The Living age ... / Volume 201, Issue 2596
1-64
LITTELLS LiYIIN7G AGE.
No, 2596 April 7,1894, From Beginning,
CONTENTS.
I. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF CARBON IN THE
UNIVERSE. By Sir Robert Ball, F.R.S.,
II. TIER STORY OF MARGREDEL BEING A
FIRESIDE HISTORY OF A FIFESHIRE
FAMILY. Part VII.
III. THEOPHRASTE RENAUDOT, A SEVEN-
TEENTII- CENTURY SOCIAL REFORMER.
By Edith Sellers
IV. VILLAGE LIFE IN FRANCE. By a French
Official
V. SO~sE NOTES ON TIBET. By Annie R.
Taylor
VI. BIRD FORAGING
VII. CIEOIIwELI~ S VETERANS IN FLANDERS.
By J. W. Fortescue
VIII. MARKET-DAY IN AN ITALIAN COUNTRY
TOWN
IX. THE ABDUCTION OF A KING,
WhAT SHALL I Do,
A PURE RIVER OF WATER OF
MISCELLANY,
Fortnightly Review,
3
Blackwoods Magazine,
Temple Bar,
Contemporary Review,
National Review,
Corrihill Magazine,
Macmillans Magazine,
Chambers Journal,
All The Year Round,
11
20
29
41
46
50
57
62
POE T II Y.
2 THE DIVINE IN TIlE COMMONPLACE, . 2
LIFE, 2 TIIEN SHALL YE SHOUT, . . . 2
64
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Sixth SEries,
Volume 11,
2
WHAT SHALL I DO?
WHAT shall I do lest life in silence pass?
And if it do,
And never prompt the bray of noisy brass,
What need st thou rue?
Remember aye the ocean deeps are mute;
The shallows roar;
Worth is the Ocean Fame is but the
bruit
Along the shore.
What shall I do to be forever known?
Thy duty ever.
This did full many who yet slept un-
known
Oh! never, never!
Think st thou, perchance, that they remain
unknown
Whom thou know st not?
By angel-trumps in heaven their praise is
blown
Divine their lot.
What shall I do to gain eternal life?
Discharge aright
The simple dues with which each day is
rife
Yea, with thy might.
Ere perfect scheme of action thou devise
Will life be fled,
While he, who ever acts as conscience cries,
Shall live, though dead.
SCHILLER.
A PURE RIVER OF WATER OF LIFE.
WE know not a voice of that River,
If vocal or silent it be,
Where for ever and ever and ever
It flows to no sea.
More deep than the seas is that River,
More full than their manifold tides,
Where for ever and ever and ever
It flows and abides.
Pure gold is the bed of that River,
(The gold of that land is the best),
Where for ever and ever and ever,
It flows on at rest.
Oh, goodly the banks of that River,
Oh, goodly the fruits that they bear,
Where for ever and ever and ever,
It flows and is fair.
For lo! on each bank of that River,
The Tree of Life life-giving grows,
Where for ever and ever and ever.
The pure River flows.
CHEISTINA G. RossETTI.
THE DIVINE IN THE COMMONPLACE.
AT the moment that Fate had set apart
For their meeting, they met; and front
heart to heart
A bond of sympathy straightway grew,
And one they became, who till then were
two.
Had you asked his friends to tell you aught
Of the kind of fellow the girl had cau,,ht,
One would have called him an honest
soul,
Another, a very good sort on the whole,
And all would assure you the man had
naught
Of hidden depths, and they couldnt con-
ceive
( But you cant account for a womans
whim!)
Whatever the girl could see in him.
Her friends would have answered much the
same
Of the girl henceforward to bear his name
A plain, little, inoffensive thing,
Lucky to win a wedding-ring;
Pleasant enough, but tame as tame,
And try as they might they couldnt per-
ceive
( But a mans such a turnabout charac-
ter !)
Whatever her husband could see in her.
Such would have been the wise worlds.
speech;
While love transfigured each for each,
And she was his souls mysterious star,
And he her wonderful Avatar.
Spectator. E. V. L~
THEN SHALL YE SHOUT.
IT seems an easy thing,
Mayhap, one day to sing,.
Yet the next day
We cannot sing or say.
Keep silence with good heart,.
While silence fits our part;
Another day
We shall both sing and say.
Keep silence, counting time
To strike in at the chime:
Prepare to sound
Our part is coming round.
Can we not sing or say?
In silence let us pray,
And meditate
Our love-song whih~ we wait.
CHRISTINA G. RossETTI.
What Shall I Do? etc.
From The Fortniglitly Review.
THE SIGNIFICANCE OF CARBON IN THE
UNIVERSE.
BY SIR ROBERT BALL, F.R.S.
IT not unfrequently happens that a
scientific discovery wl~ch promises to
be both of importance and of interest,
fails at the time it is first made to at-
tract the degree of notice to which its
merits entitle it and which it is des-
tined ultimately to receive. The an-
nouncement may have been duly made,
the evidcnce by which it is supported
may have been duly set forth, and yet,
for some cause or other, the attention
of the public has not been arrested.
This may happen, in fact it actually
has happened, notwithstanding that the
author of the discovery is already
known as a competent authority on his
subject, and notwithstanding that the
scientific society to which he has com-
municated his discovery is universally
recognized as most suitable for such a
purl)ose. Nor are the causes hard to
divine why such undeserved obscurity
should for a time occasionally befall a
new scientific doctrine. The facts an-
nounce(l may be so far in advance of
their time that the knowledge requisite
for their due appreciation may not be
sufficiently widely diffused, even among
that part of the community specially
interested in such subjects. Every sci-
entific man has, I am sure, often felt
that a theory or a discovery, which at
some periods in the course of his edu-
cation he has viewed with indifference,
has at other times plesente(h to him so
great a charm, that he finds it almost
impossible to understand his previous
phase of intellectual indifference.
Of late years the study of the sun
has received so much attention that
our knowledge of the luminary has
been greatly a(lvance(l. First, there
came the epoch-making achievement
of Stokes and Kirchhoff, by which
the dark lines in the solar spectrum
received their interpretation. Then
those solar prominences which were
only to be observed at first on the rare
occasions of a total eclipse, were, by
the ingenious contrivance of Janssen
and Lockyer, brought within the scope
3
of the astronomer at all times when
the sun itself is visible and when the
necessary state of solar activity is
granted. About a quarter of a century
ago the corona was regarded as having
no more than a problematical exist-
ence. It did not then seem certain
that the halo of glory by which the
sun was seen to be surrounded (ILiring
the precious moments of a total eclipse
actually pertained to the luminary. It
was sometimes thought that the co-
rona had no real physical existence,
but that it was merely an optical illu-
sion, an effect, in fact, produced by the
diffraction of light round the moon,
when its (lark body became interposed
between the observer and the sun.
But the several eclipses which have
happened within the last twenty-five
years have established beyond all ques-
tion the veritable nature of the corona
as a mighty solar appendage. It is
true, that even if we add together the
durations of all the total eclipses which
have happened since the reality of the
corona was admitted, they (10 not ex-
ceed abont half an hour. For not
much mome than twenty minutes all
told have astronomers as yet succeeded
in observing this object. 1-lowever, a
good (heal has been learned as to its
nature. In(lee(1, the minutes and sec-
onds at the disposal of observers (lur-
ing a total eclipse are at present almost
exclusively devoted to the corona. No
(loubt other phenomena are then vis-
ible, but as they can be seen without
the ai(l which an eclipse renders, the
attention of the men of science who
journey to the ends of the earth to see
an eclipse is entirely concentrated on
that particular part of the solar sur-
roundings which can be observed at
present by no other means. We say
at present ; but there is some rea-
son to hope that before long a scheme
may be devised for the study of this
most delicate solar feature, even (he-
sl)ite the dazzling splendor of the disc
of the sun which hides the feeble in-
(hiance of its outer appendages. The
marvellous success which has attended
Professor Hales attempts to obtain
photographs of the solar promiucuces
The Sign~/icance of Carbon in the Universe.
4 like Significance of Carbon in the Universe.
and the solar facuke seems to hold out its important function as a dispenser of
a promise that the endeavors to repre light afl(l heat. It is in Dr. Stoneys
sent the delicate streamers forming the paper that the peculiar significance of
solar corona may not always be fruit- solar carbon seems to have been first
less. indicated, and all that has since been
In the year 1866, a paper was pre- learned with regard to the nature of
sented to the Royal Society hy the ac the great luminary tends still fuither to
complished physicist, Dr. G. Johnstone strengthen the force of his rea5Oflin~
Stoney, which contained an elaborate To explain this matter with sufficient
series of inquiries on the physical na colnl)leteness to make it thoroughly
ture of the sun and the stars. It was intelligible, it will be necessary to pie
written ia those early days when misc a few details with resI)ect to the
Kirchhoffs prism had no doubt (his construction of the sun, so far as it is
closed the presence of iron and of accessible to us.
many other metals and metalloids in The examination of the soiar exte
the sun, but the great impetus which nor through a telescope does not cx
solar discovery has since received had hihit the uniform surface which might
then hardly commenced. Eclipses had at first be expected from its appearance
not at that time been watched for amid to the unaided eye. The surface of the
stndied with anything like the atten- luminary has clearly a texture, so to
tion which is now accorded to them, speak ; it is composed of more or less
and the public interest in the physics isolated h)ortions, whether we choose
of the great luminary, which is now so to call them granules, or willow leaves,
remarkable, can then be hardly said to or solar clouds, or by amiy other term.
have existed. This is probably the The so-called spots of which we hear
reason why this remarkable paper of so much are seen to be openings from
Dr. Stoneys failed at the time to at- which the grammules or clouds are, as it
tract so much attention as it deserved. were, drawmi asi(le. In some cases the
But at the preseiit (lay there can l)e no spot appears to be nothing more than
longer any doubt of its importance and a glimpse between the circumjacent
scientific value. I have certainly no glowing clouds into the com l)arative
intention to enter noxv into any full gloom of the solar interior. In other
discussion of Dr. Stonevs elaborate cases, the presence of the so-called
work. This would not be the place for umbra or intermediate part in the in-
such an enterprise. There is, how- ner margin of a spot, causes the decline
ever, one doctrine laid down by him in brightness from the brilliant gemieral
which seems to me of so much impor- surface to the dark interior, to l)e more
tance that I now propose to discuss it or less gradual. No doubt there are
imi the fuller light of our recent knoxvh many debatable points as to the char
edge. I do so all the more gladly from acter and as to the physical imiterpreta-
the fact which has recently been im- tion of the spots, on which there is
presse(l upon me, that even amnong still a good deal of difference of oh)in-
physicists, and even among those who ion. It fortunately happens, however,
have studied the sun with the greatest that for our present purpose the ques-
attention and the greatest success, tionable 1)Oilit.5 iiee(l not concern us.
there seems to be no sufficient ac- It is sufficient to note a primary char-
quaiatance with Dr. Stoneys paper. acteristic of a solar spot as to which in
Indeed there does not even appear to these (lays there is not likely to be any
be a knowledge of the important phys- dispute. There was a timne, no doubt,
ical result which lie has been the first when it might have been maimitained,
to estah)liSh. I therefore undertake to and, indeed, actually was mnaimitaimied,
explain in this article the wonderful that a spot was nothing more than
part which it seems that the elemnent some dark cloud in the upper regions
carbon plays in the construction of the of the solar atmosphere which inter-
sari, and especially in the discharge of cepted the view of the bright surface
The Significance of Carbon in the Uniierse.
lying beneath it and was exhibited to
us as a black object projected against
that surface. But this view could no
longer be entertained when the spot
was followed to the suns edge, whither
it was conducted in the ordinary course
of the solar rotation. If the spot were,
in(lee(l, merely an elevated, (lark cloud,
then it is quite plain that when it
rcache(l the solar edige it must totally
cease to l)e visible. The cloud in this
case woul(l stand aloof from the sun,
an(l could not be l)elceive(l for want of
the l)riliiant l)ackground to show it off.
But it w~is found that the spots (10 not
vanish as the edge is approached, they
are, in fact, often seen quite close up
to the edge ; nay, further, it has some-
times happened that a large spot is
actually caught at the very margin of
the sun. Iii such a case the effect P0-
duced is that of a notch or bite
takcii out of the bright circular edge.
Such an occurrence is a demonstration
that the spot cannot be a cloud above
the bright solar region, l)ut that it must
be an opening through it.
The interpretation of the remarkable
granular structure of the solar surface
has now become apparent. It is ascer
taine(l that the luminosity is due to the
bright clouds which float over the solar
surface. The clouds are not generally
continuous ; there are more usually
intervening sI)aces of various ma~ni-
tu(les. When these intervening spaces
are consi(lerable they are called spots,
an(l in some cases the spot.s are great
enough for a globe of the size of the
earth to be passed through the aperture
without touching either one side or the
other ; at other times, or in other
places, the spaces between the lumi-
nous clouds are much smaller, and,
indeed, are often suitably (lescribedi as
pores. In some of Jaussens cx-
quisite photographs obtained after an
exposure of the hundredth part of a
second, the porous structure of the sun
is beautifully exhibited.
We must now specially refer to the
most striking circumstance connected
with the constitution of the sun. nIle
study of the spots has made us so
familiar with it that its marvellous
5
nature is apt sometimes to be lost
sight of. We, therefore, direct em-
l)hlatic attention to the very sin~ular
fact that the internal part of the sun,
of which ~ve are permitted to obtain
glimpses through the solar pores oy
through the openings in the interior of
large spots, is of sooty blackness when
compared with the dazzling splendor
of the solar clouds. In good solar
photographs the umbra of a spot ap-
pears absolutely black. I am certainly
not asserting that there is veritable
darkness in these internal solar re-
gions. Measured by an ordinary stand
ardi, intense light must be presemit~ 11
make no doubt that the interior of a
spot is really far more brilliant than
any hall lighted by artificial illumina-
tion on the earth. Indeed, I (10 not
doubt that even the blackest part of a
spot has more light than that which our
earth receives on the most glorious of
summer days. The essential point for
us to notice is, that whatever may be
the intrinsic brightness of that at which
we are looking in the interior of a spot,
it is, at all events, dark, ~quite (lark, by
contrast with the surpassing glory of
the glowing clouds on either side, be-
tween which our Qaze is directed.
Various circumstances show us that
the luminous clouds, eucompassin~ the
sun lie in a shell of a thickness com-
paratively slight, when the (limensions
of the sun are considered. Take, for
instance, a photograph which shows
the granular structure in perfection.
To be visible from the (listance at
which we see them, each of these gran-
ules must have a diameter, let us say,
of about a thousand or two thousand
miles. Each granule, in fact, repre-
sents an area which on this earth
would be comparable with the territo-
ries of a mighty kingdom, or even of a
continent. A cloud of the size of En-
gland on the sun would ~)erhaps be only
discernible as the muinutest point of
light. Let us, however, take the case
in which the granules have a diameter
of a thousand miles each. It is, of
course, obvious that we can only see
those (limnensious of length and breadth
which are presented to us ; we cannot
The & ~jn~Jicanee of Carbon in the Universe.
directly measure the depth of each
little Clou(l. There are, however, many
scores of thousands of these ClOU(11Ct5
to be seen, an(l as they all seem much
of the same shape we may feel pretty
confident that we are not looking at
rod-shaped objects turned end ways
tovards us. There cannot be a doubt
that we may safely estimate the depth
of each granule as a dimension resem-
l)liI)g on the average the length and
the breadth of the objects which are
Ineasure(l by us. We thus see that the
solar cloudlets are generally presente(l
as more or less irregularly globular
objects a thousand or more miles in
diameter.
The l)hotosphere, which is the term
which astronomers ap~)ly to the shell
or stratum that contains the luminous
clou(ls, is thus seen to consist of float-
ing cloudlets of dimensions compara-
tively small, when the (liameter of the
photosphere is considered. We do not
say that there is only a single layer of
these objects, but it is plain that the
total thickness of the stratum must be
of insignificant (limensions relatively to
the radius of the sun. Dr. Stoney, in
his paper to which I am referring,
speaks of the photospheric shell as a
film encompassing the interior of
the sun. I do not see that we have
any means of determining the thickness
of the shell accurately, but to do so is
not essential for us. It may be that
the photosphere bears the same ratio to
the bulk of the sun that the delicate
skin of a peach bears to the luscious
interior. It may be that the rind of an
orange bears a proportion to the fruit
insi(le, whi cli represents the relation of
the cloud-bearing stratum to the inter-
nal parts of the sun. In this latter
case we may imagine that each of the
photospheric clouds would be small in
comparison with the thickness of the
entire shell. In this case too, the
clouds must of course be much more
sparsely distributed throughout the ex-
tent of the shell, for otherwise they
would not l)ermit us to obtain any
glimpses whatever of the interior.
And now we are able to state the
sents. We see that the radiation of
the sun, both as to light and as to heat,
is almost entirely (lispensed from the
clouds of the photosphere. We see
that these clouds are contained in a
shell whi~h lies in the ontei paNs 6f
the sun. We see that the interior of
the sun is comparatively dark, that even
through the pores, and through the
spot openings, it transmits but little
radiant light and but little radiant heat.
There is, however, no reason to think
that the internal parts of the sun are
less hot than these photospheric clouds
to which we owe so much. . Indeed,
the contrary is, and must be, the ease.
We know that a heated body like the
sun must be hotter in the inside than
it is on the outside. We know that
from the outside inwards the tempera-
ture on the whole gradually increases,
an(l thus we learn that the dark inner
regions of the sun, of which we obtain
glimpses through the openings in the
spots, must be actually hotter than the
dazzling clouds of the photosphere.
Here, then, we seem almost in the
presence of a para(lox. It is not from
the hottest part of the sun that the
heat or the light is chiefly dispensed.
If the photosphere were removed it
seems that a portion of the sun far
hotter than the photosphiere would
then be fully exposed. It is, however,
almost certain that in such a case the
light and heat we get from the sun
would drop to the tenth part, perhaps
to the hundredth part, oi. even to some
smaller fraction of that copious radia-
tion which we now enjoy. It is quite
plain that the inhabitants of this earth
are indebted, not merely to the fact
that there are vast supplies of heat
stored in the sun, but to the circum-
stance that the photosphere is of such
a particular constitution that it is ena-
bled to transmit to us some of that
wealth of energy, which without the
assistance thus rendered the sun would
apparently experience much difficulty
in getting rid of.
And thus we are brought face to face
with the great problem as to what par-
ticular element it is whose presence
remarkable problem which the sun pre- confers on the photospheric clouds that
The Sign~/icance of Carbon in the Universe.
