daughters three should keep a footing in a letter from Lady Hespertons brother-in- society, and duly follow its fashion-led law, the girls Uncle John. movements, did entail upon them some The Reverend John Hesperton was a laborious days. It would be an exaggera- person seldom heard of, and still more tion to assert that she could not drink her rarely seen, beyond the bounds of his re- tea without a stratagem; but it is quite mote Cumbrian parish; the girIs, indeed, true that she, and Georgie, and the twins had never set eyes on him, and their HOW SHE GOT OUT OF IT. 49 mother had only dim recollections of two or three meetings about the time of her marriage, while letters had averaged per- haps one in an Olympiad. Now, however, he appeared to meditate the drawing tauter of these somewhat slack family ties. His letter was recognized by its experienced readers as obviously the precursor of a formal invitation, a feeler thrown out to ascertain his chances of securing a guest. He wrote, for instance, of how much he missed his eldest daughter, Mina, his right hand in the parish work, who had gone abroad with an invalided aunt. And I am sometimes tempted, went on the old rector in his polite, precise phrase, to ask you to spare me one of your bright young people for a while. Dear Minas absence has left a little chamber unoccu- pied, and poor Carrie would be greatly cheered by a companion in her long walks and a coadjutrix in her classes at the Sunday school. Yet I fear that Grantrigg would be but a dull abode for such fash- ionable young ladies as my nieces. Pray give them their old uncles kindest re- membrances. A wave of sympathetic aversion ran round the breakfast-table as Lady Hesperton read out the words long walks and Sunday school, and there was a short pause before somebody said: Hell ask one of us as sure as fate, if we answer him civilly. And it really would be very convenient if he did, said some- body else. It mightnt be so bad either, for any one who likes the country. As Georgie does, you know. Of course the scenery up there is lovely. A brick- field and a coal-pit happened, as a matter of fact, to be the most prominent natural features of Grantrigg. I dare say, in- deed, it would be pleasant enough, just for a few weeksfor any one who fancied that sort of place, I mean. Georgie, now, very likely wouldnt mind it a bit. Georgie listened to the rustle of the meshes closing in around her, and she did mind dreadfully. She had private reasons for wishing very, very especially to be of the Brilmouth party; yet what could she do? For not only did the frosty weight of custom lie heavily upon herand cus- tom far more than conscience makes cow- ards of us allbut those reasons were a secret which she would not have yielded to the most ingenious blandishments of. Don Torquemada himself. So she con- tinued to stir her coffee without entering any protest. I suppose I had better write to him myself, said Lady Hesperton, after a little more conversation of a like tendency, though I can scarcely be ready for the first post, and theres no time to lose isnt this the seventh? But if I leave it to one of you girls, youll write about noth- ing except operas and dances, till you give the poor man an idea that you are a set of dissipated heathens, whom he wouldnt venture to import into his parish. Oh, let Georgie write, as shes going, said Sylvia; and you know she has just been at the Honchester Ecclesiastical Conference; she could give him an ac- count of that; nothing could be more appropriate. It was true that Georgie had recently been carried to this entertainment by old Lady Lucy Rambaut, a serious social numen, whom it was occasionally needful to propitiate; and now to make that self- renouncing act instrumental in enforcing another, was a piece of sharp practice which, perhaps, smote May with some compunction, for she said: Oh, Ill write, if Georgie has anything else to do. But Georgie replied quickly: No, thank you, May, I may just as well do it myself. I really falling into the wont- ed formula I really dont mind. The truth was that she had been stung by a sudden thought, and thrilled with a bold design, which only the stress of a great emergency could have impelled her actually to carry out. Seated at her little desk, she slowly and thoughtfully wrote the letter that should procure her invita- tion to Grantrigg Rectory. She bestowed much care and no small skill upon the whole composition; but the most painfully elaborated passage was the following, which I subjoin: Last week, she wrote, I went with a friend of ours to the Ec- clesiastical Conference at Honchester, which was most interesting. Everything was really very well done. The bishops and other great people went to the Town Hall in a grand procession, with the cor- poration, and the city militia, and the fire brigade, and all that. Of course there was a tremendous crowd on the day when the Imperial High Commissioner gave his address, and everybody was so delighted with it. I am afraid I dont exactly re- member what his subject was, but I know he said it seemed probable that nothing in particular was true, but that people could go on believing whatever they liked all the same, which did just as well. And all the bishops said it was perfectly satis- factory, I hear his address is to be printed in a sort of tract, and no doubt you will read it; it was very earnest and convincing. I am sure I should like very I 50 HOW SHE GOT OUT OF IT. much to teach in your Sunday school, Georgie continued, with a dexterous jux- taposition which would have done credit to an older hand at diplOmacy. It must be very nice, and I suppose it is not diffi- cult when one has had a little practice. I really shouldnt wonder if he didnt ask me after all, Georgie reflected with a flicker of a smile as she looked over her letter. I think Ill let May see it, and then she can testify that it was all right. In which resolve Georgie again showed a fine judgment, for May was decidedly the stupid one of her family, and by no means likely to read between lines or discrimi- nate shades of tone. Im sure it ought to do beautifully, she said with admira- tion after the perusal; the part about the Conference sounds splendid. But, unhappily, Georgies cleverness altogether failed to accomplish what she had intended. She had forecast rightly enough the feelings with ~vhich her uncle would read her letter; but it is easier to calculate upon rousing another person s emotions than to predict the influence which these will have upon his behavior, more especially when the person in ques- tion chances to be a complete stranger. Thus, in the present case, Mr. Hesperton was much shocked and pained by his niece s account of her recent spiritual experiences, but instead of consequently reoardino~ her as a moral leper, whose blighting presence in his wholesome cure was a peril to be piously shunned, he looked upon her compassionately, as one afflicted with a mind diseased, to which Providence had plainly set in his way the duty of ministering. Neither his con- science nor his natural benevolence would allow him to evade the responsibility. One consideration only gave him pause: was he justified in exposing his mother- less Carrie to the dangers which might spring from association with this mis- guided girl? But he dismissed the faint- hearted doubt after a brief struggle. He would watch Carrie closely, and send her to stay with his sister, if he deemed it advisable. Come what might, he would not throw away the chance of rescuing one of poor Edwards daughters from bondage to such lamentable views. Be lieve whatever they like perfectly satisfactory poor young thing, with what culpable negligence she must have been brought up! The old rectors white whisker-frill framed a face full of concern as he rose from his chair and began to pace his little study. I have it, he said to himself, his eye falling upon his book- shelves ; Ill arrange a short course of reading to go through with her when she comes. I must make time for it after din- ner; Im getting too fond of my nap and my armchair. Perhaps it would be best to begin by asking her to read aloud to me, to save my eyes, that the thing may not look premeditated. Let me see, here are Paleys Evidences, and the immortal Analogy; they may possibly be consid- ered antiquated nowadays, he mused, fondly flicking off the dusty cobwebs and throwing several book-mites into grave consternation, and I might do well to send for some of the S.P.C.K.s new vol- umes; though it would be difficult, I take it, to improve upon Bishop Butler. Having decided upon that step, the rec- tor sat down and wrote to his niece; but being, for his part, a man of some discre- tion, he said nothing about the Conference, or the Sunday school, or the Analogy. He simply ~vrote a very kind letter, warmly inviting her to Grantrigg, and begging her to fix an early date for her arrival. Georgie read this good-natured epistle with intense dismay and chagrin. She had spent two days in a fools para- dise, listening with false security while her family discussed their plans upon the basis of her own relegation to Cumber- land, an arrangement which she had, she thought, effectually precluded. But now her doom was sealed literally, for her old-fashioned uncle used wax and a signet- ring and bitterly feeling it vain to con- tend further with fate, she dutifully penned an acceptance, and applied herself to the task of disguising the fact that she was of ladies most deject and wretched. This task, indeed, became daily harder, amid the twins gleeful bustle of prepara- tion and anticipation and her own melan- choly brooding upon all that her absence would lose her, and, still worse, what it might in one quarter be taken to imply. A considerable effort was needed to keep her countenance and her temper at ap- proximately their normal length, and Georgies previous apprenticeship to that useful craft stood her in good stead. One morning, however, it appeared that Sylvia, also, had a grievance, which she did not feel called upon to hide. Im horribly disappointed, she broke out in the course of breakfast, that the Sax- mores wont be at Brilmouth after all. They would have been quite certain to have got up some private theatricals; Bettys as cracked about them as I am. Do you remember what splendid ones they had at the Manor last year? As it HOW SHE GOT OUT OF IT. 5 is now, I dont think therell be anybody there likely to go in for anything of the kind. I quite believe youve got theatricals on the brain, Syl, said May, who was not a success before the curtain, but who much excelled behind a net; at any rate, theres sure to be no end of tennis, and we ought to be able to get up a grand tournament. They say its possible that Barlow and the Renshaws may come. One gets deadly sick of perpetual tennis, grumbled Sylvia, and, besides that, its no good for wet days. I dare say it will rain half the time. Id been looking forward particularly to the Saxmores. Id even got my French marquise frock done up on purpose.~~ Oh, well, therell be plenty of nice people anyhow. The Carfords yacht is expected there next week, and Mr. Page- Scott was to be with them the little Scotchman, you know, whom we met at the Ruxtons in the spring, and thought so pleasant. By the way, I suppose his leave must be coming to an end. Didnt you say, Georgie, that he had told you he was going out again to Bombay some time in the autumn? Georgie daresaid he had, but didnt exactly remember. She supposed also by the way, though of what is not quite clear that she would have to write a line to Carrie at Grantrigg Rectory. Yes, she had had a note that morning, and had left it somewhere or other, most likely in her own room. And therewith the break- fast party dispersed. In the course of that afternoon Sylvia, who had spent the morning shopping with her mother and May, lighted upon a folded letter stuck marker-wise in the third vol- ume of Juliets Jewelled Yoke, a work which both she and Georgie happened to be reading. Letters left promiscuously lying about were recognized as common property by the Hesperton household, so Sylvia had no scruple in reading this one and as she opened it, out of the innermost folds slipped a tiny shred of silver tinsel, which might have been placed there with some special object, but Sylvia, naturally enough, did not notice it. The letter, dated from The Rectory, and written in a schoolgirlish sort of hand, was evidently Grantrigg Carries, and began with enthu- siastic expressions of delight at the pros- pect of Georgies visit. It is particularly lucky-, the writer proceeded, that you are coming just now, for I never remember when there was so much going on here as there is at present. As a rule we are not very lively, but this summer several sets of nice people have come to the neighborhood, and then the Elvenmeres are at the castle, which makes a great difference. Their eldest son comes of age this month, and they are to have grand doings dances, and magn~ft- cent private theatricals with a real stage- manager from London! Are you fond of acting? I have an idea that we heard from somebody that one of you was awfully good at it. If so, you are certain to be requisitioned for the castle, as I know the Elvenmeres have been disap- pointed by their leading lady, and are on the lookout for another. They wanted me to take a part, but I have no gifts for that kind of thing. However, I told them yesterday that I thought I knew of some one. What a mercy it is that papa is not Low Church! If he had been, of course we should have had to be horrified at any~ thing entertaining, but, as it is, we go everywhere. I hope we shall have great fun while you are here. Your affection- ate cousin, CARRIE. P.S. If you have a nice wig, do bring it with you on Mon- day. I know it sounds rather an odd re- quest, but they say it is sometimes very hard to get a becoming one. An hour or so later, Georgie, entering the breakfast-room, was aware of Sylvia sitting, a small, palpably disconsolate heap, in a sofa-corner; and she derived what under any ordinary circumstances would have been a very unsisterly satisfaction from the sight. That it did please, and did not surprise her, was due to a super- ficially irrelative fact, namely, her ascer- tainment that the significant tinsel-thread no longer lurked in Carries letter. It would not, how~ver, have by any means jumped with Georgies design to assume the existence of the slightest connection between her cousin~ s communication and her sisters symptoms of distress. There- fore, in response to an ostentatious sigh, she merely said Dear me, Syl, have you got your neuralgia again? Oh yes, Sylvia answered dolorously; its pretty bad this evening. I suppose it is going to rain, for you know my neu- ralgia is always worse in damp. Georgie sympathetically suggested vari- ous remedies, which were querulously re- jected, and a brief silence followed, Sylvia sitting with the corners of her mouth pathetically tucked down, and her front hair wildly pluffed up in a manner indica- tive of much distraction. Then she re- sumed her plaint. I hope I shant have it all the time were at Brilmouth, but the 152 BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON. sea air always is bad for it. Im almost in ten of those who praise or condemn sorry, on that account, that weve settled Haydons pictures, and whether they rank to go there. amongst his admirers or not, deplore the Georgie admitted with candor that neu- tragedy which closed his stormy and dis- ralgia certainly was an awful plague. appointed life, has found time to read the Do you know, Georgie, Sylvia said autobiography and journals edited by Mr. hesitatingly after another pause, I really Tom Taylor, or the two bulky volumes in think that, if you didnt particularly want which Mr. Frederic Wordsworth Haydon to go to Grantrigg, it might be wiser for collected his fathers Correspondence me to change with you. You see, it would and Table Talk. be such a bore if I did have constant neu- Yet Haydon was an artist with the pen ralgia; and I believe the sea air at Bril- as well as the pencil, and there are few mouth is dreadfully strong. Of course things in literature more vivid and dra- one of us wouLd do just as well as the matic more essentially picturesque other at either place. than portions of his autobiography; or Oh, of course, as far as that goes, more pathetic than its record of defeated it wouldnt make the least difference, aspirations, baffled hopes, and a breakino Geor,,ie conceded, but then youd find it heart. XVithout, therefore, re-opening the so dull. old debate as to his artistic merits and I dare say I would, quoth Sylvia, who, defects, or dwelling much on the contro- however, had the grace to turn rather versies which brought him so many foes, pink; but it would be better than having an outline of the story of his life, as he neuralgia. One cant enjoy anything when told it, may still have interest. one has neuralgia, you know. A reply The Haydons were an old Devonshire most reassuring to Georgie, as it showed family, ruined by a Chancery suit in the an intention on Sylvias part to ignore the time of the artists great-grandfather. His alluring letter, a line of conduct which grandfather, who married a descendant of would effectually bar many future compli- the printer, Baskervi~e, kept a booksell- cations. ers shop in Plymouth, to which his son Well, the upshot of it was that the two Robert succeeded, and where Benjamin plotters, deceiver and deceived, accom- Robert was born, in January, 1786. His plished the transfer, and that Georgie mother, a handsome, vivacious woman, went to Brilmouth, where the sea air was quick-tempered and tender-hearted, was so strong and the Carfords yacht was one of the large family of the rector of lying in the harbor; while Sylvia repaired Dodbrooke, who was killed by the sound- to Grantrigg, where the air, we may sur- ing-board of his pulpit falling on his head mise, had castles in it, and where there while preaching. Nearly all Mr. Cobleys was no doubt about Paleys Evidences children prospered in life. One of his and the Sunday school. Georgie did not daughters married Admiral Count Mordwi- escape a twinge of self.reproach as she noff, and a brother who accompanied her saw her sister off with rouoe and pearl to Russia became a distinguished general powder and a curly pompadour wig stowed in the Russian army and was for a time away at the bottom of an enormous trunk, commander-in-chief at Odessa. Another lll do her a good turn to make up for it of Mrs. Haydons brothers was taken into the first time 1 have a chance, she vowed partnership by her husband, and lived to herself while the engine was panting with them at Plymouth. out of the terminus. But since, before Benjamin was an only son, with one sis- many weeks had elapsed, she sailed for ter, Harriet. He was a passionate and India in the r6le of Mrs. Page-Scott, she rebellious child, and nothing, he says, but may have been obliged to defer indefi- a picture-book could calm his childish nitely the execution of her amiable re- tempests of rage. When he became old solve. enough to understand what was passing around him, the times were full of interest and excitement. His father, who was well off and hospitable, kept open house From Tempte Bar. for the officers of the garrison and fleet. BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON. The boy listened eagerly to their excited discussions on politics and war. Ply- PART ~ mouth Sound was filled with fleets pre RETROSPECTIVE reading has become paring for sea, or triumphantly returning, almost impossible in this age of rapid battered and blackened, with captured making of books; and possibly not one I enemies in tow. BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON. 53 The town was crowded with French prisoners, who made guillotines of meat- bonesgrim toys which were sold at the prisons to English children, who played at cutting off the kings head. My chief delight, says Haydon, was in drawing the guillotine, with Louis taking leave of his People in his shirt-sleeves, which I copied from a print of the day. When the young artist had the measles, and lay looking regretfully at the drawing- book he could no longer use, his public- spirited father put his head between the bed-curtains, exclaiming, My dear, Jervis has beaten the Spanish fleet and taken four sail of the line I This ~vill cure ye I Later, after the battle of the Nile, Hay- don was walking with a schoolfellow on the Hoe, when he met Nelson, a little man in a shabby cocked hat, with a green shade over one eye. The boy impul- sively took off his hat, and Nelson re- turned the salute and smiled at him. Haydons natural love of drawing was stimulated by the head man in his fathers binding office, a Neapolitan named Fenzi, who talked to him of the pictorial mar- vels of Italy, of Raphael and Michael Angelo, and constantly urged, Dont draw de landscape, draw de feegore, Mas- ter Benjamin !advice quite after the boys own heart; and at the suggestion of a brother of Northcote, then living in Plymouth, he began to study anatomical works. His schoolmaster, too, was sympathetic, took Haydon on sketching excursions, and encouraged his taste for art, somewhat to the neglect of other studies. His father noticing this, despatched him to Plympton Grammar School, where he got on better. After an ineffectual attempt to learn ac- count-keeping at Exeter, Benjamin re- turned to Plymouth and was bound for seven years to his father, who naturally wished his only son to succeed to a busi- ness he had himself made so prosper- ous. Some of Haydons personal character- istics, however, as early developed as his love of art, made this proposal intolerably distasteful. I hated day-books, ledgers, bill-books, and cash-books [he says]. I hated standing be- hind the counter, and insulted the customers. I hated the town and people in it. I saw my father had more talent than the asses he was obliged to bend to. I knew his honorable descent, and I despised the vain fools who patronized him. Once, after a man had offered me less than the price for a Latin dic- tionary, I dashed the book on its shelf and walked out of the shop. . . . I never entered it again. In the midst of the family discussions that followed, the boy had an attack of inflammation of the eyes. He was blind for some weeks, and never recovered suf- ficiently to dispense with glasses. His parents thought this must decide the question of art as a calling. He did not agree with them. He chanced on a copy of Sir Joshua Reynoldss Discourses, in which he found the axiom, that in capacity all were equal, and application alone made the difference. Why should not he, then, become a Reynolds? I fired up at once. I felt my destiny fixed. I came down to breakfast with Reynolds under my arm, and opened my fixed intentions in a style of such energy that I demolished all arguments. His next proceeding was to bid for a valu- able anatomical work at a saleleaving the detested business to pay for it and to learn it by heart, with his sisters aid. She and I used to walk about the house with our arms round each others neck, she saying, How many heads to the deltoid? Where is it inserted? and I answering. The result of such determination might be anticipated. In May, 1804, young Haydon, with twenty pounds in his pocket~ started by the Plymouth mail for London, fame, and fortune. Lodgings had been taken for him at 342* Strand. The morn- ing after his arrival he visited Somerset House, looked at the historical pictures and said, I dont fear you!~ He then bought some plaster casts, unpacked his precious Albinus, darkened his win- dows, and set to work drawing from the round, and breathing aspirations for high art and defiance to all opposition. For three months [he continues] I saw nothing but my books, my casts, and my drawings. - . . I was so long without speak- ing to a human creature, that my gums be- came sore from the clenched tightness of my teeth. . . . The Sunday after my arrival I went to the new church, St. Mary-le-Strand, and in humbleness begged for the protection of the Great Spirit to guide, assist, and bless my endeavors. After months of intense study, Haydon remembered a letter of introduction which his Uncle Cobley had given him to Prince Hoare, a delicate, feeble-looking man, with a timid expression, a smatterer in art and literature, the friend of Godwin~ * His SOn SS~S 348. 54 BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON. Hoicroft, and strange conjunction Sir Vicary Gibbs. He received Haydon kind. ly, returned his call, was pleased with his drawings, and gave him introductions to Northcote and Opie. The first interview with the former would make a striking picture. Haydon was then eighteen, a slim, handsome lad, with a bright country color, black, curly hair, and all the enthusiasm of youth and health beaming from his fierce, azure eyes. In a dirty painting-room, under a high window, with the light shining full on his bald head, he found Northcote, a diminutive, wizened figure, in an old blue-striped dressing-gown, his spectacles pushed up on his forehead. He peered maliciously at the eager youth from his little shining eyes, over the open letter, and said in his broad Devonshire, Zo you mayne tu bee a peinter, doo-ee? What zort of peinter? Historical painter, sir. Heestoricaul peinter! Why, yeeli starve with a bundle of straw under yeer head! After much more discouragement from Northcote, Haydon went on his way to Opies clean gallery in Berners Street. A coarse-looking, intellectual man re- ceived him, and said, You are studying anatomy master it; were I your age, I would do the same. I have just come from Mr. Northcote, and he says I am wrong, sir. Never mind what he says. He doesnt know it himself, and would be glad to keep you as ignorant. I could have hugged Opie! comments Haydon.* His third artistic friend was the hand- some and prosperous Smirke, father of Sir Robert. Many miserable moments did Northcote inflict upon me, which Smirke used to laugh at so excessively that my mind was always relieved. I went away in better spirits from Smirke, better informed from Opie, and exas- perated from little Aqua-Fortis. Prince Hoare mentioned Haydon to Fuseli, then keeper of the Academy, who wished to see his drawings. I had a mysterious awe of him. Hoares appre- hensions lest he might injure my taste or hurt my morals excited in my mind a no- tion that he was a sort of gifted wild beast. ~hi s feeling was strengthened by a letter from his father concluding God speed you with the terrible Fuseli ! The * Mrs. Opie became one of Haydons warmeet friends, and some of the gems of his Table Talk were derived from her. She told him that Fuseli said of Northcote: He looks like a rat that has teen a cat!~ impressions thus excited were fitting in- troduction to A gallery enough to frighten any one at twi- light. Galvanized devils malicious witches brewing their incantations, Satan bridging Chaos and springing upwards like a pyramid of fire Lady Macbeth Falstaff and Mrs. Quickly Paoio and Francesca humor, pathos, terror, blood, and murder met one at every look I expected the floor to give way I fancied Fuseli himself a giant. I heard his footsteps and saw a little bony hand slide round the edge of the door, followed by a little white-headed, lion-faced man in an old flannel dressing-gown tied round his waist with a piece of rope, and upon his head the bottom of Mrs. Fuselis work-basket. The lion behaved on this occasion like a lamb, and dismissed Haydon with in- structions to present himself at the Royal Academy as a student on the opening night after the Christmas vacation. His descriptions of his early studies, compan- ions, and instructors are amazingly vivid. He adored Fuselis imagination, but was not blind to his faults. A man has no more right to dislocate an arm and call it the Grand Stylethan he has to put in six toes and call it nature as she ought to be. Fuseli was extremely near-sighted and too vain to wear spectacles. Sometimes in his blindness he would put a hideous smear of Prussian blue in his flesh, and then, discovering his mistake, take a bit of red to deaden it; then, prying close, turn round to me and say: By , dats a fine purple! its vary like Correggio, by Then he would burst out with a quotation from homer, Tasso, Dante, Virgil, or per- haps the Niebelungen, and thunder round to me with, Paint dat! I found him the most grotesque mixture of art, literature, scepticism, indelicacy, profanity and kindness. Of a very different type was a new stu- dent who soon became Haydons most intimate friend, tall, pale, and quiet, with a fine eye, a short nose, a vulgar, humorous mouth, and great energy of expression.~~ His name was David Wilkie. The two youths had, says Mr. Frederic Haydon, the same high views, the same contempt for academical art, the same industry, love of religion, and simple tastes. Their lives were singularly open and pure. Jackson, a Prot6gd of Lord Mulgrave, who made a third in this friendship, was so delighted with Wilkies Village Poli- ticians, that he induced his own patron and Sir George Beaumont to go and see it; on the spot each gave Wilkie a com- missionone for the Blind Fiddler, the other for the Rent Day. The Vil BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON. lage Politicians, was given the best place in the exhibition of i8o6. Next day [writes Haydon] I read in the News, A young Scotchman by the name of Wilkie has a very extraordinary work. I was in the clouds! I rushed away, met Jack- .son~ and we both bolted into Wilkie s room. I roared out, My boy, your names in the paper! Is it really? said I)avid. I read the puff. We huzzaed, and taking hands, all three danced round the table till we were tired. One result of Wilkies success was an invitation to Mulgrave Castle, whence he sent Haydon a commission from Lord Mulgrave, who had been interested by Jacksons account of him, for a grand historical picture, The Death of Denta- tus. On Wilkies return to town he brought Sir George and Lady Beaumont (the good friends of Wordsworth) to see the picture on which Haydon was then engaged his hrst Joseph and Mary resting on the Road to Egypt. * Sir George admired the painting, and Lady Beaumont the painter, and they invited the two young artists to a dinner-party, amusingly de- scribed by Haydon, where they met Humphry Davy: A little slender youth, his hair combed over his forehead, speaking dandily and drawlingly. He was very entertaining, and made a singularly successful prophecy. He said: Napoleon will certainly come in contact with Russia by pressing forward in Poland, and there probably will begin his destruc- tion! This I heard myself, five years be- fore it happened. At another dinner-party, given by Lord Mulgrave, Haydon had the temerity to enter the lists with his host on behalf of Milton, whose genius Lord Mulgrave could not see, though Pitt had often tried to open his eyes. For my part, said his lordship, I agree with the Scotch man who, after reading Paradise Lost, said he thought there was just faults on both sides. Such introductions to society as these naturally opened many friendly doors to the young artist, but no temptations could withdraw him from his strenuous profes- sional work, to which he added the study of French, Latin, Greek, and Italian. In 1807 Haydon visited Plymouth, and finding that his mother, who suffered from angina pectoris, desired to consult a Lon- don surgeon, he took her and his sister back with him. She wished to stop at Wells on the way, to see a favorite brother, one of the prebends. A dumb miniature painter named Cross lived with Mr. Cob- ley, who in youth had loved and proposed to Mrs. Haydon; her refusal made him a recluse, and from that time they had never seen each other. In the hall [says Haydon] I met a tall, handsome old man, whose eyes seemed to look me through. Muttering unintelligible sounds, he opened the door, saw my mother, rushed to her and pressed her to his heart, weeping, and uttering sounds of joy not hu- man. This was Cross. They had not met for thirty years. He was in an agony of joy and pain, smoothing her hair, and touching first her cheek and then his own, as if to say, How altered! Two days later, on her arrival at Salt Hill, Mrs. Haydon died, to her sons un- utterable grief. Soon after his return to London, where he now ventured to take a first floor at 41 Great Marlborough Street, Haydon was thrown into a frenzy of admiration by the Elgin Marbles. Wilkie had obtained an order to see them, and as no opportunity for improvement was ever granted to the one which he did not directly share with the other, his first thought was that I would like to ~ I shall never forget the horses heads [he continues]. The feet in the Metopes! I felt as if a divine truth had blazed inwardly upon my mind, and I knew that they would at last rouse the art of Europe from its slumber in the darkness. I do not say this now, when all the world acknowledges it, but I said it then, when no one would believe it. Haydon went home, and, disgusted at my wretched attempt at the heroic in the form and action of Dentatus, dashed out the abominable mass. He then, as his son says, put himself to school to the Marbles, obtaining permission to copy them, and working at them for many hours each day during many months. Then he took up his palette again, and finished his great picture for the exhibition of 1809. The moment chosen is when Dentatus, fiercely repelling his assailants, is about to be crushed by the falling rock, and the action is so immediate that Leigh Hunt finely compared it to a bit of embodied lightning. * * Wilkie introduced Haydon to Leigh Hunt, whom he found with his black, bushy hair, black eyes, pale face and nose of taste, as floe a specimen of a Lon- don editor as could be imagined. . . . We were nearly of an age, and he had an open, affectionate manner which was most engaging, and a literary laziness of * Hung on the line in the exhibition of s8o7, and poetical gossip, which to an artists mind was very tin- bought by Mr. Hope for the Deepdene Collection. proving. At the time of our acquaintance he really 55 156 BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON. Wilkie, Fuseli, Sir George Beaumont, and Lord Muigrave praised the picture highly, but the latter urged Haydon not to exhibit it at the Academy, and Sir George agreed that it would be better not to trust it to the hands of men who had either failed in or had no feeling for ideal art. The dogged disinclination to take advice, which was one of the defects of Haydons qualities, showed itself at once. He persisted in sending the picture, which, after being hung by Fuselis order on the line in the Great Room, was removed during his absence to the Octagon Room, the lumber-room of the Academy. It was the only historical picture in the ex- hibition! Lord Mulgrave, who had paid Haydon what was then a very handsome sum for Dentatus, and intended the picture to give him a start, was mortified, and the first seeds of disappointment and wrath with his brethren in authority were sown in Haydons breast. I began to think I was under a curse, and doomed to remain so, he writes. Lord Mulgrave, who saw how his young koMgd was suffering, kindly sent him and Wilkie off on a sea- trip, after which Sir Geore,e Beaumont invited them to his beautiful seat. Coller- ton, where the two artists and the distin- guished amateur, their host, were very happy, rising with the lark for painting competitions, and lingering on the stairs as they went up to bed to study the effect of candle-light on each others heads. Two years earlier Sir George had given Haydon a commission for a picture of Macbeth, and during this visit whole length was fixed upon; but when the patron first saw the artist at work on it in town, he had misgivings as to the size. Then began a contest which Lord Mul- grave, at his own table, amiably but vainly strove to terminate. After the dinner- party, Up I went to my solitary painting-room, and putting the candle on the ground, dwelt on my picture in its advanced state. I mused on the grooms heavy in slumber; the king sleeping in innocence; Macbeth striding in terror; the vast shadow of his listening wife till getting inspired as midnight approached, I marched about the room in agitation and swore I would not yield. Full of the glory of resistance to injustice, I went to bed and fell asleep. In the night I awoke and found myself in my cast room, where I must have been a long time, was, whether in private conversation or surrounded by his friends, in honesty of principle and unfailing love of truth, in wit and fun, quotation and impromptu, une of the most delightful beings I ever knew. half dead with cold, bewildered, and staring at the head of Niobe. The glitter of the moon awoke me, and] became conscious that I had been walking in my sleep. Why did I not yield? Haydon asked himself thirty years later, when, as his son remarks, good Sir George was safe in his tomb. But he answers the ques- tion in the same paragraph, I had always. a tendency tofighe it out. In i8io Dentatus took the hundred- guinea prize offered by the directors of the British Gallery for the best historical picture. In the same year Haydon dis- sected a lioness, the principle of whose construction, he said, ~vas the greatest possible strength in the smallest possible space, and all but killed a negro in ob- taining a perfect cast of his figure, turning every new investigation to the advantage of Macbeth. All his creative enthu- siasm was needed to support him under the heavy blow he received when his father wrote to say that he was no longer able to contribute to his support. Here, says poor Haydon, began debt and obligation, out of which I never have been and never shall be extricated so long as I live. In the same unfortunate year Haydon became a candidate for admission to th~ Academy. He had not a single vote. Yet nothing could exceed my enthusiasm, my devotion, my fury of work, solitary, high- minded, trusting in God, glorying in my countrys honor. The result of the unfortunate difference with Sir George Beaumont about Mac- beth was that on the completion of the picture in 18t2 he offered a compromise which Haydon would not accept, and the picture with 6oo of debt incurred while it was being painted, 200 of it for rent was left on the painters hands. Exasperated by the neglect of my family,. tormented by the consciousness of debt, cut to the heart by the cruelty of Sir George, fearful of the severity of my landlord, and enraged at the insults from the Academy, I became furious. An attack on the Academy and its abominations darted into my head.* I began by refuting an article by Payne Knight on Barry in the Edinburgh Review. - - - To expose the ignorance of a powerful patron, and to attack the Academy, would have been at any time the very worst and most impolitic thing on earth. I should have worked away * Mr. Frederic Haydon, in the memoir prefixed to his fathers Correspondence and Table Talk, says that this statement lays too much at Sir Geo~~ges dour, and that unquestionably the famous Three Letters to the Examiner had been long meditated and deliberately planned. BENJAMIN ROBERT 1-IAYDON. 57 and been quiet. My picture rose very high and was praised. The conduct of Sir George was severely handled. People of fashion were beginning to feel sympathy. . . . But no I was unmanageable. It was the parting of the ways. At twenty-six Haydon decided his own fate and became an artistic Ishmael, with his hand more or less against every man, and many hands against him. Fuseli swore that he was mad. Wilkie, to uphold whose genius in the sincerity of my glowing heart I would have stood before a battery of blazing cannon and been blown to splinters, shrank dismayed from his side. I made up my mind for the conflict, ~nd at once ordered a larger canvas for another work. About this time Haydon met his first London friend, Prince Hoare, in the Hay- market. He admitted the truth of what Haydon had written, but said, They will deny your talent and deprive you of work. But if I produce a picture of such merit ~s cannot be denied, the public will carry me through. What are you going to paint? rhe Judgment of Solomon. Rubens and Raphael have both tried it. So much the better. Ill tell the story better. Macbeth was sent to the British Gal- lery to compete for the prize of three hun- dred guineas, on which Haydon had relied during his dispute with Beaumont. It was incontestably the best picture, but the directors dared not crown the efforts of the young rebel against constituted author- ity, so in their wisdom and justice they expended the prize money on buying for their own gallery a picture which had never competed at all! They sent each of the leading competitors a cheque for thirty guineas to cover their Haydon of course indignantly returned his. Then he had to face the world, penni- less. Leigh Hunt behaved nobly. He offered me always a plate at his table till Solomon was done. His brother John lent Haydon 30. Then the landlord must be consulted. I called up Perkins and laid my desperate case before him. He was quite affected. I said, Ill leave you if you wish it, but it will be a pity, will it not, not to finish such a be- ginning? Perkins looked at the rubbing in, and muttered: Its a grand thing how long will it be before its done, sir? Two years. What, two years more, and no rent? Not a shilling. He rubbed his chin, and muttered: I shouldnt like ye to go its hard for both of us. But what I say is this, you always paid me when you could, and why shouldnt you again when you are able? Heres my hand, sir (a great fat one it was!), Ill give you two years more. And if this doesnt sell (affecting to look severe), why, well consider whats to be done. So dont fret, sir, but work. And work he did, with a fiery energy and determination which could not fail to leave its mark on the canvas. One of the few staunch adherents of the luckless Macbeth was Hazlitt: That interesting man, that singular mixture of friend and fiend, radical and critic, meta- physician, poet, and painter, on whose word no one could rely, on whose heart no one could calculate, and some of whose deductions he himself would try to explain in vain.* In 1813 Haydons father died, and Hay- don reaped no benefit from the business he was once intended to inherit. Mr. Frederic Haydon evidently thinks that Uncle Cobley, who was on the spot, could have explained the reason. In the following January, when Solo- mon was finished all but toning, the artists health broke down, and his eyes were so affected that he could see no longer. Adams the oculist arrived just as he was about to have the temporal artery opened by an apothecary. If thats done he will be blind, said Adams. He wants stimulants, not depletion. Haydon sent for a wine merchant, showed him the picture, and asked whether, after such an effort, he ought to be without the glass of wine his medical man had prescribed? Certainly not, said he, Ill send you two dozen. Pay me as soon as you can, and recollect to drink success to Solo- mon in the first glass. West, the president of the hated Royal Academy, heard of the picture and called to see it. The old man looked long at the painting, and at the poor pale spectre of a painter, half starved, half blind, standing before him. This is a work, he said, in a low voice, which must not be forgotten and then he began to cry. After a while be said: Do you want money? Indeed I do. So do I, replied West. They have stopped * The Table Talk for iSaB says: At a card- party at Charles Lambs, Hazlitt and Lambs brother got into a discussion as to whether Holbeins coloring was as good as that of Vandyke. . . - At length they became so excited that they upset the table and seized each other by the throat. In the struggle Hazlitt got a black eye; but when the combatants were parted, Hszlitt turned to Talfourd, who was offering his aid, and said: You need not trouble yourself, sir. I do not mind a blow, sir. Nothing affects me but an ab- siract idea I, BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON. my income from the king, but Fauntleroy is now arranging an advance, and if I succeed, my young friend, you shall hear from me. Dont be cast down. In the course of the day he sent Haydon ,i~. Solomon was triumphantly exhibited at the Water-Color Societys Rooms, in Spring Gardens, and sold for seven hun- dred guineas. It was time. Haydon had had no com- mission for four years, and everything for which a shilling could be obtained had been pledged or parted with to procure the potatoes and salt on which he lived. Sir George Beaumont held out his hand in the gallery, saying, Haydon, I am as- tonished. Lord Mulgrave said, You dine with us to-night, of course Calcott assured him that no people had a higher respect for his talent than the Academi- cians! Then, with Wilkie, who had been for- given in the hour of victory, Haydon started on his first foreign tour. At that time [he says] 1814 every step in Paris excited mighty associations, There was in everything a look of gilded slavery and bloody splendor, a tripping grace in the women, a ragged blackguardism in the men, and a polished fierceness in the soldiers which distinguished Paris as the capital of a people who combine more inconsistent vices and virtues than any other people on the earth. In Paris human life was, he says, a matter of farce. Women and children were playing battledore and shuttlecock before the morgue, where two dead bodies were exposed. Whenever the shuttlecock fell they ran in, gratified their morbid curiosity, and then resumed their game. And yet everything, however abominable, was done by the women with such grace and sweetness that residence among them would soon have rendered me as insensible as them- selves. Haydons artist eye delighted in the extraordinary scenes, shifting as rapidly as the pieces of a kaleidoscope, to be ob. served in Paris at that period. The Rue St. Honors was the most wonder- ful sight. Don Cossack chiefs loosely clothed and moving as their horses moved; the half- clad savage Cossack horseman, his belt stuck full of pistols and watches, crouched up on a little ragged-maned, ill-bred, half-white shaggy pony; the Russian Imperial Guards- man pinched in at the waist like a wasp, striding along like a giant, with an air of vic- tory that made every Frenchman curse within his teeth as he passed him; the English offi cer, with boyish face and broad shoulders; the heavy Austrian; the natty Prussian; and now and then a Bashkir Tartar in the ancient Phrygian cap, with bow and arrows and chain armor, gazing about from his horse, in the midst of black-eyed grisettes, Jews, Turks, and Christians from all countries in Europe and Asia. It was a pageant that kept one staring, musing, and bewildered from morning till night. Haydon and Wilkie went everywhere, and, so far as their knowledge of the lan- guage permitted, talked to every one. They observed the look of blasted glory in the remnant of Napoleons army, and marvelled at French political ignorance. An old priest, after saying how charmed he was that Enoland and France were friends again, hoped, with an insinuating smile, we had not been much injured in the contest; a fine young man at one of the inns anxiously inquired if Napoleon had conquered at Moscow; a French gen- tleman asked Haydon in whose possession St. I)omingo was! Everywhere Napoleon was called Bon g~n~ral, mais mauvais souverain. They cursed him, says Haydon, as an emperor, and adored him in the field. The two young artists vis- ited Malmaison, where Jos~phine had just died; Rambouillet, where an old servant spoke with affection of Marie Louise, and said that for the last six days there she scarcely touched food, but walked about the grounds incessantly, absorbed in grief. IL he rocking-horse and playthings of the king of Rome were lying about the garden. Prisons, picture-galleries, hospitals all were explored, and all bore traces of the convulsion through ~vhich France had so lately passed. At Vincennes Haydon was roused from his meditations beside the ditch in which DEnghien was shot, to help the governor and his two sons to cao- ture a jackdaw which had got up one of the chimneys! In the Louvre, filled with people of all nations, Haydon asked his friend, Now, Wilkie, suppose you did not know any nation present, what would be your im- pression from the look of the English? Wilkie contemplated for a moment their sedate, respectable appearance beside the French and Russians, and replied, Dear, dear, they just look as if they had a bal- ance at their bankers! In 1815 Haydon, to his intense delight, got permission to take casts from some of the Elgin Marbles, about the value and authenticity of which opinion was still divided: I was in the clouds l My Theseus and BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON. 59, Ilissus were come home with all my frag- ments, and I walked about glorying. Crowds came to see them, and in the midst of my glory who should make his appearance but Canova! The great sculptor endorsed all Hay- dons enthusiasm for the classic relics, and, which perhaps hardly pleased him more, expressed great admiration for the work on which the artist was then engaged Christs Entry into Jerusalem. Soon after Canovas visit a committee was appointed to inquire into the merits of the Elgin Marbles, with a view to their purchase by the government. The com- mittee was so well understood to be hostile to the project that the king of Bavaria lodged 30,000 with his London agents to secure the Marbles as soon as it should rise. Lord Elgin named four friends as witnesses, including Haydon, who was never called. On this he wrote a letter to the Champion and the Examiner, On the Judgment of Connoisseurs being pre- ferred to that of Professional Men, which, says his son, Set all London by the ears. For depth and fervor, and bold and bitter truth, it sur- passed anything Haydon had written or spoken previously. . . . It fell like a shell in the midst of the committee. - . . But its force and home-truths gave the deepest offence, and were never forgiven by the nobility. It has saved the Marbles, said Sir Thomas Law- rence, but it will ruin Haydon. It did both. It was translated into French, Italian, and German, and spread alP dver the conti- nent. Goethe was delighted with it. Dan- necker showed it with pride to Lord Elgin at Dresden. A copy of it was found in the Magliabecchian Library at Florence. But Lord Mulgrave was furious. He had at that moment a plan before the In- stitution for the artists benefit, and he said to a friend, What the is Haydon about? Here have I been planning to get him a handsome income for three years and send him to Italy, and out comes this indiscreet and abominable letter! Haydon was five years engaged on his Entry into Jerusalem, and during this time he was almost entirely supported by friends and money-lenders. His son says that he reproached himself acutely in after life for not having taken the advice of Sir George Beaumont and other friends and patrons who were very liberally aiding him (Mr. Harman to the amount of i,ooo), and painted portraits and small salable works which might have secured him an independence. But it was not pos- sible to him to give up his great ideals, and he had to choose between the tw& careers. They were quite incompatible. Moreover, he had to take the greatest care of his sight, which was so weak that for two years out of the five he could not - paint at all, and even had to dictate his letters. He was also busy with his school, which was joined by the two elder Land- seers, Harvey, Lauer, and Bewick. His poorer pupils he taught gratuitously.* However poor in purse at this time, Haydon was rich in friends. Wordsworth addressed to him the fine triad of sonnets on Creative Art; Keats; to whom Hay- don ascribes an inward look, perfectly divine, like a Delphian priestess who sees visions, associated him with Wordsworth and Leigh Hunt in the noble lines begin- ning, Great spirits now on earth are sojourning. At Leigh Hunts table Haydon once saw Shelley a hectic, spare, weakly yet intellectual-looking creature, carving a bit of brocoli on his plate as if it were the substantial wing of a chicken. Lamb and Wordsworth met at Haydons rooms (it was there that the memorable interview with the comptroller of stamps took place), and Lambs fun in the midst of Wordsworths solemn intonations of ora- tory was like the sarcasm and wit of the Fool in the intervals of Lears passion. One of my pleasantest and most con- stant correspondents at this time, writes Haydon, and one of my truest and kind. est friends, now and always, was Mary Russell Mitford. God bless her wariu heart ! And a more dominating feeling than friendship, though that with him had some- thing of the exacting and jealous ardor of passion, was now to take possession of the artist Love at first sight, new born and heir to all. Calling one day with Maria Foote on a lady with whom she wished to leave a let- ter, Haydon followed her into a small drawing-room and in one instant the loveliest face that was ever created since God made Eve smiled gently at my ap- proach. On the sofa lay a dying man, a boy about two years old by his side. These were Haydons future wife, her husband and son. The impression so suddenly made was ineffaceable. Haydon * Horace Smith alludes to Haydons weak sight and his school in one of his amusing letters: Take care of your twinklers, and tell your landlord, if he give you such another notice to quit, you are determined not tre wink at it, for it not only offends you, but your pupils l x 6o THE ROAD FROM MASHOONALAND. returned to the street after seeing Miss Foote home, and watched the windows in the hope of catching another glimpse of the face that haunted him. He paid one of the neighbors for permission to sit concealed and look for her coming out. He contrived to pursue the acquaintance, to advise the girl-widow as to the educa- tion of her two children, and later to form an engagement, which ended in marriage in 1821. Jerusalem was finished in 1820, and Haydon took the Great Room at the Egyp- tian Hall for a year, at a rent of 300, in which to exhibit it. Three Life Guards- men carried it there, rolled up, on their shoulders, and were as nervous as in- fants, Haydon says, about hanging it; but at last it was done by machinery. Then came a hitch in the most important part of all the machinery the financial Thomas Hope, Watson Taylor, and Mr. Coutts (applied to through his wife, whom Haydon had known when Harriet Mellon) had liberally assisted the artist while the picture was in progress; Sir George Beau- mont sent 30 for the expense of moving. But now, with upholsterers, journey- men, and soldiers in full work, the picture up and looking gloriously, everybody wait- ing for the word of command to buy hang- ings and begin fittings . - - there was a halt. Sir Georges gift was gone. Haydon rushed to Couttss Bank and explained his dilemma to Sir E. Antrobus and Mr. Majoribanks. How much do you want? Why, fifty pounds would do. You shall have it, said both. Give us your note. I never [says poor Haydon] wrote I prom- ise to pay with such inspired fury before! I went off and bought all the fittings wanted of the right color (purple-brown), galloped back to the Egyptian Hall, where whispers were beginning to be heard. Sammons, though six feet three in height, was like a child in a fright. Bullock was looking at the picture with the air of a landlord who scented no rent. Binns, the upholsterer, was half suspicious. But my appearance with my mouth clenched five times fiercer than ever, my stamping walk, my thundering voice, put fire into all. Women began to sew, boys cleared away and bustled, fittings were tearing right and feft, while I mounted the ladder, palette in hand, ordered the door to be locked, and let fly at the foreground figures with a brush brimming with asphaltum and oil. At the private view the room was crammed. All the ministers and their ladies, all the foreign ambassadors, all the bishops, all the beauties, all the geniuses in town were invited and came. Most parts of the picture had their admirers; the Persian ambassador said loudly, I like the elbow of soldier. The penitent girl, the Samaritan woman, the heads drawn from Wordsworth, Newton, and Voltaire, all were amply praised; but there was uncertainty about the chief fig- ure, which was unorthodox. Everybody seemed afraid, when in walked, with all the dignity of her majestic presence, Mrs. Siddons, like a Ceres or a Juno. The whole room remained dead silent, and allowed her to think. After a few moments Sir George Beaumont, who was extremely anx- ious, said in a very delicate manner: How do you like the Christ? After a moment, in a deep, loud, tragic tone she said: It is completely successful. * It was~ The great actresss fiat settled the question. A clear profit of 1,298 2$. was made on its exhibition in London. But alas! every penny was mortgaged. Haydon then took his picture to Edin- burgh, where Sir William Allan, Sir Walter Scott, and Lockhart, -with his melancholy and Spanish head, were the first to welcome him. Christopher North gave a large party in his honor. Wilson looked like afine Sandwich Islander who had been educated in the Highlands. His light hair, deep sea-blue eyes, tall, ath- letic figure, and hearty hand-grasp, his eager- ness in debate, his violent passions, great genius, and irregular habits, tendered him a formidable partisan, a furious enemy, and an ardent friend. - But, amidst all this homage from the great and gifted, Haydon received no finer compliment than one paid unconsciously in the guise of a rebuke. At Glasgow Haydon one day went into the room in which the picture was being exhibited, to see how it was doing. An old Scotch- man, quite unaware to whom he was speak- ing, approached him and said sternly: I think you should take your hat off, in sic an awfu presence. * The bitter tongue of Rogers was notorious, but it could also be exquisitely sweet in praise. After looking long at this picture be said: When all the figures get up to walk away, I beg leave to secure the little girl in the foreground. From The Fortnigbtly Review. THE ROAD FROM MASHOONALAND. THAT the country occupied by the Chartered Company has a possible future before it if it has an outlet, is a fact that its most vehement detractors cannot alto- THE ROAD FROM MASHOONALAND. i6i gether deny. Gold is there; whether in large or small quantities, whether payable or unpayable, is a matter which can only be decided by years of careful prospecting and sinking of shafts, not by hasty scratch- ing on the surface, or the verdict of so- called experts after a hurried visit; that gold was there is also certain from the vast acres of overturned alluvial soil and countless shafts sunk in remote antiq- uity. But to carry out what is necessary for this possible future developmeht, or perhaps, to speak more correctly, resusci- tation of this country, an easy access is indispensable. Having entered the country by the weary wagon-road through Bechuanaland, and having left it by the now somewhat arduous Pungwe route, I can confidently affirm that this latter is the only possible one, and I now propose to describe it as it at present exists, feeling sure that in years to come, when the railway hurries the traveller up to Umtali, when the ven- omous tsetse-fly no longer destroys all transport animals, when lions cease to roar at night, and the game has retired to a respectful distance, a back glimpse at the early days of this route will be histor- ically interesting. Umtali is the natural land terminus of this route, as Beira is its legitimate port. Umtali, so called from a rivulet which flows below it, is now a scattered commnu- nity of huts, shortly to be brought together in a township at a more favorable spot about five miles distant from the present site, which township the British South Africa Company hope to call Manica, and to make the capital of that portion of Manicaland which they so dexterously, to use an Africander term, jumped from the Portuguese. Of all their camps Um- tali is the most favorably situated, enjoy- ing delicious air, an immunity from swamps and fevers, lovely views, and many flowers. On the ridge, where the camp huts now stand exposed to the violent and prevail- ing blasts of the south-east winds, which descend in furious gusts from the sur- rounding mountains, stand also the guns taken from the Portuguese, nine in all, and presenting a formidable enough ap- pearance, until you learn that they are useless at present, as the pins were ab- stracted before capture. Far away on the hill slopes are the huts of the original settlers ; the bishops palace, likewise a daub hut standing in the midst of a goodly mission farm. The hospital, with the sisters huts, crowns another eminence, and the newly made fort crowns the highest LIVING AGE, VOL. LXXVIII. 4011 point, from which glorious views can be obtained over the sea of Manica moun- tains, the rich red soil and green vegeta- tion, a pleasant change to the eye after the everlasting grey granite koft/es of Mashoonaland and its uniform vegetation. Of ancient Portuguese remains there are several in the neighborhood of the Umtali forts, where centuries ago the pio- neers held their own for a while against native aggression; to-day, if you dine at the officers mess at Umtali, you find e~- dences of Portugal of another nature. You sit on Portuguese chairs and feed off Portuguese plates obtained from the loot of the store at Massi Kessi ; and when the governor of that district came to pay an amicable visit to the governor of Umtali, there was nothing to seat him on save his own chairs, nothing to feed him on save his own plates, and nothing to give him to eat save his own tinned meats. But Por- tuguese politeness rose to the occasion, and no remarks were made. Crossing a stream below the fort you find yourself amidst a collection of cir- cular daub huts and stores, on either side of what a facetious butcher, who deals largely in tough old transport oxen, has termed in his advertisement Main Street. Here you may pay enormous prices for the barest necessities of life, and you may drink at old Anguss bar a glass of whiskey for the price at which you could get a bottle in England. Scotch is the prevailing accent here, and I think the greatest gainers out of Mashoonaland, in this the first year of its existence, are those canny traders who have loaded wagons with jams and drink, and sold them at fabulous prices to hungry troopers and thirsty prospectors. Old Angus is a typ- ical specimen of this class, a sandy~haired little Scotchman, well up in colonial ways, who keeps two huts, in one of which eat- ing, drinking, and gossip are always to be found; whilst the other is divided into three bare cells, and is called an hotel. Such is the first Umtali, primitive and fascinating in its rawness. Even now many of the huts will be abandoned to the rats and the rain, while the founda- tions of a future Umtali of doubtful ex- pansion have been laid five miles away. Our journey from Umtali to Beira was one which required much forethought. Firstly, we had much luggage, which we did not wish to leave behind or bury on the way, as others had been obliged to do; secondly, my wife did not feel inclined to do the one hundred and eighty miles on foot, through heat and swamp, in tropical 162 THE ROAD FROM MASHOONALAND. Africa; and thirdly, the Kaffir bearers were scarce, and especiallyat that sea- son of the year, when their fields wanted ploughingapt to run away at awkward moments. So the services of the homely ass were brought into requisition. The ass would die of the fly-bite, every one told us, but not until it had deposited us safely in Beira. Consequently eleven asses were procured, and considered in the light of the railway tickets of the future, to be used and thrown away. It seemed horribly cruel, I must admit, to condemn eleven asses to a lingering death; but then, what are animals made for but to lay down their lives to satisfy the appetites of man? and no society for the prevention of cruelty to animals as yet exists in Mashoonaland. A cart was constructed on two firm wheels, and was the wonder of its day. Eight donkeys were harnessed thereto, with gear made out of every imaginable scrap of material. Three donkeys trotted gaily by its side, to be brought into requi- sition in case of sore backs and other disasters; and one wet evening we de- spatched our hopeful cart with our bless- ing on its road to the coast. It would take three or four days getting by the wagon-road to Massi Kessi, whilst we could cross the mountains in one. So next morning, we on foot and the lady on horseback started by the mountain road for Massi Kessi, and got there as evening was coming on. A good walk in any of the mountainous districts of the British Isles would have been just the same. A drenching mist obscured every vision, the paths were slippery and uneven; occa- sionally a glimpse at a stream with bananas waving in the mist, or at a Kaffir kraal, would dispel the homelike illusion and bring us back to Africa again. Towards evening the aggravating mist cleared away, and gave us a splendid panorama of the surrounding mountains as we approached Massi Kessi, and entered the splendid valley of the river Revwe. Here we walked for miles over ground which had been worked for alluvial gold in the olden days, the soil being honeycombed with deep holes, and presenting the appearance of a ploughed field with circular furrows. Certainly the Portuguese, or rather the Mozambique Company are to be congrat- ulated on the possession of such a para- dise as this Revwe valley fertile in soil, rich in water , glorious in its views over forest-clad mountains; and it is not to be wondered at that they keenly resented the temporary appropriation of it. Massi Kessi and its neighborhood are rich in reminiscences of the Portuguese past; the new fort where the new company has its store was built out of the remains of an old Portuguese fort, around which you may still pick up fragments of Nankin porce- lain, relics of those days, now long since gone by, when the Portuguese of Africa, India, and the Persian Gulf lived in the lap of luxury, and fed off porcelain brought by their trading ships from China. Higher up in the mountain valleys are forts and roads constructed during this occupation of the country. Portuguese historians, De Barros, Dos Santos, and others, tell us of those days when, at Luanze, Bucutis, and Massapa, the Portuguese traders had factories, missions, churches, and traded for gold with the natives; as in the Per- sian Gulf, as in Goa and elsewhere, the Portuguese influence vanished in East Africa after her union with Spain and the consequent drafting-off of her soldiers to the wars in Flanders; barely a phantom of her former power remained to her in the province of Mozambique. A few futile expeditions under Barreto, Fernandez, and others, were destroyed either by the na- tives or by fever. But the final blow to the Portuguese colony at Massi Kessi came in 1832, when one of the many hordes of Zulus invaded the Mozambique terri- tories under a chief Carongwe. The na- tives brought their cattle to be protected by the governor of Massi Kessi which the Zulus at once demanded, but the governor refused to give them up and a desperate siege ensued, and when lead failed for bullets they actually used balls made out of gold nuggets, but the water supply failed and resistance was impossible, the governor, garrison, priests, and merchants were all massacred. After this the inland country was practically abandoned to the savages. Old treaties existed but were not renewed; lethargy seemed to have taken entire possession of the few remain- ing Portuguese who were left there, a lethargy from which they were rudely awakened by the advent of the Chartered Company. What better argument do we want for the re-occupation of this country by a more enterprising race than these forts abandoned and in ruins, and the treaties with savage chiefs long since neglectedconsigned to the national archives? The tradition of good living is still maintained by the Portuguese officials at Massi Kessi. Never saw I a greater con- trast in seventeen miles than that afforded by the fare provided at the British camp at THE ROAD FROM MASHOONALAND. 163 Umtali, and that placed before us by the kind Portuguese commandant at Massi Kessi, where we had six courses of meat and excellent wines, and other unwonted luxuries. They have farms for vegetables and many a head of cattle around; they have their natives under complete control, and make them work; they build large, roomy huts, but the commandants apolo- gies because we had to sit on wooden boxes, not on chairs, made us blush, for we knew that the said chairs were there once, but now were gracing the British mess-room at Umtali. When speaking of roughing it in the interior, the want of food and the neces- saries of life, Commandant B6thencourt was slightly sarcastic. What strange people you English are to undergo such hardships, he said. We Portuguese might, perhaps, do so for our country, but for a company never! Now we started in good earnest for the coast, refreshed by our three days rest at Massi Kessi under the hospitable roof of the Portuguese; our cart had arrived, and our eleven donkeys and men looked fit, despite the evil road they had had to traverse. Two roads from here were open to us to Beiraone by the Pungwe, the other by the Buzi River. We hesitated some- what in our choice, as the latter, we were told, was less swampy, and the fertile dis- trict of Umliwane would have interested us for they grow there the best tobacco in these parts, and the prospects for agri- cultural purposes, they told us, are bril. liant; but as the season was growing late, and the rains might come on any day, we decided on taking the quicker and more frequented route. Moreover, we were anxious to witness for ourselves the result of the calamities which had befallen Messrs. Heany and Johnson on their pio- neer route, and to form our own opinion as to the possibility of using it in the future. Our first halt was at the Mineni River, a tributary of the Revwe, after an easy journey, broken only by the upsetting of our cart when we least expected it, an ac~ cident which occurred for the first and only time. The Mineni is a rapid stream, flanked by rich tropical vegetation, with graceful bamboos and lovely ferns over- hanging the water; it supplied a deficiency we had long felt in Mashoonaland scenery, namely, water in conjunction with moun- tains and rich vegetation. The greens are peculiarly vivid here, and the red young leaves of some of the trees give the ap pearance of autumnal tints, and form a feature peculiar to African landscape. In its rocky bed we dared to bathe without fear of crocodiles, an ever present terror to those who venture into the sluggish, sandy pools of eastern Africa; not that one ever does come across any authentic stories of a death from a crocodile, but the dread is sufficient to spoil the bath. Messrs. Heany and Johnson undoubt- edly did good work in preparing their road, and we probably are the only people who are devoutly thankful to them for it, for ours is the only wheeled vehicle which has traversed it in its entirety since the single pioneer coach went up to Umtali, after infinite difficulty and weeks of disas- ter, with such sorry tales of fever, fly, and swamp, that no wagons have since ven- tured to repeat the experiment. The trees which they had cut down, and the culverts which they had made over the dongas, as- sisted us materially, and we stepped along our road right merrily. The further we went the more reason we had to be thankful for our frail cart and homely asses. Others we passed in dire distress, whose bearers had deserted them and who could not replace them; we overtook one party holding solemn conclave as to what they should throw away, what they should bury, and what they could possibly manage to take with them. Boxes, containing liquor, clothes, and other commodities which can be dis- pensed with are frequently found on the road, telling their tale of desertion by bear- ers, and the acute misery of their former owners. He who first started the evil plan of pay- ing these dark bearers in advance ought forever to be held up to public obloquy. The Kaffir, doubtless, has been often cheated by the white man, for many un- scrupulous individuals have traversed this road from Umtali to Beira, and the negro was wise in his generation when he insisted on prepayment before undertaking the journey; but now he has too dangerous an opportunity for retaliation, of which he takes frequent advantage, and many are the cases of desertion at awkward points. A white man, stricken with fever, had to pay his bearers over and over again before he could persuade them to go on; the sis- ters on their way to Umtali were deserted at Chimoia; and at the season of the year when the fields are to be ploughed, the Kaffirs develop a still greater tendency to this unscrupulous behavior. The Portuguese manage their affairs far better than we do; troops of so-called 164 THE ROAD FROM MASHOONALAND. convicts are shipped from their West African provinces to those on the east coast, and vice versd, so that in both places they have ready-made slaves to carry their baggage and their maskilis, or travelling hammocks. The word of the Portuguese is law with their black sub- jects, whereas the unfortunate Englishman has to pay twenty-five shillings or .