7
~remarkable property which is of such water. To an observer in remote space
vital importance to us. This is the who should view the earth as a whole
problem which Dr. Stoney has attacked it is the atmospheric clouds which
and of which he has offered the solu- would present the most conspicuous
lion which seems to answer all the features. They would be the objects
requirements. It is my object to set that would command most special at-
forth some account of this remarkable tention, just as from our point of view
extension to our knowledge, which, it is the clouds, perhaps of water also,
even though it was made many years which are the chief features on Jupi-
ago, appears to be still unknown to ter, an(l just as the photospheric clouds
many to whom such matters are of are the chief features in the sun. Of
interest. There is the mote justifica- course I do not for a moment suggest
tion for treating of the subject at the that the same elements which form our
present time, because recent researches clouds are also the constituents of the
have tended in a remarkable manner solar clouds. The simplest considera-
to confirm the doctrines first enunci- tion of the facts of the case would in-
ate(l by Dr. Stoney. deed preclude such a view. But the
The analogy of the luminous cloud, illustration is of use, inasmuch as it
in the sun, to the watery clouds in our suggests that as a single material suf-
own atmosphere, may he first referred flees to produce the characteristic ter-
to. The vapor of water is well known restrial clouds, so a single material may
to be diffused in more or less abun- suffice to produce the characteristic
dance throughout the whole (lepth of solar clouds.
the air. Under certain conditions of Let us then see if we have the neces-
teml)erature and of the quantity of sary data for ascertaining what this
water present, this vapor may be con- solar material must be. We are first
densed into clouds, and may thence be confronted with the fundamental ques-
precij)itated in rain. Under other cir tion as to whether it is likely to be
cumstanees the clouds are again dis- composed of elements found on the
solved into vapor according to the earth. There was a time, no doubt,
ever-varying conditions of the air. when it might have been urged that
The transition of water from the form in all probability the solar elements
of vapor to the form of clouds is ef- were so far different from any bodies
fected by a process of condensation, known to terrestrial chemists that the
when the vapot., finding itself at a solar clouds must be constituted of
cooler temperature than is compatible something altogether beyond our cog-
with its retention of the gaseous form, nizance. But this view cannot be
passes into the liquid state. Each sustained in the present state of sci-
molecule of the vapor thus allies itself ence. Nothing is more remarkable in
with other neighboring mu olecules, and. the recent advance of knowledge than
so a little bead of water is formed and the clear demonstration of the funda-
the myriads of beads thus arising con- muental unity between the elements
stitute a cloud. It may be, indeed it present in the celestial bodies and
probably is the~ fact, that the nucleus those elements of which the earth is
of each little droplet, around which the composed. It is, no (loubt, true that
molecules of watery vapor cohere, is we have found grounds for believing
provided by some minute particle of that there may be one or two elements
floating matter, such as one of the in the sun which we do not find here.
motes with which the atmosphere, We have, indeed, assigned to these
even when purest, is still largely ten- dimly discerned elements the hvpothet
anted. But the essential point for us ical names of coroninmn and helium.
to notice in our present inquiry is, that But even if such bodies exist at all,
the ordinary atmospheric clouds ac- they are certainly wanting in the essen-
quire their special character from the tial qualities that must be attributed to
presence of a single substance, namely, any element which purports to be the
8
active component of the photospheric
clou(ls. There cannot. be a reasonable
doubt that the sun is mainly colnpose(l
of elements both well known and abun-
dant on the earth. It is clearly among
those known bodies that it is our duty
to search for the characteristic photo-
spheric material.
As the terrestrial clouds consist of
water, they are derived not from a
simple element, but from a composite
body formed of the gases, oxygen and
hydrogen. The multitude of composite
bodies is, of course, innumerable, and
the task of searching for the solar con-
stituent woul(l therefore seem to be an
endless one, unless we were in some
way enabled to restrict the field of in-
quiry. This is just what the vast tem-
perature of the sun permits us to do.
It is well known that at a heat resem-
bling that at which the photosphere is
maintained, chemical compounds can-
not in general exist. Ordinary chem-
ical compoun(ls exposed to temperatures
of such elevation are instantly resolved
into their elementary components. It
is thus manifest that in the endeavor to
find the photospheric material we have
not to scan the illimitable field of chem-
ical compounds, we have only to con-
sider the several elementary bodies
themselves.
Thus, at once, the research is nar-
rowed to a choice among some sixty-
four different materials, this being
about the number of the (lifferent
elementary bodies. Most of them have
already been actually detected in the
sun, an(l it is very likely that the others
(10 really exist there also in some part
or other of the suns mighty volume.
The mere presence of an element in
the sun is, however, a very different
thing from the presence of an element
in the photospheric clouds. There are
many materials in the earth, but only
one forms the clouds of our atmo-
sphere, so there may be many materials
in the sun, but only one of them may
be required to give character to the
photospheric clouds.
We shall be guided in the selection
of the right material by the fundamen-
tal properties which the effective con-
stituent of the glowing clouds must
possess. It must plainly be of the
most refractory or infusible nature, for
it will be noted that the photosphere
only derives its capacity to radiate
white light that is to say light of
every hue from the fact that the in-
candescent l)amticles from which the
light is dispensed must be at least
liquid, if not actually solid. No truly
gaseous body could emit light possess-
ing the properties of photospheric radi-
ation. We thus see that whatever be
the photospheric material, it must be
something which is able to remain a
liqui(h, if not indeed a solid, while at a
temperature still so high that the other
constituents of the solar atmosphere
are retained in the form of perfect
val)or.
As an example of a material of which
the solar clouds are certainly not com-
pose(l, we may take the case of iron.
This element requires, of course, a
powerful furnace to transform it into a
liquid, and at a still greater tempera-
ture it is known to pass from the liquid
form to the gaseous form. In this gas-
eous state it is extremely abundant in
the sun, as is evident from the fact
that many hundreds of lines in the
solar spectrum are thus accounted for.
But it seems certain that the photo
spheric material must be composed of
something much more infusible thau
iron of something, that is, which will
have passed into the liquid state from
the gaseous state at a temperature
which suffices to retain iron in a gas
eons con(hition. This at once cuts iron
off from the inquiry as well as all those
elements xvliich are more fusible than
iron. In(lee(l, we may at once take
the further step and sa.y that no metal
at all can fulfil the conditions that will
be necessary. The field is thus re-
st.riete(I to the mnetalloids.
The list of possible substances re-
ceives a further reduction by the apphi-
cation of the important l)1ineil)le which
Dr. Stoney was, I believe, the first to
develop in his paper already referred
to. In our endeavor to understand
problems of so complex a nature as
those which the sun offers, where the
The Sign~ficanee of Carbon in. the Uhiverse.
The Significance of Carbon in the Universe.
9
conditions as to temj)elattlrc and as to arc anilnate(l by an average velocity
preesure are so totally different from appropriate to that i)artieular gas if it
anything which we can observe around had been isolate(1 an(i maintaine(1 at
us on the earth or from the experi the telflj)eratnre of the mixture. Thus,
ments which we can try in our labora at the present moment the molecules
tories, there is a particnla.r advantage of oxygen ahd nitrogen in the air
to be gained from any guidance which which we breathe being at the same
the laws of dynamics can afford. These temperature, are nevertheless by no
laws here come to our aid in a v& ry means moving with the same average
si~nilmcant mammuer. They provide us, velocities. it is certain that, on the
in fact, with another criterion by which whole, the molecules ot nitrogen are
we can sift out fronm the remaining list moving with a greater average spee(l
of l)OsSlblc bodies that one elemnent of than is pursued by the molecules of
which it now seemns certain the photo oxygemm. At the freezing temperature
sl)Ilcric clouds mtmst be mainly com we may think of the average speed of
posed. the molecules of oxygen as about fif-
Here we must resort to that molecu- teen hundred yards per secomid, and of
lar doctrine of the constitution of gases miitrogen as being a little greater.
which is now universally accepted. It The muolecular constitution that we
teaches us that a gas is coml)ose(l of have attributed to elements which are
mnyria(ls of muolecules (1artimc~ abotmt gaseous at Or(linary temnperature, may
each muolecule travelling quite freely also be ascribed to the gases into which
except (itiring these enormous but brief other elements are transformned when
intervals when, by a collisiomi or en the necessary supplies of heat have
coumiter with some other molecule, it is been fort1icomin~ Time
vapor of iromi
deflected from its path. It is an essemi no less than the vapor of water, is.
tial part of this (loctrine that tile aver composed of muolecules which are dart
age velocity with which time muolecules ing about with velocities diependiug
are aummnated depends upon the temnl)er for their average value both upomi the
ature. The higher the temperattire the teml)crature of time vapor and upon time
greater time sl)ce(l with which on aim muass of the m9lecule of iromm. At the
average each muolecule hurries alommo exalted temuperatures which reigmi imi
For our present purpose it is esseim the immterior l)arts of the sun, substammees.
tial to consider time case of txvo d lifer eveim more refractory thami iron must
cut gases at the sammic temuperature. yicl(l to time teml)erature to whicim they
The velocities of the niolecules arc imot, arc exposedi, amiml pass from time solidi to
omi time whmm)le, eqtmal in time two gases. the gaseous state. An object Sd) imi
It camm be shown that the molecules of fusible as a diamuond, wimich ot cotirse
the gas constituted by an element within is ommly crystallized carboim, wouldi have
a low atomnic weight will have, on time to surremider its umirivailed hardness at
average, a higime r velocity timan is l)os time iatcrmmal solar temperatures. It
sessc(l i)y time molecules of a gas vimiclm, would mmot, iudced, be l)crmmmitted to ic
timough at time samime femmiperature, has mmm~mimm in a soft or even imi a fluid state
a imigimer atomic weight. Thus, for in time velocities of its molecules would be
stammec one gas migimt have nioleetmles such that time close association within time
wimich were movimmg on the average mmeighborimmg mimolecules characteristic of
about as swiftly as a riflebullet, wimile tIme solid or time liquid state of nmatter-
another gas at the samuc temh)cratnrc wotmid be mmo longer possible. Time sev
but of less atomic weight would have eral umoleetmlcs of time (liamnond wotmld,
ami average speed correspomidingly be in time iminterior of the suim, apparently
how timat of tIme ritle-bullet. It is espe- roam about with time freedom eminjoved
cialiy imimportammt to notice that in time by the molecules comuposimig any ordi
case where differemit gases are mnixeol nary atumosphere ummder like conditions
together, the several amolecales of each of pressure.
The Sign~/lcance of Carbon in the Universe.
The essential property of carbon, so
far as our immediate object is con-
cerne(l, consists in the fact that a mole-
Lule of this element, be it either in the
solid, the liquid, or the gaseous state
has but a small mass when compared
with the molecules of most other ele-
mentary bodies. We have reason to
believe that each molecule of the same
element always has the same mass, and
that (lifferent elements have in general
different molecular masses. It hap-
pens that the mass of a molecule of
carbon is much less, not only than that
of a molecule of iron, but even than
that of a molecule of oxygen or nitro-
gen. I (10 not, of course, assert that
the molecule of carbon is lighter than
the molecule of any other element.
That is not the case. The molecule of
hydrogen, for example, is much lighter
than that of carbon. Indeed, the ele-
mnent just name(l has the lightest mole-
cule of any terrestrial substance. Out
of the sixty-four elements there are,
however, omily five with a less atomic
weight than carbon.
I3ut what it concerns us specially to
notice is that among elements vhich
may be (leemed refractory, that is to
say, among elements which retain the
solid or the liquid state until a temper
atume has been attained high enough to
drive most other substances into vapor,
the molecular mass of carbon is excep-
tionally small. We may, in fact, assert
that so far as elements which are likely
to exist in abundance on the sun are
concerned, the case of carbon is unique.
This element combines an excessively
high refractory nature with an exces-
sively low molecular mass. It will not
be hard to (leduce from these facts Dr.
Stoneys very remarkable conclusion
that carbon is the effective constituent
of the clouds in the photosphere. It
is, in(lee(l, very interesting to trace out
the ingenious line of reasoning by
which this conclusion is established. I
shall here give an outline of the argu-
ment.
Picture the condition of affairs in the
upper part of the solar atmosphere,
where the vapors of many elements are
commingled. At the same distance
from the centre of the sun we iimay as-
sume that the temperatures are equal.
This being so, the several molecules of
the different elements in the mixture
will be moving with varied velocities,
corresponding on the average to their
various molecular weights. Specially
noticeable among them will be the
molecules of carbon. They are in great
abundance, and they are distinguished
from the great majority of the sub-
stances with which they are associated
by the high speed at which they are
genera11y darting along. Their motions
are of course pursued in every (lirec-
tion, myriads of molecules are flying
downwards, myria(ls are flying horizon
tally, myriads are flying upwards. It
is these last which are at present un-
portant.
As a molecule is flying upwards it
experiences not alone all the chance
encounters with the other molecules,
but it is also directly subjected to a
reduction of its velocity in consequence
of the gravitation of the sun. That
gravitation is vehement in proportion
to the great mass of the sun. Thus
the attraction of the sun omi the mole-
cules must be about twenty-five times
the attraction which the earth exerts
on bodies near its surface. Those
molecules which move comparatively
sho~vly must iii their occasional vertical
flights respond to the solar attractions
more promptly than the molecules bet-
ter endowed with velocity. It thus
appears that when the molecules of
carbon happen to be darting upwards
and outwards from the sun, their com-
paratively high velocities will enable
them to attain generally greater alti
tu(le in the solar atmosphere than is
permitted to the molecules of a less
lively character. Thus we see that the
molecules of carbon will on the whole
tend to soar aloft to greater altitudes
than are attained by the majority of
solar materials.
This consideration excludes a num-
ber of elements fromn possible partici-
pation in the clouds of the photosphere.
Their molecular velocities are not suffi
10
The Story of Margr6del.
dent to maintain them at the necessary
altitudes. But among the elements
which are permitted to elevate them-
selves sufficiently, carbon 110W assumes
a distinctly prominent position in virtue
of the other remarkable property of
this element to which we have re-
ferred. It is certain that the greater
the distance from the solar centre, the
lower must be the temperature to
which the materials are exposed. No
doubt in the interior of the sun the
temperature is so high that even car-
bon must be there permanently gase-
ous. But at a sufficient altitude above
the suns surface or, to speak more
accurately, at a sufficient distance from
the suns centre the tern 1)erature is
low enough to permit the carbon va-
pors to return to the liquid state and
thus gather into the beads of liquid
glowing carbon which forms the lumi-
nous cloud. What then happens is
clearly of the following nature. The
high velocities of the carbon molecules
are ever and anon conducting them to
elevations in the solar atmosphere,
where the temperature is sufficiently
low to reduce the carbon vapors to the
cloudy state which they are so prone
to assume. Herein lies the essential
difference between carbon and the
other elements. In the first place
many of the elements never possess
sufficient molecular velocities to carry
them in any large quantities into the
elevated regions. In the second place,
among the elements which can attain
sufficient altitudes carbon is the most
refractory, and therefore would be the
first to take that step in condensation
implied by its transformation into a
cloud.
On these grounds Dr. Stoney h~s
concluded that the same element, which
is the great source of artificial light in
almost all forms on this earth, is also
the source of solar light. Our concep-
tion of the important functions of car-
boii in the universe is thus greatly
extended.
11
From Blackwoods Magazine.
THE STORY OF MARGIIEDEL:
BEI~iG A FIRESIDE HISTORY OF A
FIFE5HIRE FAMILY.1
CHAPTER XIV.
THE next forenoon saw Margr6del
take her seat in the mailcoach among
a mixed company on its way to the
ferry at Pettycur. She sat, unheedlul
of her neighbors, with a hard, fixed
look, such as any traveller wears in our
fast (lay, when it is a robbery of time
even to feel the wind on ones face
but it seemed so strange in a mail
coach, especially in a face so fair and
young, that there were fcw who did
not remark it. One passenger at least,
with some (lo~vn upon his chin, thought
he should have liked to meet face to
face with the man who causeml her
heaviness of heart. Doubtless the
fresh horses carried other heavy hearts
as well as Margr~dels bnt he failed
to ol)serve them. Howsoever things
may change in fifty years, the habit is
like to last out time of young knights
reading most need of a champion in
pretty faces.
Behind the hard eyes Margr6del was
conning the professors message, won-
dering that he should have written it
if he could come out to the street to
deliver it to Rab, yet unable to think of
any cause for his sending it, save that
he required 11cr by reason of illness.
From that 11cr min(l went back over
many eccentricities of her uncle and
strange conduct of his in the past, with
the forebodings it bred ; and all this
kept the memory of the last nights
emotions from overwhelming her, al
though it gave tone to her thoughts,
even as the ground color of our canvas
comes up through what we paint 111)011
it. And as not even the recuperative
power of Margr~dels own land of
France is stronger thlan that of youth
and health, she ~vas not within sight of
the sea when the sunshine, an(l the
smell of leaves from under the hedge-
rows, and the joy of motion, drove
1 Published under arrangement with G. P. Put-
nams Sons, the authorizedAmerican publishers of
the book.
12 The Story of Jlfargr6del:
away her cares, and she grew curious from days in the sun and in the fields ;
her eyes, made familiar with
in the villages they passed throuah and in
a.nd~ while she talked but little, snule(l their ruddiness, her uncle looked no
at the small jokes which, as well as the paler thaii the shopkeepers, although
wittiest, whiled away the road for the they were in their white aprons, and
travellers. For Margr~del coul(l not were out ii~ the street, sun or no sun,
become heavyhearted all at once, any all day long, and would have left their
more than the crafty look could have counters to mark the arrival of a pack-
come in a day into the eyes of the pro- man. These pale faced gentlemen,.
fessor, who was awaiting her in front being in their aprons, touched their
of the National Inn. Yet that day forelock t.o their childrens teacher, as
that look was very strong in his eyes ; became tradesmen, and said, by and
it is strange how, of a sudden, you by, that the l)rofessors wench was
notice tin~ers Yroxvn crooked with con handsome ; while the women told one
stant handling of guineas, or cheeks another that she had returned from
pinched by long company with pov Edeii Braes, and that they couldnt
erty. fathom her ever having been thcre, no
Of course Margr6del was too de- more they could, which was true.
lighted to see him to notice this look, If it had been possil)le they should
which was patent to others. As soon have fathomed it long ago, for this was
as the coach jolted over the rough not the first time, by many hundreds,
causeway, she was conscious of a feel- that they had discussed the intimacy
ing of new happiness at the thought of between the Olipliants and Maror~del
being home again. The sight of her I havent been ~vell, the professor
uncle relieved her mind of its little said ; but theres worse than that.
fears ; and whereas hitherto she had Another week would have meant ruin.
always thought of hini and of herself as youll see.
as exiles in this grey street, her heart He laughed a~t her wonderment, and,
now went out to the ragamuffins who letting her into the house, led her
surrounde(l the coach, and to the shop straight to where a little heap of broken
keepers in their doorways, as to friends crockery lay in the kitchen. He did
and neighbors. That showed how not tell her that in a ,vhirl of passion
deep had been the experience of the he had dashed to the ground the table
past twemityfour hours, for she could and all that was on it, and that to the
never have felt so towards Kirkcaldv coarseness of the households ware
an(l Kirkcaldy folks had not the dip only did lie owe it that lie had beeii
into the \vori(l outside been so disas able to pick up munch that was un
trotis. broken. I3ut he blamed it all upOn his
When he had helped her to alight, clumsy hands, and said, I tol(l you it
lie kissed her, and the onlookers meant mimi ; I ani no housekeeper, as
slimugge(i their shioulders. They were if he had broken one morning a cup,
unaccustomed to kiss on the street or another muorning a phate, piece by
to shake hands even, except one should piece, (luring the timne she was away.
so salute another in the market for Margr& hel, the blood rushing to her
sport or mockery. Then she noticed face with the thought of her uncle
his paleness and lie said, still hold among the dishes each day (it would
lug her in his arms and looking into her not have troubled her had she not seen
face, as if they had been alone in the how, in Edeii Braes, the muen did noth
house (only then lie might have said iiig in the house), cried out,
it iii French), Oh, uncle did I not say how it
And youre as brown as a berry, would be if I wemit away? I wish I
Margr~del . had not gone. You have had no coni-
Quite relieved, she walked to the fort with me from home.
house on his arm. She had beeii liv Yet she could not but laugh at the
ing where all mens skins were brown comnical face lie made, like a naughty
13
boy, as if lie were winking to himself Now that his eyes were directed to
an(t hot looking slyer than usual.
l3ut I have been ill, he replied.