~z for a bearer, who will carry sixty pounds, but will desert when the fancy takes him. Furthermore, the Englishman dare not treat his nigger as he deserves; if he did, he would be had up at once before the Portuguese magistrates, and be sure to get the worst of it. Before the Pungwe route can be made available, even for the light- est traffic, this order of things must cease. The native bearer is undoubtedly a fine specimen of humanity. He will carry on his head weights of surprising size, which it requires two men to lift up to its exalted position; he runs along at a rapid pace, and does his twenty-five to thirty miles a day with infinite ease; and if the deser- tion and payment question were settled, there would not be so many thousands of pounds worth of valuable stuff spoiling at Beira, and much wanted at Imtali. Each chief ought to be compelled to supply a fixed number of bearers at a fixed tariff, and cases of desertion should be severely punished. But the way to bring this about is not clear as yet, for the Portu- guese do not wish it, and to the British mind this form of compulsory labor might savor too much of slavery. With our cart we did eighteen and twenty miles a day; quite far enough for the pedestrian in this warm climate. The first hours walk, from 6 to 7 A.M., was always delicious, before the full power of. the sun was felt; the rest of the day was atrQciously hot, especially when our road led us through steaming tropical forests and rank vegetation. Luckily for us, at this season of the year the long grass in the open veldt was all burnt, and the sti- fling experience of walking through eight or ten feet of grass and getting no view whatsoever was spared us. The provision of shade for our midday halts was always precarious. African trees have the reputation of giving as little shade as possible, and this we found to be invariably the case. Luckily, water is everywhere abundant, and we could as- suage our thirst with copious cups of tea. The native kraals on this road are highly uninteresting; the inhabitants are wanting altogether in the artistic tendencies dis- played in Mashoonala~d, which shows itself in carved knives, snuff-boxes, and weapons. A chief named Bandula occu- pies a commanding position on a high range which we passed on our left, at the foot of which flows a stream, called the Lopazi, which delighted us with its views over the Inyangombwe Mountains, and offended us with its swampy banks, where the frogs croaked with voices not unlike those of our rooks in tone and in loud- ness. Chimoias kraal is a sort of half-way halt, where all wagons are now left before entering the much-dreaded fly-belt, and here my wife reluctantly abandoned her horse, and transferred herself and her sad- dle to the back of one of the three loose asses which accompanied our cart. Most people have two or three asses in their train, for fear of being utterly helpless in case of the desertion of their blacks, and all are prepared for the ultimate demise of the animals, either by the violence of some lion or the bite of the fly. One ass at Chimoias distinguished itself by seizing its masters sugar-bag, and consuming it and its contents with all the greater avidity when the master and his stick turned up. All laughed, but those who had experi- enced the calamity of being without sugar in this land felt deep compassion for the victim. Chimoias is a scattered kraal, poor and destitute, consisting of clusters of round huts with low eaves, and doors through which one has to crawl on hands and knees. We could get no meal there, as every one had told us we should, and when we talked over our supplies, the faces of our men grew long and anxious. Indeed, if it had not been for the kindness of other white men whom we met on our way down, famine would have been added to our other discomforts; but good fellow- ship and spontaneous liberality are the characteristics of all those Englishmen who have been up country, and at one time or another have known what it is to be without food. At Chimoias kraal ends the pleasant traffic in beads and cloth, which for months past had kept our money in our pockets; here a rupee is asked for every commodity, and some day surpris- ing hoards of these coins will be found in the Kaffir kraals near the coast; for they never spend them, neither do they wear them as ornaments, and it is a marvel to every one what they do with them. The vegetation is very fine around Chimoias, and the land appears wonderfully fertile. On the top of a strangely serrated ridge of mountains behind the village is a de THE ROAD FROM MASHOONALAND. serted Portuguese fort, and a flagstaff without an ensign. Beyond Chimoias the streams grow more sluggish, and emit more fcetid odors, suggestive of fevers Ragged-leaved ba- nanas, bamboos, and tree-ferns luxuriate in all these streams, which work their way in deep channels, or dongas, across the level country. The fall is scarcely per- ceptible, and the long, flat belt which gir- dles Africa is entered, the much-dreaded low veldt teeming with swamps, game, and tsetse-fly. At one time you are walking through a forest of bamboos which make graceful arches overhead with their long canes, and recall pictures of Japan; at an- other time you go through palm forests, and then comes a stretch of burning open country; and at night, we heard the lions roar for the first time. We lighted huge camp-fires and trembled for the safety of our eleven donkeys, a species of animal for which lions are supposed to have a particular predilection. Mandigos kraal is twenty-four miles from Chimoias, and to us was equally un- interesting and equally unproductive of the much-needed supplies. Some say the fly only begins here; certainly we saw none ourselves till after Mandigos, and from there to Sarmento we saw plenty of it. The tsetse-fly is grey, about the size of an ordinary horse-fly, with crossed wings. Our donkeys, poor things, got many bites, and we felt grieved at their prospective deaths. We l)rovided them with the only remedy of which we could hear, namely, a handful of salt every night, but how this is supposed to act in counter- acting the bite of a fly I am at a loss to imaolne. Ample evidence of the deadliness of this venomous insect is seen on the road- side. Dozens of wagons lie rotting in the veldt, bearing melancholy testimony to the failure of Messrs. Heany and John- sons pioneer scheme. Everywhere lie the bleaching bones of the oxen which dragged the wagons; and at Mandigos is an empty hut filled to overflowing with the skins of these animals awaitinr the fur- ther development of the Pungwe traffic, to be converted into ropes, or reims, as they are usually termed in South Africa. Fully 2,000 worth of wagons, we calcu- lated, we passed along during one days march, lying on the veldt, ghost-like, as after a battle. Then there are Scotch carts of more or less value, and a hand- some Cape cart, which Mr. Rhodes had to abandon on his way up to Mashoona- land, and which contains in the box-seat an unused bottle, calling itself anti-fly mixture, an ironical comment on the sit- uation; and at Sarmento itself, a Portu- guese settlement on the banks of the Pungwe, two handsome coaches, made expressly in New Hampshire, America, for the occasion, lie deserted near the Portuguese huts. They are richly painted with arabesques and pictures on the pan- els; Pungwe route to Mashoonaland is written thereon in letters of gold. The comfortable cushions inside are being moth-eaten, and the approaching rains will complete the ruin of these handsome but ill-fated vehicles. Meanwhile the Portu- gue se stand by and lauch at the discom- fiture of their British rivals in the thirst for gold. Even the signboard, with To Mashoonaland inscribed on it, is in its place; and all this elaborate preparation for the pioneer route has been rendered abortive by that venomous little insect, the tsetse-fly. The river Pungwe is imposing at Sar- mento, its bed being nearly two hundred yards across, and the view of the reaches up and down from the hut where the Por- tuguese governor has his meals alfresco is fairly striking; but the Pungwe is impos- ing nowhere else, where we saw it, being a filthy, muddy stream, flowing between mangrove swa mps, relieved occasionally by a tall palm and villages on piles; the surroundings are perfectly flat, and its re- puls~ve waters were, until lately, plied only by the tree canoes, the dug-outs of the natives. Crocodile and hippopotami revel in its muddy waters, and on its banks game is abundant enough to satisfy the most ardent sportsman. Deer of every con- ceivable species are still to be seen quietly grazing within shot of the road; buffaloes, zebras, lions, hyenas, wild pigs, nay, even the elephant, may be found in this corner of the world. Disappointed as the sports- man may have been with the results of his exploits in Mashoonaland and the high veldt, he will be amply rewarded for the fatigues of his journey to Beira, by finding himself in a country which would appear to produce all the kinds of game that came to Adam for their names. One herd of zebra, numbering about fifty, stood staring at us so long, at a distance of not more than a hundred yards, that we were able to photograph them twice. The flesh of the zebra is eatable, and we, with our lim- ited larder, greatly enjoyed a zebra steak when one was shot. A little further on a gnu, or blue hartebeest, as the Dutchmen -~ call it, stood and contemplated us with - almost as much curiosity as we manifested THE ROAD FROM MASHOONALAND. at seeing him so near our path. But for my part, no amount of game or quaint tropical sights would compensate for the agonies of the walk from Sarmento to Mapandas, across the shadeless, burning plain, beneath a torrid, scorching sun. Now and again we got shelter from the burning rays beneath the wild date-palms, a very pleasing feature in the landscape, with their green, feather-like leaves and bright orange stalks, covered with simi- larly colored fruit, contrasting well with the fan-palms and other trees with strange foliage. When ripe the fruit becomes dark brown, like the cultivated date; and though we ate quantities, we did not get very considerable satisfaction from the consumption. Then a few delightful mo- ments of repose would be passed by a sluoolsh stream, almost hidden by its rich jungle of shade; but on these last days of our long tramp we did not care to de- lay, but pushed on eagerly to reach the corrugated iron palaces of Mapanda, where we should find the river and the steamer. Mapandas is, indeed, a sorry place, with not a tree to give one shade, and only a store or two, built of that unsightly corru- gated iron so much beloved by the early colonists of South Africa, and a few daub huts. It is a paradise only for those who arrive weary and worn from the interior, and for the sportsman, as it affords him a ~ied-~~-terre in the very midst of the land where the deer and the antelope roam. It enjoys, however, certain advantages on which it justly prides itself. Firstly, it is the only spot for miles around which is not under water when the floods are out; for the banks of the Pun ~we are fairly high here. Secondly, the river is navigable up to here for small steamers, even in the driest season, and, uninviting though it is at present, Mapanda may have a future before it. We had three days to wait at Mapandas before the little steamer, Agnes, would come up to take us away, and these three days were not without their excitements. Three lions penetrated one night into the heart of the camp, and partially con- sumed three donkeys not ours, we were thankful to say, but those of a wicked Polish Jew who had given infinite trouble to the English there, by causing an inno- cent Briton to be arrested by the Portu- ~uese, on a charge of theft; on which account he (the Jew) was well ducked in the Pungwe, and no one was sorry when the discriminating lions chose his donkeys for their meal; nay, many expressed a hope that the owner himself had formed part of the banquet. The next night the three lions, which had been lurking dur- ing the day in the jungle by the river, came to visit us again, with a view to de. molishing what they and the vultures had left of the Hebrews donkeys ; one of the three visitors was shot, but he got away, and we heard no more of them. Opposite the British colony at Mapanda is a large island forty miles long by twenty at its widest; this island is formed by the Pungwe and a branch of the same known by the Kaffir name of Dingwe- Dingwe. The island is perfectly flat, cov- ered here and there with low brushwood and long grass; it abounds in game, and on it the chief Mapanda has his kraal, having removed thither when the English came to settle at his old one on the banks of the river. One day we devoted to vis- iting this kraal, performing part of the journey in a native canoe which we bor. rowed. It was merely the hollow stem of a large tree, which oscillated so much under our inexperienced hands that we momentarily expected it to upset and hand us over to the crocodiles ; so we effected a hasty landing in the swampy jungle and proceeded on foot. Mapandas own village consists of only eight bamboo huts, built close to a tall palm-tree; and in the centre of the huts is a raised platform, on which the grass- woven granaries of the community are kept. Beneath, in the shade, lay idle naked inhabitants, and from the platform were hung the grass petticoats and jan- gling beads which they use in their dances. I entered one of the huts on all fours for inspection, and as I was engaged in so doing, a terrified woman inside tore down the frail wall and made a hurried exit at the other side. I am told by those out. side that the effect was most ludicrous. No wonder these dusky beauties are some- what afraid of the white man, as hitherto they have dealt only with the Portuguese, who pride themselves on amalgamating well with the natives. In choosing a wife the Portuguese is not at all particular as to color, nor is he a monogamist, as he would have to be in his far-off country. This we discovered for ourselves at Neves Ferreira, the Portuguese settlement on the Pungwe, about six miles below Ma- pandas where, beneath tall bananas and refreshing shade, the authorities of that nation pass a life of Oriental luxury, which somewhat scandalizes the strait-laced Briton. There are several little kraals on the island belonging to the sons and relatives RECOLLECTIONS OF TEWFIK PACHA. 167 of Mapanda, all built on the same lines, and in visiting them we made ourselves insufferably thirsty, so that a good drink of Kaffir beer, or, as the Portuguese call it, millet wine, was highly acceptable. It is much more potent than the beer they make up country, and if it were not for the husks therein, and the general idea of fermented porridge it gives, one might fancy it champagne. Here, too, they make palm-wine, tapping all the neighbor- ing palm-trees for the sap, which is highly intoxicating, and of by no means a disa- greeable flavor. The voyage from Mapandas to the sea at Beira would be indescribably monoto- nous were it not for a few interesting fea- tures afforded by the stream itself. The tide here comes up with a remarkably strong bore or wall-like wave. We heard it murmuring in the distance like the soughing of a rising wind ; as it approached us the roar grew very loud, and finally the wave floated our stranded steamer almost in an instant. Sand-banks are the bane of the navigator of this stream; on his last voyage our captain had been detained for three days on a, and we passed a Portu- guese gun-boat which looked as if it would remain fixed till the end of time. Our fate was a mild one; we were only imbedded for a few hours, until the bore came up. The sand-banks are constantly shifting, and the captain never knows where they may next appear; consequently slow speed and constant soundings are the only safe- guards. Crocodiles innumerable bask on these banks, and in the stream itself hip- popotami raise their black heads and stare at the strange animal which has appeared among them and will shortly cause the extermination of their species in the Pungwe. Beira itself is the Portuguese word for the edge of anything, and displays a horri- ble conglomeration of corrugated-iron dom- iciles on a bare, shadeless sandspit at the mouth of the Pungwe. There is no drink- able water to be got within three miles of the place, and we paid half-a-crown a bucket for a very questionable quality of the precious fluid. No one washes him- self or his clothes in anything but the sea during the dry season. On the last day of our stay at Beira the heavens were opened and rain fell in torrents. Never was rain more welcome; pot, pan, and bucket were placed in every direction, and the extortionate water vendors had to re- tire from the field. Where the eye does not rest on sea or sand it wanders from Beira over miles of flat mangrove swamps ; the heat was scorching; when you walked you sank ankle deep in sand at each step; of all places Beira is the most horrible. When a Portuguese merchant goes to his office he is borne by four tottering negroes in his maskili; the Englishman walks and does most of his own work for himself, for the very good reason that he can get no- body to do it for him. This labor ques- tion is one of vital importance in Beira, and if ever it is to be a port of note the present order of things must be altered. Yet, in spite of the fever, the heat, and the sand, Beira is bound to go ahead, as nature has provided it with an excellent harbor, a rarity on the east coast of Africa. This is the only harbor for the proposed railway to the interior, which is to have its terminus on the opposite side of the harbor to Beira, nearer to the mouth of the Buzi, and will run along the flats be- tween that river and the Pungwe. Until the line is made, I think few of those who have come down this road will care to re- turn and face the discomforts of another foot-journey through the fly-country and the swamps. Perhaps it will be two years before this line is completed, and it must be done by the co-operation of the two interested companies, the British South Africa and the Mozambique. Between Massi Kessi and Umtali it will cost a con- siderable amount of capital if the hills are to be tunnelled. On the flats the swamps will cause difficulties; fevers will play havoc with the laborers, and the rivers and the dongezs will have to be bridged. When the railway is completed, then let people start for Mashoonaland. Now it is far too soon, and, to my mind, the Brit- ish South Africa Company have commit- ted the gross mistake of inviting pioneers and colonists to go and partake of an Eldorado which is not ready for them, and the true merits of which are not yet as- certained. NI uch disappointment many deaths, and grievous heartburnings have been the result, and instead of forwarding their scheme the Company are doing their best to render it a failure. I. THEODORE BENT. From The Nineteenth Century. RECOLLECTIONS OF TEWFIK PACHA. THE first time I ever set eyes on the late khedive of Egypt was in 1869, shortly before the opening of the Suez Canal. x68 RECOLLECTIONS OF TEWFIK PACHA. Those who like myself were present at that gorgeous pageant will doubtless re- member a fair, pale lad, clad in the ortho- dox Stambouli black coat and red fez, who used to be seen alone in a close carriage driving up and down the Schoubra road on the Friday promenades. The little lad of eight was pointed out to all visitors to Cairo as the eldest son of the Effendina, the lord and master of Egypt, the prince who was then entertaining the world to celebrate the piercing of the isthmus, and who was expected to revive the glories of the Pharaohs and to extend the dominion of Egypt to the equatorial lakes. Some nine years passed before I revisited the valley of the Nile ; and during that inter. val there had been important changes, not only in the state of Egypt, but still more in the position of the khedivial family. Egypt was bankrupt; Ismail Pacha was involved in almost inextricable financial and political difficulties, and Tewflk, by a strange stroke of fortune, had become heir to the khedivial throne. During the early years of his life his succession to the throne in the event of his fathers death seemed utterly improbable, if not impos- sible. By Mussulman law and usage, the head of a family is succeeded, not by his eldest son, but by his eldest male kins- man; and according to ordinary rules Ismail, if he had died upon the throne, ~vould have been succeeded, not by his son Tewfik, but by his uncle, Halim Pacha, one of the youngest sons of Mehemet Ali. At the time, however, wheo Tewfik was just of age, Ismail Pacha resolved to change the law of succession. In t873, when the Unified Loan was first brought out, Ismail ~vas at the apogee of his short- lived grandeur. He had immense influ- ence at Stamboul. The resources of Egypt and the loans made by European dapitalists were at his sole disposal; and by lavish grants of money to the sultan, in the shape of an augmented tribute, as well as by munificent largesses to the ministers and favorites of Stamboul, he obtained firman from the then Commander of the Faithful, Abdul Aziz, decreeing that hence- forth the khedivate should pass from father to son in lieu of following the regular Oriental mode of descent. Why Ismail attached so high a value to this change in the succession has never, so far as I am aware, been clearly ascertained. He was certainly not prompted by any special affection for his eldest son, as he notoriously preferred his younger chil- dren. I should doubt, too, whether the abstract advantages of our Western sys tem, under which a son is his fathers natural heir, had any great ~veight with such a prince as Ismail. Nobody whc~ has not been to some little extent behind the scenes at Oriental courts can realize how potent a factor the dread of assassi- nation is on the part of reigning sover- eigns. I do not say, I should not be justified in saying, that Ismail Pacha was afraid of any one in particular. But hi-s predecessor, Abbas Pacha if Cai rene report be true had been strangled to- death in his own harem not many years before; and only a few years later Sadyk Pacha, the Monfettish, met with a sudden and violent death under circumstances which have never been satisfactorily ex- plained. This much, at any rate, you may take for granted, that the advantage of having as heir a son who in the course of nature must expect to succeed to the throne, and who has, therefore, no direct interest in removing the actual occupant before his time, cannot but commend itself to every ruler of an Eastern country; and unless some consideration of this kind operated on his mind, it is difficult to un- derstand why Ismail Pacha should have spent an enormous sum in securing the succession to the throne to a son for whom he had no special affection, As a matter of fact, Ismail certainly cared less for Tewfik than he did for his other sons, all of ~vhom were, I believe, by different mothers. In common with the class of Turkish pachas to which Me- hemet Ali and his family belonged, Ismail had the same sort of contempt for the native Egyptians as the Normans in the days of the Conquest had for the Saxons. Now Tewfiks mother, unlike all her hus- bands other wives, was of Fellaheen ex- traction, and, in as far as the secrets of the harem are known abroad, she retained very little influence over her lord and master after the early period of their mar- riage. I think, too, that, without any other cause, the mere fact of Tewfiks being his designated successor would have rendered him an object of disfavor, if not of dislike, to a prince of Ismails character. Be the cause what it may, there is no gainsaying the fact that Ismail did not treat his eldest son with the same kindliness as he evinced towards his younger children. For some reason or other, Tewfik was scarcely al- lowed to leave Egypt during his fathers reign ; he was given none of the educa- tional advantages so freely lavished on his brothers; he was kept studiously in the background. The first occasion on which I made his acquaintance was at a ball RECOLLECTIONS OF TEWFIK PACHA. 169 given by the khedive in the Gesireh Pal- ace in the year 1878. Some short time before I had published in this review an article which had excited considerable attention amongst persons interested in Egyptian affairs. The interest was due not so much to any merits in the article itself as to the fact that it threw consider- able light upon a question which was at that period exciting much comment. The financial embarrassments of Egypt, or rather of the khedivefor in those days Egypt and the khedive were one and the same thinghad provoked the interfer- ence of the European powers, and had led, first to Mr. Caves mission and then to the Goschen-Joubert Commission of Inquiry. It was known that, after making all allow- ances for discounts and commissions and perquisites, the khedive had during the twelve years of his reign obtained enor- mous sums of money from European, and especially from French, capitalists. The difficulty was to account for the way in which this money had been spent. There was no question it was gone; the only point in doubt was whether any portion of it could be recovered for the benefit of Egypt and her creditors. The official court explanation was that the loans had been mainly spent on the Suez Canal, or the Alexandria docks, or the Soudan rail- way, on the extension of Egyptian rule towards central Africa, or a number of public works which might or might not have been well advised, but which were undertaken in the interest of Egypt. At that period I was in close relations with persons intimately acquainted with Egyp- tian affairs; and the object of the article referred to was to show that the chief cause of Ismail Pachas financial embarrass- ments was his ambition to become the actual landowner of Egypt, on the strength of which he had actually already appropri- ated, partly by purchase, partly by vio- lence, over a million acres, or one-fifth of the whole area of cultivated land. I believe now, as I believed then, that the statement was substantially true. But, whether true or false, its publication was not without a direct influence on the course of Egyptian affairs. It stimulated the demand for an International Commis- sion of Inquiry to ascertain the manner in which Ismail had disposed of the funds he had appropriated to his own use. The demand assumed serious proportions, and, in order to avoid the appointment of such a commission, the khedive formed the so- called constitutional ministry, and sur- rendered a considerable portion of the lands he had acquired either in his own name or in that of his family. I hope I shall not be thought desirous to magnify my own small share in this achievement. I was only the mouthpiece of others; but still it was hardly to be expectedand I certainly did not expect myself that the author of the article in question should be a~ersona grata at the khedivial court. A few months after the appearance of the article I went out to Egypt, and immedi- ately on my arrival I had the honor of being invited to dine with the khedive~ and to take part in all the official festivities that were supposed to inaugurate the estab- lishment of the new constitutional r1girne~ Here let me add, in passing, that of the ex-khedive himself, in as far as my per- sonal relations with him were concerned, I have nothing but good to say. Iwas associated, and known to be associated, with the interests which brought about the curtailment of his authority and his ulti- mate deposition; and in my writings I have necessarily said many things which must have given great offence to the viceroy. But during my frequent sojourns in Egypt in the year preceding his downfall, and during my many interviews with him after his exile, I was always treated by him with consideration and courtesy. Nothing could be more dignified than his demeanor towards his political opponents. Of all the men who had served and then deserted him, I never heard him say a word of dis- paragement. Indeed, the solitary occasion on which I ever knew of his showing per- sonal bitterness in conversation was once when he spoke to me of his son and suc- cessor. To make a long story short, the ball at the Gesireh Palace took place while my article was still fresh in Egyptian mem- ories. I was strolling about the rooms when an old friend of mine, an Anglo- Euyptian official, not celebrated for his tact or discretion, seized hold of my arm with the words, I want to present you to his Highness Prince Tewfik. I turned round, and saw a stout, heavy-looking young man, seemingly very ill at ease. The cause of his discomfort was obvious enough. His father was standing near us, and was watching us with his sharp, sleepy eyes, which always reminded me of a cat shamming sleep. 1 have seldom seen a man so manifestly anxious to cut short an interview as Tewfik was on the occasion of which I speak. He stam- mered, hesitated, spoke a few words of halting French, and uttered an audible sigh of relief as I bowed and passed on. 170 RECOLLECTIONS OF TEWFIK PACHA. I mention this incident, not on account of its intrinsic importance, but as illustrat- ing the conditions under which the late khedive passed his life up to the date of his fathers deposition. He was always suspected at court of being in league with his fathers opponents; and though I doubt whether Ismail Pacha really believed this, yet to have so intrigued was so exactly what, under like circumstances, he would have done himself, that he could never quite shake off the suspicion. My own impression is that, though Ismail greatly preferred his younger sons, he entertained a conviction that Tewfik, from his sup- posed lack of energy and timidity of disposition, was less dangerous as an heir- apparent than any of his brothers would have been in his place. In plain words, Tewfiks chief recommendation in his fathers eyes was his apparent insignifi- cance ; and therefore, by the exigencies of his position, as well as by natural bent of mind, he was condemned for the first thirty years of his life to play a very sub- ordinate part at the khedivial court. As I have said, he was kept almost entirely at home; no special pains were taken with his education; he grew up mainly under native influences, and was, in consequence, far more imbued than his brothers with the ideas, prejudices, and convictions of an ordinary Mussulman l)rince. At the period of which I speak he lived with his family on a small estate a mile or two out of Cairo, and devoted himself to agricultural pursuits. Except on state occasions, he was little seen at court, and, unlike the other members of his family, was almost unknown in the cosmopolitan society which in those days had made Cairo its special rendezvous. Yet even then he was anxious that his sons should have a better education than himself, and had engaged the services of an English tutor, who I remember telling me at the time that, if ever Tewfik came to the throne, people would find there was far more in him than he was given credit for by popular report. in as far as I can remember, I never met Tewfik from the day of the Gesireh ball till after he had succeeded to the throne. From that period I saw him fre- quently during my many visits to Egypt. Without his fathers brightness or charm of manner, he had a good deal of the pa- ternal shrewdness, and he was always ex- cessively anxious to learn from other than official sources what was the state of public opinion in England with reference to Egyptian affairs. During the first two years of his reign his position was exces- sively insecure, or, at any rate, was be- lieved to be so by himself. At the outset he was not popular with his own country- men. The commencement of his rule coincided with the appointment of the Commission of Liquidation and with a wholesale cutting-down of expenditure. I remember Tewfik telling me that when on his accession he looked into the expendi- ture of the court, he found that in his fathers time some ten thousand inmates or hangers-on of the palace were lodged, boarded, and clothed at the expense of the State. All this outlay was ruthlessly cut down, and a large number of court de- pendents were thus converted into bitter enemies of the new rigime. There were many cases of great individual hardship, and even injustice, and of these Tewfik, perhaps unjustly, bore the obloquy. Then, too, from the beginning, the French element in Egypt was unfriendly to Tew- fik. The lavish extravagance and reck- less expenditure of the previous reign, though they had impoverished Egypt, had enriched a large number of speculators and adventurers, either of French extrac- tion or connected by social ties with the French colony; and all who had suffered in pocket or position by the downfall of Ismail were in those days going about say- ing that Tewfik had proved a failure as a ruler, and that the restoration of Ismail was the one thing which could save Egypt. I do not believe the French government ever encouraged these intrioues; but the French consuls-general, who succeeded each other at that period with startling rapidity, were all agreed in this that it was their interests to stand well with the French colony; and therefore they always observed a sort of malevolent neutrality attitude towards Tewfik. It was easy to see that the dread of his fathers return constituted at this time the dominant factor in Tewfiks policy. He was willing and anxious to rely on England, but he could never feel certain, till our occupation had become an accomplished fact, that we might not throw him over, and therefore he was almost forced to play a double game. Moreover, the evacuation of the Soudan, which had been forced upon him by the pressure of Mr. Gladstones government, and carried out with perhaps unnecessary rigor by Sir Evelyn Baring, had deeply outraged his feelings both as an Egyptian and as a sovereign. Public opinion in Egypt, in as far as such a thing can be said to exist at all, was dead against the surren- der of the Soudan. Even Cherif Pacha, RECOLLECTIONS OF TEWFIK PACHA. 7 the most genial, easy-going, and cynical of door of escape in the event of his being Egyptian statesmen, had resigned sooner deserted at the last moment by England, than sanction a measure which he regarded and left face to face with his enemies. as fatal to the interests of Egypt; and for Our intervention unquestionably pre- the first and only time in Egyptian rec- served Tewfiks throne, and, in all proba- ords, there was found to be great difficulty bility, preserved his life. For the services in securing the services of any man of rendered him by the British occupation I eminence to fill the post of minister. The have often heard him express his gratitude. force of circumstances made Nubar Pacha But he was far too shrewd a man not to premier; and as a Christian, and still more be aware that our intervention was due as an Armenian, Nubar was distasteful to far more to care for our own interests than Tewflk, who had, to a far greater degree to any regard for his personal welfare. than either his father or his brothers, the Moreover, he always bitterly resented the prejudices of a Turk by race and a Mus- manner in which our government inter- sulman by creed. fered with the punishment of Arabi and It was curious to note how, surrounded his adherents after the suppression of the though he ~vas with difficulties, and ex- mutiny. To treat the defeated insurgents posed to every kind of sinister influence, as well-meaning and mistaken patriots, and Tewfik gradually qualified himself for the to condemn them to an honorable exile in position he had been called upon to oc- lieu of the stern doom which would have cupy. His nervousness of manner wore been meted out to them in- any Oriental, off as he became more used to being the and indeed in almost every European Effendina, the lord and master. It is true country, was to destroy the prestige and his lordship was stripped of half its dignity the authority of the sovereign. Tewfik and his mastership was woefully curtailed; knew this, and yet was aware that he was but, in the eyes of a race who can under- powerless to resist the orders of his Brit- stand no other system of government than ish protectors. When we refused to that of a personal ruler, he was still the allow Tewfik a free hand in dealing with fountain of honor, the supreme awarder the men who had rebelled against his rule, of reward and punishment. Then caine intrigued against his authority, and threat- the Arabi insurrection. To do Tewfik ened his life, we destroyed the last remote justice, he was personally prepared to chance of establishing an independent have made short work of Achmed the native government at Cairo, strong enough Egyptian. But the British government to maintain order in its own dominions intervened, and both before and after the without the support of British troops. outbreak of the insurrection insisted that, It was not in human nature that Tewfik in deference to public opinion in this coun- should not resent the sort of tutelage un- try, Arabi should be treated, not as a der which he was placed; a tutelage which rebel, but as a patriot. I have no direct was rendered even more irksome than it evidence as to the fact, but I have no need have been by the mode in which it more doubt than that I am writing these was applied. 