I should not have been, had I stuck
to my own plain fare ; but I dined with
Mr. Oliphant often, and drank his
Wine.
lie (lid not allow his voice to falter
as he s1ioke of this.
Margredel said, Then you would
have been very ill if you had been
with me ; whereupon his eye became
brighter again, and lie had a thousand
questions to ask about Eden Braes, and
the doings there, and especially con-
cerning Douglas.
To nn(lerstan(l aright what it cost
Robert Malbert to listen to Margr~dels
talk about Dug Oliphant, or how hitter
for him was the kindness of her men-
tion of him, we must think what lie
had siiffcred. As lie had told Wull, it
was his sister Margr6ciels memory that
had cheered him throughout the wars
and in his imprisonment. When lie
returned to his home at lengtli,it was
to find it desolate. His sister had gone
as a nurse to the neighboring garrisol)
town. But she was dead dead of
shame and of a broken heart and
had left behind her this child, whom
the neighbors kept and called Margr6-
dcl. That. with the story of a hand-
some Englishman, was all ; the villagers
had had more to think ofbuilding up
their broken walls, and recalling the
memories of their own dead than his
name or his route.
In a torrent of shame Robert Malbert
had crossed the sea with the little Mar-
gredel. In the laud of his exile, some
where, lie would find means of living
away from hateful memories. The
sun, as lie sailed up the Firthi of Forth,
lay on the roofs of Kirkealdy, and the
town looked like a gold band round the
bay, set with jewels where the wind-
mills struck sparks out of the sunlight.
Leaning over the bulwarks at his side
was ami 01(1 skipper, who without turn-
imig his eyes pointed a finger in the
direction of the town.
Thats my toon, he said, an
Im gaun hack tot a hiantle sichit
puirer than I left it.
it, the professor thought that the town
had an appearance of quiet and peace,
with the smoke hanging lazily above
it ; so there lie took Margr6del.
We know the rest ; how, as the even
years passed, now and then a chance
Wor(l, like Margr~dels recital of Ophe
has wrong, would rouse the slumber
ing fury in him ; how the child came
to be able to set it asleep again. All
the time, lie was hiding their story
from the neighbors, themi from Mar
hredel herself. This habit made him
crafty, and passion lived long, beimig
eovere(i like a gathiered fire till at
length at the discovery of the carving
in Margr6dels absence the volcano
wakened and burned lurid.
It was Douglas, of whose saihimig and
story in Framice Wull had spokemi often,
that thi e professor straighitway marked
as his emiemy. lie was not conscious
of arguing how it must have been
Douglas. It came like an inspiration
with the discovery of his sisters miame
imi the old mansion-house. Burmiing in
his brain was the figure of the (lark
horseman whom Margr~del had pointed
out from the windows his Jeans fathier
and he homiged to comifront hum iii Eden
Bracs, in his home, amid When
the spasm was past, the professors
h)alms were red, with nailmarks in
thiem. He thought of Margr& lel, and a
calm followed the tempest, until the
low moaning of it begami again with
thioughits of how she shiould have her
rights, and of Eden Bracs, and of the
mistress of Eden I3raes. Why was she
there, while his pretty Margr6deh slept
at the back of the village forever?
And the other Mar~rddel ought to be imi
Jeamis shoes, and should be, by the
holy Mary, let him once set fin~ers on
this Douglas. His impulse was to ride
out at once to Eden I3raes. No ! Mar-
gr& hel was there ; and the fury (lied
do~vn, and doubt followed the doubt
if lie mi_ ht not be wron, if there was
pmoof of Douglass wickedmiess. Any
one might know his niece as Margr6-
(lel Malbert and carve her name. God
She was as mmichi Margr~del Malbert as
any other name lie knew of Margr6-
Being a Fireside History of a F~feshire Family.
14
(Ic! Malbert as soon as this pitiful Mar
gr~(le1 English, which name he had
given her before the neighbors in his
early ma(lness, an(l for his storys sake,
must stick to. But Margr~del Oh-
pliant! He fanned his fury by repeat-
ing the name again and again, and
swore, looking on the stars from the
black, back windows, that lie would
prOve this (liscovery.
Round and round in this circle had
the professors feelings worked during
the next day and night. The near ap
proach of Mar~r~(le ls return found
Craft at Passions throat, keeping the
upper hand, although it struggled hard,
an(l got on its feet again, almost, w lien
Margr~lel spoke kind words in its ears
of the family at Eden ]3raes.
So the fight lasted through the xvin-
ter into the lengthening clays, when
nien cease(l to speak of the summer
that was past, and thought of that
which was to conic. it was a poor
fight to write about, but sterni if you
had seen how the knapsack sank deeper
betweeni the professors shoulders, and
how each morning found fresh grey
hairs in his head.
Still lie learned nothing. He drank
with the sailors on the quay, and with
the old topers in the inns, and, drunk
or sober, could worm niothiing from
them concern i nig Douglas, except the
stories of old (lissolute doings abont the
town. One hope remained. As soon
as summer was roun(l lie would go to
Fraiice. lie could not go sooner, for
lie must keep his pupils, for Margr&
dels future. He said to himself that
it was all for Ma.rgr~dels future, and
feigned belief that revenge was not
tugging at his hearts strings. So Pas
5ioni took a new tack, and flattered
Craft to get the better of it.
During this time Margr~(hel had one
or two letters from Jean, who sai(I
nothing of Frank lull. Margr6del,
having been brought up out of the
world, wondered if she could have
written so if her lover had provenh
false. Nor, beyond what Jean wrote,
(li(l she hear much of Eden Braes.
That winter Wull Oliphant was away
in London, where lie had bought some
The Story of JJfargredel:
ships that require(l fittino up anew;
and when lie returne(l lie was much
occupie(l in pul)hic, for reform was
greatly talked of, arid the town was in a
ferment of political feeling.
And oftentinies as she lay abed,
thinking of Jean, or of her uncles new
love for the towns company, the pro-
fessor was lying longinig to be in the
01(1 house, and to press his hands and
feed his eyes upon the carved letters in
the diningrooni.
CHAPTER XV.
HULLO, Margr~del !
It was in the last days of February,
while Margr~del was walkimig home-
wards, under Mrs. Birrells con feetiori
shop, opposite the narrow Kirk Wynd,
with its two stone sentries on which
the beggars sat, that Margr6del heard
her name called aloud. Looking round,
she scarce recognized young Willy Oh-
pliant of Eden Braes in the tall youth
who, with a smile on his face, was
leading his horse towards lien. He had
gro ~v n away from the schoolboy in
these last months, and was a handsome
young man, much like his Uncle Wull
in the matter of looks and yellow hair,
but perhaps firmer about the mouth,
and with a dash of his mothers fire in
his eyes. He wore not a little of a
milord air, as became an Oliphant
on Kirkealdy streets. Moreover, lie
looked well iii hiis buckskins and new
boots, and it was h)elhial)s because of
thienn that lie dismounted daintily, not
at all after the maimer in which lie
was used to fling himself from the
brown pony.
When lie held out his hand to Mar-
gr~deh, and she pleased him with the
surprise in her eyes at the change in
him, you had thought every door and
window and close-mouth within fifty
yar(ls held a enirious face even as,.
when Thrift crumbled the stale bread
on the kitchensill binds came flitting
to the tree-boughs in great flights aiid
sat there chattering like women at a
well, so that you wondered that the
gar(Iens could have hidden them a
minute before. To ]u(lge froni the
faces at the windows, they had much
Being a Fireside History of a Fifeshire Family.
to say on what they saw; only, from
the street you coul(l not hear what was
spoken which was a pity.
Beneath the very fine and gallant
exterior of the boy now chatting to
Margr~del was the veriest hobbledehoy
on this side the Firth. No sooner did
his eyes light upon the confection-win-
dow, up to which they ha(l often looked
wistfully when his uncles house was
a holiday resort, than he must needs
sport his new manhood.
Granny Birrells, by the Lord
Harry! he said. You like sugar-
rock, Margr6del ?
Margr~de1 did; and a rather hector-
ing ilullo there ! (because of the
little boys that were open-mouthed on
the causeway) brought from behind
her counter, and down the one or two
steps, the whitecapped, whitehaired
old priestess of Willys early temple.
Such was the cheapness of the succu-
lent luxury, and the lavishness of our
young squire, that I declare lie cleared
the window-stock, so that so much
afternoon sunshine never found its
way through the sweetie-shop panes
before or since.
When the old body returned with I
know not how many sticks, he waved
his hand, with a For the lady, as if
his teeth had never watered where lie
stood.
But Margr~de1 laughed outright, and
protested.
IJa(lnt you better ask Rab Hether-
wick to call for these ? she said, with
gentle irony.
Hell be doon the morn, Granny
said, seeing no farther than a possible
loss of a large order.
Take one. They are yours, Willy
said largely. Ill carry some for you,
and, for this did not dispose of the
whole purchase yet, and it would never
do to recall a penny of what was spent
on a lady miserliness is not original
sin, give the rest to the children,
Mrs. Birrell.
He spoke as if childhood were for
him a far-off reminiscence. So it was.
Can anything be farther off than that
which has gone forever? As lie led
his horse slowly eastwards to her
uncles door, he could see the crown
of Margr~dels bonnet under his eyes.
He could not have done that in the
autu mu.
Margredels first flush of pleasure at
meeting Willy past (for the genuine
laddie that he wns delighted her like
spring sunshine), her thoughts ~vent
back to Eden Braes ; and there were
many things concerning Jean which
she would have liked to know, yet did
not care to ask about. Great was her
surprise, therefore, when Willy, look-
ing curiously at her, said,
Do you know, youve a better color
than Jean has?
At Eden Braes they used to make
fun of her town color, and would
say, Put out your hand and make
yourself at home. You mann grow
ruddy in the country ; and no music
had ever sounded kinder to her ears.
So she replied to Willy,
Thanks to Eden Bracs and the
good friends there.
But Willy sai(1,
Have you not heard that Jeans not.
well?
What ails her?
Willy shook his head.
Giowii pale and soft, he said..
Taken to sitting in the house, and
thats not like her. It used to be,,
when I was at school, Willy, Im dy-.
ing for a gallop ; or, Come along for
a walk to Cage-whins and see the
foxes. ~ow that Im about the place
all day long, shell not stir a foot unless
shes asked. Even then shes not a
mile from home when she turns Vics
head. You see how fat lies getting.
He was riding Vic to-day. I cant
make it out with Jean. Its just
since
Since when, Willy? Margr~del
led him on.
Since the regiment lifted.
His face was all aglow, and lie stood
looking shamefacedly at his boots, and
tapping them savagely with iPs wifip.
Margr~de1 turned to stroke Vics glossy
side, and kept her back to him. She
had hind several letters from Jean, but
in none of them was there any mention
of Frank Hill. She knew that lie had
16
left with his regiment. She won(lerecl
at Jeans reticence. Now her heart
was full of pity, but of no regret that
she had opened Jeans eyes to Franks
baseness. She had been broni~ht up
ont of the world, not knowing its way
of glossing evil.
Its stupi(l, Willy was saying,
devilish stupid.
What is ? she asked sharply.
Sitting moping there like, like
lie could not explain how different his
Jean ought to be from or(linary glils.
Theres lots of as good men abont
the doors ,lie said, the uncombeci mas-
culinity coming out, now that the sub-
ject was broached.
Theres none worse, said Mar-
gr6del, breathing hard. 1-Jobbledehoys
(liscountenance strong statements, sav-
ing their own most of all, those made
by women. Willy had seen little of
Frank Hill, and the little was not
much to his taste. It was in what Rab
woul(l have called a spirit of conter
mashishness that he said,
Now, I always found him a good
fellow.
Who ? Margr~del turned upon
him a face that checked him.
Its Frank Hill you were talking
of? he said.
I tell ye what it is, she said vehe-
mently ; if you thouhht that, you
wouldnt be your fathers son. If I
thought you thought it, 1 wouldnt
speak to you another wor(l.
It was clear to those at the windows
that here was something for their
pains, and those farthest west flattened
their noses on the glass. From a win-
dow o~)posite, however, one j)air of eyes
was looking out on them with more
than curiosity. The poor professor
could bear it no longem, an(l, going
to the door, called Margr~(lel by name.
She would have beckoned him but he
cried, Come here, Margr6del ,~ and
retreated into the lobby, where lie
stood watching them.
Is that your uncle ? said Willy.
Yes. I must say good-bye.
Then, still with her hand in his, she
continued, the professors brow grow-
ing darker,
The Story of Margridel.~
I know you mean no harm, Willy.
But (hont speak to Jean about about
Captaiii 1-Till in that way. It hurts.
She had not crossed the threshold
when her uncle was at her side. She
looked diwn at him in surprise. He
was trembling, and cried iii a shaky
voice,
Who is that ? Is that young Oh-
pliant ?
Why, yes, she replied ; thats
Willy.
He dared not speak the fear that
held him.
Do you know what they say in the
town ? lie said. They say its
death to marry an Ohiphamit.
lie noticed the smile on her face.
It said that she had heard that story,
and knew how the happy home in Eden
Bracs gave it the lie.
I tell you theyre cursed, lie cried.
Theres not a woman conic near the in
but is scorched. Theres iiot a woman
had to do with them thats lived and
they live. Have nothing to do with
them. 0, Margr6del, Margr6del, be
warned
Uncle, she cried, and took his
hands, and in one of hers still was
Willys sugarrock ; and she was half
ashamed, half amused at the idea that
was in his mind. But he put his arms
round her, and, although it was (lark
in the passage, looked away from her
eyes.
Margr~del , he said, holding her
firm, and for a second it seemed to
her she was back in Jeans arms iii the
hall at Eden ih3raes, i\Iamgmedeh,
your mother was such a gui as you are
young and fair and happy. (They
were trembling now, she with awe.)
We were alone in the world then, as
we are now, Margr6del ; and I loved
her as I hove you, Margr~heh. They
balloted for time war, and I was taken.
In my absence there came omiesuch
a one as they say these Ohiphiamits are,
who break the hearts of women. He
broke her heart. When I came back I
found you
He suffered with every breath be
drew to tell that story. He felt the
girl in his arms shrink with the shame,
then struggle to be free; and lie was
jealous of his sisters memory.
She was your mother, Maigi~del,
he whispered; and she fell sobbing on
his shoulder.
CHAPTER XVI.
AND now began the mighty roll of
the season, which it is strange to think
of as the oldest thing in the world,
except, perhaps, the breaking of waves.
There is this difference l)etween these
two if they are to be set side by side
at allthat the waves are (larkest
where they spring, and roll in lighter
:an(l greener, till they end in the little
margin of white foam; whereas it is
the spring of the season that is fairest,
End the fall is purple and sombre ins-
set. Therein it is that the season
speaks to the heart of a man.
This year the spring came early.
The bud-tips made the bare boughs
sparkle in the sunshine, and the hedges
were bursting with greenery and song,
long before men could believe that
winter was over. The eats found it so
lazy on the garden steps that they took
~o heed of the starlings on the green.
Now and then, in the afternoons, a
wasp could be found on the wall, half
~dead for its venturesomeness; and
great bees startled one with their dron-
ing. People who kept to the streets in
the winter began to wander down the
wynds, at the foot of which the sea and
the sand looked so sunny. Then wise
men, who kept calendars, shook their
heads, and said that we must suffer for
this fine spring weather; for fifty or
forty years, ay, or even thirty, seem a
great and long experience if they have
been spent in measuring rainfalls or
the price of winter wheat. But the
birds and the bees and the young, who
felt sure spring in their blood, were
wiser than the grey men on their
staves; and from the last days of Feb-
ruary the mighty procession marched
forward without a cheek.
Those who tell this story would fain
linger in the spring. The ~story was
told often, up to not so many years
ago, in the High Street dining-room,
LIVING AGE. VOL. Il. i54
17
with fingers going out to feel the
groove where tIme carved letters had
been, ere they were effaced. Those
who tell the story, and those who lis-
ten, knowing the finish of it as well as
the narrators, are lotli to let the sum
iner come; for in the summer Jean
Oliphant (lied. Some said that she
died of a broken heart, because of Cap-
tain Frank; and some, because she
had to (lie as all her familys women-
folk had. Even now, some old people
are found who believe in the curse, and
the facts are there ; but mostwill have
it that it was the broken heart. For
myself, I think it may be that sh~ died
because of both. This, at any rate, I
can tell those such as the doctor
who knew of neither of these causes
failed to supply any other. She
slipped through their fingers like a
knotless threed, Rab said; and none
could say more.
During these months Margr~dels
mind had been full of her own sorrow.
It was not without its discipline ; and
she was a deeper, less protesting Mar-
gr~del than when she only grieved in
sympathy with Jean. Hearing always,
when word did come from Eden Braes,
of Jeans great quiet, she thought she
could understand it, not guessing, any
more than others, what the end was to
be. Only, as was natural, she judged
from her experience that all the sor-
row of life shaped itself in mans
wrong to woman; and therein she
erred greatly.
Meanwhile, it was a comfort to the
professor to know that her thoughts
were where his were. After a fashion,
of course for he had not told her all.
She never referred to her father. He
said to himself that he would not speak
of the last discovery until lie was sure
of it. In reality he feared that her in-
fluence would be against all that it was
in his blood to do, should the discovery
be verified.
One thing was made easier by his
telling her even so little his breaking
to her his intention of going to France
without her. She begged to be taken;
and lie had but to say, I am running
Being a Fireside History of a F9feshire Family.
18 The Story of ]Jlitrgr6del:
across on business only it is concern- true her feeling was. AithouTh Wull
ing your mothers affairs I go ; and who was in England, posted home witl~
she acquiesced. all speed, he was too late. He arrived
Now he had been gone just two on the evening after Jeans death, and
weeks to a (lay, taking advantage of a Douglas led him straight to his wifes
vessel which h~nd run in to the harbo~. room. What they found was Mrs..
for a load to IJunkirk, when Margr~del. Oliphant very quiet and wonderfully
was summoned to Eden Braes. All comforted ; and at her feet (in Jeans
the time of her journey thither she l)lace, as Douglas thought) sat Margr&
thought of what she should say to dcl,. looking in the waning light the
comfort and console Jean, and of how very l)icture of his daughter who lay
she should wean her back to something dead up-stairs. The sight of Wull sent
of her old gaiety. She did not know the two women into tears. But Doug-
that Douglas Oliphants sending for las flung out of the room and out of
her meant that at length he saw that the house, and down the burn-side..
his Jean was dying. Was that likely In the grey twilight silence lay over
to make the thought of Margr~del the river, broken. only by the swish of
sweeter to him ? Jean was the apple the fishing-casts, or by a ploughman~
of his eye the one spot which selfish- whistling. himself homewards. Doug
ness had never hardened. Bitter as it las strode on,. grief and anger raging
was to hear her ask for Margr~del, he within him ; and the anglers bent over
sent for her, as he would have done their rods when. they saw who it was,
anything to please her. So Margr& lel for they knew that he had been he-
caine, to find Jeai~ far beyond her care ; reaved of his daughter. He entered
but to make her happierit seemed the den at the old mill. As he passed
by coming. She smiled a sweet rec- the path. to Kemback, a cold chill slidL
ognition as Margr6del bent over her to into his heart with the image of the.
kiss her; and then she turned to her dead being lowered into the grave.
father and mother and brother again. Nearer the toll a hedgehog caught his-
I think that it is not decent to speak foot. He kicked it from him ; but it
of such a grief and loss as theirs. I fell in his path again,, and he could see
know, too, that their affliction is as old its quills bristling against danger. It.
as time, and that there can he few settled his mood for the time. He
who have not experienced it beyond stayed over it a second; then with a~
all speaking. Therefore I will tell of mighty kick he sent it crashing among
such things only as cannot be passed the trees.
over. Come what like, Im ready fort,
One of these, by reason of its draw- he said, straightening himself up in.
ing him nearer to his wife, was the the darkness, the happier for being
pain it caused Douglas to watch her, resolved, although the resolve was
compelled to sit by inactive, save for bitter.
checking her tears, while Margr~del And,, in this defiant mood he re-
smoothed Jeans pillow. It was a sad main~d until the funeral. But after
lnin(h he was in. I suppose a mother the funeral, when they were leaving
could not have come to feel so towards the kirkyard by the wooden gate, and
her offspring; but Douglas was begin were on the descending path, Wull
niug. from his love for Jean, to abhor Oliphant already on it, and Douglas
the sight of Margr~del, although she, and his son following, all the boys.
too, was his child. grief welled up within him. He turned.
Anoth~r thing was, that Jean often to look behind.
mentioned her Uncle Wulls name ; 0 father, he cried., taking Dugs
an(l her cSes, if not her lips, said that arm, must we leave her here ?
now that Margr~del was there, if Uncle It was then, for the first time, that
Wull came the family would be com- Douglas wept for Jean.. There was.
plete ; and only Douglas knew how something heart-rending in the boys
Being a Fireside History of a F9feshire Family.
cry. It made Douglas realize his loss
ViVi(lly, that they were going home
to Eden Brues without Jean forever.
And Margr6del still in the house.
He opened the door of his wifes
room. The blinds were drawn, and in
the (larkness the two women still sat
close together. Anguish wrung his
heart, and Margr~del could see its
marks upon his face as he turned and
went out. She stole from the room
and came 111)011 him in the hall, lean
in g against the wall. She put a hand
upon his shoulder, and said gently,
Your wife is alone. It was a voice
tellIng him what he should do. It was
Margrddels voice ; he could not look
her in tile face, but turlled from her
and crossed tile hall.
Mrs. Oliphant dried her eyes when
she heard her llusban(ls step. Long
years ago her pride had taught her to
do tllat ; now habit.
0 Jean, Jean ! he cried.
My poor Dug! She put her hand
on the shoulder that was bent a~ her
knee.
Stop, Jean! Listen to what I
llave to tell. God forgive me. You
forgive me if ye can. It should have
been told before.
But she interrupted him.
I know it, Dug. Ive heard it long
ago. Its tllat old story of your fam-
ilys curse. Would you believet?
Would ye forgive God if it were true ?
I wouldnt. I dont believe it. Unto
the third and fourth generation its a
lie, Dug. We suffer in our am day an(l
generation for our am sinsfor the.
sins 0 tIlose about us. As sure as
tileres a God above, Dug, llell suffer
fort that deceived our Jean. She
was sobbing as if her heart would
break. Margr~del has told me. He
deceived her. He telit Margr~del the
same.
Tilere was a violent throb in Dugs
frame at Iler knee, as she went on,
Theres nineteen break tileir word,
Dug ; but the twentieth breaks a heart.
Margr~del told me more wilen she was
at it. Worse than fatherless she is
witil a father that never knew her
that killed her mother. Will such es
cape ? God will smit.e them in their
homes. He will rob them of the treas-
ure of their Ilearts. He will pluck tile
apple of their eye.
0 Jean, stop! Dug cried. lie
has done so. I have sinned, and its
this I siloul(l Ilave told you. Was she
tilats gone not my treasure, tile apple
of my eye? Can you forgive me,
Jean?
Mrs. Oliphant was bewildered.
I forgive you anytlling. Need
you ask? Am I not your wife?
But lIe mistook tile import of 11cr
wor(ls.
Yes, yes. My wife. You neednt
fear that. Not tllat.
Wilat is it, Du~ 9 and she ~vould
Ilave drawn ilim closer to her. But Ile
sllrank from her.
Can you not see ? Must I tell
you ? I am smitten as you say I
should be smitten. God has said olle
daughter of mine should bring bitter-
ness to my lips at tile grave of an-
otiler.
Her eyes were opened.
And Margr~del is
Yes, said Douglas.
Can you forgive me, Jean? Ile
cried for she Ilad lIot spoken.
Dug, my dear, was 11cr answer
tllrougll her sobs, I forgive you. Its
another silould forgive.
Has Ile not roi)bed me of half my
life ? lIe cried. Can lIe forgive
freely tllat deals such retribution ?
But Ilusil , she said, aild stilled
Ilim. May lIe forgive me. I, too,
forgot him. It was ofshe sllut
iler eyes, and iler i)reatll came as with
oi~e in Ilaill it was of her that
I was tilinkino ~
Her words sank upon his soul like a
ilot iron. Yet even tllell Ilis jealous
temper overmastered ilim. For when
by and by, Jean put her Iland upon his
arm again and said, not daring to look
up, Does Margr~del kno~v
SIle must not, slIe SlIall not, lIe
cried. Wlly is she Ilere ? and Jean ?
0! my poor dead Jeall, lIe moaned
an(1 in tile fulness of Ilis grief he forgot
Margr6del.
But for all 11cr tears ilis wife did
19
Theqphraste Benaudot.
not; and her voice was low in his ear
agal u.
Will you not tell Margr~del ?
Just then Willys step sounded in the
hall ; they could hear him go out.
Into Dugs mind caine again the boys
piteous cry, and with it the reinem
brance that Jean was lying alone in the
darkness. Dug knew whither Willys
stel)s were bound, and he rose to go
with him ; as lie rose, an answer
formed itself upon his lips
Willy must know, then?
She struggled with herself.
Its for Willys sake youll not tell
her, she said, as lie left her.
From Temple Bar.
THEOPHEASTE RENAUDOT,
A SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SOCIAL RE
FORMER.
A SIGNIFICANT little ceremony was
held in Paris last June. A statue was
unveiled to the memory of a man
whom the Parliament of his day
dubbed a charlatan, and whom hun-
dreds of his Contemporaries firmly be-
lieved to be in league with the devil.
Th~ophraste Renaudot was one of
those luckless beings who come into
the world doomed to tread on the toes
of the orthodox. He was an ardent
social reformer; and he lived in an age
which objected strongly, and quite nat-
urally, to being reformed. Jnst when
the guilds were most powerful, he sup-
ported free labor; and lie denounced
almsgiving as degrading, at the very
time it was held to be the surest way
to heaven. His head was literally
teeming with new ideas ; while the
majority of the people around him
looked askance on everything untried.
Catholicism, Protestantism, and all
other isms were to him as the merest
shibboleth ; to them they were subjects
of dire importance to be argued
though with faggots or a gibbet, not
words. He was an odd combination of
good and evil; intellectually, he was
two centuries at least in advance of his
day; morally, he was only just about
on a par with it. St. Francis dAssisi
did not love the poor more passionately
than lie did, or work for them more
persistently; yet Paul de Gondi him-
self did not deal out harder blows to
his enemies, or have recourse to more
crooked ways to gain his ends.
Th~ophraste Renaudot, Sicur de
Boissem~, was born at Loudun in 1586.
His father and his mother, who were
persons of some importance in the
country, and Protestants, died while lie
was still a child, and left him a fortune
of forty thousand livres. We have no
record of his early (lays ; but, as the
first thing he did when lie canie of age
was to bring an action against his guar-
dian, they can hardly have been very
pleasant. When lie was sixteen lie
went to Montpellier to study niedicine.
and three years later lie took his degree
as (loctor. He then, as lie tells us him-
self, set off in search of experience.
He wandered about from country to
country, from town to town, always on
the alert for some new thing, for he
was the veriest Athenian by nature.
lie had even then more faith in his
eyes than in his ears, it seems ; for he
would go miles out of his way to wit-
ness an experiment, whilIst he passed
by unvisited many a place renowned
for its academic (hiscourses. When
tired of travelling lie returned to Lou-
dun, married a wife, a certain Jeanne
Baudot, of whom little is known, and
began to practise as a doctor.
In those days Loudun, although a
stronghold of Protestantism, was a
favorite resort of distinguished men of
all creeds and all parties. When the
spirit of faction ran too high for com-
fort in Paris, the peace-loving would
make their way to Loudun ; for there
men could differ without quarrelling,
and argue without losing their tempers.
At the time Renaudot established him-
self in the town, the leading personage
there was Sc~vole de Sainte-Marthie,
who had just retired from public life
after holding various important state
offices. He was a man of wide sym-
pathies, and in his house all who had
anything to say worth hearing were
sure of a welcome. There Renaudot
was from the first a persona gratis-
20
Th~opkraste Renaudot.
sima, for he had brought back from his
travels an endless supply of new ideas
and good stories, things dear to the
hearts both of the 01(1 statesman and
his guests. A warm friendship soon
sprang up between him and Sc~vole,
who took him under his special protec-
tion, and never wearied of extolling
his skill alike as a doctor and a racon-
teur. Before long no dinner was held
to be complete unless Renaudot was
there; no question to be decided until
lie had expressed his views. It was
not to his personal appearance that lie
owe(l his popularity, for his ugliness
was quite abnormal ; his contempora-
ries, friends and foes alike, unite in
declaring that he was incomparably the
ugliest man in Europe. So repulsive-
looking was lie, indeed, that the ques-
tion was once raised in Parliament as
to whether he should not be prohibited
from practising on the score that lie
gave his patients bad dreams. Nor did
his fascination lie in courteous man-
ners ; for even in those early days we
find him laughing to scorn most ruth
lessly the cherished prejudices of those
whom he met. He was essentially un-
conventional; why men should trouble
their heads about forms and cereino-
nies, etiquette and tradition, was sim-
ply beyond his comprehension. He
studied surgery with a barber he
would have studied with the devil him-
self if lie had known how to arrange it
and was amazed to find that by so
doing he had outraged the dignity of
his profession. When other doctors
were swearing by the omniscience of
Galen, he pronounced him an ignorant
old heathen with no thought in his
head beyond bleeding. Galens sys-
tem, he said, might have been all very
well in the second century, but it did
not do in the seventeenth , and he
loudly denounced the folly of his col-
leagues in adhering to his precepts.
He himself used to prescribe quinine,
opium, antimony, and many other
drugs which were under the ban of the
medical faculty of Paris. And patients
flocked to him from all parts, eager to
try his new remedies, eager too, per-
haps, to listen to the piquant stories he
21
would tell in the midst of grave consul-
tations to the scandal of his rivals, of
course.
Although his regular profession was
medicine, his favorite study was soci-
ology. He held strong views as to the
duties those who have owe to those
who have not; and he would often
startle his wealthy patients by depict-
ing to them iii vivid colors the suffer-
ings of the poor. Men, women, and
children were dying of starvation at
their very gates, he would tell them
yes, dying, though there was food
enough in the kingdom for all and to
spare. And lie always wound up his
harangues by calhin~ upon his hearers
to help to put a stop to such an abom-
inable state of things.
Among the persons whom Ilenaudot
met at Sc~voles was Leclerc du Trem-
blay, the famous Father Joseph, who
ruled Richiehieu when Richielieu ruled
France. The father, who had a keen
scent for useful instruments, a tonce
struck up a friendship with the bril-
liant young doctor, and straightway set
to work to form him. The two
passed whole nights together discuss-
ing politics, ethics, and as the one
was a Capucin monk and the other a
Protestant of course theology. The
old man gave lessons in worldly wis-
dom and statecraft; and the young
one, who prided himself on being a
practical reformer, unfolded schemes
for imuproving the condition of the
poor. Sometimnes Richehieu, then quite
an unimportant individual, would come
to listen to himn ; for he, too, was keenly
interested in social questions, holding
that the discontent of the populace was
a dangerous factor in politics. Most of
Renaudots schemes Father Jose phi put
aside with scant ceremony, as fit only
for dreamers of dreams ; hut some two
or three he singled out as worthy of
consi(leration. The one he specially
approved of was for helping the unem-
ployed; for even in those days there
were unemployed, it seems.
Paris, Renaudot used to say, was a
veritable criminal factory. Men went
there from all parts of the country imi
search of work; and as there was no
22
one to tell them where it was to be
found, all ti iey could do was to wan(ler
about the streets iii the hope of stum-
bling across aii employer. If, however,
they failed to do so within twenty-four
hours, they were arreste(1 as rogues
and vagal)on(ls. his plan was to es-
tablish a labor bureau, in which a list
should be kept of masters seeking ser-
~ants, and servants seeking masters.
Thus, he maintained, men who were
willing to work would l)e provided with
work, afl(l many an honest fellow
woul(1 be kept from evil ways. lIe
had found some hints of such an insti-
tution, lie sai(l, in the ~vritings of Aris-
totle, and also in one of Montaigne s
essays.
Once when Father Joseph was in
Paris, lie read to the queenmother and
her Council Le Trait~ (les Pauvres,
a pamphlet by Renaudot, in which
among other things, there was an ac-
count of the way a labor bureau might
be ~vorked. This was in 1612, a time
when Paris was thronged with men
and women clamoring for food; and
the highways were held by gangs of
masterless varlets who levied toll on
all passers-by. The royal councillors
were sorely troubled in their minds
they were at their wits end, in fact, to
know what to (10 ; for all classes were
against them. The rich denounced
them for not restraining the inso-
lence of the poor ; whilst the poor
reproached them for leaving them to
starve. Tb ey listened eagerly, there -
fore, to the Capucins account of Re-
naudots scheme ; for schemes of social
reform were not then, as now, at a
(liscount. The doctor was summoned
to Paris, where for weeks he was in
close consultation with Marie de Me-
dicis a(lvisers, who were much im
l)ressed by his sturdy common sense.
Honors were showered down on him,
he was appointed royal physician an(l
kings councillor and he received a
present of six hundred livres. Then,
with a view of testing the practicability
of his inventions, as his projects
were called in Paris, l)ermission was
ilven him to open a labor bureau and
a charter was granted which secured to
Th6ophraste Benaudot.
him the exclusive right of working this
and all his other schemes. This char-
ter throws an 0(1(1 light on the spirit in
which charitable institutions were then
organi ze(l~ for in it persons encroach-
in~ on Renau(Iots monopoly by trying
social experiments on their own ac-
count, are threatened with dire penal-
ties.
In his ignoraiice of court ways the
doctor imagined he might open his bu-
reau at oiice ; but, as lie soon found to
his sorrow, nothing could be (lone until
his charter had been ratified by the
Council of State, an assembly which
never did anything in a hurry. While
waiting for its permission to begin his
work, he organized lemploy de tous
les pauvres vahides de cette ville et
fauhxbourgs qni devaient entre autres
chioses nettoyer les rues et estre entre-
tenus en partie des deniers qui se he-
vaient pour les bou~s. He spent
some of his time, too, in the city hospi-
tals, where he witnessed scenes which
made him stamp with rage. People
suffering from all sorts of (hiseases were
massed together, twelve in a bed, the
dead and dying as often as not side by
si(le with those whose only ailment was
a broken armii perhaps. When lie (he
dared it was a national shame that
such things should be, the door was
speedily shiut in his face. He then
turned his attention to the three work
houses which hind just been opened in
Paris as a shelter for vagrants. There,
too, lie found little to praise and muchi
to blame. They had been established
with the idea of helping the poor, but
were a failure ; for, as Renaudot main-
tains, those who went there honest
men and ~vomen were rogues when
they left. At length, losing all patience
with the sluggish ways of the Council,
he returned to Loudun and took up the
thread of his 01(1 life. He devoted
himself to his patients, and what Id-
sure time he had, he gave to working
out the details of his various inven-
tions, and superinten(ling the education
of his sons.
In 1616, the court came to Loudun,
ammd the doctor at once seized the oh)-
portiinity of reminding some of the
Zlh6ophraste Renaudot. 23
exalted personages he had met in Paris, shop, an exchange, a public auction,
of his existence. He succeeded in in- and a free dispensary. Its organiza-
teresting in his schemes the Prince de tion, altl~oiigl~ necessarily somewhat
Cond6, the Duchesse dEguillon, Ma- complex, was in its way 1)erfect. Each
dame de Chevreuse, and eveti Louis department had its own special staff of
XIII. himself. They all promised to officials, while the whole institution
bring their influence to bear on the was under the personal direction of
Council ; and, what is more, they kept Renau(lot. On him rested all rC51)OnSi
their word, with the result thai in bilitv, and in his hands was all power.
1618 the charter was at length ratified. And well he used it. If, as his ene-
The king then appointed Renaudot mies declare, lie was a despot, he must
coinmissaire g6n~ral (les p~uvres du at least have been a. kindly one ; for
rovaume, thus giving him a free hand those with whom, and for whom, lie
to do what he liked for the poor, but worked all regarded him as a l)eLsonal
no means whatever xvherexvitli to (10 it. friend.