1 have been told by one of lines, that during the months that preceded the khedives ministers at this period, that the actual outbreak, as well as during the one day his Highness pointed to a British outbreak itself, Tewfik used one language sentinel standing in front of the Abdin to the representatives of Great Britain and Palace, and said, in a sudden outburst of another to Arabi and his followers. Every irritation: Do you suppose that I like Oriental prince, and a great many Euro- this? Why, every time I pass a British pean princes, would have done the same soldier in the street I long to get out and in a like position. Throughout all this take him by the neck. It is impossible period, as indeed throughout the whole of but that in his heart of hearts the son of Mr. Gladstones administration, nobody, Ismail Pacha, the great-grandson of Me- not even the British consul-general, could hemet Ali, should not have resented, both say with any certainty how far our govern- as a Turk and a Mussulman, the sort of ment was or was not prepared to support subjection in which he was placed, as a the khedive. I believe it will be found, sort of puppet king, whose mayor of the whenever the true story of our times is palace was to be found at the British con- written, that up to the date of the bom- sulate. bardment of Alexandria the ministry had It would, however, be a gross mistake never definitely made up their minds as to suppose that, because Tewfik expressed to the necessity of military intervention at times a keen sense of his dependent in Egypt. This being so, Tewfik is hardly position, he ever after Tel-el-Kebir tried to be blameci if he tried to keep open a seriously to recover his independence, or 172 RECOLLECTIONS OF TEWFIK PACHA. still less to exchange the protection of England for that of France. Unlike his father, Tewfik had few or no French pro- clivities. The dissolute, free-living en- tourage of Ismails court, in which the French element reigned socially supreme, had always been distasteful to Tewflk. A man of very simple tastes, of quiet, do- mestic habits, and of a thoughtful if nar- row mind, he had more sympathy with the English view of life than with that which finds favor amidst our French neighbors. The Turks, in common with most ruling races, appreciate, even if they fail to practise, the virtues which, as a rule, ac- company masterdom. Personal courage, love of truth, honesty in dealing, dignity of manner, are things which the Osmanli respect in themselves. I am not saying for one moment that Englishmen have a monopoly of iiategrity or honesty. But I do say that, as a body, the English officials in Egypt have been men of high character and singular loyalty. The first idea of an Englishman who takes service in a foreign state is, that he has got to earn his salary, to perform the work he has undertaken, and to do his best for his employers. The first idea of every Frenchman in a similar position is, if he is a high-minded man, to use his position to promote the influence of France; if he is a low-minded man to fill his own pockets. This difference was keenly appreciated by Tewflk. He learnt gradually to see that his English advisers and his English officials had really the interest of Egypt at heart. He might not in many cases he did not-approve of our reforms ; but he realized that, whether wise or unwise, they were enforced upon him by an honest wish to promote Egyp- tian welfare. Time after time I have heard him express his personal admiration for the good conduct of the British army of occupation. He told me once he had been looking over the public records of the period when Cairo was occupied by the French, and that he had found there were more charges of assaults and out- rages committed in one week by the French soldiery than were even alleged against our own troops in the course of a year. His own experience had led him to form a very low opinion of the Egyptians as soldiers, and he more than once ex- pressed an opinion to me that the attempt to form a native Egyptian army was a mere waste of time and money. But for the English officers in the Egyptian army, and still more for the English engineers employed in the irrigation works so ably carried out by Sir Scott Moncrieff, he could find no terms of praise too strong to express his gratitude. As I have said, my visits to Egypt at this period, though frequent, were, as a rule, separated by considerable intervals of time. In consequence I was in a posi- tion to note the development of Tewfiks character more closely than those who ~vere in constant communication with him. Each time I saw him I was struck with his mental growth. In the early days of his reign the holding of the weekly recep- tions at Abdin was obviously a burden to him. His manner ~vas nervous; he had little to say, and hesitated in saying it. But as time went on he got used to the ordeal of addressing remarks to a circle of some hundred people seated on divans, and was able to chat pleasantly with his visitors. He applied himself, too, steadily to acquiring a knowledge of English ; and though lie preferred to speak French, with which he was more familiar, lie had no difficulty latterly in making himself intel- ligible in our English tongue. There was a certain quiet humor about him. During the first part of his reign it was not very easy for a visitor to find subjects of con- versation with his Highness which might not lead to awkward allusions. As a rule, therefore, visitors confined themselves to commonplace topics, such as the beauty of the Egyptian ait- and the charm of the Egyptian climate. I recollect at this time the kliedive remarking to me: I do wish your English friends would not always commence their conversations by congrat- ulating me on the air of Egypt. The air is none of my making, and to me it is no novelty. Some years later, when a num- ber of personal attacks on Tewfik had been made in the House of Commons, his High- ness asked me to explain to him the reason of these persistent attempts to disparage his services. I did my best to explain to him the beauties of our party system of government, and toshiow him that the real object of these attacks was not to injure him but to throw discredit on the Egyptian policy of the government. In speakin~ I used the words a phihippic against your Highness. The moment I had used it, I doubted whether Tewflk, whose reading was limited, would understand the allu- sion. But to my surprise he burst out laughing and said: Phihippique, cest he vrai mot voil~ he mot que je chrche depuis longtemps. Had Tewfik lived, I think lie would have become much more of a substantive ruler. Though in his inmost heart lie could never have liked our protectorate. SOCIETY IN NAPLES. 73 he had good sense enough to perceive that it was inevitable, and that by accepting it freely and frankly he could regain a con- siderable amount of personal authority. I have little doubt the English officials in Egypt would bear me out in my assertion that, as time went by, Tewfik became a far more important factor in the administra- tion of the country than he had been at the outset, and that also he made himself more and more the representative of such public opinion as exists in Egypt. Unlike his father, he was a devout Mussulman, and his subjects soon perceived that under his reign the interests of Islam would not suffer from the fact of the country being under a British protectorate. Though a most attached and in as far as the truth about the interior life of the harem is ever known abroada most faithful husband, he was personally hostile to the emancipa- tion of women from the restraints under which they are placed by the laws and usages of Islam. All attempts on the part of several of his Euroneanized relatives to adopt the habits of Western life met with this grave disapproval; and he even viewed with disfavor the existence of inti- mate social relations between his Mahom- etan subjects and the European colony. Some of the jeunesse dor6e of Cairo, who, inspired by the example of British officers, tried to start driving four-in-hands at the Schoubra promenade, received a direct warning that any continuance in the prac- tice would involve the displeasure of the court. The time has not come yet when a true history of the events through which Egypt has passed under British domination could be written. But when that time comes, I think Tewfik will be found to have played a far more important part in the drama than he was given credit for by his own contemporaries. Within the limita- tions imposed by his birth, his antecedents, and his position, Tewfik was, I believe, honest, kindly, and loyal. Of all the dy- nasty of Mehemet Ali, there is none who, after his own fashion, had the welfare of Egypt so much at heart as the prince who has just been gathered to his fathers. EDWARD DICEY. From The National Review. SOCIETY IN NAPLES. IT may safely be assumed that if a man be with exceptional vigor held up to op- probrium for defects of character which public opinion considers monstrous, he is also endowed with good qualities as em- phatic as his bad ones. It is only medi- ocrities who are neither censured nor praised with enthusiasm. The same rule holds good of nations as of individuals. When, for example, shall we hear the last word from Continental critics about our stiffness and frigidity, our hypocrisy and craft, and our inordinate lust of pounds, shillings, and pence? What is the infer- ence? Is it that ~ve are a community of liars and infidels with nothing in the nature of a heart within us? Quite otherwise. We are so sensible of the dignity of human beings that we can never wholly forget that we ourselves are living examples of this incarnate dignity. The commercial instinct is so keen in us that we are su- premely successful as traders and capital- ists. In affairs international, and in the race of aggrandizement, we are able to maintain our own to the envy ofourrivals. There is a sturdy morality at the back of our religious professions which might al- most justify us in claiming to be better than our neighbors. This, I am afraid, smacks somewhat of Mr. Pecksniff. That is a pity; but it can- not be helped. My position is one that must be buttressed by none bnt the most substantial claims. Perhaps the assertion of our superiority in morals is the boldest part of th~ plea. Still, De Stendhals words about us are as applicable now as when he wrote them: Such of the young prelates as have travelled, he says, agree with me that England is the only country in the world where religion is to be found. De Stendhal was a student and critic of men whose tongue did not com- monly drop honeyed words. The Neapolitans are like ourselves in this case. Writers who have strained the dictionary to express their rapture of ad- miration for Naples have also travailed in vain to say sufficient bad things about her inhabitants. The city is a paradise peo- pled by devils, habitual thieves, cut- throats, etc.; the imagination may lay on the color. Hence the intelligent vis- itor to fair Parthenope expects little of the happiness of tranquillity while he is there. lts roses carry too many thorns. He considers himself lucky if he has been able to view its statues, natural beauties, and the miry confusion of its streets with- out loss of his purse or the sensation of a stiletto-thrust in his ribs. Honest man! If he had had more faith and trust in hu- man nature and himself, and less in books. 74 SOCIETY IN NAPLES. he would have been spared much anx- and returned, sobbing, to his college. I iety. paid him a visit one Sunday in his school For my part, I confess I thought with quarters, and was much struck by a cer- the majority until experience modified my tam maxim, with others, framed, and hung notions. A scirocco held the city in its upon the walls of the reception-room: comfortless embrace on the night of my Do not think to win the love of others arrival. It rained deluges. The streets by rendering them services. You only and gas-lamps were all slobbered ~vith ivet, acquire their envy. For the life of me I The sea was rough, and the spray of the could not determine whether this counsel ~vaves lashed the walls of the Via Carac- was for the boys or for us adults who ciolo with a noise like the echo of thun- visited them, However, the youngsters der. Vesuviuss lamp was put out by the took the francs and packets of tarts which mist. Mid-April was chill as December. their elders had brought with sublime in- I wished myself in England again, with difference to the text. my feet on the fender of a fire of coal. The history of this family was sad. In spite of all, the Jehu who rattled me They had fallen, in a single month, from from the railway station sang and whooped wealth to extreme poverty. Formerly on the road like the very genius of felicity, they had associated with princes and The next morning I left my hotel and counts, who, it must be confessed, abound was introduced to the Neapolitan family in Naples. Now they did their own mar- in which I lived for the two subsequent keting with a basket from a fourth-floor months. It was simply managed. The window. The crimson surcoat of their wife of the hotel porter was the medium coachman, with their crest on the buttons, of the introduction. She was more loyal hung upon the wall like a reproachful em- to her own interests than to those of her blem of the past. The husband was out husbands employers. By a law as inflex- all day seeking employment, and finding ible as the laws of I)arius, while I stayed none. His and his wifes wardrobes were in N~pies she received a percentage (about remarkably in contrast with their penury. a fifth) of what I paid my hosts for board When he went to the Union Club (of which and lodging. The hotel manager was he was a life member) he was worthy of irate. Acting in his behalf, the porter Pall Mall ; and, indeed, at all times the came to storm and shake his forefinger at gentleman was patent in him. But one my new landlord. The latter, with more day I found him in tears. His club was reason, stormed back. Some exceedingly giving a ball to the king and queen, and he rude things were said on both sides. had dressed himself for the occasion and Finally, with several significant shrugs of gone as far as the door when his feelings the shoulder, the quarrel blew suddenly overcame him and compelled him to re- out, and the porter withdrew. His wife, turn. Poor man! said his wife, with a tacit witness of the encounter, had smiled tears in her own eyes. He could not from behind him throughout it all. When bear, in the midst of it all, to think of us he had disappeared, my new friend also as we are. She was twenty years his smiled. It was now my turn. I found it junior, and a handsome woman. . I won- a fiendish piece of work to come to a satis- der how many times she gave me to Un- factory bargain with him and his wife derstand that she thought her marriage a about my future existence; but eventually failure. She was, however, true to her it was arranged. My windows looked husband in all his distress. upon Santa Lucia and the sea, and faced Fidelity and love in Naples are quite Vesuvius, upon the farther side of the bay. compatible with a great deal of quarrel. The scirocco had departed in the night. ling. Thus my friends disputed over The sunbeams danced upon the water, and halfpence, the cost of the macaroni, and the smoke rose straight against the blue the length of my bill. One day the lady heavens from the volcanos purple sides. fell ill; and she lay abed for a week, sigh- For long my hosts puzzled me. They ing and crying that she should be disfig- were three: husband, wife, and a pretty ured for life. It was a face inflammation, little daughter. Later, a twelve.vear.old or something of the kind, and there was a son joined us for a fortnights holiday from looking-glass by her pillow. Well, they school. He was a passionate fellow, fond, daily disputed about the extent of her after an outburst of temper, of saying his deformity and its duration until the pa- prayers aloud while marching up and tients sobs ended the argument; and down my room. He added so much to the meanwhile her little daughter, who, until generai noise that it was a relief when he the other day, had had small princesses again put on his claret-colored uniform for school compapions, went singing about SOCIETY IN NAPLES. 7$ the rooms, doing drudge-work from 6 A.M. till 10P.M. They had rich relations; but these would do nothing for them beyond paying for the continuance of the boys schooling. When Easter came, however, they sent sundry large rich cakes, superbly orna- mented with sugar. The children made me the depository of these dainties, which they attacked in secret, hour by hour. They presented me with a small one, rushing into my room on Easter morning, and shouti~ng the Tan/i felici! (Many happy returns I), which it is the custom then to bestow. By and by they wrote acknowledgments of the cakes to their various aunts and uncles. Their letters made me laugh hugely. Here is the be- ginning of one : DEAR AUNT AND UNCLE, The sanctity of the present season re- minds me that it is becoming in me to address these few lines to assure you of the affection I feel for you. But my ignorance [ii rnio ~oco sa.5ere] Prevents me from expressing all the feelings which this holy festival arouses in my heart. - - - There was an immense amount of pencil- sucking and groaning over the production of these portentous epistles. Although the royal cakes were good, there was disappointment because the children had not a pet lamb, like other boys and girls of the level to which they had fallen. There is no end to the bleat- ing of the doomed lambs in the streets in Holy Week. They are decked with rib- bons, blue, crimson, or white, or hung with bells, or harnessed to little carts, and lugged or whipped about the thorough- fares, and stuffed to repletion with any- thing and everything edible that is to hand. Their life previously to the sacri- fice is a curious blend of the sweet and the bitter. They go in and out of the house like a tame cat, play with the children, who, by and by, will eat their chops; and rub their woolly sides against the knife that is destined, sooner or later, to slit their throats. They are caressed with growing affection until Good Friday, and on Saturday they are transformed into meat. Perhaps the children cry over the loss of their playmate; but the smell of the roast lamb soon reconciles them and revives their spirits. We had no lamb; but we had a famous piece of excitement instead. It chanced on Holy Wednesday, when one of the grandmothers of the children was in the house, that a rat sprang from a hole, and, running between the grandmothers legs, fled to the open window, from the balcony of which it sped headlong on to the pave- ment eighty feet below, ~vhere, of course, it lay dead. I found the household in an uproar of joy that evening over this event. They had bought a lottery ticket for a franc, investing upon a terno, or issue of three specified numbers. If the three numbers were drawn they would win 200; and they had very lively hopes, un- til Saturday caine and defeated them. As for the three numbers: They found them in the numerical equivalent of rat, motherinlaw, and sudden death,~~ using a certain little book which assumes to interpret by figures most of the inci- dents and individuals of common life. There was a dolorous reaction when the wrong numbers were declared. Even the father of the family was disappointed. The grandmother, who was implicated in the disaster, returned to condole and to prattle about the Bourbons and the hard- ships of life under their rule. These Nea- politan sovereigns were, no doubt, very bad fellows, who could not possibly have confessed themselves better than in the words of the Prayer-book: We have left undone those things which we ought to have done and we have done those things which we ought not to have done. To the grandmother, for the moment, it seemed that the culmination of their iniquity was shown by their lottery regulation, whereby they declined to pay more than a certain sum weekly in acquittal of the total claim of winners. When she was a girl, the old lady had won a terno, and was late in making her demand. It is all gone, they said, when she applied for her money; and so she got nothing. She had had bet- ter fortune by investing upon earthquakes and epidemics under the house of Savoy. I soon became fond of my Neapolitan friends. They carried their hearts upon their sleeves, or feigned it, in a manner that was very winning. Of false modesty they had none. When they wanted any- thing, and thought I could supply the want, they asked outright for it, as if I had been an angel commissioned by the Madonna to wait upon them. It amused me to see how, in a fortnight, I had come to stand in the light of general provider of things needful for the establishment. The little girl implored me to pay the school fees which were the cause of the halt in her education~ When, with some sorrow, I had to excuse myself, she pilfered my pockets of halfpence unblushingly. For cigarettes, pins, ink, quinine, writing- 176 SOCIETY IN NAPLES. paper, and other trifles, they seemed to depend wholly upon me. Perhaps the flat- tery with which they plied me was part of the scheme. The lady, who was a year younger than myself, told me to my face that if all Englishmen were like me she adored us as a nation. She wept with the extreme of sensibility over such romances as she borrowed from my store of books. She decorated my room with photographs of herself in the days of her magnificence, appeared before me in one dress after another for my approval, and bade her little daughter sound me as to whether or not I liked her style of beauty. As the child had already informed me that I was an Adonis in the eyes of her mamma, I could not but be complimentary in return. Further, she told me divers stories of the gallantry of certain young noblemen of her acquaintance who had run away with their friends wives; and she laughed gaily when I affected to be prodigiously shocked at their conduct. I do not judge her. Like some of our own ladies, she may only from sheer bravado have trodden the edcxe of the line which divides the proper from the improper. In many ways she certainly acted as if she hoped I was either very innocent or very abandoned. It was all done with a sweetness and amiability that bore about them an air of ingenuousness that was deadly ensnaring. Her husband ~vas less demonstrative of his affection; but when, after an absence of two days in Capri, he greeted me upon my return with a hearty kiss, I felt that he, too, was of a disposition warm and sympathetic to excess. These my friends were such thorough Neapolitans that I have been tempted to limn them more in detail than I intended. I had but to go into the streets to see all their characteristics, writ larger and with more coarseness, in the conduct of the tatterdemalion lazzaroni of Santa Lucia, who are supposed to be the most typical of the children of Naples. It will, in some respects, be an unfortu- nate day for Naples when Santa Lucia is reformed off the face of the earth. The spirit of improvement is much abroad here. In 1889 the king inaugurated public works of demolition on a vast scale. Streets and alleys that rarely or never see the sun are to be laid bare by the con- tractors probably for the first time since Charles of Anjou beheaded Conradin in the Piazza del Mercato. The scheme of resanitation (as it is called) includes the destruction of the masses of high old houses which front the sea, and accommo date very many families. You may guess at their population by the multitude of counterpanes and gowns of different colors which hang over their balcony rails to dry and air; by the hurly-burly in the foul byways which pierce the houses; and by the litter of children who roll about among the cabbage-leaves, fish-bones, and rotten refuse which are like a second pavement upon the underlying flags of basalt. It is the liveliest quarter in the gayest city of the world; and it is to be reformed into a stately promenade of the stiff, colorless, cosmopolitan kind! No people enjoy life with more zest than the Neapolitans. There is not a mood of which they are capable that they do not cultivate to its extreme limit. They are the most religious people in Italy, and the most immoral. Their vocabulary would lack half its force if the saints and the Madonna were exiled from it. There would be a startling halt in the increase of the population of the city if it were de- creed that for ten years all its illegitimate children, born in the mean time, should be put to death. The people would love their priests less if they did not implicitly rely upon them to make a clean sweep of their manifold sins whenever it was requested of them. What ~vould you have? exclai in the Neapolitan clergy (who as a class are amazingly fat and well-favored), in answer to inquisitive comments upon the state of the public morals. The poor creatures are not consecrated like ourselves. Life is full of temptations hard to resist; and it is natural they should commit many venial sins.~~ It is their passion for thoroughness that makes the Neapolitans so fond of the knife. If an injury of a kind that words cannot atone for is done to them, they are deterred from revenge by no scruples about the sanctity of human life. With an astonishing indifference to the conse- quences, they stab each other, and do it thoroughlyso many a day The news- papers print a list of such deeds as regu- larly as they print the meteorological records. All this bloodshed is only a family affair. Unless he also has dis- turbed the peace and happiness of a Nea- politan household, the stranger is saie enough. Imagine the average English assassin giving himself up to the police because he happens to have killed another man instead of the man he designed to kill! This was what a Neapolitan wood-seller did the other day. He had a feud with a bootmaker, at ~vhom, therefore, he shot two or three times with a revolver. He was a bad marksman, and was accustomed to miss his aim. At last one of the bul. lets chanced to slay a coalheaver, who was looking on. He did not, however, know of it until it was reported in the news- papers. Then he went to the police-court and announced (without a jot of remorse as far as the deed itself was concerned) that the man who was dead was not the man he axxernptecl ~o VA\X. YXe vqas q~x~e surprised when they detained him as a felon guilty of homicide. In a place which may be regarded as one of the best training schools in the world for thieves one expects to hear of some bold methods of larceny. It is here, as it was with the Spartans, their ances- tors first cousins the man or boy who purloins at the greatest risk with the great. est success is the most esteemed not, indeed, by all the Neapolitans, but, per- haps, by the majority. Not long ago a young gentleman distinguished himself by a systematic spoiling of the lawyers of the city. It was his wont to call on an advocate when the advocate was out. Asked to wait, he generally waited until he could secrete about him something of the advocates that caught his fancy and was portable. On the occasion that proved fatal to him, he had, after resting a few minutes, departed, saying he would return shortly. He carried off a valuable little statue of porcelain one of a pair. He also had the courage to return for the companion statue, and then met his doom. Upon him was found a list of four hundred other lawyers whom he had visited or proposed to visit. Such effrontery is fairly matched by the common trick of the local fishdealers, who find it profitable to put the eyes of fresh fish into the orbits of stale fish, and are thus enabled to deceive even the most accomplished of the townsfolk. It is another significant trait in the Nea. politan character that the favorite form of suicide in Naples is to jump from a win- dow. The houses being high, it is quite effectual; and the sudden sensational descent is agreeable to the Neapolitan temperament. Where, too, except in the kingdom of Naples, could thirty years ago have been found men with I know not how many murders on their hands living in comfort upon a government pension? This method of bribing brigands to desist from brigand- age well befitted the Bourbon rule, and was not thought so very odd even by hon- LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXVIIL 4012 77 est men who had never backslided and experienced a difficulty in earning maca- roni for a livelihood as the fruit of their honesty. it is in the fervor of their religious pro- fessions that the Neapolitans differ most remarkably from us of the north, and even from the Lombard Italians. They are really as much Pagan as Christian, al- though the twenti~eth century Anno Domini is so near its beginning. In the various ~ene~ cii Vrie \~ ei~cX\o~ cii Cv~ \~\ci~ cii St. Januarius, for example, one learns well how Asiatic a religion is the Christianity of Naples. A group of priests, of all ranks, in crimson and purple, and green and gold, parade the streets. Scores of massive silver busts of saints and martyrs precede the priests, strung with jewels, and with burning tapers before them, each borne on a scaffold supported by six men in robes of crimson, or purple, or green, or grey. Confraternities, in garments white, or blue, or scarlet, accompany the busts. Soldiers also are in attendance. There is singing and incense burning. When the silver-gilt head of St. Januarius himself (in the procession with the rest) enters the church in which the miracle is to be wrought, a fanfare of trumpets, a burst of the organ, and a choir of voices hail it from the galleries. The common people criticise and joke about the pro- cession until St. Januarius appears, and then, if there is room, fall upon their knees, and utter the petitions nearest and dearest in their hearts. The barren ask for babies, the girls for husbands, the poor for a lucky trio of numbers to play upon, and the old and suffering for speedy promotion to paradise. Meanwhile, perchance, the bearers, ~vho stagger under the weight of St. Januariuss silver self, curse each other for not going more slowly or more quickly, for the indiscriminate treading upon toes, or because of the unfair way in which the burden is divided among them. Later, when the archbishop at the altar holds up the crystal phial of blood for the populace to see It is hard! he says. Yes; it is certainly quite hard! the people echo. The ritual of prayers to the saint is begun, and periodically the blood is uplifted to a candle, that its progress or tardiness in liquefaction may be observed. Oh, make haste, San Gennaro! make haste! cry the mob at the altar; for it is traditional that Naples and her children will in the coming six months have good fortune if the blood melt briskly, and the contrary if it be a work of time. It may SOCIETY IN NAPLES. 178 SOCIETY IN NAPLES. be an hour, or it may be two or three hours, ere the miracle is accomplished. In the latter case, the mob by the altar will, ere its fulfilment, have become blas- phemous. Oh, you dog of a yellow-face 1 they scream; make haste 1 The archbishop all the while turns the phial from side to side, and up and down. If the wonder be achieved in the average time, contentment will prevail. Bishops in purple and begging friars with bare, dirty feet, millionaire merchants and itin- erant chestnut-sellers, congratulate each other in a breath, watch in hand (if they have watches to hold). One hour and five minutes, says one. And six, suggests another. No matter to a minute or two, ob- serves a philosophical third. The mira- cle has been well done, praised be the Madonna and St. Januarius! Then the archbishop and the sacred phial are hustled out of the church by the energy of the delighted populace, who con- tend to kiss the jewelled hand of the one and the crystal case of the other. The evening closes with fireworks and a dis- play of electric light. The pilgrimages to Monte Vergine are as picturesque as the miracle of St. Janua- rius, and a yet more lively note in Neapol- itan life. Tens of thousands of people drive the sixty miles thither and the sixty miles back. You may see them start at daybreak in the lightest of coster carts, rattled along by the small, spirited horses that seem to need so little urging. It is like a Derby Day of the old time, but the lazzaroni carry more jewellery, and their wives and sisters have gayer gowns and headgear, than the Londoners of White- chapel. They gallop against each other all through the day. Heaven knows how their horses can keep it up as they do. The Neapolitans say that the Madonna of Monte Vergine inspires them; and it is to be hoped she does. On the morrow they finish the course, and climb the mountain. Day and night these pilgrims may be seen toiling toward the steep pin- nacle of the Apennines, upon the summit of which is the famous church and monas- tery that preserve, among other notable treasures, the bones of Shadrach, Me- shach, and Abednego. When it is dark they light their steps with torches, so that the mountain seems studded with thou- sands of stupendous glow-worms. Masses are said in the chapel. The pilgrims cast their contributions upon the general pile, petition the Madonna of the mountain as they petition St. Januarius, and descend to eat and drink and dance throughout the rest of their stay. The return to Naples is as jubilant as the exodus was. The cars are decked with boughs of bloom; ribbons flutter from their tired horses; there is an incessant tinkle of bells; the pilgrims, men and women alike, are full of wine and uproariously happy in the pos- session of certain rolls of paper which they have received as a return for their money and their toils of devotion. The paper is an indulgence for a period of years. They set it ostentatiously on the car, in front, so that all the world may see that, whatso- ever courts of human justice might say, if they choose straightway to murder their neighbors they are adequately secured from divine chastisement. A myriad of similar festas occur annu- ally in the district. They are advertised on the city walls, like theatre notices. The exordium is generally of a kind to touch the Neapolitan affections. In these days of wicked incredulity it is well to bear in mind the saints, and especially those who, for our encourage- ment, have sprung from the country, and maybe the town or village, in which we live. Then follows the programme The Saint So-and-so, of world-wide celebrity, will be led through the market- place amid the enthusiasm and adoration of the faithful. The fireworks will be un- der the control of the famous artists, and . There will further be a cracker competition between these gentlemen at the close of the festa. The festas are of such manifest profit to the places in which they occur that one cannot marvel that nearly every village in the province has found a way to canonize one or other of its earlier inhabitants. It was in keeping ~vith this peculiar lux- uriance of the religious instinct that I should be provided, in my bedroom at Naples, with three pictures of the Virgin. Raffaels Madonna of the Chair was given to me at Easter as a guard for my head at night. In the words of a Pascal periodical of 1889, A single Madonna does not content them (the Neapolitans); they must have one for each of their joys, each sorrow, each event, and each hearts desire. In the hour of trial, when a faith- ful Neapolitan feels that he needs a helper, he invokes one Madonna in preference to another, and makes her the confidante of his anxieties. He regards the saints as brothers, entreats or apostrophizes them, worships or reproaches them. SOCIETY IN NAPLES. A singular people I To Protestants surely as compassionable and deserving of missionaries as a Brahman, or as an Af- rican with his fetich! On the other hand, it may interest any Protestant fellow-countryman to know that as material for conversion we ourselves are much esteemed by Neapolitan Cath- olics. I learnt as much one hot May day when I had climbed through the violets and hyacinths of the woods of Camaldoli to the monastery on the hill. A clean, stout monk in a snuff-colored gown, with a polished head, devoid of even a single hair, and with a long beard of snow, an- swered the bell, and welcomed me It is a sweet spoL You have Naples at your feet, and all her surrounding loveliness is seen at a glance. We sat and talked with the prospect before our eyes, and puffed cigarettes. I wish I, too, could live here all my days, said I. Would you not shiver in the winter, with two metres of snow on the ground? asked the monk, with an earnest peep at me. I think not, I replied. One look down at Naples in the sunshine would melt the snow. Besides, we are used to snow in England! Oh, my friend, exclaimed the monk, with a hand on my shoulder, come and be one of us. We are but eleven, though there is room for thirty-five. We have an Irishman, two Germans, a Frenchman, and a Greek; and we should be delighted to have an Englishman also. Moreover, you English are peculiarly fitted for the life monastic; you are so calm and tranquil. But, I said, I am a Protestant. Ah I said he, with a pull at his beard. Yet, never mind; you are a Christian nevertheless, and it can be easily con- trived. Our own superior shall arrange it all in three or four days without troubling the pope. That is, if I determine to abandon the belief of my fathers? Of course. But you will do that will you not? It is very good to be Protestant, but far better to be Catholic. Doubtless, too, your Excellency is rich? At this moment a fresh ring of the bell drew off my genial monk. As if to make sure of being able to resume his attempts to convert me, he locked me in the refec- tory while he played the cicerone