Just when he was starting for Paris to There is an oddly modern ring about
undertake his new (luties, Ricliehieu Renaudots schemes. The Charity Or
was (hismissed froiii office. This was a ganizatio n Society itself is not more
sore disaster for the doctor, who had bitterly opposed to iIi(liscriminate alms
counted on the ministers help to over oivin~ than was this seventeeiitlicea
come the obstacles which lie knew tury reformer. Indeed, the relief
would be thro~vn in his way. Riche- system lie established was worked on
lieus account too of the state of things exactly the same lines as that which
in Paris was most discouraging ; the was tried last winter in connection with
town was give ii up to anarchy, he said. the Polytechinic in London. He en
Renaudot therefore decided to stay on tered into a sort of co-operative arrange-
~t Loudun, for he was determined not ment with a. number of wealthy persons,
to risk the success of his schemes by he undertaking to investigate cases of
trying them under unfavorable circum- distress ; they, to relieve such of these
stances. It was not until after Riche- cases as lie l)ronouliced to be (heserv-
liens return to office in 1624, that lie ing. lie did not himself distribute
estabhishi~d himself in the capital. Then alms ; all lie did was to point out to the
a fresh difficulty arose. So long as he charitable fit objects for their charity.
was at Loudun, his Protestantism, It was right, lie insisted, that help
whichi was of aii eminently unaggres should be given to the 01(1 and feeble
sive type, had never told against him ; but as for the young an(l strong, the
but in Paris it was otherwise. Person only way of aiding thieni was to provide
ally hie had no strong feelings on the them with work. When, therefore,
subject, an(h ~vas probably inclined to the able-bodied applied to the Chiarity
think that the chance of trying his in Department, they were shiarply told to
ventions was well worth a mass. Be go to the Labor Bureau. Notices, too,
that as it mnay, lie yielded to the pres were posted up iii all public l)laces
sure whiichi Father Joseph aiid Riche warning masterless varlets, in the name
lieu brought to bea.r on hiimn, and joined of the king, that if they did not pre
the Catholic Church. sent thieniselves at the bureau xvithiin
Meanwhile lie was toihing fromii early twentyfour hiours of their arrival in
1normin~ng until late at night trying to P~tris, thi ey would be sent to the gal
get his undertakings into working or leys. Thie Labor Bureau was managed
~ler. The Bureau dAdresse which lie precisely as such institutions are to-
etabhished at tIme Sigmi of the Cock, rtme day. All applications for work were
de ha Calandre, was a colossal institu- carefully classitied aiid registered. Any
tioii, one which, in many respects has master, t hierefore, who wished to en
to this day never hind a rival. It was gage a servant, con 1(1, by applying at
at omice an office for the relief of time the office, be put at once in communica
i~~or, a labor bureau, a pawnbrokers tion with the persons niost likely to
24 Th~phraste Benaudot.
suit him. At the end of the week a were heavy, and he had been obliged
list was published of employers in want to borrow money to carry it on. H~
of servants, and servants in ~vant of had, therefore, as he explains in a
places. The very poor paid no regis- pamphlet which is deliciously nine
tratioii fees, but those who could afford teenth century in tone, no resource but
it were charged three sons. to levy toils, at least until some mU
The working of the Relief Office and lionaire should endow his bureau.
the Labor Bureau was plain sailing The Bureau dAdresse was from the
compared with that of the pawabrokiug first a great success ; for whilst giving
department. This was organized for a helping hand to the poor, it also pro
the special benefit of the respectable vided the rich with amusement. The
~ though its doors stood open to all auctions soon vied with the theatre as
who were in want of money, and their a place of public entertainment. Peo-
name is always Legion. Any one who pIe of all classes crowded there to buy,
had anything to dispose of, whether a sell, exchange, gossip, and ger~eralhy
house, a diamond ring, or an old coat, enjoy themselves. So far, everything
betook himself straight to the Sign of had prospered with Renaudot, whose
the Cock. There, for a commission of only troubles arose from certain at-
six deniers the hivre, the officials would tempts which were made to establish
sell for him his property at a public private bureaux in different parts of
auction. Or he might, if he chose, the city. He pursued the persons wh~
pledge it. In that case it was, if possi- thins attempted to encroach on his priv
ble, deposited at the bureau; and two- ileges most ruthlesshy ; but whethei
thirds of its value, as fixed by an through jealousy, or in fear lest they
official appraiser, was advanced to its should bring his institution into disre
owner, who paid for the loan interest pute, it would be difficult to decide.
at the rate of six deniers the livre. No sooner was the organization of
If the article were not redeemed at the bureau complete, than Renaudot
the end of the time for which it was took on his shoulders a fresh burden, a
pledged, it was sold by auction ; and if heavy one too. In 1631, lie started the
it realized more than the sum advanced Gazette, the first newspaper ever pub--
upon it, the difference, after the deduc- lished in France. There is little doubt
tion of the expenses of the sale, was that lie did so at the request of IRiche
handed over to the original owner. lieu, who, being sorely beset by pam-
Renaudot also came to the help of phleteers, was anxious to have an organ
those who wished to exchange their of his own, in which he could refute
possessions. If a man had a dog, but the slanders of his enemies. If P& e
was in want of a chair, lie might take Griffet is to be believed, both the car
his dog to the bureau, where the offi- dinah and the king wrote articles con~
cials, for three sons, would try to stantly for the Gazette; and in many
procure for him what lie wanted, in of the popular satires of the day, the
exchange for what lie had. Although former is depicted as holding council
all classes were cordially invited to with IRenaudot in the editorial office.
resort to the Bureau dAdresse, Re- The prospectus of the Gazette, which
naudot never forgot that its very raiso~i was issued May 30th, 1631, is curious
d~tre was to help the poor. He and reading. In it the doctor declares that,
his officials were always at their ser- although his paper will be le journat
vice, and no matter what they did for des rois et des puissamees de ~a terre, he
them, it was done gratis. Personally counts upon its finding readers among
Renaudot objected strongly to taking all classes, lie promises that it shall
fees, even from those who could afford supply the silent with conversation ~
to pay thieni ; for, as the bureau was give to those who have letters to write,
for the convenience of all, it ought to something to write about; and above
be free to all, he maintained. Stihl all, put a stop to gossip and slander.
the working expenses of the institution ~ Newspapers, lie says, are a gen
Th6ophraste Benaudot.
eral boon, because elles empesehent pin-
sieurs faux bruits, qui servent souvent
dalbLmettes aux mouvements et s~ditions
intestines.
Renaudot, who had a clear and vig-
orous style, soon made his mark as
an e(litor. He had practically all the
materials for a journal rea(ly to his
hand, for Richelien supplied the polit-
ical intelligence ; the crowds which
assembled at the bureau provided the
news ; whilst the register and exchange
lists served as advertisements. Then,
in all important towns, and, as he
boasts, jusques aux pals les plus ~loigri~s,
he secured agents who undertook to
report to him all that passed in their
special districts. These agents alone
cost him more than the eight hundred
livres a year which he received as a
State subsidy. From the day it was
issued the Gazette had a large circula-
tion ; but its e(litor, who by this time
was well supplied with enemies, (lid
not escape attack. He was accused of
being Richeliens tool, and of delib-
erately spreading false intelligence.
Against this last charge he defended
himself hotly. It was no fault of his,
he said, if from time to time a false
report crept into the Gazette, which
after all was but le r~cit du bruit qui
court. The king had granted him the
exclusive right of publishing newspa-
pers in Paris ; but his monopoly was
speedily invaded. Journals which pla-
giarized his unmercifully sprang up on
all sides, and he was forced to appeal
to Parliament for protection. He
appealed in vain, however ; for the
Parliament liked neither him nor his
new-fangled ways, an(l told him so.
In the midst of all his other occupa-
tions, while directing the bureau and
e(liting the Gazette, Renaudot still
found time to practise as a doctor.
Among the crowds who sought work or
- charity at the bureau, were many ~vho
were ill. In early days he used to pie.
scribe for them all himself ; but after a
time he arranged for some young Mont-
l)ellier doctors, who had more brains
than l)atienls, to join him in the work.
IJ~ chose Montpehlier men because the
School of Medicine there was gradually
adopting the modern system of treat-
ment, whereas the Parisian school ad
hered to the ancient. He soon gathered
around him quite a brilliant staff of
doctors, who undertook to be ~at the
bureau on flx~d days. A large room
was set apart for their use, and there
all the patients who presented them-
selves were carefully examined and
prescribed for. No fees were charged~
and medicine was given freely to those
who had not the money wherewith to
pay for it. Needless to say, the poor
resorted gladly to these free consulta-
tions, where they were treated with a
skill to which they were little accus,
tomed. As time passed, rumors of
wonderful cures effected by the bureau
doctors spread through the town; and
then the wealthy began to go to them
for advice. This, of course ,gave great
offence to the medical faculty of Paris~
which had long looked askance on
Renaudot, because he prescribed poi-
sons and was suspected of believing in
Harveys theory. A dcbating society~
which he established in 1631, intensi-
fied their feelings against him. Every
Monday afternoon he held at the
bureau a conference for the discussion
of subjects of general interest. Every
thing in heaven or on earth might be
discussed, with two very significant
excel)tions politics and religion. No
allusions to these subjects were al-
lowed, a necessary precaution if blows.
were not to take the place of words in.
the debate.
These conferences were a novelty i
many of those who took part in them
notal)ly Renaudot au(l his staff
were brilliant, audacious, and a touch
irreverent ; uatu rally, therefore, they
found favor in the eyes of the more
frivolous of the Parisians. Such crowds
flocked to them that there was often a
fight for seats. This was too much for
the city doctors ; they resolved that at
any cost the Montpelhier men, who
were robbing them at once of their
popularity and their fees, must be
driven forth. They were fortunate
enough to induce Guy Patin, the most
ruthless of ruthless satirists, to espouse
their cause. With his help, they
26
Th6ophraste Renaudot.
started a regular campaign against man had ever worked for them as he
Renaudot, an(l called upon the State to was working. At the Sign of the
put in force the law by which foreign Cock there was help for all who stood
doctors, i.e., those not holding Paris in need of it. The Relief Bureau dealt
diplomas, were forbidden to l)1actise in out charity to the feeble ; the Register
the city. The king, Richelieu, and the Office provided work for the strong;
court were on Renau(lots si(le ; the while the free consultations were the
Parliament, the city authorities, and means of relieving much suffering
the great middle class were on the side and the Pawubroking Office helped
of the medical faculty, and there was many a poor family to keep the grey
soon open warfare between the two wolf from the door. The doctor was
parties. (loing what he could too for all classes
The Paris doctors obtained a decree provi(ling them with news, amusement,
prohibiting the Moatpelhier men from an(l instruction ; and he used even to
practising. The king promptl an help the ministers by keeping them
milled the decree, and advised its informed as to what was passing in all
authors to show more toleration. They parts of the world. Thus his power
rel)lie(l by summoning their rivals be was felt throughout the state, and at
fore the courts, and refusing degrees this time he had almost as many friends
to Renaudots sons. Then Renaudot, as enemies. Unlnckily for him, how-
strong alike by his favor at court and ever, his friends were mortal, his ene
his l)opularity among the masses, car mies immortal. As Guy Patin once
ned the ~var into the enemys camp. remarked Tons les hommes particu
lie held the antiquated ways of the licis meurent, mnais les compagnies ne
Paris (loctors up to ri(licule ; taunted nenient point.
them with having slept for years on Father Joseph had died in 1638.
Galens bosoni ; and told them that the Then in 1642, at the very moment
time was come when they really must when Renaudots position seemed most
wake up. They revenged themselves assured, just when the Panisiami doctors
by (lenouncing him as a charlatan and had (leci(led that they mnst come to
a l)oisoner ; and by solemnly averring terms with him, Richelien, his allpow
that they knew he had a coml)act with erful protector, was stricken with an
the devil. The towmi was flooded with incurable malady. This was a terrible
pamphlets, and the l)arty spirit they blow to the doctor, and a cause of open
engendered ran so high that Richelien rejoicing to his enemies, who at once
was obliged to interfere and stop all returned to the attack, with a change
publications on the subject. Both the of tactics, though. No sooner was
idng and the cardinal were keenly alive Richelieu dea(l than they set to work to
to tIme good work Renaudot was doing try to turn the king against Renaudot.
among the l)OO~ ; and they supported In this, however, they failed co~i
him against his enemies by all the pletely. Not only (lid Louis continue
means in their power. When the to show the most lively interest in the
Medical School refused to sanction the inventions, l)ut he even, as a special
sttl(ly of chemistry, Louis allowed Re- mark of favor, granted Renaudot per-
naudot to establish a I)tlblie laboratory ; mission to build a hospital on a piece
and when the attack on the foreign of common land near the Porte St.
(loctors was continued, lie threatened Antoine This led to more quarrels,
to establish a free school of medicine in for the Parliament denied the kings
Paris. right to give away the land ; an(l the
The struggle went on for years. Duchesse dUz~s, who owned a house
From 1630 to 1642 Renaudot was victo- in the neighborhood, brought an action
nions all along the line ; and although against the doctor for damaging her
the mi(h(hle classes ~vere to a man prol)erty. But little lie recked either
~~gainst him, he was much loved by the of Parliament or of duchesse so long
poor. And well he might be, for no as lie had the king at his back. It had
flh6ophraste Benaudot.
27
been the desire of his life to have a men stood face to face, hurling at each
hospital under his own control ; and other accusations, invectives, and a~l
now that his ~vish seemed on the point forms of personal abuse. Amidst a
of being gratified, his delight knew no storm of mingled groans, hisses, and
bounds. Again all things were goin~ applause, Renaudot taunted Guy Patin
well with him ; again he had put his with his poverty ; declared that he
enemies to confusion. Never was he hired himself out, at a louis the night,
so exultant, so sure of himself 50 sure to provi~1e amusement at aristocratic
of his power to carry all before him,as dinner-tables ; and that his wife passed
in that spring which followed Hiche- off paper-covered sous as crowns at
lieus death. His triumph, however, church collections. Guy Patin retal
was short-lived ; on the 14th of May, iated by holding up to derision his
1643, Louis XIII. died. Then Renan rivals personal appearance; bringing
dot knew that the fa.tes themselves against him infamous charges ; and,
were against him, for all power in the 0(l(1C5t touch of all, by reviving the old
State passed into the hands of Anne of story that it was from the devil he had
Austria, his bitter enemy. obtained his inventions.
T~velve years before this time, lie The verdict was, of course, a fore-
had mortally offended the queen by gone conclnsion. The provost forbade
stating, in the Gazette, at the request Renaudot and all other foreign doctors,
of Richelien, that the king intended to under a penalty of five hundre(l crowns,
divorce her. This, as she knev, was either to practise, or 1101(1 free consul-
tations, or conferences, within the pre
only the cardinals way of ~zivin~ her a
hint to stop her intrigues with the cincts of the city. Renaudots only
Spaniards ; but she was not the woman resource, and it was a desperate one,
to take such a hint in good part ; and was to appeal against this decree to
she never forgave the doctor for pub- Parliament. The greatness of the dan-
lishing it. Louis XIII. was hardly in ger which threatened him restored to
his grave before she began to give him his 01(1 coolness. In his address
-proof of her enmity. When the mcd- to Parliament there is not a touch of
ical faculty applied to her for permis- that personal rancor which had disfig-
sion to carry the dispute with Renaudot ured his speeches before the provost.
before the provost of Paris, she readily For once, at least, lie cast aside all
gra nted it, although she kne~v that the thought of self, avid pleaded only for
late king had repeatedly refused to do the poor. For their sake he implored
so. Renaudot was well a~vare that lie Parliament not to condemn him to
had nothing to hope for from the pro- sta-n(l asi(le helpless and see them suf
yost, who was his personal enemy ; for. Was their misery not great enough
still, lie was resolved that his cause already, lie asked, that men should
should not be lost for want of fighting, combine to render it greater? 1-lis
Unfortunately for his reputation, how- appeal made a profound impression on
-ever, his temper and his nerve began all who heard it. Unfortunately for
to fail him, just when lie 5t00(l most him, however, the lawless element i-n
iii nee(l of them. Moderation had never the city, with- the Duchiesse de Chic
beeiia characteristic of his ; and at this vreuse at its head, had rallied around
time lie cast all restraint to the winds, hiiii ; a fact which prejudicel against
an(l wrote and talked with a reckless him the law-abiding. Besides, Parhia
ness which alienated many who wished mont still bore him a grudge for the
him well, yeomans service lie had rendered its
When the case came before the pro- old opponent, Riclichien. It therefore
vost~ the court was crowded, for it was confirmed the provosts decree, and
knowii that Renaudot and Guy Patin even increased its severity ; fir not
would cross swords, and an encounter content with pronouncing the free con-
between such combatants was not a sultations illegal, it ordered the Bureau
thing to be missed. For days the two dAdresse to be closed. It added, it is
Ih6ophraste Benaudot.
true, a rider to its judgment, requiring
the faculty of Paris to carry on the
work the foreign doctors were doing
among the poor, so far at least as it
related to attending them gratis when
ill.
Thus at one fell swoop, all the in-
ventionsRenaudots lifes work as it
were were swept away. For the
future it was to be imputed to huin as
a crime, if he attempted to relieve the
sufferings of those around him ! Truly,
evil days were come upon him. Finan-
cially lie was ruined, for every farthing
he possessed was invested in the bu-
reau. To add to his troubles, too, his
wife, to whom he was devotedly at-
taclied, died about this time ; and what
was peculiarly trying to one of his
temperament, his splendid physique
began to show signs of weakness. Still
lie was not the man to sink down un-
der defeat. Before his enemies had
well begun their hymn of triumph, old,
weary, aiid poor as lie was, lie was at
work again. He had still his Gazette.
Why that too had not beeii confiscated
it would be hard to say, unless, indeed,
the Parliament thought it more dan-
gerous to deprive the rich of gossip
than the poor of help. His paper was
his only instrument, and lie resolved to
use it vigorously. He threw himself
heart and soul into his work as a jour-
nalist, strailiing every nerve to win
back his old position in the city.. As
the editor of the only authorized news-
palier, he could still make his influence
felt; aiid before many months had
passed, lie was again a personage to be
reckotied with. Mazarin entered into
an alliance with him, and made the
queen understand, for the time at least,
the folly of indulging in petty spite at
the expense of the sniartest pam-
phleteer in the kingdom. In 1646 lie
was appointed royal historiographer,
and a few nionthis later lie was allowed
to reopen his Labor Bureau.
lienaudot had to pay a heavy price
for Mazarins support. Frondeur of
Frondeurs as lie was by instinct, lie
had to fight tooth and nail against the
Fronde. Perhaps, though, lie did this
the more readily, as it gave him the
chance of paying off some of his old
scores against the Parliament. So
completely did lie throw in his lot with
the cardinal, that when the queen fled
to St. Germain, lie accompanied her,
and took with hiini his printing-press.
Before lie left the city, however, fear-
ing lest the Parliament should, during
his absence, start a newspaper of its
own, lie organized the Gourrier Fran-
~ais under the editorship of his two
sons, and placed it at the service of his
bitterest opponent.
The Parliament, only too glad to
have a journal ready to hand, entered
into the arrangement most cordially.
During the civil war, Renaudot was
practically the inspirer, manager, and
director of the organs of the rival par-
ties. In the Gazette lie denounced the
Frondeurs as traitors of the deepest
dye, aiid swore that hanging was too
good for them ; whilst in the Gourrier,
he hurled threats at the queen and her
ministers, and called upon the people
to rally around the Parliament. The
Fronde affords ninny odd spectacles,
but none odder, surely, than that of the
editor of the official organ of a goverli-
ment acting also as the editor of the
official organ of a party iii rebellion
against that government. Aristocratic
Frondeurs found the comiibination of
rdles aniusing, but the populace failed
to see the joke. They were furious,
too, that their old favorite should, as
they said, have donned the livery of
the foreign gang; and when ilenaudot
returne(l with the court to Paris, lie
was received with an outburst of popu-
lar anger. No blow he ever received
touclie(l him so keenly. When the
great had turned against hiimii, lie had
given them back scorn for scorn ; but
when the rabble, for whiomii lie bad
domie so munch, hissed and hooted hiimii,
it was otherwise.
From that day lie was never quite
the samiuc miian. A certain Ishumnehitishi
feehiiig took l)ossessioii of hiimuu, and he
seemed for the first time to realize how
completely lie stood alone in thie world.
But lie hind no time for mourning, for
troubles were crowding in upon hiimn
fromn every side. Mazarin did not dare
28
Village bfe in France.
to return to Paris, and the queen, tak-
ing advantage of his absence, began
again to show her ill feeling to IRenau-
dot. She refused to repay to him the
money lie had spent transporting his
printing -press to St. Germain, she
stopped the State subsidy to the Ga-
zette, and even forbade the ministers to
continue supplying its editor with offi-
cial information. He had his revenge,
though, speedily; for when Anne was
obliged again to retire to St. Germain,
in spite of her threats, persuasions,
and entreaties, he refused to go with
her.. She had better start a journal of
her own, lie told her. In the crowd
which surrounded her she might pos-
sibly, though lie doubted it, find some
one with brains enough to act as editor.
Meanwhile the constant strain under
which he was living had overtaxed his
strenoth and in 1649 lie had a paralytic
stroke. He soon, however, threw off
its effects, and was once more to the
fore.
In 1651 iRenaudot was guilty of an
act of folly, of the sort which those
who knew him best were least able to
understand. No man had jibed and
jeered more mercilessly than lie at the
weaknesses of his contemporaries, and
his cruellest sneers had always been
reserved for those whom love led
astray. Yet, in his old age, at a time
when he coul(l hardly plead passion as
an excuse, he married a young and
beautiful woman, Louise de Mascon by
name. The marriage proved a most
unhappy one; the husband was jeal-
ous, and lacking alike in tenderness
and consideration; while the wife was
fond of pleasure, and nohe too careful
of her good name. Before long their
quarrels supplied gossips with endless
piquant stories, which were speedily
put into verse for the very boys in the
street to sing and whistle. The knowl
- edge that he was being thus exposed
to public derision drove the old man
wild ; and scenes of such violence oc-
curred between him and his wife, that
mutual friends were forced to step in
and arrange a separation. But this
was not done until he had been stricken
for the second time with paralysis.
29
Then it was evident the end was draw-
ing near. He passed away quite sud-
denly on the 25th of October, 1653.
To the last lie retained his mental
vigor, and continued editing the Gazette
to the day lie died. Some of his best
work, indeed, as a journalist was done
when death was within hail, as it were.
The article he published when Dunkirk
was captured, is a model in its way.
It is an appeal vehement in tone,
yet not lacking in dignity to his
countrymen to cease their petty wran-
glings, and unite before it be too late
for the defence of the Fatherland. Nor
is the exhortation less admirable which
he addressed to the Parisians, when
Louis XIV. returned to the city at the
conclusion of the civil war. A some-
what pathetic interest is attached to
this article, for it was written when
things were at the very worst with
him, when lie was alone in the world,
in suffering, giteux comrne un peintre,
as Guy Patin sneers, and, cruellest
touch of all, when lie was being held
up to the town as a laughing-stock.
Yet, far from bearing any traces of
gloom or despondency, his words ring
with gladness and hope. He bids his
fellow-citizens be of good cheer, for all
their troubles are at an end, and bright
days are coming, days of glory and
prosperity.
For them yes, perhaps, but not for
him, for he was face to face with death,
and lie knew it. And tant pis pour
rnoi, he seems to call down to his fel-
lows from his Mount Pisgah, shrugging
his shoulders as lie does so. At least,
I can rejoice that your lines are cast
in pheasanter places than mine have
been. There is always a touch of
heroism in the man who, worsted in
the fight himself, can still rejoice with
those who rejoice.
EDITH SELLERS.
From The contemporary Review.
VILLAGE LIFE IN FRANCE.
BY A FRENCH OFFICIAL.
A GREAT deal of attention has been
given of late in English papers and
30
reviews to the condition of the inhab- ants, whose means do not allow their
itants of the rural districts in France.
It is alleged that their condition, owing
to the parcelling out of the land, ~vhicli
dates from the Revolution, is better
than that of the rural pol~ulation in
England. The question is an impor-
tant one, because on its solution will,
perhaps, depend new laws fostering
the estal)lishment of la petite proprUt~
in England, with the consequences en-
tailed by it. It appears to me that
many of the writers of these articles
dra~v their conclusions from obser-
vations made during a residence in
France, of more or less short (luration,
under favorable circumstances. They
also seeni somewhat biassed by their
political opinions, which tend to make
them see the subject from their own
particular l)oint of view. It is my
enileavor to cast a true light on this
point ; careful data, gathered from
many districts situated in different
pasts of France, form the basis of this
article ; moreover a stay of more than
fifteen years in the country in France
will, I think, enable me to interpret
rightly the facts which fell under my
notice, and, at any rate, not to be one-
sided on a many-sided question ; be-
sides, as I am myself to a small extent
a landowner, I can speak from personal
exl)erience on that head. As the ma-
terial condition of the French rustics is
not the only one which ought to inter-
est us, I will try to give here a coni-
plete picture of country life in France,
such as the Revolution has mostly
made it.
The economical and intellectual con-
dition of French country people, their
political and religious opinions, will
each be successively dealt with.
I. Econornica~ Gondition. The pop-
ulation of French villages is mainly
composed of day laborers, farmers, and
small landowners. With the country
squires, the few belonging to the
learned professions, and those follow-
ing handicrafts, we need concern our-
selves only as far as necessary.
At the bottom of the social scale are
the day laborers ; they are recruite(l
from the families of the poorest peas-
sons to learn a trade. For the most.
part they work on the farms ; the
wages they get, and the number of
hours they work, vary accordin gtothe
seasons, which one mna.y (lesignate the
fine and the bad seasons. The fine
season begins in February ; then the
work consists chiefly of hedging and
ditching, the hours of labor lasting
from (lawn until sunset, and the labor-
ers earning about is. per (lay. In
April the wages rise to is. 3d. and is..
8d. With the hay harvest the work
increases; labor commences at 4 A,M.
and lasts until sunset. If one deducts.
the time taken up by the four mneals,~
one finds that they work twelve hours,
and are in the field no less than six-
teen. At this time the wages have in-
creased ; the men earn bet~veen 2s. 6d.
and 4s. a day. During the corn har-
vest the wages are still high, the maxi-
mum being Ss.
After the harvest comes the thrash-
ing of the corn, with the steam-engine
as the days shorten, the wages lessen,,
4s., 2s. 6d., and is. 6d. In November
be~ins the bad season, which lasts until
February. These are bad days for the
laborer, he thrashes oats with the flail.
to provide the cattle with fresh forage
and straw. He commences his days.
work by having breakfast at the farm
at 5 A.M. (for in France, in adoition to
his daily wage, the laborer receives his
food), work begins at 5.30 A.M. and
lasts till 6 ~ as a rule till the An-
gems. Then he earns only lOd. or
is. a day. Some are emploe(l in
ploughing during October and Novemn-
ber. They breakfast at 5.30, and
plough until 2 r.~i. when ploughing
with oxen ; if with horses these are
unharnessed at 11 A.M. to rest until
2 P.M., when ploughing recommences
and continues until sunset.
Time meals which the laborer receives
are very frugal in winter soups, vege-
tal)les i.e., potatoes and haricot
beans, bread and cheese in the morn-
I At present there commences to be a tendency
in some parts of France to discontinue feeding the
laborers at the farm; instead a small increase of
wages, about Gd. a day, is given.
Village L~fe in France.
Village Life in France.
ing, and water to drink; at noon, soup
itI1(t Vegetal)leS ; in the evening they
gene rally have soup, cheese, and salad.
During haymaking and harvest time
they receive meat twice a day and a
bottle of light wine. Thc latter at the
present day is so often adulterated,
that it is not nearly so ~vholesome as
English beer. In Normandy the usual
drink of the laborer is cider. The
workmen whose condition we have
been (liscussing, being em~)loyc(l regu-
larly at the farms, are sure of work all
the year round ; but there are others
who are often out of work. A laborer
regularly employed may earn on an
average 20 a year and his food; one
not regularly employed never more
than 16.
Now let us follow the laborer to his
own home. Some are the owners of
their cottages and a small garden
some also possess a cow, pigs, goats,
or poultry, and then their condition is
materially better than that of many
others not so fortunate.
When the laborer does not own his
cottage he has to rent one. It is, as a
rule, composed of two rooms (both
with a brick floor), and a small kitchen
garden attached to this is about three
hundred square metres in extent ; for
cottage and garden he pays a rent of
about 3. The food of the laborers
family does not differ much from what
he gets at the farm soup and vege-
tables in the spring, summer, and au-
tumn, herrings in the winter, and eggs
on Sunday; they would have a pound
of meat oii an average once a month,
generally when they have a visitor.
The wife usually remains at home
housekeeping duties require all her
energies, particularly if there should
be several children. Sometimes she
goes haymaking in the season, or wash-
ing for other people; then she earns
lOd. a day and her food. On herself
she would not spend more than 8 a
year for food and clothes. The laborer
would require to spend about 2 on his
own clothes, and wood for fuel would
cost at least 2. Then we must not
forget the taxation, which consists of a things must undoubtedly be attributed.
personal tax of Ifr. SOc., assessed tax to agricultural depression which has
Sfr., and a. l)iesbmtion tax, in money or-
kind, 4fr. SOc (this is for keeping the
roads in order ; a man sul)l)lies the
labor, or a horse and cart, or the stones~
or the money) ; in all llfr. 30c., or 9s.
This leaves hitt~ more thami 4 for th&
support of his children. One nee(l not.
be surprised that many run into (lebt.
to tl)e baker, the sabotier (niaker of
wooden shoes), etc. The first thing
they pay is the rent. Of course they
do not owe much, rarely more than 4
at a time, but even this is considerable
to l~eoh)le of such small means ; buU
eventually they pay their debts, iii.
most cases ~)1incipally when they have
grown-up children who are able to go.
out to service. The children go out to.
service as soon as they have made their
first communion. The boys are
employed by the farmers as cowkeepers~
and shepherds. When twelve or thir-
teen they earn from 3 to 4 a year,,
from thirteen to fifteen about 5 ; then
their wages increase steadily till at
twenty they can earn 20. Of course
they receive food and lodging besides.
A fact worth remarking is the tie which
unites French cli ildren to their l)a.ien ts.
Not only do the children in service
help their parents, but in many cases
even at the age of twenty they dive
them all their savings, which often
amount to 8 a year. Then the par-.
ents can pay their small debts, and.
sometimes even buy a bit of land. As
regards the girls, they earn rather less.
Many become seamstresses ; they earn
about lOd. a day and their food ,an(l, of~
course, they give the money to their
parents ; many, again, become domes-
tic servants and help their parei~ts in
the same way as the boys. The mate-.
rial condition of the day laborer is not
so good as it was fifteen or even ten,
years ago ; one may confidently affirm
that they earn 3 less than they did,.
amid a farm servant of twenty years 2..
less. Still rent is the same, the taxes,
however slight they may be, have in-
creased, wood is dearer, bread is cer-
tainly not cheaper, clothing alone costs
less now. The cause of this state of
3
Village Lfe in France.
l)ervaded all Europe, and to the bad
harvest~s of the last ten years. How-
ever, their COn(litiOii is much better
than it was half a century ago in every
way. Then men might be seen thresh-
ing the coin in winter, working by the
light of a lamp from 3.30 A.M. to 7
r.~i., receiving only Gd. a day and their
food, and during harvest they only
earned is. 6d. a day. A farm servant
of fourteeii years of age, who now
earns at least 4 a year, then received
only his food, the farmer supplying him
with wooden shoes and a blouse ; at
seventeen only would he begin to earn
a little money. As a rule the French
laborer is sobe i, industrious, hardwork-
ing, an(l thrifty, his chief aim being to
save a little money or to buy land to
leave to his children. As a rule fami-
lies are not numerous, and one rarely,
if ever, sees such early marriages as are
frequent among the lower classes in
England. One reason is that the inil-
itary service is compulsory, every man,
unless physically disabled, is bound to
serve for three years, from twenty-one
to twenty-four, so they cannot marry
till this is over at any rate, and many
do not till much later. However, the
military service is certainly borne with
out reluctance and as a matter of
course by most Frenchmen.
From what has been already said it
will be concluded that in a country
district very few are entirely destitute
all who can work do so ; it is onl yin
eases of impotency, or infirmity attend-
ing old age, or of protracted sickness
that outdoor relief is given. I say ad-
visedly, outdoor relief, because the
workhouse is an institution ii n kno~vn
in Fiance. Relief is given by the par-
ish, l)y the department, or by the State,
according to circumstances. Let us
take an ordinary parish of one thou-
sand inhabitants, the money voted for
relief is very rarely over 8 a year.
We must add from 2 to 3 which is
distributed in bread on July 14, the day
of the National Fete. The 8 is partly
given to those in want, and l)artly de-
voted to pay the doctor in cases where
the sick are too poor to do so. A sum
of 3 lOs. is inscribed on the budget of
the parish as a contribution towards
the support of the (lepartmental lunatic
asylum, whether the parish has any
lunatics or not, and should any of the
inhabitants become lunatics, and the
money at the disposal of the depart-
ment not be sufficient for their sul)l)ort,
the parish would have to pay a supple-
mentary sum. Iii the case of a poor
man being or(lered to the hospital of
the department, the parish would have
to pay the expenses amounting to about
is. 2d. a day, but the department might
undertake a pa.rt of the expenses, as a
rule, onethird ; it would be the same
if a poor person had an operation to
undergo. It may happen that a patient
is ordered to the seaside ; if lie cannot
afford the expenses, they are defrayed,
not by the parish, but by the depart-
ment. In the case of an illegitimate
birth, the father cannot be summoned
by the mother and bound by law to
contribute a weekly sum to the support
of the child till it reaches the age of
fourteen or fifteen, as in England ; if
the mother is unable to support her
child, a sum of money is paid to lici
monthly for three years ; the first year
she receives twelve francs monthly
the second, seven ; the third, five
these sums are paid by the department,
and there are al~vays one or two cases
in a parish of about a thousand inhab-
itants. A child born blind is sent to
the Institution of the I3lind in Paris,
which is supported by the State ; one
(leaf and dumb, to a Deaf and Dumb
Institution in Paris, if lie obtains a
scholarship to go there ; if not he must
be paid for. In the chief town of each
department is an orphanage, to. which
destitute orphans are sent, or fatherless
destitute children. The seeming irreg-
ularities in the distribution of public
assistance must be explained by the
(lesire to equalize the expenses all over
the department. The prefect and the
Council of the Prefecture decide to
what extent the department may aid a
parish, and, of course, they keep an
account of the financial situation of the
parish ; in fact, the prefect is absolute
master of the budget of the parish ; he
may order it to pay what contribution
Yillaqe L?fe in France.
to the departmental expenses he thinks
i~ecessary ; he can SUSI)elid the mayor
in case of bad management, or revoke
his appointment in case of crime, de
~l roil coinmaa. If the parish has a dis
pute with another parish, or with pri
sate in(Iivi(1u~ils, the Council of the
rrefecture is the arbi{rator, or, as a
last resort, the State.
In the rural (listricts of France notli
in~z is done for the amusement of the
laborer, or to improve him morally or
intellectually ; there are no working
mciis clubs, no concerts or winter en-
tertainments got up by the richer
inhabitants for the instruction and
amusement of their less fortunate
brethren. No distribution of blankets
and coals in the winter, no soupkitch
ens, no school treats and entertainments
for the children. Indeed, nothing is
done for the poor except what is done
by the parish or State. There are no
institutions such as cottage hospitals
kept up by private subscriptions. The
ordinary village priest has little in coin
mon with the English country clergy-
man the former has much influence
with the women and children, little
with the men ; lie is often a boa vicant
who neither wins nor deserves much
resl)ect, consequently religion is at a
very lo~v ebb; of course there are many
excel)tions to this ; in Normandy, ~vhere
the people are still religious, the priests
have much influence, and are greatly
iesl)eeted. Wherever they may be,
however, the sisters of charity do good
service in ministering to the wants of
the sick an(l needy. In France there
:i& UC few such great lan(lowners as in
England, where large estates, on which
hundreds of men are employed, are
frequent. In England a great land-
owner takes an interest in his laborers
they are never allowed to want, and are
looked after in sickness. There is in
most cases a strong bond of sympathy
between employer and employed, the
retainers having ia many instances
served the same great family from fa-
ther to son for several generations. In
France this~bond of sympathy does not
exist; the nobleman or great land-
~owner does little or nothing for those
LLV1~G AGE. VOL. II. 55
;33
he employs, and the French peasant,
with his feelings of equality ~ engen-
dered by Republicanism, (lislikes and
despises the aristocracy. From this it
will be seen that the condition of the
French laboreX~ differs materially from
that of the English, whether for better
or worse is just now a matter of opin-
ion. In France, though less is done
for him, and he is less cared for, he is
more independent ; lie relies on him-
self and his own exertions to better his
condition and that of his children ; and
as, by hard work and thrift, he is able
to do so by saving money and buying
a little land, lie is perhaPs harder
working, and certainly more thrifty
than the English laborer.
After the laborer, the next to be con-
sidered is the farmer, that is a man
who rents land to farm, not one who
farms his own land ; the latter comes
under the head of lando~vner (propri~-
taire). In a French parish there are
many big farms. The average acreage
is about three hundred and fifty acres.
In most cases the farmer lives sim-
ply, but is not able to save money, and
some even become bankrupt. Twenty
years ago the same farmer would save
200 a year. I have known several
who died leaving 4,000 to their chil-
dren. Then it was not rare to see in
one parish four or five farmers possess-
iiig from 4,000 to 12,000; but now,
owing to the agricultural depression,
most of them have undergone heavy
losses ; yet there is the curious fact
that rent has been but slightly dimia-
ished. Twenty years ago the farmers
were the kings of the parish ; a cer-
tain prestige still attaches to their
title ; they are called maitre by every-
body; one speaks of Maitre So-and-so.
Many find it hard to lose this presti~e,
an(l so remain in their farms paying
too much rent and losing money rather
than give them up. The rent of the
small farms ha~ lessened to a greater
extent. A farm rented ten years ago
at 140 is now rented at 80. On an
average the rent has decreased about
one-third. The same fact is observable
with still smaller farms. A farm of
twenty acres let for 20, now is let for
34 Villaye Life in France.
16, and very often the landowner can be made to support six persons, and~
does not receive his rent. I know 1)ar- the owner is able to put by about 30 a
ticularly of a small farm the rent of year. The small landowner farms his
which twenty years ago was 32 ; now land himself, because to let it would
it is let for 24. But I have been told uot pay him, insomuch as he has t~
by competent judges that to make any- pay the taxes for his land,. and th&
thing out of it the tenant ought not to taxes have increased more than fifty
pay more than 18. It is no wonder per cent. in Ihe rural districts, owing to~
that by this arrangement the farmer the building of costly schools in nearly
falls into bad circumstances. It is a every parish. Like the fanner, the
fact that rents have not decreased in landowner works very hard ; he lives..
prol)ortion to the prevailing agricultural under nearly the same conditions, and
depression. his children rcceive al)out the same
The farmers work very hard ; they advantages, but his position is superior
are the first to rise and the last to go to inasmuch as his life is freer from care,..
bed in the household ; twenty years and he is able to leave at his death
ago they took no active part in the his land as well as his savings to his
work, only superintended it ; but now children.
they work as hard as their own labor- One of the consequences of agricul
ers. The farmers wife rises at 4 A.M., tural depression has been the deprecia
superinten(hs and works with the ser- tion of the land ; money becomes rarer~
vants ; she also attends to the dairy and rarer in the country districts, and~
an(l ~)ouhtry yard. those who possess it generally invest it~
At the first glance it would appear in something more profitable. Nobody
that the farmers being obliged to work cares to buy land because it yields only
so hard (10 not have a much more a very small interest; though ninny
agreeable life than the laborers ; but who have run into debt owing to the
apart from the work they have many depression, offer to sell at low prices~
advantages. They have plenty of very often at fifty per cent. loss, and I
wholesome and varied food, poultry or have known land sold for even one-
butchers meat at every meal, wine, third or one-fourth of the original mar
coffee, and liqueurs, besides the prod- ket value. Small estates bought thirty
uce of gardei~ and dairy. Then, of years ago for 2,000 will not fetch
course, their children have superior more than 1,000 now, principally
advantages, remaining longer at school when the land is not useful to turn into
and receiving a better education, being meadows for grazing, amble land bein~
sent often as boarders to the nearest much less profitable.
lyc~e. or college. They do not often To buy land at a low price is tempt-
become farmers on completing their ing, but it does not often pay, espe-
education ; one son will probably me- cially if the buyer borrows money to
main at home to assist the father; if pay for it; in the country the people
there are more sons they obtaingov- borrow at five per cent., yet the clear
eminent em~)loyment, enter commerce profit they obtain by working the hand
or different I)rofessions. themselves is not more than three per
Perhaps the small landowner is the cent. However, such is the love of
happiest of the inhabitants of a country the French peasantry for in terre
parish ; there will be l)eI~haps thirty in that many ruin themselves in this way ;.
a parish whose population is one thou for instance, I personally knew of one
sand. They possess from eighteen to who bonght land at 80 the. hectare
one hundred acres at a rough calcula- (two and one-half acres) ; as he had no
tion. They cultivate their farms by ready money he borrowed at five per
themselves, their expenses are few, cent., but he could not make the land
and they are sure, at any rate, to make pay more than two per cent. Indeed
enough to live on. it would, perhaps, be better to say that
A well-cultivated farm of fifty acres the land has, in fact, no value at pines-
Village Life in France.
ent; it is offered for sale, but few or
none will buy.