to the new arrival. It was a great, chill room, with a big, naked, sad-looking fireplace, and a rough, white, cemented floor. The walls were green, the table was green, the 79 door was green, and the rush chairs were areen; and there was nothing in the room beyond egg-shells and dirt in a corner. Here the injudicious Catholic kept me pent for half an hour. Not even the bottle of old Posilipo which he enclosed with me, telling me to drink it all, and another as well, if I liked, could soothe my rage at this treatment. When he reappeared to loose me, I was less calm and tranquil, I fear, than it behoved a candidate for the monas- tic life of Camaldoli to be. At any rate, there were no more arguments to show forth the desirability of the career of monk. Probably in no other monarchical city of Europe is life so broadly social as in Naples. The noble is a man and a brother first, and an aristocrat only in accordance with his birthright. I do not mean that the chestnut-seller of the street may be seen in the drawing-rooms of the villa. She would much rather stay at home in the streets. But there is hardly a touch of that arrogance of demeanor which in some lands is supposed to be the defining mark of a superior. The poor jest, laugh, and cry with the rich, as if they were brethren. The rich are very liberal in support of the charities (nowhere more numerous than in Naples) which aid the poor, and even more liberal in sympathy, which costs nothing, and wins love faster than dollars. Al- though there was some hard trying, the Neapolitan revolutionaries a hundred years ago could by no means incite the lazzaroni to follow enthusiastically the example of massacring the aristocrats set so strongly by the aggrieved mob of Paris. One sees this fraternal mingling of pa- trician and pleb markedly at a race-meet- ing. The sport is poor; but there is much compensation. To begin with, it would be difficult even to dream of a more be- witching race-course than the Campo di Marte of Naples on a sunny spring day. It is small, but girt on the landward side by the purple, snow-capped peaks of the Apennines; and towards the sea, over budding trees and tufted pines, is the cone of Vesuvius, and the kindred crag of Monte Somma. The smoke of the sublim- est weathercock in Europe rises towards the blue, or drifts with the wind. Every- thing is cast into relief against the brilliant blue of the heavens, or the brilliant green of the grass. The grass, however, may be somewhat blanched by myriads of daisies. These provide pastime for the visitors from the slums of the city; daisy roots and leaves are reckoned the material of a salad of high quality. The scenes on the road to the course x 8o SOCIETY IN NAPLES. are like those of the Monte Vergine festa. There is dust, and clamor, and a concert of bells, and a world of chaffing; and at all the windows of the houses by the way family groups are smiling at the revellers or shouting with them, sipping wine, and smoking with a genuine, although uncon- scious, appreciation of the doctrine of Epi curus. The conveyances are, of course, as vari- ous as the circumstances of those they convey. There are drags and coroneted broughams in abundance; for, although they may care ever so little about sports and the betting-ring, the titled know that the populace expect them thus to justify and remind them of their nobility. What matter if his Illustriousness the Marquis of Montefiori and Marchocca, in private life, abides with his shattered marchioness and the children on the fifth flat of a dilap- idated house in an unmentionable street, and keeps their blood in movement mainly upon macaroni and the cheapest of cheap Posilipo? So he and she and they may for one or two days in the year shine as the ancient Marquises of Montefiori and Marchocca shone to the world, they would gladly suffer even greater privations; double the Churchs fasts, for example, or intensify the strictness of the popes dietetic injunctions. The old family coach is dragged forth from a cellar into the daylight, dusted and washed; the coat-of- arms re-varnished with deliberation by the marquis himself; a pair of reluctant horses, strangers to each other, and shamefully lean, are hired to share the glory of the fallen family; and, at length, at noon or thereabouts on the happy day, to the im- mense and resounding satisfaction of the hucksters and artisans who are the mar- quiss neighbors, the whip is cracked, and the noble couple, dressed to a marvel, with the more presentable of their offspring, rock and roll down the rugged alley towards the greater lung of Naples, which is to carry them to the races, in company with their inferiors, and (if these may be found) their betters also. This sort of thing is almost incompre- hensible to us. One is disposed to fancy that the gnawing at heart on such an oc- casion must be intolerable; that there would be no opportunity for honest, rea- sonable pleasure; that the marquis and his family would inevitably be forced to think, amid the richer nobility, about the absurdity of their pretensions, and about the contrast between their grim, penurious life in the attic and the full life of luxury and enjoyment of their associates of a day. It is by no means so at Naples. Carpe diem still holds good with the marquis, and neither he nor the marchioness is so very discontented and crestfallen when, in the evening, they have to discard their borrowed plumage, and sit opposite each other through a dull series of hours by the light of one tallow candle. It is quite on the cards that the youngest member of this noble family will have ridden on the box of the coach to play the part of foot- boy en rou/e, and, during the races, will have busied himself with the excavation of daisy roots and the like for the salad of the evening meal. I believe that it is mainly for the sake of the return that most of the nobility and gentry and military of Naples go to the races. It is a little discordant with ones notions of the fitness of things to see sev- eral drags on the course with all their space and every pinnacle of vantage upon them occupied by the military alone, in slashings of green and crimson and blue and gold and silver. They look bored. As a rule, they do not bet. As a rule, they do not take the trouble to descend to gos- sip with the ladies elsewhere. Perhaps this is because they are, again, as a rule, somewhat impecunious and afraid of the fashionable mania which may involve them in certain disagreeable speculations with the fair. The fact remains that they sit, with or without glasses in the eye, and behold what there is to behold quite un- moved to excitement, or eating on their exalted perches what their white baskets are able to offer them. I do not think the Italian officer a more assuming man than a soldier of other lands. He is generally, indeed, an amiable fellow; but he seems to condescend to the races. All is changed when the last race is run. Spick and span, men and horses fall into line for the procession up the long road that leads towards the head of the Toledo (the chief street of Naples) by way of the Reclusorio (or poorhouse) and the museum. Naples is wild in expecta- tion of this show. The balconies are crowded worse than ever. By the foot- path of the broad road the householders have set chairs, which they occupy with easy negligence, having wine at hand to baffle the trials of heat and dust. Even the poorhouse (surely the largest in the world, adapted for five thousand paupers) has its windows and terrace well peopled. The equipages are amazing in their number. One comes out of the cloud of dust they excite whited inside and out- side. The black hair of the ladies is pow- SOCIETY IN NAPLES. dered as they will by and by powder their faces to give them the pallor which they think the most irresistible of beautys arrows. The maimed and the halt, who show their crippled legs and arms and all their sores to the public eye, may as well plod home ; they can scarcely be seen, and they are nearly choked. Even the ruddy flames about the plaster sinners in the plaster purgatory, which certain monks exhibit by the wayside as a plea for pence, are not as horror-inspiring as they were. The dust puts out the glow of their fire as effectually as water would. Away rattle the coaches and carriages in double lines two miles in extent. The Marquis and Marchioness of Monteflori and Marchocca are now as happy as they may hope to be only twice or thrice in the year. Their coach is sandwiched be- tween a brace of hired cars of the most debased kind. They have tried in vain to get next to the Duke of Millisole, whose imposing vehicle, drawn by four roan stal- lions, attracts enchanted notice, some of which would have refracted upon the coro- net and blazoning of the family of Monte- flori and Marchocca. Still, they derive much gratification from the consciousness that they are what they are, and from the hope that the rest of the world will think that they are what they used to be a family in high esteem, as rich in lands and money as in honor. It would not be easy for titled persons of exalted origin like the marquis and marchioness to live in England as they live in Naples. Our own poor would, I am afraid, deride them for their misfor- tunes. In Naples ruin itself cannot rob a man of his best heritage, his native sun and the air he inhales; and compassion seems to breed in the atmosphere. In a mean suburb of the city, towards Pozzuoli, at the juncture of three streets, stands the Church of St. Vitale, where Giacomo Leopardi lies buried. There is a stone to his memory let into the wall externally, within reach of the passers-by; and on the stone impromptu verses and phrases are scored by the pencils of the populace. They are all of the tender, pitying kind. There is nothing of ribaldry, nothing of scorn. It is what one would expect from a people who are themselves not ignorant of much suffering and privation. A tale is told of a girl who, being ill, was wont to receive daily two spoonfuls of cod-liver oil from a Neapolitan hospital. She was allowed to carry it away with her. After a time she had so much improved in health that the dose was denied her. In expla nation of the storm of sobs and wailing with which she received this announce- ment, it came out that she had regularly bestowed the nasty stuff upon a poor old woman, who had made a meal off it. One sees the same generosity in the almsgiving in the churches and in the streets. The pence given to the priests represent direct sacrifice for the good of others; for the dead in Purgatory, and for the living who are only a shade less poor than themselves. Nor is it merely a class instinct. The little girl of my Neapolitan home saw no wrong in abstracting coppers from my pocket to buy bread for beggars though her own father and mother were reduced almost to beuc~ary. How can you pass without giving them something? she used to say to me, in reproach of my hard English heart. A century ago there were thirty thou- sand lazzaroni in the city. Neither disease nor want has diminished their number. Their children die at a fearful rate; but there are many hospitals for the survivors, and neither board nor lodging costs them much, when, at a mature age, they are turned loose into the world to become lazzaroni, in their turn, like their unknown fathers and mothers. What is a lazza- rone? it may be asked. According to Colletta, he is a being who lives how he can, without working. If he puts hand to honest labor, he is no longer a lazzarone. It may be doubted whether the lazzarone will ever become extinct. The resani- tation scheme will not oust him nor make him change his habits. He is more than half what his climate makes him. A Neapolitan has said that love is the only occupation of the unoccupied. If this be really so, imagine the condition of Naples I As far as observation goes, the lazzaroni, as a class, seem to consider the effort of extraneous courtship somewhat too strong for them. They will throw sparks in plenty into the inflammable hearts of their fair acquaintances; but it will be rather from the sheer love of devilry begotten of idleness than because they are in the toils of a consuming affection. Friendship! nothing more? whispers a handsome brown giant into the ear of a maid as brown as himself, whom for half an hour he has been plying with what seem to be insidious advances, and whose dark eyes have begun to gleam with passion. If the girl be a good girl, she answers,. Certainly, nothing more, and the chaff continues. Otherwise, a frown and a pout of the full lips tell the man that he may, if he dare run the risk, go a step farther. 182 SOCIETY IN NAPLES. Truth to say, woman is the prime cause of very many of the deaths by the knife. Although human nature is in few cities more human and less divine than in Na- ples, the verdict which acquits the man who avenges with the dagger the wrong done to his wife or sister, or gives him but a trifling sentence, is held to be very just. The ladies of Naples deserve a para- graph to themselves. I believe there are certain cold, dispassionate critics who pro- fess to think lightly of them. If so, they must be very old or much saturated with pitiable philosophic contempt of life, or unable to exchange a word with them in their own dulcet tongue. As for myself, I confess that I lost my heart to them when I had been among them for but a week. Their very hair is enough to bring one upon ones knees to them. They may not be the most lovely of their sex; but they are certainly among the most sympa- thetic and winning. If you do marry a Neapolitan, as you say you will, my host- ess said, she will love you more and more every day. It is the nature of our hearts. We are all fire and enthusiasm. I did not think my friends argument either soundorconvincing. I had already seen something of the fire of her disposi- tion when she was at discord with her husband, and I had not liked the look of it. Further, it is a common knowledge that a Neapolitan has such an expansive heart that she can always spare a corner in it to an applicant who pleases her. A glance from her dark eyes suffices to make one forget her innate fickleness, forget even that she is ugly rather than beautiful, forget everything except ones incipient affection for her. One may feel more inti- mate with her in an hour than with an English woman after a months inter- course. It is due to her responsiveness, her sympathy, and her intelligence. This last may be of restricted extent; but it is profound in its own orbit. An illiterate Neapolitan will, if he make the endeavor, learn to read and write in three months. The Neapolitan ladies might, if they pleased, keep pace with the most cultured of their sisters. The lazzaroni, however, ~refer to lounge through life unlettered, nd the ladies of Naples cultivate their earts at the expense of their minds. The result is what it is bound to be. Vociety in this fair, fascinating city is a ssue of amorous intrigues. Now and en there is a duel; now and then a do- mestic tragedy. Upon the whole, how- ever, Naples accepts things as they are, and considers that no one person is more or less blameworthy than another. Her children do but behave like their fore- fathers. It is the air. What is illicit elsewhere is pardonable in Naples. With these and similar comfortable sophistries they console the conscience if need be. There is a certain Neapolitan prince, a bachelor, who is notorious for his success in love. If he live long enough, he may run as mad a course of pleasure as that Prince of Cond~ who left at his death a drawer containing three thousand tokens from hearts that he had ~von. Recently he beguiled the young Spanish wife of a rich resident. She went a voyage with him in his yacht, and he brought her back to her discomfited husband. There was some curiosity about his next victim, espe- cially among the ladies; but of indignation there was little indeed. Among his other estimable qualities, he is Anglo-maniac. His propensity for sailing away with other peoples wives is considered as delightfully or deplorably English as his passion for straw hats, Scotch checks, and lawn tennis. My hostess was one of this Lotharios ad- mirers. She thought him irresistible, and wearied me with the praises of his cat-like manc~uvres round the feminine heart. The Neapolitan is as thorough in his amours as in his passion for idling, pick- ing and stealing, knifing, praying, and aught else. Some have accused him of being also the most thorough coward on the Continent. That was in the days of the Bourbons. His kings then set him an ex- ample. Ferdinand IV., for example, who whimpered over the peril with which the French Revolution menaced him, and, in an hour of danger, made his attendant chan?,e coats with him. ( It is a glorious thing for a subject to risk his life for the life of his sovereign, said the monarch.) But the revolt of 1848 proved that there was thorough valor, as well as thorough cowardice, in the Neapolitan temperament. From first to last nature is predominant in the Neapolitans. Convention, with its restraints and general discipline, is less to them than to the rest of us. Some day it may be different. The Neapolitans dis- simulate neither their likings nor their dislikes. When their saints are tardy in granting their petitions they curse them. They offer candles of gratitude when they are pleased. The little Neapolitan girl who runs ter- rified from the room in which her mother lies dying will, if she meets the undertaker in the street with a box of dead babies on his head, ask to look at them, and, if they WHO RANG THE BELL? 183 are pretty, will fondle them like dolls, call- ing them by all the endearing names she can think of. When she is somewhat olderthirteen or fourteenand has a lover, he will be the god of her admiration in every sense of the word. As a woman, she will expect her husband to beat her when he is out of humor with her; even as when she is out of humor with him she will speak her mind without reserve. It is the same impulse which makes love intrigues here so much matters of course, and suggests to the aggrieved hus- band, in nine cases out of ten, that he had better shrug his shoulders and put up with the injury rather than fight a duel which might result in his death. Impulse at one moment declares him a coward, and at another moment makes a hero of him. His conduct, at one time, may be very ig- noble; but he is not ashamed of it. On the other hand, when he achieves a feat of bravery, he does not crow in self-laudation. It is nature, not character, that works in him. This gives us a key to that disagreeable saying: Ing/ese italianato diavolo incar- nato. (The Italianized Englishman is a devil incarnate.) That there is something in it no one who knows Italy and knows his own national characteristics can deny. If this may be said of the effect of Italy as a whole upon the English temperament, imagine how the phrase acquires energy by confining the influence to Naples alone! In truth, there is but one way of salva- tion for the Briton who determines to live in this metropolis of a ruined Paradise (as Shelley calls it). He must return pe- riodically to his native land, and breathe for a while an air more harsh indeed, but more invigorating, and better suited to his more civilized code of morality. Other. wise, he will be fortunate if he do not ac- quire extraordinary ease of manner only at the cost of extraordinary corruption of morals. CHARLES EDWARDES. From The Argosy. WHO RANG THE BELL? ONE of the strangest stories I have heard was told me by an aged gentleman who had spent his youth in the provincial city where the event related by him had occurred. I will give the history as he told it to me, only altering the name of the chief actor in the terrible drama and suppressing that of the town. I may add that this suppression is not, in this case, the mere trick of the professional fiction- ist. The actual name of the criminal and the bare facts of his crime, may be found in any catalogue of famous trials. But the man belonged to a respectable family; a relative of his in his day a fashionable litterateur and popular divinefound it advisable to modify his own cognomen to veil so sad a connection, and it is possible nay, probable that some of the line still survive who might be pained by any public re-turning of this dark page of their record. Therefore, we will give the family name as Mildon, and their abode as the populous and gay town of X. The leading part in the little drama is played by one Charles Mildon, a fashion- able young gentleman, mixing in respect- able society, of popular manners and many accomplishments, but also, unfortunately, of extravagant and reckless habits and, it seems clear, of those darker shades of vice which frequently underlay these. He lived alone in quiet, genteel lodgings, where it appears that the character he maintained was fairly good. If at times he got into debt, he presently got out of it, owing to the good offices of an old bachelor uncle who had repeatedly come to his rescue; but whose patience, young Mildon felt, was fast wearing out. This uncle, Mr. Mildon senior, inhab- ited a small house in a lively, well-fre- quented part of the town. He was an elderly man, slightly crippled and other- wise so invalided that he never left the upper flat of his abode, where he was served and attended by a faithful old housekeeper who had been with him for many years. She and her aged master were the sole inhabitants of the dwelling. There came a time it was rather late one evening when people passing by the abode of Mr. Mildon, senior, became aware of signals of distress from the first- floor window. Having succeeded in ar- resting somebodys attention, the old gentleman, in a very excited manner, pro- ceeded to explain that he felt sure there was something grievously amiss in his lower premises, and to request that assist- ance should be fetched to his rescue, to enter his house and discover the true state of matters. A curious and eager crowd soon secured the presence of the proper functionaries. They proceeded to break open the hall door, thinking, probably, to come upon nothing worse than an inebriate cook or the devastations of a bungling burglar. But a single glance round the interior 184 WHO RANG THE BELL? changed the aspect of things. Faces gre~v pale and solemn, and defensive missiles were grasped, the excited crowd was pressed back, and further help summoned. From mouth to mouth went the grim whisper: Murder! In less than half an hour, it was noised abroad all over X that a terrible and mysterious tragedy had been enacted in the house of old Mr. Mildon. His house- keepers dead body had been found just behind the hall door, and farther up the passage, at the head of the kitchen stairs, lay the corpse of another person, readily identified as a respectable old body who had occasionally visited Mr. Mildons housekeeper. It was only to be expected that the old gentlemans nephew was speedily on the scene. The succor of his aged and infirm relative, so awfully left alone, naturally demanded that. But young Mr. Mildon had also some information to volunteer. During the afternoon of that day, he had himself visited his uncle. He re- membered the exact hour of his arrival, for while awaiting admittance he had cas- ually glanced at the clock in aneio~hboring steeple. The housekeeper had opened the door as usual. He had noticed noth- ing special about her, but then he had noticed little, going straight up-stairs to his uncle. With him he had sat chatting for nearly an hour, durin~ which time he had observed no unusual soui~d in the house. Some sounds, however, he ob- served, might easily pass unnoticed, owing to the roar of traffic in the street below. But he had further to narrate that his visit had been brought to premature con- clusion, and he thought this might shed some light on the mystery. While he and his uncle had been con- versing, the door-bell had rung violently. His uncle had wondered who the ringer might be and they had both listened for the opening of the door, or rather for its closing, as it shut heavily, reverberating through the house. They had listened in vain, and young Mr. Mildon had thought he would go down-stairs and see if the summons had been attended to. He had gone straight to the street door, had opened it, only to find nobody! Thinking that the ringer might have retired a few paces, young Mildon said he had stepped out into the street, and looked to the right hand and to the left, but in vain. While he was doing thus the hall door had suddenly closed behind him, bangedashehadthen believed by a draught of wind. His hat had been shut within the house, left, in short, on a chair in his uncles room. He had, he said, hesitated for a moment what he should do; he presumed the house- keeper had gone out marketing, possibly taking advantage of his visit to do so without leaving her master alone ; there- fore any ringing on his part would be as futile as the runaway ring had been, so he had decided to go quietly, and hatless, to his own lodgings, which were fortunately not far off, intending to return in the course of the evening, when the house- keeper would have resumed her post. He had actually been on his way back, when the excitement in the street apprised him of the horror which had been enacted in his uncles house. Young Mr. Mildon s communication was certainly important. It opened up two or three matters : Had the housekeeper really been absent from the house at the time of the runaway ring? If not, what had been the hindrance to her answering it? Young Mr. Mild on was asked why he had not called her, instead of answering the door himself? Was it because he had thought it likely she was out? He an- swered at once that he had not thought about it; the bell had rung and it had been neglected; he had gone to the door sim- ply as the most direct and natural thing. Another question was: Who rang the bell? Was this mysterious runaway the same who subsequently returned and committed the dreadful crime? Had his heart failed him on the first occasion? Or had he gained any inkling that the house just then had a stalwart guest as well as its usual feeble and aged occupants? Mr. Mildon did not see how this could be. He him- self had not approached any of the win- dows during his visit. His uncle had sat in his accustomed chair by the window; a watcher outside might have observed the old gentleman turn to speak to somebody in the room. But there had certainly been nothing to show that this interlocutor was other than the old servant. Mr. Mildon, the uncle, confirmed his nephew in every respect. There was young Mildons hat on the chair, where lie had left it. The old gentleman had little to add. After his nephew had left him to attend to the ringing bell, lie had heard the street door slam sharply; and, looking from the window, had seen his nephew go off, bareheaded, and had guessed accu- rately enough at the apparent state of WHO RANG THE BELL? i8~ matters. He had returned to his newspa- easily disposed of than the old women be- per reading, and had not troubled himself low. One detective suggested that the further for some time. Then it occurred old gentleman had never left his chair by to him that his housekeeper was late in the window, whence any deed of violence bringing up his tea and he had rung his might have been seen by passers-by. But bell had rung it again and again, with as another replied that such a murderer as little effect as the runaway ring had pro- this would scarcely have been defeated in duced! At last he had managed to hobble this way, since a few ingenious sounds on out of his room and as far as his stair- the stair-head would certainly have easily head, whence, looking over the banister decoyed the old man to the door of the he had caught a glimpse of the skirts of apartment. the prostrate woman behind the hall door. Gentlemen, said the younger Mr. His only idea had been that his old ser- Mildon, the great question is: Who vant had been seized with a fit, and he had rang the bell? at once given the alarm. From the stair- Among the detectives and legal func- head it was impossible for him to see the tionaries who met in conclave with the other prostrate figure at the top of the very few witnesses who had any testi- kitchen stairs. mony to offer, there was one young man Young Mr. Mildon expressed the live, who filled such a subordinate place that liest interest in the mysterious ringing of he had scarcely any right to speak in the the bell. He seemed to lay great impor. councils of his seniors and superiors; and tance on that point, certainly he received very little encourage- Another difficulty was presently found ment when he ventured to suggest that he attaching to this tragedy: It was impossi- had his own doubts as to the innocence of ble to gain any conclusive idea as to what young Mr. Mildon himself. had been the weapon which had produced The others scorned him. Had not such deadly results. In the case of each young Mildon come upon the scene of his woman the fatal wound had been a blow own free will and volunteered a statement on the skullso direct, so well aimed, which set him in the line of.suspicion? and so incisive that it had needed no rep- He could scarcely help that, murmured etition. But doctors differed as to what he of the doubts; for, even if his uncle instrument was likely to effect its purpose had forgotten or overlooked his visit, his in the peculiar way manifest. It seemed hat would have been found in the house that no clue to the identity of the criminal and he would have been called upon to was likely to come from this direction. account for it. Another moot point was, the possible It was further urged that the singular motive for the crime, Its two victims absence of apparent motive became, in were respectable old women, little likely the case of young Mr. Mildon, an absence to provoke enmity of the violent kind of all motive whatever. He, of all people, The motive could scarcely be plunder, was most likely to know of the money his for nothing in the house had been re- uncle had in the house, and where he kept moved, or even tampered with. Spoons it; yet he had certainly been in the old and other silver table-articles lay on the gentlemans room, everything there had kitchen-dresser, just in the order in which been at his mercy, and still the invalid the housekeeper herself had evidently ar- was safe and his store intact. To these ranged them. Also, there was a large pleas, the young man, whom we will call sum of money on the premises, for the Talford, could find no answer; yet he did elder Mr. Mildon had considerable house not say he surrendered his suspicions. property in X , and as it was just He was silenced but not convinced. after quarter day his recent receipts had Months passed on, and the great crime been large, and he had delayed to bank committed in the little house in X them, a fact which might well have been seemed likely tobe relegated to the list of suspected by many people. This money unsolved mysteries. Talford himself had was kept in an old-fashioned bureau, at ceased to take any active interest in the the back of Mr. Mildons room. It was matter; and the impression which had found intact, and the old gentleman him- once been ~o strong upon his mind was self could testify that there had been no wearing faint, so that probably, in time, attempt on the part of any stranger to he himself would have grown incredulous enter his apartment. If anybody had en- of it. tered the house with this object, why had This Mr. Talford had a watch which they not effected it? The crippled in- gave him a good deal of trouble, and at valid up-stairs would have been even more last he took it to a friendly shopkeeper, a i86 WHO RANG THE BELL? skilful mechanician, who, he thought, each other in silence. If Talfords con- might cure its aberrations. The man viction wavered, certainly his determina. looked at it carefully said he thought he tion did not. saw what was wrong a rather peculiar Laying the darbies on the table he defect and proceeded to rummage in a said : drawer for a tool he needed to remedy it. Mr. Mildon, I am prepared for vio- He did not readily find it, and summoned lence, but you will oblige me if you will his wife to his aid. While they were look- quietly produce the watchmakers hammer ing for this minor implement, he remarked with which you murdered your uncles by the way that he did not see his best housekeeper and her friend. hammer either. Talford, who was stand- Whether it was the sudden revelation ing idly by, was aroused by the womans of the discovery of the much-debated answer, which came in the form of this wcapon, or an idea that Talford would enquiry: ever had never have acted as he did without some Have von it since you lent it strong evidence to justify him, cannot be to young Mr. Mildon? Her husband thought not, now he came explained. But young Mildon, without a conversation What was the hammer word of protest, turned on his heel, went to think of it. Talford struck into the to a chest of drawers, unlocked one, and displayed to Talford the terrible imple like? ment. It lay among his handkerchiefs 0, not an ordinary hammer a watch- and neckties. He had never even cleaned makers hammer like this, and the it. Dry blood was on it, and there were shopkeeper produced a tool, which Talford one or two adhering hairs. Yet what saw at once seemed well adapted to pro. seemed such an utter carelessness had duce those fatal and peculiar wounds which come nearer to achieving security than had aroused so much speculation. any amount of restless precaution might Do you use these tools much? he have done! asked carelessly. The whole of Charles Mildons original Not very much, or I should have account was proved to be perfectly true. missed my best one sooner. I should He had only omitted its most important think it is nearly a year since I lent it to parts! Mr. Mildon. It was true that the old housekeeper That signified that it had been in his had admitted him and that she had ap- possession for some time before the mur- peared just as usual. ders. He had omitted to say that he had in- Talford took leave of the friendly shop- stantly felled her to the ground with a blow keeper and hastened away. His old im- which needed no repetition. That he had pression was now as vivid as ever, and he next been startled by the appearance of had something more tangible to back it. another old woman, coming up the kitchen He was resolved on a bold stroke. He stairs, but that his surprise had not un- would take counsel with nobody, but nerved him for the prompt commission of would venture a great deal and win or lose a second murder, which had formed no all. part of his original plan. He put a pair of handcuffs in his pocket Then he had passed by the two dead and bade a comrade accompany him on a women, and gone to his uncles apartment. piece of important business. They wended He had found the old man seated at the their way to the street where the younger window as usual, but on this he had reck- Mr Mildon lived in lodgings which he oned, and had laid his plot accordingly. had occupied for a long while. Talford After a little conversation, he had asked left his comrade to wait on the pavement, for a small money loan. His uncle had and repaired to the house alone. so often been complaisant that he had Was Mr. Mildon at home? he asked little fear of a rebuff. Had the uncle left of the woman who opened the door. the window to take a few sovereigns from Yes, he was at home in his own room. his bureau, his nephew would have felled Then the visitor would go to him there; him to the ground and possessed himself he need not be announced; when Mr. of the whole hoard. But to his surprise Mildon saw him he would understand. and discomfiture the old gentleman proved Young Mildon rose from his writing- utterly obdurate. Instead of lending the desk on the entrance of his unexpected money, he gave him a lecture, loading guest. His face was perfectly uncon- him with reproaches. The nephew showed scious, without either surprise or alarm. a submissive front, wondering all the while, For one moment the two men looked at what other dodge he could invent to en. NOTES ON BIRD-MUSIC. lice his uncle from his window seat. One occurred to him at last. An anxious and despondent man is often thirsty. He knew his uncle kept divers liquors in a cupboard at the back of the room. Well, uncle, he had said sadly, you cant think how your words upset me and your severity is such a disappointment to me, I really feel quite faint. You wont give me any more help, you say? I will not ask it. I will ask only for a drink of somethingeven a glass of water. You will not refuse to give me that? You may take it for yourself, the uncle had declared. You know where the bottles and glasses are kept. It is part of your abominable idleness that an active young fellow like you should sit there asking a poor old cripple to hand him a drink. To keep up appearances, young Mildon had gone to the cupboard and helped him. self to some beer. Then he had resumed his seat. To wait for his uncle to move, could be, of course, but a question of time, and the stakes he had already risked were too terrible to allow of any impatience. Leaving personal interests aside, he had striven to divert and interest the old gen- tleman in local gossip and political debate and was flattering himself that he was allaying his uncle~ irritation in the most satisfactory manner, when he had been suddenly confounded by a brisk, peremp- tory ringing of the street door bell. His uncle had at once vaguely wondered who it was likely to be, coming at that partic- ular hour, when he was seldom disturbed. The nephew had wondered, far less vaguely, what course he had better pur- sue, since he knew too well that there was no living person below to attend to that bell. Of course, he expected a repetition of the ringing. There had been a sound in the first as if the person producing it would not brook long delay, nor readily give up. In his desperation, young Mildon caught .