The statements made above, though
true of the parishes I had in view, do
not apply to the condition of all the
agricultural districts of France ; sev-
eral qualifications must be added. In
the first j)lace, the parcelling out of tjie
land has not been carried everywhere
to the same extent. In Champagne
and principally in the Department de
in Maine, for instance, the farmers are
very few an(l the landowners many.
In the centre of France the number of
farmers is more considerable, though
greatly outnumbered by the landown-
ers. On the other han(l, in some parts
of France the culture is scientific, as
in the north (Flandre and Picardie)
it is less so in the centre and south.
Moreover, the condition of the country
pCol)le is better in the north-west than
in the east ; for instance, in Normandy
the agriculturists are richer than in
Franche Comt~, because the Normans
are breeders of horses and cattle, and
because their expenses of culture are
small, most of the land being meadows.
On market days one frequently sees
the farmers wives and daughters wear-
ing silk dresses, gold watches, and
other jewellery, and caps of fine point
dAlen~on which are often worth 20.
One never sees this in the east. I
must add that the northern and west-
ern departments have outlets for butter
and eggs in the English markets, which
is not the case in other parts of France.
Now, as regards the savings of the
French peasant; no doubt they are
considerable in many cases, but this
must l)artly be explained by his having
a small family. He cannot endure the
idea of his son or daughter occupying a
position inferior to his own ; for this
reason, he toils early and late, scrapes
and saves all he can to provide for
them. But it remains to be proved
whether this custom does not destroy
the inpirit of initiative of the new
French generation, and whether a cap-
ital in men is not better for a nation in
the long run than a capital in money.
The standstill of the French pol)ula-
tion is mainly owing to the parcelling
out of French property; for example,
all property, whether of land or money,
is equally (hivi(led at the owners death
among his children, consequently, if lie
has several children, their separate
shares of a snall estate would be very
small; it follows that the smaller the
family the better each child will be
provided for.
Another drawback is that the small
landowner has not enough money to
carry out scientific methods. I have
seen it asserted in English articles that
farming in France is largely scientific
how can that be so when in England
where it is so, the produce of the land
is twice as much as in France ? In
the north of France, the cultivation is
largely scientific, and much progress
has been made generally in the cultiva-
tion of the land during the last fifteen
years. In every department, there
is a syndicat agricole of which many
farmers are members. By this means
they can buy artificial manures cheaply,
and at the present day twice as much
manure is used as there was twenty
years ago. What the farmers and
principally the small landowners need
is money. One may add that the most
intelligent Frenchmen go to towns or
enter government employment; only
those who are obliged cultivate the
land, and there are few gentlemen
farmers in France. Besides money,
the farmer wants technical education;
most of them work their farms by rou-
tine.
There are agricultural colleges in
France, but they do not appear to pro-
duce much good ; the students do not
often put their knowledge to a practical
use, many of them only studying to
become themselves professors of agri-
culture, of which there is one in every
department; but it is rare to meet with
a farmer who has studied agriculture
at one of these colleges.
We have seen that the small land-
owners cultivate their land themselves
the large ones let theirs out in farms,
but they take no interest in the land
beyond receiving the rents, and are
generally absentee landlords. As has
been shown they are different from the
35
36
generality of English landowne rs, hav-
ing little or no interest in or sympathy
with the peasantry.
II. Educational Condition. The ed-
ucation in country (listricts is given
by teachers paid by the government.
There are, at least, two in the smallest
parish, a tuale teacher for the boys and
a female for the gitis. When a com-
mune is composed of a bourg an(l of a
distant ha inlet sufficiently populated,
the latter has its own schools, though
very often the hamlet is not two miles
distant.
Many disadvantages attend this sys-
tem ; in the first place, the expenses
entailed by building two new schools
tell heavily on the taxes of the com-
mune. Parishes of one thousand in-
habitants have spent about 3,000 in
building schools, the consequence being
that the taxes have been doubled. In
this case, the inhabitants have only
themselves to blame, or rather the mu-
nicipal council ; the government did
not require them to incur a lavish and
often needless expense. I do not mean
to infer that these expenses were alto-
gether useless, but it is none the less
true that the money could have been in
part better spent, as we shall see. We
must add that this part of the dette
communale will be redeemed by annu-
ities after a lapse of thirty years.
Another disadvantage may be pointed
out. The idea was not to entrust each
teacher with more than fifty pupils, but
it was presLimed that the attendance
would have been regular, inasmuch as
it is enforced by the law ; but in fact,
whereas there are about fifty pupils
attending the school (luring the winter,
this number decreases gra(lually as
soon as the parents want the aid of
their children to work in the fields.
In June and July, there are often no
more than twelve or sixteen children
who attend regularly. Then the teach-
ers can have no forms or division,
that is to say, groups of pupils able
to go through a certain course of teach-
ing. If the fifty pupils always attended,
they woul(l form the three divisions
prescribed by the programmue cours
~i~mentaire, cours moyen, and cours
Village Life in France.
sup ~rieur, instead of this when the
number of l)upils is reduced to fifteen,
the divisions or standards arc broken
up ; moreover, if the pupils attending
make good progress, still when their
comnra(lescomue back at the reopening
of the school in October, they are
obliged to begin afresh, where the oth-
ers left off six months before. This
state of things is a source of discour-
agement for the teachers and the pu-
pils who attend regularly. Tinder the
old system, the schools were over-
ctowdeci in winter, the teacher having
nearly one hundred to teach, but then
in summer there were at least forty
children in attendance.
A third coml)laint raised against the
new regulation is that the salaries of
the teachers have diminished with the
law enforcing free education. The pu-
pils used to pay fees if their patents
had the means, if not, the parish paid
for them ; in that way the salary of
the teacher ~vas larger the greater the
number of the pupils. In many cases
it was higher than it is now ; on the
other hand, as the State guaranteed 8
only, and as a part of the teachers sal-
ary was paid by the parents who were
well-to-do, it did not cost the State, or
even the parish, as much as it does
now. It must also be added that the
building of new schools (liminished the
grounds (such as a private garden),
which were formerly at the disposal of
the teacher. Whatever may be said
against the new law, one must not
overlook the fact that these objections
represent only one side of a many-
sided question. Money has been
wasted on schools which were not al-
ways necessary; but when the law was
first passed, the Republic wanted to se-
cure the future by diffusing instruction
everywhere, and it is believed that this
wise measure begins to bear fruit. If
the Republic is becoming more and
more consolidated in France it is due,
in a large measure, to the diffusion of
primary instruction, and one caii easily
understand how in her anxiety she a
little overstepped the mark. Now,
when the law of compulsory education
can be enforced, the second objection
Village Lfe in France.
will disappear; the people do not yet
understand the full value of education,
but they will learn by degrees, and the
law will gradually pitss into the habits
of the people. Then it is not quite
true that the establishment of free edu-
cation has diminished the salaries of
the teachers ; this is certainly the case
in thickly populated districts, but it has
increased the salaries in the thinly pop
ulated parishes. It would have been
better to have increased the number of
assistant teachers inste ad of multiply-
ing the number of schools beyond all
measure.
On the other hand, one must not
overlook the fact that the multiplica-
tion of schools and the establishment of
free education (leprive the parents of
every pretext for not sending their chil-
dren to school. The edncation given
in these schools is very good, the teach-
ers being all trained and certificated.
The subjects taught are French, arith-
metic and mensuration, history and
geography (general, and that of France
in particular), the principles of morals,
instruction civique, which embraces
knowledge necessary to every citizen
concerning his duties and rights, the
administration of the parish, tha.t of
the department, and then of the State,
the use and election of deputies, etc.,
and all relating to the manner in which
the country is governed; the rudiments
of physical and natural sciences, agri-
culture (theoretical and practical),
drawing, and elementary music. Girls
are taught needlework instead of agri-
culture. Religion finds no place in the
teaching of the schools ; parents who
wish their children to receive religious
instruction send them to the classes
held by the priest in the church. Al-
though the instruction to be obtained is
very good, yet the class of agricultural
laborers is certainly not more intelli-
gent than in England, because after
they leave school they have no means
of improvement, nothing being done,
as I have shown, to interest or amuse
them.
A better way of judging of the prog-
ress of education since the establish-
ment of the Republic, is to compare
37
what it was with what it is now. Of
the generation of men born in the first
and second decades of the century,
scarcely any were able to read a paper,
a few only were able to sign their
names. Durirg the war of 187.071 it
was rare to find in the country a man
of mature age able to read the papers.
In a village I know well, twenty-five
years ago only four persons subscribed
to a local newspaper, now fifteen sub-
scribe to local and Parisian papers
besides which there are two newspaper
depots for Parisian papers, at which
twenty-five are sold daily, and it must
he remembered that these papers pass
from hand to hand. Forty years ago
most teachers were men who had failed
in other employments and by no means
qualified to be teachers; and every
parish had not its own teacher. The
school was a damp, dark room, in com-
parison with which the present schools
appear almost h)alaces. Another fact
is that the children read more, the
school library is at their disposal and
that of their parents. Many of these
libraries were founded in 1867, but up
to 1877 they were not much taken ad-
vantage of, moreover the books they
contained were given by the ministry
of public instruction of the Second
Empire. A set of books could not
have been more badly chosen. There
were, it is true, some books on agri-
culture, but the choice of most was
(lictate(l by a dynastic interest, Le
Livre dor de la famille Bonaparte,
Une Vie de Napoleon, Instruction
pastorale (le Mgr. hEv~que dAmiens.
Some others were too childish and silly
for adults. Another gift of books was
receive(l in 1883 from the ministry
these are well chosen in general but
not numerous enough. In a certain
village, otit of about ninety books
scarcely fifty are in general demand at
present, and these numbers gradually
diminish because people and parents
cannot read the same books over and
over again. The libraries ought to be
1)etter suph)hie(l ; perhaps French peas-
ants would not read as much as English
peol)le of the same class, but it is a
matter of great importance that having
38
received an education as good as, if
not superior to, that given in En~lish
village schools, they should be allowe(l
to give up reading for want of books.
III. Political Opinions and Educa-
tion. What are the political opinions
of the country people, and are they
founded on a solid I)asis ? In the firs.t
place, all the workmen are Republi-
cans. If they were asked why, they
could not give very apl)ropriate an-
swers ; they say that an empire with a
Napoleon is henceforth impossible, the
name of Napoleon is ~associated with
Sedan. Very few are still Bonapart-
ists. The latter associate the Empire
with high wages, and they believe that
the emperor was betrayedveada, as
they say and they will listen to no
reason on the subject ; but this class is
disappearing rapi(lly. On the other
hand, a royaut~ is inseparable in the
mind of a Frenchman from le gouverne-
ment des cures, and this is quite suffi-
cient to prevent the idea of a monarchy
from being popular.
The country laborers also are Repub-
licans, and for the same reasons ; but,
as a rule, they are moderate, their
minds are not overheated by discus-
sions in the workshops an(l the reading
of advanced papers. Twenty years
ago scarcely any of the small landown-
ers were Republicans ; they had heard
of the Rouges and the partageux of
1848; they knew that Napoleon was
the saviour of civilization, the man
of oider. Republican in their mind
meant partageux or canaille, people
who had nothing to lose by a revolu-
tion, whereas they themselves had
much to lose. They used to say: All
Republicans are not rascals, but all
rascals are sure to be Republicans ;
so in their minds Republic and inse-
curity of property were inseparable.
With the new generation this false
idea is gradually disappearing. The
only people who have not joined the
party of the Republic are the large
farmers ; they wish to please their
landlords, who are in most eases the
squires of the parish, and have still the
feudal prejudices of their ancestors,
and believe they belong to a superior
Village bfe in France.
race ; and in the farmers opinion they
rise in the social scale by having the
same ideas as their landlords. Then
both landlord and farmer are vexed to
see that the mass of the population no
longer lo~k up to them as superior be-
ings ; the spirit of equality which has
spread so much during the twenty
years of the Republic is very distaste-
ful to them. Formerly the laborers
submitted to many things from the
master ;it would have been consid-
ered a dis0race for him to have been
turned out of a large farm; he would
have been considered a seditious per-
son, and it would have been difficult for
him to find work on another farm.
I3ut now the laborer assumes an air of
independence, and the farmer must be
careful not to assume an air of author-
ity towards him. But the spirit of
equality is not the only cause of this
change. The farmers are no longer as
prosperous and well off as they were
twenty years ago. The laborers know
this, and in the country riches are
thought a great deal of. However, it
is certain that French countrymen are
very backward in l)olitical education.
When there is a bad harvest they still
think it is in some way the fault of the
government.
Ia 1888 the harvests failed through-
out France; I frequently heard the
countrymen say, Oh, I am not sur-
prised with such a government. The
women went further, saying that God
would not favor a Republic. Farmers,
whom one would have supposed more
enlightened, made similar remarks.
Others co niplained that the govern-
ment did not do enough for agriculture.
Others said what they needed was to~
gourernement dargeat. If a general
election had taken place then the con-
sequences might have been serious.
At the time of the Boulangist agitation
I heard a horse dealer complain that
the times were hard, but that he knew
of a remedy. What we want, said
he, with the air of a man who has a
secret to communicate, is a coup
d t.~tat; oni, un bon coup d ~tat et les
affaires iront bien. however, the
new generation are better educated;
Village Life in France.
they no longer believe that if the rain
falls when not needed it is the fault of
the governinen t ; they no longer be-
lieve that a failure of the harvest is
caused by the form of government, but
they still believe, if they find it difficult
to sell their cattle, or if they only fetch
low prices and if trade is languishing,
that it is the fault of the governmeit.
That Frenchmen at large still believe
that the government can make trade
-ba(l or good, can protect trade, is shown
by the protectionist ideas still pervad-
ing the country ; the ~void protection
is sufficient argumeiit ; in deed, most
Frenchmen believe in a State provi-
dence that can (10 everything. The
-~overnment ought to (10 this or that for
us, is a l)llrase frequently heard from
workmen. I need hardly point out
that this belief implies that the State
can create something out of nothing.
Nobody thinks that if the State does
something somebody else must pay.
As regards the affairs of the l)aIisll,
the political education is still worse.
The affairs are managed by a mayor
nud a municipal council ; they decide
all affairs relating to the domestic econ-
umy of the parish, etc., but they are
un(ler the control of the prefect of the
~department, who can annul, if neces-
sary, any of their measures. The
mayors and municipal councillors, in
many cases, show a rare deficiency of
practical sense. As before stated, many
schools have been built in hamlets
where they were not necessary, merely
because the mayor and the majority of
the council belonged to that hamlet
by vanity they wished to endow their
village with a school, and, further,
their names would be handed down
:associated with the building of the
schools. Then, in other cases, schools
nrc enlarged and repaired. Eh, they
say, we have done nearly as much
for our parish as they have for their
hamlet, and we shall not lose any op-
~ortunity of embellishing it while we
nrc in power; and in this way they
play with the finances of their fellow- repose of their souls for at least a year.
parishioners ; many have had their At the end of the year they have une
taxes doubled through this mismanage- messe de bout cle ran, at which all the
irnent. Surely, I said to the gentle- family is present.
man who related this fact to me, they
will not again return the men who
have overburdened them with taxes.
You are mistaken, he said, they
have but a dun idea of the cause of the
increase(l taxes ; they would vote a~aia
for the very men who ha(l caused it.
It will be seen that these people are
imperfectly acquainted with the princi-
ples of causation, some of theta are
terribly superstitious, and political su-
perstition will not be the first to be
uprooted. Nevertheless it would not
be fair to deny that the education of
Frenchmen progresses ; it progresses
surely but slo~vly, the new generation
is better educated an(1 rea(1s the pal)ers.
I know from exl)erience that for one
paper circulated in a parish twenty
years ago now there are twenty. It is
true that many of the halfpenny papers
cannot be said to enlighten their read
ems, still there must always be a begin-
ning in everything. But this political
e(lucation and their education in gen-
eral is not sufficient to prevent them
from acting by impulse de semballer,
as they say ; many serious people be-
lieve that a victorious general would
be made emnperor. The armed nation
would extend his power. lie has
been able to defeat the enemy, he must
be able to govern us, would be the
unconscious or conscious reason.
IV. Religion. Catholicismn is the
religion of the majority of Frenchmen,
though many are only nominal Catho-
lics. In the first place, 01(1 men, women,
and irIs go regularly to church, and
also, in most cases, to confession.
These religious practices are observed
from custom, which has been handed
down for many generations. Many do
honestly and sincerely believe what
the lWieSt teaches them. Their answer
to unbelievers is, We are somethino
more than animals, and believe that
everything that happens is caused by
the will of God. When people die
their relatives, wheti they can afford it,
have masses said once a week for the
40
These and all other Catholic customs
relating to the (lea(i are strictly ob-
SerVe(I. Each newly built house is
blessed by the priest ; masses are said
to prevent the cattle from having the
plague. Crosses blessed on I{oga-
tion days are planted in the fields,
an(1 processions are made through the
fields in order to draw the blessing of
God on the harvest. Then there is no
(lepartmeut in France which has not
its ~)ilgrimagcs and pardons. These
(letails show that Catholicism is still
deeply rooted in the minds of the
French peasantry. When, however,
one has excepted the old men and
women and children, one finds that the
rest of the community profess little or
no religion. They rarely go to church
except at Christmas, Easter, the As-
sumption of the Holy Virgin, and All
Saints Day, and if they do go it is to
meet their friends rather than from
religious motives. Of course these men
never go to confession. Yet they are
not hostile to the priest. What he says
and does is a matter of indifference
to them. But a curious fact is that
these very men would object to their
daughters being married before the
mayor only; not that they are quite
sure it would be wrong not to be mar-
ried by the priest, but it is an old cus-
tom practise(l by all. The same men
confess and receive extreme unction
when they are on their death-beds.
Again, they are not sure that it is of
any good, but, after all, it caii do them
no harm ; and, as it is the only remedy
they have, they may as well try it.
There are no entirely civil marriages or
burials in the country, even in in(iiffer
ent families. The generation which
has grown up under the Republic is
more markedly indifferent, yet still
they are not markedly hostile. They
simply take no account of the l)riest,
that is all. Of course there are some
exceptions, but the average Frenchman
is not much of a fanatic either way.
At the same time I must qualify these
observations by saying that some re-
gions are far more Catholic than others.
In the north of France, Flandre, Ar-
tois, Picardie, Normandie, and in Yen-
dee, l)eol)le are more (leeply attached
to Catholicism than in the other pails
of France. The Church is l)o~verfullX~
supporte(l by noble families and by
rich families of the middle class, as
much som~timnes from political as from
religious motives.