~ hi.~ uncles wonder who it could be, and zeiteraLed it. Then he made a feint of listening, and remarked that as the house- ~ceeper dia not seem on duty, he would go and attend to the door himself. Accord- ingly he had rushed away, past the two corpses in the hall, and had opened the door warily, that the caller should not catch a glimpse of the horrible sight within. He had trusted to some dark in- spiration of the m& rnent to get quit of the malapropos guest. To his astonishment, nobody stood on the doorstep. Probably this somewhat shook even his iron nerve, for instead of retiring again, with the suffi- cient explanation of a runaway ring, he had stepped out upon the street to reconnoitre, not, however, forgetful to draw the door behind him fairly close. Then it had un- accountably slammed, and retreat, hatless and utterly defeated in his nefarious ob- jects, had been the only course left him. It had, at least, given him opportunity to consider his position, and assume the part of an innocent witness. Once fairly at bay, under the energetic promptitude of Talford, he dropped his mask forever. And his subsequent pas- sage to execution was very straight and short. There is much to reflect on in such a story. Did the door bell ring only in young Mildons guilty imagination, and was his idea vivid enough, according to some modern theories, to impress his uncles mind with a similar idea? A sud- den draught will often close a door left slightly ajar. There is nothing unnatural or even unusual in that. Some will be inclined totally to dismiss our telepathic suggestion and to fall back on the simpler one of a mere runaway ring. Admit this, and we have at once, in its time and cir- cumstance, a marvellous coincidence with the needs of the occasion. And then we have to admit another co- incidence in the slamming of the door. Neither that nor the ringir~g of the bell were in the least remarkable in themselves. They were the most commonplace of oc- currences. All their wonder lies in the part they played in this tragedy. Does not the multiplicabon of coinci- dences tend to suggest the existence of a law not fully manifest? A whole philos- ophy may underlay the answer to the ques- tion Who rang the bell ? From Chambers Journal. NOTES ON BIRD-MUSIC. TOWARDS the latter end of changeful April, when winter has been fairly con- quered by the returning warmth, is the beginning of the full development of bird- music. Then the stream of song from our native birds, which has been gradually increasing from the virtual silence of win- ter, is reinforced by the arrival of our summer visitors. For the silence of win- ter is only comparative, and all through the dreary season except for short in- tervals when frost binds the earth in iron fetters there is bird-music to be heard. i88 NOTES ON BIRD-MUSIC. The robin sings all through the winter wonderful song of its own, is sometimes a months, and every now and then may be mimic. I have also heard the skylark heard his companion, the wren. And it take the last four notes of the chaffinchs only requires a gleam of sunshine to call song and repeat them several times in forth the music of the missel thrush in succession as a part of his own ; but the very midst of storm and cold. It is whether this was imitation or coincidence one of the treats of January and February 1 will not venture to say. to hear him during one of these intervals. But our great mimic is the starling. He Taking his stand on the top of some tall will imitate many of our common song- tree, he will pour forth his cheerful notes sters, and has been known to whistle for with a fine ring of wild enjoyment a a do~ etc. There isa time when the star- determination to be happy in spite of cir- ling~forsakes his familiar haunts on the cumstances. It is only a little spell of top of the old house with that convenient fine weather between the snow and sleet, hole in the masonry which he entered to or hard frost, of the season, and yet he his nest. We miss his frequent song, sings as if spring and nesting time were which he was wont to give us from the already here. There is in the song a re- corner of the roof or from the adjacent semblance to that of blackbird and song tree. Tie has gone to the moors to recruit thrush, but it lacks the luxuriance of after the cares and fatigues of family life. phrase meet for the leafy luxuriance of There he associates with the plover and its surroundings which we hear in the curle~v, and on his return reproduces per. former; nor has it the reiterated, exulting fectly the wild cry of the latter. And by happiness of the latter, the succeeding spring he will have forgot- And there is much less variety. The ten it, althou ~ h then very busy imitating songs of the three great musicians of the the blackbird and thrush. His various thrush family are clearly defined and dis imitative snatches are intercalated with tinct from each other, just as are their a peculiar guttural, gurgling screaming of eggs and nests; and yet, without a little his own, accompanied by a shaking of careful observation, most people will con- wings and ruffling of neck feathers. There found the missel thrush with the blackbird is something weird and mysterious about and song thrush, or mix all three in hope- the starling as he sits giving utterance to less mental confusion. A useful point for these strange cries of his ; there is even a those to notice who wish to learn their touch of what is called uncanniness in songs is that the missel thrush sings first, the North. Thare an inw6rd kind of Neither song thrush nor blackbird sings b6rd, remarked a Northumbrian pitman so early in the year; and I think the song while gazing on one perched on a telegraph thrush begins before the blackbird. The ~vire and giving vent to these peculiar special characteristic of the song thrush sounds. And I think he meant to convey is its habit of frequent repetition. The the idea that the starling is of a medita- repeated part consists, rarely of one, usu- tive turn, and knows a thing or two which ally of two, three, or four notes, and is he doesnt tell to everybody. given from three to six times in rapid suc- I have never experienced greater pleas- cession; then, perhaps without a pause, ure in the pursuit of ornithology than in another phraseif the word may be used learning the song of the dipper There is is repeated in a similar way. One of a special charm in the habits of the bird, the birds favorite repetitions, of which and its haunts are among the loveliest of he never seems to tire, may easily be in- natures scenes. That it is so much less terpreted: Cheer up, cheer up, cheer known than many others increases t.he fas- up; and this may be taken as the key- cination. For I find from my dippings note and purpose of his music, into ornithological literature that this is so. Richness and variety characterize the Yarrell, for example, states that he had blackbirds song; we would recognize the never seen a dipper alive; and that well- tone even if he sang the song of some known naturalist, the Rev. J. G. Woody other bird. This has led to the terms sil- states that he has only once found its nest very and fiuty applied to it: The black- and never heard it sing. bird fiuteth in the elm, which recalls The dipper sings both early and late in the mellow clearoess of his music; The the year. The first time I heard it was, I blackbirds silvery tones9 which suggest think, early in February. A dipper flying the full richness of his vo!ce. over the water disappeared beneath it, and Most birds seem to possess or less came up again to settle on a stone at the of the imitative faculty; and even th~ edge of the stream. He sat there and blackbird, which has such a distinct anc~ ~ his almost insular rock splashed by NOTES ON BIRD-MUSIC. 189 the passing water a pleasing song, sweet comes so near to it as hum. For my and cheerful, with its meet accompani- own part, if asked to describe the sound, ment of murmuring waters. A voice less I should say: Imagine the hum of the rich and powerful than that of blackbird bee magnified very many times, and then and song thrush, and less variety in the mingled with a little of the peculiar trem- song, yet with a striking resemblance. ulous stammering characteristic of the There is the song thrushs habit of repeti- bleating of the lamb and kid. This latter tion, but less pronounced; while certain quality has led to the term bleeter, ap- trills and turns recall to my mind the plied to the snipe in Hoggs line, and to canary more than anything else. the French name, ch?vre volante; also to A few hundred yards farther up the the term lamming used in Norfolk to stream another sat on a stone washed by denote its cry. the frequent spray. His glorious white After wandering among the swamps breast, set off by dark plumes, gleamed many times during the breeding season like snow while he poured forth his wel- listening to the strange sounds, and watch- come notes. Another time a January ing the airy ascending and descending walk down a rocky stream was enlivened curves, I was fast coming to the conclu by the cheery music of several as they sion that the asserted bleating was a myth, winged their way over the wateror settled or at least an exaggeration, when the re- on their favorite stones. And he may be semblance struck me in a convincing man- heard in November, a time when there is ner. little bird-music. As I wandered by the Most diminutive and beautiful of our stream-side one hazy November day, the native birds is the dainty gold-crest; not familiar gleam of white passed up the rare, but somewhat difficult to see on ac- water before me. A dipper sat on a stone count of its small size and retiring habits. in mid-stream and cheered the November Away among the fir-tops, especially in the solitude with his music. And in Decem- autumn, its shrill chirp draws attention to ber also, if the weather is mild, he may be the tree-tops. But it is one of those de- heard. ceptive sounds so difficult to follow. Now There is an exhilarating wildness about it appears to come from that tree in front; the curlews cry, in harmony with the wild but when attention is directed there, it moorland where we usually hear him, seems to come from behind. At last the There goes one sailing leisurely along on bird is seen hopping briskly about among those great wings of his, uttering slowly the higher branches of a larch-tree. Per- his characteristic cry. Now he begins to haps, if fortune favors, the song is heard descend, and the notes get quicker and also. But it is very low and soft, and shriller. They reach their maximum, and therefore easily missed. The first time I then he utters a few slowly, by way of heard it was from the middle of a thick finish, hawthorn hedge, where I got a sight of Wonderful bird-music is to be heard the bird at the same time. On another from the swamp where hum the dropping occasion, the soft notes came from a fir- snipe, as we wander through their favor- tree on a hazy November day. ite marshy haunts during the breeding A great contrast to these notes so sweet season. and low of the gold-crest is the song of It was long before I could identify the another tiny bird, the wren. Its song is strange sounds. But it was soon per- loud and clear a perfect little torrent of ceived to come from a bird flying round music. One of the most difficult of orni- and round rather high in the air, and rising thological facts to realize is that it comes and falling alternately in its flight. Some- from such a tiny throat. The wren gets how or other, a line written by the poet through its song in a somewhat business- Hogg, in which he speaks of the airy like manner; he has something to say, and bleeters rolling howl, associated itself in he says it right off. my mind with this strange cry; I was The larks are an interesting family of convinced he was referring to the same songsters - Chief among them is the bird. And then I found that the snipe is familiar sky-lark, famous for its early ris- sometimes called the bleater, and the ing. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle mystery was solved. Norfolk, says King Richard, when he The peculiar sound emitted by the snipe would exhort his follower to make an early during the breeding season is doubtless a start. thing very difficult to describe accurately; To be urged to early rising by an appeal but I think no single word in our language to the lark was one of the pet aversions 190 THE NEW STAR IN THE MILKY WAY. of Charles Lamb. That we should go to bed with the lamb and rise with the lark was one of those popular fallacies which he exposed so humorously. And no doubt the lark is unconscionably early in this matter of rising; yet it is good to hear it when the summer day is still young. And perhaps even Lamb, had he been able to enjoy the larks music without rising from his couch and losing the thread of his wak- ing dreams, might have even praised him for his early song. The little seaside resort of Silloth, on the Cumberland coast, is a place where this refinement of enjoy- ment can be obtained. Its main street runs parallel with the Solway Firth, and between it and the sea is a strip of waste, sandy ground covered with grass and wild flowers, and diversified with hillocky sand links. Here larks abound, and all the summer day from early morn till even- ing fill the air with their melody. And in the very early morning we may, just awak- ened from slumber, lie and listen with open window to the sweet sounds which herald the summer day. Motion seems an essential part of the sky-larks music, and so it is with others of the family. In the song of th~ tree-lark we find a wonderful combination of the poetry of motion and the sweetness of melody. Sometimes he may be heard singing seated on the tree-top; but if watched, will presently be seen to rise into the air. He ~vill ascend some twenty or thirty yards in silence, then turn and begin to sing. Slowly, with outspread wings, he returns, pouring out a succession of sweet notes; he reaches the tree-top, and finishes with a few notes of melting sweetness, long drawn out. The song of the meadow-lark, inferior in tone and variety to the sky and tree larks, is yet one we love to hear. It is best when there are many together and they can be both seen and heard. I have heard them to greatest perfection on a Northern moor where dwarf birch grew among the heather, and graceful yellow globe flowers shed a golden glory around. Dozens of meadow-larks were rising on all sides, and descending, singing as they dropped slowly down, and making the air vibrate with their frequent notes. Their lively music was varied by the call of the cuckoo and the wild sweetness of the cur- lews whistle. From The Saturday Review. THE NEW STAR IN THE MILKY WAY. A NEW star is a representative of a class of phenomena so rare that the num- ber recorded during the last few centuries may be counted on the fingers. Hence we readily conceive that, since they are very striking in themselves as breaking the monotony of the starry heavens, and since also their nature was considered till quite recently to be shrouded in mystery~ a most lively interest has been stirred up by the recent new arrival, not only among astronomers, but among that large class who are always on the qui vive for celes- tial wonders. When tortured by the many instruments which modern science places at the ob- servers disposal, a new star is quite a thing ~er Sc; while at times their bril- liancy is extraordinary, some of these new stars having rivalled both Mars and Ju- piter in brightness, and even sometimes Venus. The time that they take to ~vax and to wane varies very considerably; some have lasted at their greatest brightness only for days, others have remained visible for months or occasionally for years. It gen- erally happens that a new star when first seen is brightest, and many have thought that this is simply because the star is at the stage most likely to be noticed by us; but this may not be the entire truth, as Can be gathered from a consideration of the various views which have been put forward as to their nature. Among the many hypotheses that have been suggested to explain how it is that these strange bodies make their appear- ance from time to time, we may first of all mention that which supposed them due to the sudden colliding of a comet with a star; another theory assumed that a star at some period of its existence became enveloped in a kind of crust or slag, which by some cause or other became disrupted, and revealed the glowing mass within. Both these hypotheses, although they might to a certain degree explain the sud- den brightness of the star, would not hold good with regard to the rapid diminution of its light, because, if large bodies are dealt with, the cooling must take a very long time. The latest view put forward is, that these bodies are produced by the sudden meeting in space of two swarms or streams of meteoritic matter, each travelling with a considerable velocity, the sudden bright THE NEW STAR IN THE MILKY WAY. 9 light being due to the collisions of the particles composing the swarms; and this hypothesis explains very well not only the sudden outburst, but the rapid decrease in brightness, due to the fact that only small particles are dealt with, and these must cool and dim quickly. The appearance of the present new star, or Nova, in the constellation of Auriga, was first announced by an anonymous postcard received at the Royal Observa- tory, Edinburgh. Why the postcard was sent anonymously remains a mystery; but the extraordinary reticence of the writer does not make any difference to the im- mortality of the discoverer; for while, on the one hand, newly discovered comets, which are also of an apparently temporary nature, are always associated with the names of those who first observe them, new stars, on the other hand, are always referred to by the name of the constella- tion in which they appear. The instrument now used to obtain ob- servations of these strange visitors con- sists of a combination of an object-glass, a prism, which is placed outside the object- glass, and a camera. The function of the prism is to separate the million strands of colored light which go to make white light; that of the object-glass is to collect each color, concentrating it at the same time, so that finally we get a fine line of rainbow color. This method of obtaining a spectrum is by no means modern, but was suggested and used by the German optician Fraun- hofer about the year 1814. He placed a prism before the object-glass of a theodo- lite, and in this way was the first to observe the spectra of some of the stars. By the use of this method, whether the eye or the photographic plate is used, the so-called spectrum of the body under observa- tion can be studied without any difficulty. The length of the exposures required when photography is employed for stars of dif- ferent magnitudes varies very consider- ably; for the brightest a few minutes are generally ample, but for those of much smaller magnitude a space of two or three hours is by no means too long. The spectra that are thus obtained are of various kinds, as various classes of so- called stars are observed. Some consist of bright lines on a dark background, others of dark lines on a bright back- ground, while a mixture of both these is met with. These variations in spectra depend upon the fact that any substance that is heated sufficiently to emit light, whether in the heavens or on the earth,. will give a spectrum. If it be a solid or I liquid body, we shall have what is called a continuous spectrum that is, a colored band bright from end to end, with no sign of any dark or bright lines about it. By continuing to heat this body until it be- comes a mass of incandescent gas, the spectrum will become entirely changed, and will consist of a series of bright lines on a dark background, the number and position of the lines depending on the substance heated. But suppose, now, that the light from an incandescent solid or liquid body passes through a gas, what kind of a spectrum should we have? Ex- periment shows that in this case we get a continuous spectrum crossed by dark lines, these dark lines being produced by the peculiar power that a gas possesses of absorbing those particular rays of light which it emits. Thus we see that if we are dealing with incandescent solid or liquid bodies we obtain continuous spec- tra; if with incandescent gases bright-line spectra, and if with absorption dark-line spectra; the position of the lines in all cases revealing the chemical nature of the substances. So much, then, for the general idea of the nature of a spectrum. There are some additional points to be considered when we are dealing with stars. If we observe the spectrum of a star at rest, we shall obtain lines, whether bright or dark, in their normal place in the spectrum. These lines will he peculiar to certain substances, and, in fact, their presence in the star is determined simPly by them. If we deal with the light from a body which is not an apparent point, the lines will still keep the same positions, for the same reason, but each one of them will be broadened equally. Let us now suppose the star no longer stationary, but moving with a consider- able velocity. In this case the wave length of each line will be no longer the same; but the line will have altered its position in the spectrum to an extent de- pending on the movement of the star towards or from the earth. The result produced in the spectrum will be the same with regard to the number of lines as was the case when the star was assumed to be motionless; but the lines will all have received a slight shift, either to one side or the other of their initial positions, ac- cording as the star is approaching or receding. If instead of one we now deal with two stars of the same chemical and 192 THE NEW STAR IN THE MILKY WAY. physical structure, travelling with differ- ent velocities, either towards orawayfrom us, the spectrum would sho~v each line doubled, and the more rapid the relative motion the coarser will be the doubling. If the stars were so physically constituted that the same chemical substances were present in both, but giving bright lines in one and dark lines in the other, the spec- trum would present a series of bright lines each accompanied by a dark one, on one side or the other, according as the body which contained dark lines in its spec- trum was approaching the earth or reced- ing from it. After this very brief statement of gen- eral principles, we can now refer to the observations that have already been made with regard to the spectrum of the present new star, observations unique in astro- nomical history, and of the highest impor- tance and interest. It has been found to consist of both light and dark lines. The fact that pairs of bright and dark lines are seen proves that two bodies are in ques- tion. If we suppose two swarms of me- teors colliding in space, the spectrum can be easily explained on this assumption in the light of the general principles re- ferred to above. Further, the thickness of the lines tends to show that each one is produced by a large number of small incan- descent masses moving at different veloc- ities, rather than by one large one. The motion necessary to produce the doubling of these lines has been estimated, and the relative velocity of the two swarms has been put down as more than five hundred miles per second I If the photographs should continue to show the same relative positions of the bright and dark lines, the observations would prove that this relative motion is not produced by the revolution of one body round another, but that a dense swarm of meteorites is moving towards the earth with a high velocity, and pass- ing through another receding one of less density. It will be seen that the observations harmonize ~vell with the hypothesis that has been advanced on much less definite evidence; but this is not the only instance we can give of the grip that modern sci- ence has on large classes of phenomena which were supposed to be beyond the reach of man. The lines that have been photographed in the spectrum of this star are all such as could have been predicted with our knowledge of new stars. As an instance of the advanced stage at which astro-physical science has arrived we may say that, if we had no observa- tions of new stars other than those already recorded of the present one, their whole theory could be obtained by induction. This may seem a sweeping statement, but it is nevertheless true, for since many so-called stars are now known not to be stars like our sun, but simply clouds of meteoritic bodies clashing together, and since we know approximately the sequence of changes through which the spectra of these stars pass as their temperature is first increased and then reduced, each spectrum indicates the complexity of each swarm. We have already seen that the doubling of the bright and dark lines indicates that we are dealing with two swarms in the present instance, one approaching and the other receding; we now learn that the con- densation at which each of these swarms exists can be approximately determined; that which gives us the dark lines is denser than the one which gives us the bright ones. in conclusion, it may be well to point out a difference of some importance be- tween comets and these new stars. A comet, as is generally conceded, consists of a cloud of meteoritic dust travelling round the sun sometimes in elliptic but more often in a parabolic or hyperbolic orbit; in other words, those travelling in elliptic orbits have been captured by the sun and return to it periodically, while those pursuing a parabolic or hyperbolic orbit after one passage near the sun are forever lost to us. Thus a comet with an elliptic orbit may be said to be a member of the solar sys- tem, and on this account can approach very near to our earth; and in fact our earth has even passed through one, giving rise to the phenomena of a great number of shooting stars. A new star, on the other hand, never approaches our system, but is formed at very great distances from us, distances probably as great as that of the nearest star, so that light, which travels one hun- dred and eighty-six thousand miles per second, takes about thirty years to coni- piete its journey to us. Our new star then is already old.

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The Living age ... / Volume 193, Issue 2495 Littell's living age Every Saturday; a journal of choice reading Eclectic magazine The Living age co. inc. etc. New York etc. Apr 23, 1892 0193 2495
The Living age ... / Volume 193, Issue 2495 193-256

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. Fffh~e~,s~ ~ No, 2495. April 23, 1892. From Begnsnmg, Volume Vol. CXCIII. CONTENTS. THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC, BOOMELLEN PRIVATE LIFE IN FRANCE IN THE FOUR- TEENTH CENTURY NAPOLEON THE THIRD AT SEDAN, CONVERSATIONS AND CORRESPONDENCE WITH THOMAS CARLYLE. Part III., EDWARD CRACROFT LEFROY. By John Addington Symonds THE ANCIENT TOMBS AND BURIAL MOUNDS OF JAPAN U~ THE GERSCHNI ALP, Scottish Review, Temple Bar, Fortnightly Review, Nineteenth Century, Contemporary Review, New Review, Nature, P 0 E T R Y. 194 I WHEN MY SHIP COMES HOME,. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL & CO., BOSTON. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EIGHT DOLLARS remi/~ed directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year,free ofj~ostage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and monc.y-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single copies of the LIVING AGE, iS cents. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. 195 207 214 226 234 250 255 94 UP THE GERSCHNI ALP, ETC. 94 UP THE GERSCHNI ALP. I. THIS is the way that you must go. Where no stray sunbeam, slautwise thrown, The twilight gilds with vaporous glow, Through woods dim, dreamlike, hushed and lone, The pathway serpents to and fro. Fair is the green roof overhead Which rises with you as you rise, And green upon the slope that lies Above you and beneath is spread A fairy tangle, ivy, fern, Seedlings, and mosses of untold Luxuriance flaming into gold. And sometimes at the zigzags turn A wayside shrine in miniature, Picture or image blest, behind A rusted grating niched you find. The monks of Engelberg would lure Your vagrant thoughts to Paradise; And, sure, not far from here it lies. And now some lucent streamiets gush Into its brimming trough, and now The sudden snapping of a bough, Is all that breaks the breathless hush. Ifif you were not quite alone! The morn, the woods, were twice as sweet If just one other pair of feet Were climbing here beside your own! 11. This is the way that you must go. Across the rolling pastures wide, Where Alpine thistles, nestling low, And clustered gentians, in the pride And splendor of their purple, blow; And all the exquisite pure air With tinkling cowbells, chiming clear Their homely chorus to the ear, Is garrulous; and everywhere Riots and laughs the sunshine bold. You loiter at the water-trough And make a mountain toilet, doff Your hat and dip your face, and hold Your inside wrist upturned to meet The crystal, cool, refreshing flow That gurgles from the pipe, and so Through all your veins allay the heat. Then, strenuous, charge the sheer ascent; Which won you pause, elate though spent. Deep, deep lies Engelberg! but note Titus, that wears his hood of snow In one great wimple on his brow, Soars for your toil scarce less remote. If if some other paused here too! How fair these summits and these skies, If just one other pair of eyes Were gazing at them now with you! III. This is the way that you must go. The torrent with the iris sheen, Faint where its thunderous waters grow A sleeping foam-mist, to be seen Spanning its base a vivid bow, Must not deflect your steps, nor yet The lakelet in the mountains lap; Nor the white hostel, as might hap, Tempt them to tarry and forget. A summit nearer heaven than this Invites you. Up! Each height attained Shows one yet loftier to be gained; Till lo! a reeling precipice, Whence if your sight with space can cope As on a cloud the lake of all The four Cantons mapped faint and small. Here, on the green and sunny slope Beside the brink, you rest, and bless The gods for all the loveliness Which haunts these solitudes divine; Rest and rejoice! the day is long, And life is an Olympian song! How pure the snows on Titlis shine! If if with rapture not less keen Some other heart exultant swelled! If just one friend of friends beheld The perfect hour, the perfect scene! Macmillans Magazine. E. C. WHEN MY SHIP COMES HOME. Song. WHAT will there be when my ship comes home, When my ship comes home in the morn- ing? Top o the tide oer the crest of foam, Danger and distance scorning. Oh, therell he crowns for the lads to spend, And rings for the girls adorning, And therell be a gift for every friend When my ship comes home in the morn- ing! What will there be when my ship comes home, When my ship comes home at nooning? All the fields where the children roam, Full of the scents of Juning! Oh, therell be pipes for the boys to play, And bells that the girls set tuning And cakes and ale as we turn the hay When my ship comes home at nooning! What will there be when my ship comes home, When my ship comes home at even? Over the spur of the reefs sharp comb, Under the darkening Heaven! Oh, therell be a treasure for me aboard, Won safe through dangers seven; Golden heart of lover and lord When my ship comes home at even! Argosy. G. B. STUART~ THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 95 From The Scottish Review. THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. THE industrial revolution which has been going on during the past hundred years, and which has profoundly affected social and economic conditions, has been immensely accelerated, especially during the latter half of that time, by the great development of locomotion both by land and sea. Every country which has any claim to being considered civilized is in- tersected by railways, and swift steamers now traverse every sea, so that individu- als, goods, and correspondence are trans- ported from one part of the globe to another, with great ease, rapidity, and cheapness. These facilities, combined with the use of the electric telegraph, have not only vastly extended commerce and industry, but have also revolutionized their methods by profoundly altering the conditions under which they are carried on. The discoveries of science and the developments of their application have been great levellers, and have tended to make economic and industrial conditions everywhere the same. Individuals and corporations have no longer the opportu- nities by which, on account of special position or information, they were for- merly enabled to maintain practical mo- nopolies and amass immense fortunes, for the rapid means of communication very soon place the same advantages at the disposal of competitors. What is true of individuals and corporations is also true of nations, and of none more than of Britain. Her natural resources, especially of the raw materials required in the man- ufacture of machines, coupled with the energy and ability of the British merchant and manufacturer, and the fact that they had the start in the race, enabled her not only to obtain the industrial supremacy of the world, but also in a sense to annex the products of all other countries. Now, however, these special conditions are rap- idly disappearing as other Countries are developing their resources, and as means of transport and communication are being extended. Practically, the world has been shrunk to very small dimensions, and the younger generation must look forward to a time, when the centre of magnitude of the worlds industry and commerce will be very much nearer newer countries than Britain, and also when the conditions of that commerce and industry will be very different from those which at present exist. The most important development of the applications of science to the improve- ment of means of communication is that which has taken place in the steamships ~vhich trade between Britain and America, and as for some years past the race across the Atlantic has been attracting the atten- tion of all classes of the community, and as new developments are continually tak- ing place, a short time may be usefully spent in considering the means by which these became possinle, and the steps by which they were brought about. The in- terest in the subject is by no means con- fined to Britain, and the greyhounds of the Atlantic are no longer only of British origin. France and Germany have re- cently both produced steamships which are little if anything behind the best of British design and construction, and from America we have the report that an at- tempt will soon be made to build ships which will cross the Atlantic in three days. Whether this be possible or not, can best be judged by glancing at what has been done in the past, and noting the conditions of further progress. It is not necessary for our purpose that we should go back to the days of Jonathan Hulls, De Jouffroy, Fitch, and Rumsey, when the earliest attempts at steam navi- gation were carried out, or even to those of Symington, Miller, and Taylor more than a hundred years ago, of Fulton in America, and of Henry Bell on the Clyde. It will be sufficient if we start from the point when ocean steam navigation be- came a possibility from the improvements which had taken place in the design and construction of ships and engines. It should be a matter for national pride, that Clyde engineers and shipbuilders early in the race, took the lead which they still hold. The names of Wood, Scott, Steel, Denny, Caird, David and Robert Napier stand pre-eminent among the founders of the great industry of shipbuilding. Of Wood it has been said by a competent authority that he was the father of all 196 THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. that is best in the style of our ships, and truest in the practical application of sci- ence in the shipbuilding of Great Britain, while of David Napier, an equally compe- tent authority was of opinion that from the year i8i8 until about 1830 he effected more for the improvement of steam navi- gation than any other man. In i8x8 he established steamship communication be- tween Glasgow and Belfast, and a little later bet~veen Dover and Calais, and be- tween Liverpool, Greenock, and Glasgow. In 1822, the James Watt was constructed by the Messrs. Wood, and this marked a decided step in advance. It was four hundred and forty-eight tons measure- ment, and in form, strength of construc- tion, and speed was very much before every vessel of its day, having a speed of ten miles an hour. The engines were by Boulton and Watt, and were geared be- tween the crank and the paddle shafts. From the time of the construction of the James Watt a gradual increase took place in the size, and improvement in the design and construction of ships and engines, until what was called the leviathan class was reached. Curiously enough, however, the first steamship to cross the Atlantic was not British. In 1819, an American vessel, the Savannah, crossed to Britain partly sailing and partly steaming, her engines being only auxiliary to her sails. She was originally intended to ply between New York and Savannah as a sailing packet, but she was purchased by Savan- nah merchants and fitted with steam machinery, her paddle-wheels and shafts being placed on deck when they were not being used for propulsion. She took twenty-five days to go from Savannah to Liverpool, eighteen of which were under steam. After a visit to the north of Eu- rope she returned to America, where her machinery was taken out, and she resumed her original character as a sailing vessel, and was ultimately wrecked on the south Coast of Long Island. The Savannah therefore scarcely deserves a place in the roll of early steamships. In 1833 the Royal William crossed from Quebec, but all her hold had to be filled with the fuel which was necessary for the voyage, so that although such a vessel could be used for coast trade, it could not be successful commercially for trans-oceanic traffic. The whole subject, however, was eagerly discussed by engineers and scien- tific men, and many speculations and de- signs were laid before the public, and Parliament collected evidence on the mat- ter. In 1834 Mr. MGregor Laird, the founder of the Birkenhead firm, laid be- fore a Committee of the House of Com- mons on Steam Navigation to India, the following estimate of coal consumption: Under 120 H.P., Io,~ lbs. per iI.P. per hour. i6o 912 240 8 It will be interesting to compare these figures with the average consumption at the present day; but coming as they did from a practical engineer, it was not to be wondered that those who had no experi- ence of such matters, looked upon the proposal of steamships to cross the Atlan- tic, and be self-supporting financially, as altogether visionary with the existing con- ditions of engineering and shipbuilding. Dr. Lardner is reported to have said : * As to the project which was announced in the newspapers, of making the yoyage directly from New York to Liverpool, it was, he had no hesitation in saying, per- fectly chimerical, and they might as well talk of making a voyage from New York or Liverpool to the moon. This is all that is usually known of Dr. Lardners opinions, but he himself always protested that the report did him an injustice, and it is only right that this should be known. It is unfair to judge any scientific man from a newspaper report which is neces- sarily very much condensed, and which possibly omits very important conditions which modify the opinions expressed. It may therefore be well, after all that has been written on this subject, to endeavor to arrive at the actual facts. In 1836 projects had been started by two different and opposing interests, one advocating the establishment of a line of steamers to ply between the west coast of Ireland and Boston, touching at Halifax, * Report of lecture in Lir.erjool AThium, delivered in Liverpool, 1835. THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. I97~ and the other a direct line, making an un- What Dr. Lardner did affirm and main- interrupted trip between Bristol and New tam in these discussions was that the long York. At the meeting of the British As- sea voyages by steam which were contem- sociation in Dublin in 1836, Dr. Lardner plated could not be maintained with that advocated the former of these projects. regularity and certainty which are indis- At the subsequent meeting in Bristol in pensable to success, by any revenue which 1837, he again urged the advantages of could be expected from traffic alone, and the same route, and by comparison dis- that without a government subsidy of a couraged the project of a direct line be- considerable amount, such lines of steam tween Bristol and New York. Dr. Lardner ers, although they might be started, could continued to declare * that the popular not be permanently maintained. He advo- rumor that he had pronounce~l the Atlantic cated the establishment of a line of steam voyage impracticable, to be entirely desti. communication between one of the west- tute of foundation, and he brought evidence em ports of Ireland and Boston, touching to show that he distinctly affirmed the at Halifax, and he insisted on the necessity contrary, by quoting the following extract for a liberal subsidy for carrying the mails from a report which appeared in the Times as an indispensable condition for the com to this effect mercial success of the enterprise, and the Dr. Lardner said he would beg of any one, experience of the early steamers justified and more especially of those who had a direct his opinions. Dr. Lardner may have erred interest in the inquiry, to dismiss from their in the way of over-caution, and have failed minds all previously formed judgments about to estimate the possibilities both of en- it, and more especially upon this question, to be gines and ships, as he based his calcula- guarded against the conclusions of mere theory, tions on a coal consumption of twelve for if ever there was one point in practice of a pounds per horse-power per hour, with commercial nature which, more than anoth~r, a speed of eight knots, but he does not required to be founded on experience, it was deserve to be held up to ridicule, as he this one of extending steam navigation to generally is, when his name is mentioned voyages of extraordinary length. He was in connection with the early attempts at aware that since the question had arisen, it trans-Atlantic navicration had been stated that his own opinion was ad- b verse to it. This statement was totally wrong, The first British steamship which but he did feel that great caution should be crossed the Atlantic was due to the used in the adoption of the means of carrying genius of Brunel. As engineer to the the project into effect. Almost all depended Great Western Railway, which had its on the first attempt, for a failure would much terminus at Bristol, he suggested that the retard the ultimate consummation of the proj- operations of that line should be extended ect. to New York, and in 1836 a steamship Mr. Scott Russel said that he had listened company was formed, and the keel of their with great delight to the lucid and logical ob- first ship, the Great Western, was laid servations they had just heard. He would down at Bristol. Her principal dimen- add otto ~std. Let the~ N s~ons were \eng\rt ovet a\\, 23~ ~eet; .vith a view only to tbe enterprise itself, but breadth, 35 feet 4 inches; depth of hold, on no account try any new boiler or other expcriment, but to have a combination of 23 feet 2 inches; draught of water, i6 feet the most approved plans that had yet been 8 inches; tonnage by measurement, 1,340 adopted. tons; displacement at load-draught, 2300 After some observations from Messrs. tons, and the indicated horse-power of the Brunel and Field, Dr. Lardner, in reply, said, engines, 750. She was launched in Juiy, that he considered the voyage practicable, but he 1837, and sailed from Bristol on Sunday, wished to point out that which would remove April 8, 1838, arriving at New York fifteen the possibility of a doubt, because if the first days later, at very nearly the same ti me as attempt failed it would cast a damp upon the the Sirius, a vessel which had been pur- enterprise, and prevent a repetition of the chased by another company, and prepared attempt. for the voyage to New York. The fastest The Steam Engine, Eighth Edition, p. 295. westward passage of the Great Western 198 THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. was [2 days i8 hours; her longest 22 days in the hull by the engines and boilers was 6 hours. Her fastest eastward passage nearly one-third of the ships length. En. was [2 days 7~ hours; the longest 15 gines of the side lever type have now en. days. Whatever may have been the theo- tirely disappeared, although even at the retical opinions of those interested in present day, ordinary beamed engines are steam navigation, the success of the largely usedin American river and coasting Gr~~t Western, as Carlyle said, left our steamers, and with their long strokes and still moist paper demonstration to dry it- steady motion, hold their own against the self at leisure. modern type. Many modifications of the Before proceeding further with the his- side lever engine were designed, but now tory of the development of the steamship, when paddle engines are used, engines of it will be well to briefly sketch the princi- the direct acting diagonal or oscillating pIes on which that development depended, type are usually employed for driving beginning with the engines, which are still them. When the screw propeller was in- essentially those of Watt. Engines and troduced, shortly after trans-oceanic navi- machines seem to undergo a process of gation was firmly established, and for a evolution very similar in its nature to that considerable time thereafter, the same which is observed in the animal and vege- kind of engines was used for driving it table kingdoms. The earliest steam en- as were employed for paddle vessels, the gines consisted of few parts or organs, but connection between the crank and the pro- each of these performed several distinct peller shaft being effected by means of functions. As the development proceeded gearing. Now, however, the screw pro- there was greater complexity of construc- peller is almost always driven directly from tion, but at the same time more definite- the crank shaft, and the most common ness and certainty in the actions of the types of engines employed are the hon- parts, accompanied by greater compact- zontal and the vertical, the former in the ness and ease of management. This is navy, in which it is necessary that the easily seen if we look at the engine de- machinery should be below the water- signed by Papin, in which the boiler, the line, and the latter in the mercantile ma- cylinder, and the condenser were combined rine. in one, and then at Newcomens, in which The great increase of efficiency in steam the boiler was separated from the cylin- engines since the days of Watt, has been der, and lastly at Watts, in which the brought about chiefly by the increase of condenser was separated from the cylin- the pressure of the steam used, and it is der. The tendency to multiply parts, and rather curious to note that Watt did all in to limit their functions still continues, and his power to discourage and prevent the instead of the steam being used in one introduction of high pressure steam. He cylinder, it is now very often used in two, seemed to be quite aware of the econom- three, or more cylinders, each with sepa- ical advantage of such steam, and his chief rate organs of admission and exhaust, and reason for objecting to its use was that he requiring an increase in the number of the feared the danger which would attend it. parts of the mechanism. Influenced no doubt by Watts example, The engines of the Great Western were the progress of high pressure steam was of the inverted beam or side lever type, very slow, and even then it seems to have which remained for a good many years the been more due to increased confidence in ordinary type of the larger marine engines, the materials of construction than to a They were not by any means self-con- clear recognition of the principles in- tamed, the keelsons and framing of the volved. The experiments of Joule on the vessels being largely relied upon for re- dynamical equivalent of heat, and the sisting the stresses arising from the action mathematical investigations of Thomson, of the engines. Of course, under such Rankine, and Clausius, no doubt had a conditions, a low pressure of steam and certain effect, but the science of thermo- steady uniformity of motion were matters dynamics was more often used for explain- essential to their safe working, and the ing accomplished facts, than for indicating makers of such engines seemed to exercise the way to new developments. The foun. their ingenuity on their architectural de- dations of that science had been laid as tails rather than on the proper disposal of early as [824, when Sadi Carnot, the uncle the metal for resisting the stresses which of the present president of the French acted on their various parts. The press- republic, published his classical work ure of the steam employed rarely exceeded Reflexions sur Ia Puissance Motrice du ten pounds on the square inch above that Feu, in which he enunciated the funda- of the atmosphere, and the space occupied mental principle which governs all heat THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC~ 99 engines, namely, that the real value of heat as a source of mechanical power depends on the temperature of the working sub. stance relatively to that of surrounding bodies, and consequently that high press- ure engines derive their advantage over low pressure engines simply from their power of making useful a greater range of temperature. For a considerable time after the intro- duction of ocean navigation, little atten- tion was paid to the direct economy of fuel, although various causes, such as the improved forms of hulls, the use of iron in their construction, and the introduction of the screw propeller, led to a greater tonnage being propelled with the same amount of coal. As trade extended to foreign countries where coal was expen- sive, steamship owners saw the necessity for reducing its consumption, and engi- neers exercised their ingenuity in bringing this about. Among those who led the way in the design and construction of engines of a more economical type, the names of John Elder, Charles Randolph, and John M. Rowan deserve to be specially men- tioned among Scotch engineers. There ~vas a gradual rise in the pressure of steam used in marine engines, until it reached from thirty to forty pounds on the square inch. When it had risen to the latter figure and considerable expansion was employed, the variation in the temper- ature of the cylinder caused a large amount of initial condensation of the steam, fol- lowed by a certain amount of re-evapora- tion towards the end of the stroke. This had been observed long before by Watt and Smeaton, but no systematic investiga- tion of the phenomena was made until the researches of Clark, Isherwood, Him, and others, fully explained the action of the sides of the cylinder on the steam. It was to obviate this action to a certain ex- tent that compound engines became nec- essary, and to John Elder is largely due the honor of having successfully applied such engines for marine purposes. He, moreover, re-introduced the steam jacket invented by Watt, but which had gone wholly out of use in marine engines, and he was thus able topreventa considerable amount of the initial condensation, as well as that caused by the expanding steam doino- work. In1854 the firm of Randolph, Elder & Co. fitted the screw steamer Brandon with compound engines, and it was found that she consumed about three and one-fourth pounds of coal per indicated horse-power per hour, as compared with four or four and one-fourth pounds with simple en- gines. It next supplied several sets of engines, of the same type, to the Pacific Steam Navigation Company; and during many years subsequent service the con- sumption of coal in those steamers was from two and one-half to three pounds per indicated horse-power per hour, a de- gree of economy never before realized in marine engines, amounting as it did to a saving of from thirty to forty per cent. of the coal previously burned by steamers of the same class. Gradually the pressure of the steam was raised to eighty pounds, and in some cases to one hundred pounds, on the square inch, but it was soon found that at the higher pressures a recurrence of the evils of the simple engines took place. This led to triple expansion en- gines, in which the steam is expanded successively in at least three separate cylinders. Such engines form the most important development in marine engineer- ing which has taken place during recent years, and their commercial success is largely due to Dr. A. C. Kirk, senior part- ner of Messrs. Napier & Co. In such engines, generally speaking, steam of a boiler pressure of at least one hundred and fifty pounds on the square inch is employed, and being admitted into the first or high-pressure cylinder, it is cut off at about three-fourths of the stroke and allowed to expand; it then passes into the mean pressure or middle cylinder, and from that into a third cylinder of much greater capacity, where it is still further expanded; and, lastly, it escapes into the condenser. The general principle is that in the triple expansion engine, the fall of temperature is divided between at least three cylinders, and the amount of con~ densation in each is reduced, and what does take place is to a large extent utilized during re-evaporation behind the pistons of the mean and low pressure cylinders. A saving of from twenty-five to thirty per cent. of fuel, as compared with ordinary compound engines, was the result of the introduction of those with triple expansion. Quadruple expansion engines have been used for steam pressures of two hundred pounds on the square inch, and upwards, and it might be thought that all that is re- quired for still greater efficiency are higher steam pressures and greater expansion. But it must be remembered that the rate of increase of temperature of saturated steam decreases as the pressure increases, and as the cost of construction of engines increases with the pressure, a point must soon be reached when the increase of 200 THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. efficiency of the steam will be balanced by the increase of cost, and by the loss of efficiency of the mechanism from increased friction. It is evident therefore that with the pressures possible with the type of boilers at present in use, we have almost reached the limit of expansion which is desirable, and that a further increase of efficiency must be sought in higher tem- peratures, or in new types of engines and boilers, possibly in all three combined. The use of the multi-cylinder engine has to a very large extent rendered the steam-jacket unnecessary, for as already stated, the fall of temperature is divided between the cylinders, and the amount of condensation in each is reduced. More- over, it ought to be remembered that the steam-jacket is a necessary evil, justified only by the properties of the steam and of the materials hitherto used in construction, for while it increases the work done by the expanding steam, the increase is by no means so great as it would be if the heat employed in the steam-jacket had been applied to generate more steam for use in the cylinder. This is at least one point which was indicated by the science of thermodynamics before it was ascer- tained by practical experience, for the use of the steamjacket, as ordinarily con- structed, involves a violation of the funda- mental law of maximum efficiency of heat engines, which requires that they should receive all their heat at the maximum and give it out at the minimum temperature, and not as in the case of an engine with a steam-jacket, some of it at temperatures between these, and at times when the heat imparted lessens the efficiency, as it evi- dently must do at and near the end of the stroke. Hence in multiple expansion en- gines, in which the variation of tempera- ture in each cylinder is not very great, steam-jackets have been either wholly or partially omitted. In marine engines, however, apart from their primary use, jackets are very convenient for heating the cylinder on starting, and as the liners are always cast separate from the exterior casing, they have the further advantage of convenience of renewal when the interiors of the cylinders become worn. The chief stages in the development of the marine engine are clearly marked by the pressure of the steam used, and the amount of coal consumed per indicated horse-power per hour, and these may be briefly recapitulated. Until about 1830 the pressure seldom exceeded three pounds on the square inch above that of the atmosphere. From that date a gradual increase took place, and in 1845 the aver- age was about ten pounds on the square inch. By x8~o it had reached fifteen pounds. In 1856, Randolph, Elder& Co. employed pressures of thirty pounds in their compound engines, but it was not till almost ten years later that such press- ures became general in the merchant service. On the compound engine be- coming common, pressures rose suddenly to sixty and in some cases to eighty and one hundred pounds on the square inch, and now for triple expansion engines the average is over one hundred and fifty pounds, while for quadruple expansion engines it is two hundred pounds on the square inch. With regard to coal con- sumption, the earliest marine engines must have used, nearly ten pounds per indicated horsepower per hour. In the well known side lever engines it was about seven pounds, while for engines in use before the general introduction of the compound type four to four and one-half pounds was the average. Randolph, Elder & Co., as we have seen, had an average of from two and one-half to three pounds. In 1872, when two cylinder compound en- gines had been in use for some years, the average was found to be about 2~II pounds, being a saving of nearly fifty per cent. over the ordinary engines, while in i88i there ~vas a reduction to 1~828 pounds, or a further saving of 1337 per cent. With triple and quadruple expansion en- gines there has been a still further reduc- tion of about twenty-five per cent., the consumption of fuel in some of these engines being as low as one and one- half or one and one-quarter pounds per indicated horse-power per hour. This method of measuring the performance of engines in terms of the consumption of fuel per indicated horse-power per hour is convenient for approximate calculations, but it cannot be considered scientific. It would be more exact to use as unit of comparison the weight of steam consumed per unit of power given out, and that unit should not be the indicated horse-power, but the actual horse-power, of which the indicated is only one of the factors. This would involve a measurement of the ineffi- ciency of the mechanism of marine en- gines, and on this subject we know little or nothing. In every department of sci- entific investigation, progress has been marked by the advance in the methods of measuring the quantities involved. At first these were merely qualitative or rel- ative, and the aim is always to make them quantitative and absolute, and this aim THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 201 should be kept more distinctly in view by marine engineers and shipowners than it has hitherto been, for they have been con- tent with methods which may give very inexact impressions. Space will not allow us to enter into the details of the improvements which have been made in the design and construction of marine engines, a brief enumeration of the more important is all that is possible. The early rectangular fined boiler has given place to the cylindrical tubular, with corrugated flues and forced draught; the surface condenser has replaced the old jet form; and improved valve gears, pistons, bearings, the use of separate pumps for feed and circulating water, have all added to the efficiency. Increased piston speed has led directly to economy of weight, the power developed being proportional to the speed, and the weight not being affected by the increased speed to any great extent. In the early marine engines from one hun- dred and fifty to two hundred feet per minute was the average piston speed; now from six hundred to eight hundred feet per minute is common, and one thousand feet per minute is not unknown. The ex- tended use of steel has enabled engineers to reduce the weight of their engines and boilers to a very considerable extent, ann has thus added to the freight-carrying power of the vessels. The screw pro- peller has replaced the paddle wheel in all trans-oceanic steamers, and twin screws are now becoming common in the passen- ger steamers of the largest size; and they are to be commended, not only on ac- count of the additional safety they give to the vessels, but also because they enable them to enter harbors with a compara- tively small depth of water. A modern ship is almost a working museum of many departments of mechanical engineering. In the main engines we have incorporated all the most recent developments of steam engineering; but these, although the most important, now form only a small part of the things requiring the attention of the chief engineer. Appliances for starting and reversing the engines, for shipping and discharging cargo, pumps of various kinds, condensing apparatus, steam steering- gear, electric lighting, and signalling appa- ratus of various kinds, are examples of what are now required, and the result of the use of which has not only been to enable the ship to make more voyages, but also to reduce the number of seamen very much. At the present time the num- ber of persons required to work a steam vessel is about one-half what it was at the beginning of her Majestys reign; a fact which proves bow necessary it is for the shipowner to keep himself informed re- garding the most recent developments of mechanical engineering. There is still great room for improve- ment and development not only in these smaller arrangements, but also in the main engines and their connections. The coin- Dlete efficiency of a marine engine is the resultant of the separate efficiencies of the boiler, the steam, the mechanism, and the propeller. To give a rough idea of the value of this, the first of these compo- nents may be assumed at -6, the second at 2, and the third and fourth combined at ~5. The resultant efficiency is therefore -o6, that is to say, that only about one- sixteenth of the energy of the fuel is utilized in the propulsion of the vessel; so that notwithstanding the progress which has been made during the first century of the marine engine, there is still a wide field for the ingenuity of the engineer and the shipbuilder. The improvement in the design and construction of steam engines, and in me- chanical appliances generally, led to a very rapid development of the sizes, and increase in the strength and conveniences of steamships, and we may now resume the historical treatment of the subject, and note the main stages of that develop- ment. The success of the Great Western demonstrated beyond a doubt the possi- bility of establishing regular steamship communication between England and America, and made others anxious to take part in the venture. The Great Western Company built another ship, the Great Britain, and as it ~vas notable for being the first large ship built of iron, and also for using the screw propeller instead of paddle wheels, it may be interesting to give a few details of its career. It was designed by Mr. Brunel and built by Messrs. Paterson & Sons of Bristol. Her keel was laid on the same site as that from which the Great Western was launched, and it was not until she was nearly com- pleted that it. ~vas discovered that the gates of the dock into which she was launched were not of sufficient width to allow her egress. These, however, were enlarged and she was floated in 1845. Her rig was that of a six-masted schooner. Her chief dimensions were: Length be- tween perpendiculars, 322 feet; beam, 51 feet; depth, 40 feet; tonnage, 3,733 tons; cargo space, 2,000 tons; coal space, 1,000 tons; with accommodation for six hun- dred passengers. Her engines were of 202 THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. one thousand horse-power, and she was propelled by a four-bladed screw. Her first trip was to London where she ex- cited much interest, being visited by her Majesty, the royal family, by members of the aristocracy, men of science, and many others. She made two voyages successfully between Liverpool and New York, but on the third, her commander mistaking the coast lights ran her aground in Dundrum Bay, Ireland. She lay there for nineteen months before the efforts to raise her were successful. On being raised she was towed to Liverpool, where she lay in dock for nearly three years, when she was purchased by a private company, and in 1851 she was refitted, and it was found that so strongly was she constructed that little or no damage was perceptible in her frames, planking, and riveting. She was supplied by Messrs. Penn & Sons with new engines of the oscillating type, capable of being worked up to eight hundred horse-power, the steam pressure being ten pounds on the square inch. She made the voyage from Liverpool to New York in June, 1852, but on her return she was placed on the Aus- tralian trade, where she was long a favor- ite passenger vessel. She was laid up for some years at Birkenhead, where she was an object of much curiosity, and finally having had her engines taken out and being sheathed with wood, was converted into a sailing vessel. She made one suc- cessful voyage to San Francisco, but on her second, in i886, she put into Stanley, Falkland Islands, damaged, where she was surveyed and condemned, and after- wards turned into a coal hulk. She cer- tainly deserved a better fate, for at the time of her construction she was as bold a conception as was her designers later and much more unsuccessful venture, the Great Eastern. The first regular line of steamers be- tween Britain and America, was the North American Royal Mail Steam-Packet Com- pany, which was organized in 1840, by Mr. Samuel Cunard of Halifax, Mr. George Burns of Glasgow, and Mr. David MIver of Liverpool, a company which is best known by Mr. Cunards name. Its promoters were able to secure a sub- idy from the British government for car- ing the mails, and thus were able to vercome the financial difficulties which heir competitors encountered, and this arrangement was continued for forty-six years. In z886, it was discontinued and the mails sent by any steamer which might be selected by the government. At first the service was monthly, and after- wards fortnightly, and the ports called at were Liverpool, Halifax, and Boston. Eventually, on a larger subsidy being paid by government, a weekly service was established between Liverpool and New York, as well as a semi-monthly service between Liverpool and Boston. The first ships of the Cunard Line were the Britannia, Arcadia, Caledonia, and Columbia, all wooden paddle steamers, constructed on the Clyde, and supplied with side-lever engines by Mr. Robert Napier. The first of these sailed from Liverpool on July 4th, 1840. and after a passage of fourteen days and eight hours arrived safely at Boston. The principal dimensions of the Britannia, which was the representative of the others, were as follows: length of keel and fore rake, 207 feet; breadth of beam, 34 feet 2 inches; depth of hold, 22 feet 4 inches; mean draught, i6 feet io inches; displacement, 2,050 tons; indicated horse-power, 740; bunker capacity, 640 tons; cargo capacity, 225 tons; cabin passengers carried, 90; average speed, 8-~ knots. These ships were thus much smaller than the Great Britain, and even slightly smaller than the Great Western, with about the same coal consumption and rather less speed. Soon, however, other steamers were constructed of somewhat larger size and greater speed, but for some years the progress was steady rather than rapid. All we can do here in the mean time is to indicate some of the chief landmarks. One of these, although not directly con- nected with the Atlantic trade, was the founding of the Peninsular Company in 1837, which at first confined its operations to the ports of Spain and Portugal, but soon extended them to India under the name of the Peninsular and Oriental Com~ pany, now so well known, and whose extensive fleet has long done excellent service not only for India but also for China and Japan, and the Australian col- onies. Another most important step was the establishment in 1840 of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company, which has done so much to develop the resources of South America, and to connect that con- tinent with Europe. Meanwhile the speed of the Cunard steamers was gradually increased. In 1847, four new steamers, the America, Niagara, Canada, and Europa, each of 1,820 tons, with side-lever engines, of 68o horse-power nominal were built by Napier. The America was the greyhound of her day, being noted as the swiftest steamer THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 203 on the Atlanth~, her fastest passage from Liverpool to Halifax being done in 8 days 23 hours out, anc4 8 days io hours home, being about three (lays faster outwards, and two days homewards than the speed of the Cunarders when the line was started eight years previously, which is a remark- able advance in o short a time. This, however, was considerably above the aver- age of the ordinary steanters, which was about io days ~3 hours oi~twards, and 9 days 15 hours homewards, also a consid- erable advance on that of the Qreat West- ern. The Americans were naturally anxious to obtain a share both of the glory and the profit of the Atlantic steamship trade, and in 1847 established a line between New York and Bremen, touching at Southamp- ton. The pioneer ship of the line was the Washington, of about four thousand tons displacement and great proportional en- gine power, and consequently from which high speed was expected. The results, however, were not on the whole satisfac- tory. The chief competitors of the Cunard steamers were those of the Collins line, which was formed in 1850, and supported by a large subsidy from the American government. The most important of the other Atlantic lines were the Inman, the North-German Lloyd, the French Coin pagnie Transatlantique, the National, the Williams and Guion (latterly the Guion), the White Star, the Allan, and the Anchor lines, all of which afforded many good examples both of ships and engines. The contest as regards speed was for some years chiefly bet~veen the ships of the Cunard and the Collins lines, and both companies exerted themselves to the ut- most. The first vessels of the Collins line were named the Arctic, Baltic, Atlan- tic, and Pacific, and were each of three thousand tons, their chief dimensions be- ing: length, 282 feet; breadth, 45 feet; and depth, 32 feet. The Cunard Company immediately added two new steamers to their fleet, the Asia and the Africa, built by Steele of Greenock. They were 268 feet long, 40 feet broad, and 28 feet deep, with a tonnage of 2,226. The engines were of the side-lever type, with cylinders 96 inches in diameter, and 9 feet stroke. The vessels were built of oak, and had accommodation for one hundred and eighty passengers, and a cargo capacity of six hundred tons. The superior engine power of the Collins steamers enabled them to slightly surpass in speed those of the Cunard line. In 1852 the best Collins passage outwards was io days 3 hours, while the best Cunard passage for the same route was io days 19 hours. The corresponding homeward passages were 9 days 13 hours 30 minutes, and io days 5 hours io minutes, respectively. The Cunard Company in 1852 added the Arabia to their fleet, and a few years later the celebrated Persia, which on one occasion made the passage from New York to Liv- erpool in 9 days 2 hours ~ minutes. Her length was about 350 feet keel, with a reg- istered tonnage of 3.766. The engines were still of the side-lever type, and were of 3,600 indicated horse-power. Her con- sumption of coal was 347 pounds per hour, and her average speed about thirteen knots. The contest was expensive to both parties and in the end was ruinous to the Collins Company, which collapsed in i858, as both the shareholders and the American government declined to spend any more capital. Since that date there has been no American trans-Atlantic line, and the American nation has steadily lost ground in the shipping trade. Now, how. ever, another attempt is about to be made, with the aid of government subsidies, to obtain a larger share of the carrying trade of the world. The Inman line was started in i85o, but it was not till 1857 that it entered into direct competition with the Cunard line by making New York its port of destina- tion in America instead of Philadelphia. The Inman steamers, which were built and engined by Messrs. Tod & MGregor of Glasgow, differed from those of their rivals in the facts that they were built of iron instead of wood, and were propelled by screws instead of paddles. Their directors also initiated the custom of car- rying emigrants in steam vessels. These had hitherto been compelled to go in sail- ing vessels and very often suffered great hardships from the protracted voyages and tempestuous weather. It may be noted that the Great Eastern was built in i858, and great expectations were formed of her capabilities, but she scarcely af- fected the Atlantic trade, for after a short time she was employed chiefly in cable laying, and being unsuccessful financially she was broken up about a year ago. In order to meet the increasing compe- tition of the Inman and other companies, the Cunard built the Scotia,which was a magnificent example of the older style of shipbuilding and marine engineering, and worthy of the reputation of the firm of Robert Napier & Co., but she was the last of her kind. Her length was 379 feet, her tonnage 3,871, and her indicated horse. 204 THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. power 4,570. Her speed, on a coal con- sumption of 159 tons per day, was thirteen knots, and she made the homeward voyage to Liverpool in 8 days 22 hours. In 18645 the Inman Company added to their fleet two notable ships, the City of Paris and the City of New York, prototypes of their wore famous successors of to-day. In i866, in a race between the Scotia and the City of Paris, the former covered the dis- tance to Queenstown in 8 days 7 hours io minutes, and the latter in 8 days i6 hours 40 minutes. The number of notable steamers now becomes so large that only a few of the most striking can be mentioned. In i868 the North-German Lloyd had several ves- sels of fourteen knots speed built, which made very satisfactory passages. In 86~ Messrs. Napier constructed for the French Transatlantic Company the Ville de Paris and the Pereire, both of which ~vere dis- tinguished by their performances. In 1867 Messrs. Thomson built the Russia for the Cunard line. She was 358 feet long, 2,960 tons, with engines of 2,800 indicated horse-power. Her speed aver- aged thirteen knots, and she had many a race with the City of Paris, which had made the voyage in 8 days 4 hours, and this remained for a year or two the fastest run on record. The compound engines now entered the field, the first steamers fitted with such engines for the Cunard Company being the Batavia and the Par- thia, built by Messrs. Denny of Dum- barton. The introduction of compound engines caused a considerable amount of new construction in all the principal ocean lines. In 1870 the White Star line was inaugurated, and its vessels have always been distinguished by their comfort, safety, and speed. In 1875 the Britannic and the Germanic were built for this line. They were of five thousand tons, and fifty~ five hundred indicated horse-power, and they made the passage from Liverpool to New York in seven and one-half days. For a few years there was somewhat of a lull in the contest, but it was evidently Year. i886, 1887, i888, 1889, Month. August, September, May, September, only to make more effective preparation for a more exciting competition. In 1879 Messrs. Thomson built the Gallia for the Cunard Company. In comparing the Gal- ha with the Persia, Sir William Pearce stated that the Gallia carried, besides her passengers, fuel, stores, etc., two thousand tons measurement or seventeen hundred tons weight of cargo, for which 205. was considered a fair rate, and was competed for, and that the Persia burned on her voy- age six and one-third tons of coal for every ton of cargo she carried, while the Galhia burned something less than half a ton for every ton of cargo she delivered, although she carried it at two and a-half knots an hour faster. But Sir William Pearce soon came to the conclusion that even this could be excelled, so, for this purpose, he con- structed the Arizona for the Guion Line, which had been instituted in 1863. She was not much larger than the White Star vessels, but her model was different, and she had greater power, her tonnage being 5,147, and her indicated power 6,630. She had engines of the compound type with three cylinders, one high pressure and twc low pressure, with the connecting rods set on three cranks at angles of 120 degrees, an arrangement which added to the stead- iness of motion. Her best passage was made in 1884, when she made the distance from Liverpool to New York in 7 days 6 hours 14 minutes, and the return voyage in 7 days 3 hours 38 minutes. This result caused considerable activity in the ship- building world, and led to the construction of many notable steamers. Among these may be mentioned the Servia for the Cunard Line, the Alaska and the Oregon for the Guion, and later on the Umbria and the Etruria for the Cunard. For some years the two latter were the fastest steamers on the Atlantic, the average speed being eighteen and one-half knots~ on a consumption of fuel of three hundred and twenty-five tons per day. The follow- ing table * shows the best passages in the years 188589: OUTWARDS. Steamers Name. Etruria, Umbria, Etruria, 6 d. 6 d. 6 d. 6 d. 6 d. Passage. 6h. 31m. 5h 8m 4h. 34m. 2h. 7m. i h. 44 m. Average Speed Knots. 18-7 i86 192 196 193 * Engineering-, May 5, 1895, p. 546. THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 205 August, July, February, November, December, HOMEWARDS. Etruria, Umbria, Etruria, Umbria, Etruria, x886, 1887, i888, 1889, Towards the end of the period named other competitors for supremacy had en- tered the field, and notably the City of Paris and the City of New York of the National and Inman line, and the Teu- tonic and Majestic of the White Star line, all being fitted with twin screws. The City of Paris is 10,500 tons gross register, and is 527 feet long. Her speed with twenty thousand horse-power is nearly 22 knots, her best run on service being a little over 20 knots, and her daily con- sumption of coal is about three hundred Etruria, City of Paris, Teutonic, 6 d. 6 d. 6 d. 6 d. 6 d. 7 h. 32 m. ioh. 8m. 5h. i9m. 3h. i2m. 4 h. 20 m. i8-4 18-2 9.4 9. 9. and twenty tons. The Majestic is 9,851 tons gross, and 565 feet long, that is 38 feet more than the City of Paris, which latter, however, has the advantage of ~4 feet greater beam. The Majestic con- sumes about two hundred and ninety tons of coal per day, and her indicated power on her trial trip was seventeen thousand horses. Her speed, taking the mean of ten voyages, is 1972 knots. The follow- ing* are the particulars of the runs in which the record was broken in 188890: OUTWARD RECORD RUNS. June, i888, May, 1889, July, 1889, August, 1889, 1890, 6d. ih. 5 d. 23 h. 5d. 23 li. ~ d. 19 li. 5d. i9h. 44 m. 7 m. iom. iS m. 5 m. 9.3 9.95 196 2001 20175 The contest, however, has not been confined to British owned steamers. The North German Lloyd, and the Hamburg- American Company now own ships, some of them built on the Clyde, some at Birken- head, and others at Stettin, which are little, if anything, behind the others we have mentioned, either in speed, comfort, or safety. The French have also determined not to be behind in the race, and the new Atlantic liner La Touraine, French built and owned, in her first passage last sum- mer from Havre to New York, has beaten the record from any French port to Amer- ica, her passage being 7 days 3 hours and ii minutes. If we allow sixteen hours for the extra distance of Havre from New York as compared with Queenstown, it gives 6 days ii hours for a passage from Queenstown of equal speed. The La Touraine is ~iz feet long and ~ feet broad, with a displacement of 11,675 tons. To drive her at twenty and one-half knots she has twin-screw engines of thirteen thousand indicated horse-power collective, which is equal to vii indicated horse- power per ton of displacement. The Etruria for 19 knots has v36 indicated horse-power; the City of Paris for 20~ knots 1-38 indicated horse-power, and the Teutonic for 197 knots P42 indicated horse-power, which shows good results for the French steamer. The latest developments of the Atlantic race show a close approximation between the best steamers of the White Star, the Inman, and the Cunard lines, there being only a difference of a few hours in favor of the order in which the names are given, the fastest passages of each varying from ~ days i6 hours 31 minutes to 6 days 2 hours 31 minutes. The Cunard line is thus temporarily a little behind in the race, but a company which has shown such spirit in the past is not likely to give up the contest, even with such remarkable competitors as she now has. Two new steamers, each six hundred feet in length, have been ordered, and it is stated that their guaranteed speed is to be twenty-two knots on the measured mile, and twenty- one knots at sea. This latter speed will enable the passage across the Atlantic to be accomplished in about ~ days iohours. Before considering the conditons which affect the speed of steam vessels, a few remarks may be made on the relation of speed to safety, a matter of more impor- tance than a difference of a few hours in the length of the voyage. From 1838, the time when trans-Atlantic steamship traffic was established, till 1879 there were one hundred and forty-four steamers of all classes lost. Of these, twenty-four never reached the ports for which they sailed, their fates being unknown, ten were burned at sea, eight were sunk in colli- sions, three were sunk by ice, and the others were stranded or lost from various causes. Many of these were small, but * Engineering, May 8, z8gz, p. 546. zo6 THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. some were of considerable size, and their loss caused much public feeling. The first which disappeared was the President, which was never heard of after she sailed in 1841. A Cunard steamer, the Colum- bia, was wrecked by running ashore in 1843, but it is somewhat remarkable that this was the only A//antic steamer lost in thirteen years after the disappearance of the President, a fact which speaks vol- umes for the quality of the workmanship of the shipbuilders and engineers, and the skill and care of the navigators. In 1854 the City of Glasgow, with four hundred and eighty souls on board, was never seen or heard of after she sailed, and in the same year the Arctic, of the Collinss line, was sunk by a collision, and five hundred and sixty-two persons perished, and two years later another steamer of the same line disappeared with one hundred and eighty-six persons on board. The Aus- tria, of the Hamburg-American line, was burned at sea, in 1858, with a loss of four hundred and seventy-one lives. Some of the most striking losses in the following years were the City of Boston, of the In- man line, which disappeared in 1870 with upwards of two hundred persons on board; the Atlantic, of the White Star line, which ran ashore in 1873, causing the loss of five hundred and sixty lives; the Ville du Havre, of the French line, which was sunk by collision in the English Channel, and two hundred and thirty persons drowned; the State of Florida, sunk by collision with a sailing ship; and the Cu- nard liner Oregon by the same cause with a coal schooner. Statistics show a great decrease in the number of accidents and losses during what may be called the mod- ern period of the steamship, as compared with the earlier, and especially with the transition period from sailing vessels to steamships, and no doubt may be ac- counted for by the fact that the officers in charge were more thoroughly acquainted with their duties, and the ships and en- gines more efficiently constructed. The record for the year 1890 was of the most satisfactory kind for, notwithstanding all the risks involved, we find that there ~vere nearly two thousand trips made from New York alone to various European ports, and that about two hundred thousand cabin passengers were carried in addition to three hundred and seventy-two thousand emigrants, all without any accident. It is an interesting fact to note that in the large lines of steamers the average safety of the sailors life is high. The late Mr. Thomas Gray stated, for instance, that in the Union line to the Cape he found that only one passenger had died in twenty years, and that four seamen died in three years. In the P. & 0. only one seaman had died in one year in the forty vessels of the line, and during three years not a single pas- senger had been lost; the Inman liners had lost no passengers out of a million, and only eleven seamen had died in three years ; and the Cunard liners had no pas- sengers lost in three years, and only nine seamen dead. In conclusion, space will only allow a very few remarks on the general condi- tions of increase of speed, the complete investigation of which opens up a very wide field indeed. As a preliminary it may be noted that the very common ex- pression of so many knots an hour is not correct, as a knot is a measure of rate of speed per hour, and not of length. It is sufficient to say, for instance, that the speed of a ship is 20 knots, which means that she is travelling at the rate of 20 nau- tical miles per hour, the nautical mile being 6,o8o feet, and the land mile 5,280 feet. We have seen that progress has been made by slow and steady steps, and this is likely to continue unless we have a complete change in the types of ships, of engines, and boilers. So far as can be seen at present, the shape of steam ves- sels is not likely to be materially altered, as it is substantially the same as that of the vikings craft of more than a thousand years ago, and seems to conform to the arrangements of nature, with regard to fishes, as nearly as the materials at our disposal ~vill admit. It must be remern- bered that increased speed is not simply a question of more power relatively to dis- placement, but that each shape of vessel has a speed to which it is specially adapted, and that any attempt to drive it beyond that speed would lead to a great expendi- ture of power with little useful result, as the energy would be chiefly expended in raising waves. It is found by experiment that for ordinary speeds the resistance of the water to the passage of the ship through it is proportional to the square of the speed, and as the work to be done is equal to the resistance multiplied by the velocity, it follows that the power needed to propel a ship varies as the cube of the speed. For higher speeds it varies as a higher power than the cube, which can only be ascertained by experiments with actual ships or with carefully prepared models. It can also be shown that the power required for propulsion varies ap~ BOOMELLEN. 207 proximately as the cube root of the square of the displacement. These points must be carefully remembered in considering the possibilities of still further increased speeds, and they show the necessity for increasing the size along with the speed. If anything like the present speeds had been attempted with vessels of the size which were common on the Atlantic thirty or forty years ago, the size of engines re- quired, and the extra expenses involved, would have reduced the earning power of the ships very much, and possibly in many cases made it disappear, but remembering the second of the above-mentioned points, namely, that the power required varies as the cube rootof the displacement squared, it is evident that the proportion of power to tonnage will decrease considerably as the sizes of the ships increase, and con- sequently that it will be more economical to propel a large ship at a higher speed than a small one. The future develop- ment of the steamship, however, depends on conditions, about which it is impossible to say anything very definite. The mate- rials of construction have been changed from wood to iron, and from that again to steel. We cannot foretell the possibilities of bronze, manganese, aluminium, and other metals. The engines have developed from inverted Watt engines, through a great variety of forms, to multiple expan- sion engines of great complexity and con- siderable efficiency. All these may be rendered useless by some other form of heat engine, or by the application of elec- tricity. When once we have some idea of what electricity is we may be able to dispense with a great deal of our compli- cated machinery for the conversion of energy. It is evident, therefore, that the limits of the sizes and of the speeds of steamships in the future are to be deter- mined by commercial considerations and experience, rather than by abstract scien- tific speculations, or even by mathematical and physical calculations. HENRY DYER. From Temple Bar. BOOMELLEN. Son of a sad dog in his day, sir. A STUDY FROM LIFE. BY SARAH GRAND, AUTHOR OF IDEALA. SUNSHINE and soft airs, scent of flow- ers and twitter of birds, all summer signs recall Boomellen. Where bright seas were, or burnished trout streams, or mur- murous waterfalls sparkled in the heat, there was he likely to be seen loitering. Where he hid himself in murky weather it would be hard to say, but certain it is that none of us can recollect an occasion of the kind upon which he ever appeared among us. But although associated in ones mind with warmth, brightness, and the music of moving water, he was not an ethereal being in point of appearance, such as would suggest, according to all ideal no- tions on the subject, a kinship with the kindly elements, a member of the family of Undine; but a big, broad shouldered, substantial fellow, six feet high, and of a remarkably healthy aspect; with a deli- cate skin that never flushed but was always pinky like that of a sleeping girl, a splen- did head, thick, glossy, light brown curling hair, worn rather long and never parted, small ears, and features delicate and hand- some, but of a strange immobility. The impression left by his face was always as if its impassive calm had never been ruf- fled by any passion of earth. No other human countenance has ever produced the same effect upon me, but while standing before the great bronze Buddha, Dai- butsu, as he sits, the image of contempla- tive calm, the passionless perfection of repose, among the trees of his grove of Karmakura, in Japan, the peculiar sensa- tion recurred, and instantly I thought of Boomellen. But Dai-butsu felt further away than Boomellen did he was not of the earth, while on the contrary there seemed to be something of the great spirit which pervades all inanimate nature in Boomellen, uniting him closer to that por- tion of it which neither wakes nor sleeps, nor thinks nor feels nor knows, but just lives and dies, than the human race. When he spoke his lips and eyes moved of necessity, but this did not disturb the character of that impervious mask, his face, any more than the waving of branches and rustle of leaves produces an impres- sion as of sentient being in a tree. What was behind that mask? The question was inevitable, for his countenance was one which excited interest and expecta- tion, and you waited anxiously when you met him first to hear him speak. With such a head, it seemed impossible that he should not be something distinguished, or on the way, well dowered with capacity to become so. But expectation and interest invariably went dissatisfied away, either thwarted by silence or puzzled by insig- nificant words. Still he always looked as 208 BOOMELLEN. if he had so much in him that no one was to-day, but sometimes they come when the ever quite convinced to the contrary, per- tide is rising. haps because his habit was to meet any Soon after making this last remark he attempt to draw him out with an impres- rose abruptly, shook hands with us all, sive stare, as if, although his eyes were and withdrew, without having uttered an- fixed upon you, his thoughts were concen- other word. But when he had gone, and trated on something worthier of his atten- we tried to sum him up, some one said tion, which was disconcerting. something about his cheerful silence, His fathers estates lay in the wild and remarked that it was as companionable West country, running down to the rocky, as that of the dumb dog who looks up rugged coast, and back among the purple lovingly into your eyes. mountains; and it was natural to suppose Boomellen was of ancient and aristo- that, having been born and bred upon the cratic lineage. His descent could be spot, he would have in himself an innate traced back clearly, both on his fathers appreciation of the grandeur of the scen- and mothers side, further than anybody ery, and a cultivated eye for the shades cared to follow it. and colors of changeful cloud-forms, and Eh! thats so, yer honor, an old the vast varieties of grand Atlantic seas. woman on the estate, who had been des- The first time we saw him, I remember, canting about the family to my father one we were sittino with windows ~vide open, day, informed him: They was kings in looking out upon a bay into which at the these parts, shure enough, ~vonst, though moment mighty waves were rolling under now his own fathers nuthin but a common a summer sun up to the beetling grey-black justice of the peace, deed an he isnt. cliffs against which they burst with a roar But phat cou yer honor expect? Its the like muffled thunder, casting great show- oulder the seed the warse the crop, it is, ers of spray upward into the air, high och! yes. enough at times to sprinkle the short grass Boomellen had arrived at the weary end and sea-pinks which grew on the brink, of his ancestry, being the last male repre- Every now and then a broad-winged sea- sentative and heir of two used-up races. bird would hover about the boiling caul- His father had been wild in his youth, dron, look down into the turmoil intently but his degrading habits ~vere cut short for a little, and then sail on with scarcely by something which suspiciously resem- any perceptible effort, having added a bled epilepsy. He then married, at the curious touch of life and intelligence to instigation of his spiritual directorthe the scene, a sensation in our minds, as it girl he chose being herself the daughter of were, containing the involuntary compari- a drunken father and an arrogant, nervous, son of the superiority of one little atom of irritable, self-indulgent mother. The con- life to all that rude, irresponsible force. sequences of this combination in Boom- Boomellen looked out with the rest of ellens mother were markedly neurotic, us, his big brown eyes distended, his her symptoms appearing in the form of an whole face full of a dreamy intensity, exaggerated piety. She would at any time This is a wonderful country of yours! (an she could) have upset the order of the one of us exclaimed enthusiastically. Is universe had she found that it was going it possible to live here, and not be a painter, to check her indulgence in the religious or a poet, or inspired in some one way to exercises which were her favorite pastime. reproduce and perpetuate such beautiful She had been brought up in a convent, wonders of sublimity and power? You and indifferently educated, her reasoning must love the place. faculty not having been at all developed, Boomellen turned his wistful eyes from while the emotional tendency which natu- the scene, and gazed at the speaker. rally threatened the balance of her intellect Yes, he said slowly, after some sec- had been incessantly worked upon. In onds, we like the place. the convent she was described as of ex- Only like it! Why, I never saw any- alted piety, in the consulting-room her thing so glorious as this view! Dont you diathesis would have been pronounced think so yourself, although you are accus- hysterical. Training and habit had also tomed to it? confirmed in her a predisposition to un- Yes, Boomellen repeated in measured questioning obedience to the priest. The accents, monotonously, and without the latter had taught her that it is good to slightest show of animation; yes, its a save souls, that the soul of a reprobate nice view. Then, seeming to see that may be saved by marrying him, therefore something else was expected of him, he it is good to marry a reprobate, and she added: There wont be any porpoises had accepted Boomellens father upon this BOOMELLEN. 209 conviction, remaining as blind as her short-sighted director himself to the con- clusion that by doing so she was lending herself to the manufacture of more repro- bates, descendants of the saved one. A man may change his habits when he mar- ries, but his constitution remains the same, and it is the constitution, laden with his predominant propensities, which he most inevitably transmits. There were four children of this marriage Boomellen, and three daughters, the eldest of whom entered a convent by way of the divorce court, the second did not get so far as the convent, and the third committed suicide. These troubles Boomellens mother at- tributed to her Maker, it had been his will so to afflict her; but he had also been merciful in giving her Boomellen, her precious youngest child, who had never cost her an hours anxiety in his life, and was all sweetness and goodness too good, in her estimation, for his position; he ought to have entered the priesthood. And no doubt Boomellen would have done so had that course been suggested to him; it not being at all his way to offer active opposition to those in authority over him. His education had been effected in En- gland, and there he had learnt to ~vrite a beautiful hand, clear, distinct, firm, and invariable. He was also apt at orthog- raphy, and good at ~mathematics. But what cultivation his mind had otherwise received only his tutors knew, for he never betrayed the slightest knowledge of any subject whatever to any one, so far as we could ascertain. His mother, alluding to his dreamy ways, and the pure simplicity of his nature, called him playfully A child of the age of a man, Whom the fairies have always in tow. She had all kinds of convictions on the subject of his mental attributes, and told us illustrative anecdotes which at first im- pressed us; but we learnt eventually to doubt her knowledge of his character, for she had evidently not observed him much since his extreme youth, the tastes and habits she still ascribed to him being those of his childhood. As he grew up, her attention had become more and more absorbed by her own pursuits, and these had gradually weaned her away from him, he going his own way, while she was riot- ing in pious exercises which left her un- aware of the flight of time, and of certain practices which might have caused her to reflect before she again uttered her oft-repeated conviction that Boomellen LIVING AGE. VOL. LXXVIII. 4014 was too good for anything but the priest- hood. We were new to the neighborhood, but he made himself at home with us at once, and would ride over often to see us. He was not fond of active exercise as a rule, but riding did not seem to be an accom- plishment of his so much as a part of his nature, costing him as little effort as it costs a fish to swim or a bird to fly. But he was an incorrigible loiterer, and would often stay all night with us; not because there was anything special to stay for, but only because, being expected to return to dinner, he felt himself detained by an imperative disinclination to be in time. He was always late for every meal, and always the last to come down in the morning, but such breaches of etiquette in no way affected his own equanimity, and if a remark were made on the subject it always seemed to surprise him, as though he could not comprehend why habits that suited himself so perfectly should not be equally agreeable to every- body else. His father was very impatient with him. Gad, gad, gad, sir! he would ex- claim in his quick, nervous, irritable way what are you dawdling about now for? What the devil you are always thinking about I cant imagine. To which Boomellen made an ox-like answer, dumbly, with big brown eyes. But we discovered he did pay some def- erence to his fathers wishes in a way that was quite his own. He began to ap- pear with a book under his arm. Riding, driving, walking, eating, or sleeping, the book was always beside him, btit no one had ever seen him open it. I asked him one day what that book was. He took it slowly from under his arm, and held it out for me to read the title. Why, I dont believe you know what it is yourself! I exclaimed. No, I dont,, was his candid and un- expected answer, as he returned it to its place under his arm without having had the curiosity to see what it was. Then, what in the world are you doing with it? I asked. vVell, you see, he answered dreamily, my father has been at me continually about books. He was always saying I should like to see you with a book, my boy. So at last I went to the library and took this one out because it was a com- fortable size, and I carry it about so that he may see me with a book as he wishes, and be pleased. He reads books him- self. 210 BOOMELLEN. These last words might have been ut- tered by an automaton, so curiously even, mechanical, and void of all emphasis were they; yet the impression they made was not impartial, but rather as if Boomelien were criticising his father for doing some- thing which he himself found to be not worth while. He lingered a little in his loitering way after he had spoken, and then he strolled from the room, and when next I saw him he was lounging about the lawn alone, flip- ping leaves from the trees with his riding- whip. Eventually he settled himself in a sunny spot, lying full length on the grass, watching the bees and butterflies, the birds skimming about, and the changeful clouds above him. As he looked up into the sky, I was painfully struck with the expression of his face an expression of settled melancholy. I have often seen the same look since on other faces, and always found that those who wore it were the last survivors of a worn-out race. It is as if they foresaw their inevitable doom, and mourned for the extinction of their family. Some people see the same marked melancholy in the autumn season, and rec- ognize it as a symptom of decadence. Boomellen spent the rest of that after- noon lying alone contentedly upon the grass, with the book beneath his head as if he were imbibing information through the pores, on Joey Ladles principle. My father came into my room once, and, looking out at him, shook his head. Fatal apathy I he ejaculated, and what a pity it seems! And I knew from the way he spoke that he thought it a hopeless case. There was a long, low room situated in an otherwise disused wing of our house, which had been fitted up for the boys for a work-room. It was far enough from the inhabited part of the house to prevent any one being disturbed by the noise they made, and they were consequently at lib- erty to amuse themselves as they pleased unrestrainedly. Double doors shut them off from the rest of the house, and their privacy was seldom invaded by the author- ities. Faint sounds of hammer and saw and plane, of boxing-gloves, and fencing. foils, with shouts of laughter and loud disputes would come from thence through the double doors or open windows on oc- casion, betokening occupations or amuse- ments never suspected of being otherwise than manly; so that there was no super- vision, and the boys developed trustwor- thiness in proportion to the confidence which was placed in them. Boomellen found his way at once to this room, and would put the gloves on himself sometimes, and make a languid show of boxing if urged thereto, or would hand!e the foils for a little, but without interest. He liked to look on best, and often sat by the hour together, silently watching the other boys; presenting a pathetic contrast in his quietude to the restless and noisy display of superabundant vitality which kept them going. Yet, at the first glance he, with his magnificent physique, his finely formed hands and feet, and delicate, regular, high-bred features, looked like a superior being who was sorry and sore to find himself matched with the irregular profiles and the undignified exuberance of his companions. No one would have supposed for a moment that his impres- sively handsome husk contained not a tithe of the immortal soul which animated their obviously inferior clay. One evening my father, hearing that Boomellen was in the work-room, went there to look for him in order to get him to take a note back with him. On enter- ing the room he discovered Boomellen, apparently alone, sitting at the table with his arms folded upon it, and his face rest- ing upon them, as if he were asleep. Be- side him were two huge jugs and some empty glasses. Where are the ~boys? my father ex- claimed. Boomellen slowly raised his head, and greeted him with the besotted stare of a drunken man. Boomellen! how is this?~ my father demanded sternly. You mush exsheush me, sir, Boom- ellen answered with thick utterance and exaggerated formality, but the truth ish by acshdent Ive got myshelf vulgarly drunk on beer. That was not the worst of it, however, for presently, under the table, my father discovered one of his sons still more vul- garly drunk than Boomellen himself. It seems that the other boys had gone out, leaving these two alone together, Boomellen idly sitting on the sill of an open window, in apparently rapt contem- plation as was his wont, his companion quietly reading a book of adventures in which, as ill-luck would have it, he had just come upon a graphic account of an heroic drinking-bout. He was absorbed in this when Boomellen muttered something about drink, and left the room. On en- quiry it was found that he had gone to one of the servants and asked him for the jugs of beer and glasses, and the man, BOOMELLEN. 211 supposing that they were required for the whole party, gave him as much as he wanted. Let us drink, he said when he re- turned with the beer, and the suggestion, immediately after the vivid description he had been reading of this refined and manly sport, was too great a temptation for the other boy. He tried one glass, and then another, and so on until he collapsed. In his case, however, there was no great harm done, but rather the contrary perhaps, for the affair was a lesson to him, and he was so thoroughly ashamed of himself that he made a vow never to make a beast of him- self in that particular way again, and kept it. But with poor Boomellen it was far oth- erwise. He inherited a craving for drink, and from that time he had periodical at- tacks of it to which he yielded without a struggle. No effort had been made to teach him to combat any propensity of the kind, and the idea of resistance never seems to have occurred to him. There were those who tried to exercise a kindly preventative influence ~vith him in the matter when it was too late, that is to say, after the disease had declared itself, and he would listen politely to all they had to urge, but at the same time he conveyed the impression that he thought they were giving themselves most unnecessary trou- ble about a trivial matter, for it was evi- dently as natural for Boomellen to drink when the craving was on him as it was to eat when he was hungry. It was a sad and significant sight to see him drink. Alone or in company he would settle down to it as if he were doing indifferently an accustomed task that must be done. His favorite place for the purpose was at an open window, and there he would sit in an easy-chair, with a little table at his elbow to hold his bottle or jug and glass; and gradually as he drank his eyes would open wider and wider on the outward prospect to begin with, as if he saw by degrees fur- ther and further beyond the range of mor- tal vision into the unimaginable, and was amazed. But gtatXuaXXy a~ X~e ptoteetXetX the brightness was overcast, the lids be- came swollen and heavy, his muscles relaxed, his back bowed, his lips lost their firm set, and the expression of his mouth grew weak and vacillating. Then he stretched his long legs straight out before him, and put his hands in his trouser pock- ets, while his head sank forward on his chest; and so he remained, with eyes staring wide open, yet seeming not to see at all, and motionless save for the regular, mechanical effort to lift the fatal glass to his lips, which continued some time after all other power to move voluntarily had ceased. But during no stage of the proc- ess did he depart from his habitual man- ner; he neither laughed, shouted, sang~ wept, became quarrelsome, affectionate,. nor even excessively maudlin, but just maintained his habitual cheerful silence, and gazed into vacancy until he could see no more. If anything, he rather preferred to be alone at these times, but he never made a point of secluding himself. When his father heard of these lapses he was extremely angry, because, he said, Boomellen did not conduct the affair like a gentleman: Gad, gad, gad, sir! he assured him, a gentleman gives an enter- tainment asks his friends on these occa- sions, and enjoys himself in good society. He doesnt settle down alone like a hog to stupefy himself. No gentleman drinks for the sake of drinking, but to sharpen his wits and increase his conversational powers. Let me hear that you have done it decently the next time. Boomellen did not develop this unhappy propensity until he was about nineteen. and he had not up to that time evinced any disreputable tendency; but immedi- ately after