A fact of much significance is that,.
wherever I have been, I have never
heard, on inquiring, of a priest having
no paid ~ masses to say. In th&
smaller villages of Normandy the priest.
has often more masses than he can say,.
as there it is also the custom to have
masses said for invalids. In this part.
of France the priests are highly re-
spected, they are called les rnessieur&
pr~tres. But as a rule the new i~enera
tion of Frenchmen object to what they
regard as the absurd dogmas and super-
stitious practices of the Church of
Rome. They have reached a crisis
analogous to the crisis reached by the
Teutonic race in the sixteenth cen-
tury ; but their minds are more logical
than the Teutonic minds, they follow
a principle to its extremcs, whereas
the English mind, admirably practical,.
l)refers middle terms and coml)romises,.
so I doubt if Protestantism as it is un-
derstood in England ever thrives in
France. The Protestants are only a
small proportion of the population
they are mostly Calvinists and are gen-
erally more cultivated ; but few are
found in the country districts. The
form of belief which is gaining most.
ground in France is Unitarianism,.
which is professed already by many of
the intellectual Wte of the French na-
tion. As I have shown, bigotry or
fanaticism in religious matters is not a
characteristic of Frenchmen ; careless-
ness and indifference are their chief
faults. In most cases, whether they
have received a religious training or
not; even if baptized, educated, and
confirmed in the Catholic faith when
they arrive at mans estate and reason
an(l think for themselves, their minds
recoil from belief in Catholicism ; in
muost cases they become merely indif.
ferent, rarely hostile ; in the few cases.
where they continue to reason and in-
terest themselves on religious mnatters~
Village Life in France.
Some Notes on Tibet.
they more often embrace Unitarianism
than any other reformed religion.
Conclusion. In conclusion I have
little to say. I (10 not, perhaps, know
enough of the English laborer to make
comparisons between him and the
French laborer, so that I could not
pronounce with authority on the ques-
tion of whether his condition is better
or worse than that of the latter. But
what I have sai(l on the French rustic,
as it is my own experience nnd infor-
mation gained at first hand, will enable
my rea(lers who presumably know in
like manner the English side of the
question to draw their own conclusions
on the subject.
From The National Review.
SOME NOTES ON TIBET.
THE exact status of the relationship
between China and Tibet is so vaguely
known, an(1 the Chinese, for their own
aggrandizement, make such wrong rep
resentatious, that a few observations
taken during my late journey through
Tibet, dressed as a native, and when
living amongst the cosmopolitan inhab-
itants of the border towns, may be of
interest. To begin with a curious con-
tradiction the Chinese tell one that
the whole of Tibet is subject to their
rule ; the lamas of Lhassa, on the
other hand, disclaim Chinese rule alto
gethier. The eastern Tibetan provinces
of Amdo and Khamn alone are, so both
chiefs and lamas of importance told
me, subject to the imperial government
of China. The grand lama, or his rep-
resentative, tile dever-shu, rules over
tile central and sacred province of U
(Tibet proper), and the lama chief re-
siding at Shega-tze noverns the prov-
ince of Tsang. A short residence ill
Amdo and Kham showed me that even
in these provinces the Chinese rule is
more or less nominal. The strongest
proof is that no Chinese woman is al-
lowed to penetrate them. So afraid,
indeed, are the Tibetans of the Chinese
peopling Tibet, that should a manda-
rin, invested with some official appoint-
ment in Tibet, attempt to bring with
41
him a Chinese wife, he would be
stopped at the border and made to~
send the woman back. The Cllinese
may marry Tibetan women, but of the
progeny of such mixed marriages,.
thougll the boys are called Chinese, the
giils are obliged to adopt their mothers-
nationality.
With regard to the power exercised-
by the mandarins in Tibet, ill tile large-
commercial town of Ke-gu, O-gan-ze,~
an(l other towns and villages, I found
they only ruled over the Chinese resi-
dents. Tlle Tibetans always have a.
local chief of their own, who carries
out Tibetan law and justice. Even the-
Chinese military chief at Ke-gu only
defends the Chinese trade interests~
granting little or no protection to the--
Tibetan caravans which carry on tile
tea Illence to Lhassa; and at the cap~
hal the emperor of Chinas represen-
tative, or ambassador as he really is,.
administers justice to the Chinese un
(ler his protection and cannot interfere
with the natives. The Tibetans have
their own laws, courts of justice, and
native officials in authority. Tile Chi-
nese are, however, allowed to keep
here a small armed force, under the
plea that it is necessary to protect the
royal lama, his sacred person being
greatly valued by the emperor of China.
As to customs and taxes, we find the
custom dues collected in Amdo and
Kham alone swell the revenues of the
Chinese government. In the prov- -
inces of U and Tsang the customs are-
levied hy Tibetans at the various bor
- der towns, and are paid over to the
lama chiefs of these two l)rovinces.
Tlle taxes collected in Khamu are taken
to the Chinese town Ta-chien-lu, On
the Si-chuen border. In other eastern
districts subject to Chinese taxation,.
the Tibetan chief of a Ilundred collects
them in kind from his peol)le, and
takes them to a district chief, who sells
them for silver. Once a year a man-
damn from Sining (China) repairs t~
Kegu, where this silver is then handed
over to him to pay to the imperial gov-
ein ment.
The question naturally occurs, Why
do the Tibetans allow customs and~
Some Notes on Tibet.
taxes to be collected for the Chinese
~government from any Tibetan prov-
inces? The answer is soon found.
The emperor of China professes, as
before mentioned, to greatly revere the
sacred person of the (lalai lama. lie
therefore pays a large bounty to the
Lhassa lamas for the (laily repetition
of prayer and the holding of ceremo-
ilies, to invoke tile blessings of Buddha
111)011 his imperial head. The amount
paid yearly is about one hundred thou-
51111(1 ounces of silver, and some ten
Thousand vfik loads of tea. It is this
bounty that keeps the Chinese in touch
with the Tibetans. A fear of losing
this annual tribute holds the lamas,
an(l they influence tile people, in fear
of displeasing their powerful neighbors.
Should this subsidy be stopped, not
Ilearly so many monasteries would be
Jept up ; and tile lamas wIlo form
quite a tilird of tile male l)oPulation,
~woul(l have in large numbers to turn
Thymell. Whether tllis would influence
the increase of population) as tile lamas
profess celibacy, it is difficult to antici-
pate owiiw to tile scarcity of women
folk, polyandria is even now practised
in Tibet.. But passing over any sug-
gestion that it may 5C~1ll all advantage
to tile Chinese to keep (lowil tile l)OPu-
~ation of countries adjoining tileir em-
pile, we come to tile real reason for
tile paymeilt of this bounty. A glance
at the map of Asia will satisfy all that
the ports of India are infinitely more
suitable for tile importation of goods
for Tibet tilan tile further removed
ports of China, situated so many llun-
lred miles from the Tibetan frontier,
and with 1)0 railways jIltO tile ulterior
to ileip forward tile goods. More tilan
a century ago Warren Hastings was so
~dive to tile topographical facilities for
trading between India aild Tibet, that
ile sent a missioll to Lhassa, in tile
?hopes of bringing about sucil a COIl-
summation. Tile only manufacture in
Tibet is that of woollen clotil. Tile
~Tibetans, many of whom are so ~vealtily
that tileir Ilerds of cattle and droves of
~sheei) are reckoned by tllousan(is, are
dependent for all tileir luxuries and
most of the comforts of life upon im
portations. Owing to the rigorous
clinlate of tlleir country, of wilicil tile
mean altitude is equal to tile loftiest
peaks of tile Alps, agriculture is ~)~r-
sued but sparsely, and tilen OlIly pro-
(luces a f!~v cereals, roots, peas, etc.
Tile recompense to tile Chinese for
this boumlty is tilerefore to be found in
tileir trade interests, setting aside all
political considerations.
Tile principal itllportations of Tibet
are Teawhich consists of tile
sweepings of tile plailtations, tile
branches and leaves not olIly of tile
tea-plant but also of other silrui)s
pressed into bricks rice, raw sugar,
cotton cloth of tile very coarsest tex-
ture, tanned and dyed ieatller, inferior
satin, ~ll imnmneilse amonllt of porcelain,
an(l European goods of various kinds
clocks, watches, alld Illusical boxes
being much appreciated by the Tibe-
tans. All these goods pay custom dues
at every town wilicil they pass during
transportation througil tile interior of
China. Besides tilis item to tile Cili
nese revellue, tile Tibetan exports are
very valuable gold, silver, mercury,
musk, furs, Ilides, wool, etc. Tile
Tibetan mercilants, be tiley lamas or
laymen, as also tile drogpas (cattle
owners), are quite alive to tile disad-
vantages under wilich they live. Tiley
would mucil prefer to trade direct with
India, where tile goo(ls they wailt are
mucil cheaper, and tile excilange fol
tileir own produce would be conse-
quently much Iligiler. Anotiler great
a(lvalltage would be that tile distance
between Lhassa and Darjeeling is com-
paratively silort ; and is safe, being
free from freebooters. Tile road be-
tween Lilassa and Cilina is so infested
with these freehanded gentry, tilat tile
mercilants cannot call tileir goods their
own till they Ilave readIed their desti-
nation ; an(l the hardsllips are sucil
tilat a number of their yak, horses, arid
evell 50111e of their fellow-companions,
pay tile penalty of the terrible exposure
by death on tile way. But tile Cili-
nese, naturally, have no wish to lose
tileir trade witil Tibet, tile monopoly of
which is at present in their ilands ; and
the fear of such loss is wIlat influences
42
Some Notes ou Tibet.
them to encourage the Tibetan author-
ities to exclude trade from India, an(l
to create and keep up every possible
barrier to foreigners entering Tibet.
The Tibetans, for their part, might
follow their bent to trade with India,
but for the fear of offending China,
and thus risking the loss of the large
bounty, which, as already mentionied,
China pays to the Tibetan lamas. On
both sides it is a matter of revenue.
That religious grounds have nothing
ito do with the matter is proved by the
fact that the Mahoinmetan nations are
so well represented in Lhassa. There
is a large mosque in the capital, and
a Mahommetan ambassador to care for
the interests of the faithful. r1~l1e Ti-
betans have, moreover, no knowledge
of Christianity, and believe the religion
of the Pi-ling-i, or Europeans, to be
the same as that of the Mahoinmetans.
I was frequently asked, and this even
by Lhassa chiefs, if such was not the
case. On the other hand, objections
to missionaries can be easily traced to
their source. In Sikkim, for instance,
where the English officials cannot
speak the language of the people over
whom they rule, the former make use
of a few lamas, men of no moral char-
acter, and whose only recomin endation
can be that they speak Hindustani, to
act as middlemen between the natives
:and themselves. Missionaries al~vays
learn the language of a people they
wish to teach, and these same lamas
naturally object to Europeans, who
nnderstand their language, dwelling
amongst them, and hearing of the
many strange things they say and do
in the name of our government. The
same thing occurs in every newly an-
nexed country or recently extended
borders. It is a pity that the govern-
ment does not see more clearly the
desirability of its representatives speak-
ing, reading, and writing the language
of the people with whom they have to
hold intercourse. This would greatly
favor British interests ; so peculiarly
liable are the officials to be misled and
tricked by the native interpreter.
The public profession of the Chinese
that they are willing Europeans should
visit Lhassa and trade with Tibet, is
simply a blind.
Before the beginning of the Sikkini
war, the Lhassa lamas wrote to China
for the emperors advice. A big official
(locument, with a smaller one enclosed
was brought back by the couriers. The
contents of the big document were to
the following effect Do not fight
with the foreigners ; let them enter
Tibet. The private letter read thus:
Do not let the foreigners enter Tibet.
Fight with them, or you will rue it.
The latter a(lvice was naturally fol-
lowed.
The Tibetans do not know the power
and position of the English, nor that,
in fact, of any European nation. The
Chinese do their best to make them
believe all nations, excepting them-
selves (the Chinese), are very unim-
portant. My Tibetan manservant,
who, ente ring my service at Sikkim,
had travelled with me through India,
by steamer to Shanghai, and thence
through the Chinese mainland to Tibet,
quite surprised the Lhassa chiefs by
telling them that the Chinese officials
not only treated with respect the Euro-
peai~s travelling in the interior of
China, but even sent runners to protect
us. In Tibet, both mandarins and
Chinese merchants find it to their ad-
vantage to discourage us in all possible
ways, and consequently do their best to
set the natives against us. My servant
repaired four times to the Za-inan at
the towii of 0-gan-ze, to see the man-
darin there residing. But though he
exhibited my Chinese passport, he
never succeedled in getting an inter-
view. Here, too, the Tibetan who un-
dertook to travel with Mr. Rockhill,
the American explorer, from Ke-gu to
Ta-chien-lu, was, upon his return, ar-
rested by command of the mandarin,
and imprisoned till his death, which
soon afterwards took place. The mans
wife, who told me the story, asserted,
however, that her husband was not
cruelly treated, and that his death, she
thought, resulted from natural causes,
though accelerated by fear.
But more insidious ways of getting
rid of European travellers are resorted
43
Some Notes on Tibet.
to by the canny Chinaman, namely, by
exciting the cupi(lity or arousing the
mistrust of the natives. At the town
of Ke-gu and thence all along the
ron(l to Ta-chien-lu I found a coin-
moii rumor current as to my poweis of
witchcraft. I could see through the
mountnins, an(l was taking note where
all the gold, silver, and precious stones
were hidden, in order to remove the
treasure at some future time. The
Tibetans, in their simplicity, would
come an(l ask me if this, that the Clii
nese said was true.
During my daily intercourse with
the natives, on my seven months jour-
ney through Tibet, and when living in
the border towns, I frequently led the
conversation to European travellers in
Tibet, to discover the native opinion.
I have also had the pleasure of meet-
ing several myself ; most of them Rus-
sians, both explorers and me rchants.
Travellers of this nation seem to
have more facilities granted them by
the Chinese government than other
Europeans, though they are by no
means first favorites with the Tibe-
tans. General Prejevalsky and Messrs.
Vievtsoff, Grumgriji, and Yotanin suc-
ceeded in surveying the greater part
of Amdo and 1(1mm. The Russian
merchants residing on the Chinese bor-
ders of Tibet hold a passport enabling
them to open shops in any of the fron-
tier towns of Kan-suh, Shen-si, and
Si-chuen ; and they have a resident
consul at Lu-chau in Kan-suk to look
after their interests. When they first
came to Kan-suh, the interpreter to
the Russian Embassy at Pekin tray-
elled up through the interior, to see
that their rights had been duly en-
forced. These so-called merchants are
in reality Russian military officers.
They do not trade on their own ac-
count; one of them even confided to
me that it makes no difference to their
income if they sell much or little ; and
they have a way, somewhat suooestive,
of presenting the Mongols and border
Tibetans with an oleograph portrait in
gilt frame of the czar, whose rule they
applaud with the words Happy the
people with such a ruler! Both
Russian travellers and merchants are
masters of the Mongolian language. I
met the late General Prejevalsky, in
1887, at Lan-clian, the capital of Kan-
suli. He was short of stature, with
(lark hair, hud small, piercing eyes ; an
appearance advanta~eous as not strik-
ingly unlike the natives. An a~rreeable
conversationalist, lie expressed in flu-
ent French his warm enthusiasm and
love for exploring. He was very bitter
against the IRussian government, giv-
ing the following reason. After an ab-
sence of many years from his country,
spent in exploring the wilds of central
Asia, lie at last returned to St. Peters-
burg. He had resided there but a few
days, when lie was told lie must quit
the country. He had been seen in
conversation xvi thi some suspected char-
acters staying at the same hotel ; peo-
ple lie hind never met before, and about
whom he knew nothing. This last
spring a large party of Russians, pro-
vided with h)assl)orts from Pekin for
Lhiassa, set out for Tibet in three divi-
sions. One division took the Si-ning
road ; Mr. Beregovski intended to
travel rid Yu-nan ; and Mr. and Ma-
dame Votanin were to take the official
road from Ta-chien-lu. It was here
that I heard of the expedition, and
before I left for Shanghai, I was fortu-
nate enough to meet the Votanins.
The husband, a tall, clark man, seem-
ingly under forty, could speak neither
English nor French, so I could not
converse with him. Madame XTotanin,
a little, fair woman with grey eyes,
and xvearing the Chinese dress as worn
by the tai-tai (the officials wives),
sh)oke a mixture of French and En
ghishi. She was hopefully looking for-
ward to the journey. A third European
was the most formidablelooking of the
party. His hair was long and shaggy,
his face hard and severe, and in the
girdle supporting his wide, blue cotton
Chinese trousers there were visible two
revolvers and other weapons. A Mon
gol, as Tibetan imiterpreter, had come
with them from Pekin, and they had a
large quantity of baggage carried by
hired mules. I shall be glad to hear
how they fared. I had learnt from
44
Some Notes on Tibet.
Monsieur Dejean, the French priest
who so kindly befriended me in Ta-
ellen-in, upon my arrival in an almost
destitute coIi(Iition from my severe
journey in Tibet, that the chief Clii-
nese official of the town had imparted
to him the following information. lie,
the official, had received instructions to
sen(1 an escort with the Russians as far
as Ba-tong. Upon their arrival there
the party ~vouI(1 have to deal with the
Tibetan government ; to this govern-
ment a special Chinese messenger had
beeii sent, bidding them hinder their
progress from Ba-tong. And this in
spite of the passports given them at
the court of Pekin for Lhassa. It was
the same 01(1 story, the large official,
nermissive document and the private
contradictory one.
I heard many stories in Tibet about
European travellers. In the Golok
country they told me about a party of
Russians, six men and one lady, whom
five hun(lred Goloks attacked. The
Russian caravan took up their position
on the summit of a small hill, from
which point of vantage they fired upon
the a~)proaching natives. Twelve of
these were killed before they arrived
within firing distance for their 01(1
matchlock guns ; so the Goloks, deem-
in~ (liscretioll the better part of valor,
left the Russians in possession of the
held. They expressed to me their
longings to possess like guns. Wa-
ehu-bumo, the Golok chieftniness, and
even other chiefs of this tribe, so re-
flowne(l for their ferocity, would not
allow such dangerous travellers to
tamp on their ground, and were glad
to let them depart in peace. In this
same country I heard of a European,
whose nationality I could not conjec-
ture,. travelling alone through these
parts some three years ago. lie was
on horseback, and led a pack-horse car-
rying a large tin box. This the natives
much wished to investigate ; but the
story got about that it was full of paper
so1(liers, who would come to life when
the box was opened. When I was liv-
in~ at Tan-chan, among Chinese and
Tibetan borderers, a tin box of mine
inspired the same superstition; and,
though unmarried, I was credited with
forty children, ~vho, lioxvever, only
showed themselves by night. Such be-
liefs act 110 little as preventive against
violence on the part of the natives.
Amongst oth~r travellers, I heard al)out
the Prince of Orleans and Monsieur
Bonvalot. The Lhassa chiefs chuckled
at the deceit which they seemed to
think they had practised on these (us
tinguished travellers, by sending a
lama, both small ill stature and low in
rank, to be palmed off to them as the
dever-shu. Captain Bower they (hIs-
tinguished as a maker of maps ; Mr.
Rockhihl as a payer of high prices.
When I was prisoner at the military
camp, some three days journey from
Lhassa, I ~vas told of a European
(probably an Englishman), who had
lately entered Tibet across the Indian
frontier. XXTith him were many coohies
and servants, who called him Lord
Sahib. This the Tibetans took to be
his name ; and the chiefs asked me if
1 knew him ; and whether he wa5, as
lie said, one of the big officials of India.
He had reached within five days jour-
ney from Lhassa.
On the whole, fearful as Tibetans
are, owing to Chinese influence, of all
Europeans, I found the English were
preferred to others. Monsieur Bomiva-
lot makes an ol)posite statememit. Yet
he tells us that tile natives had some
difficulty in comprehendimig his nation-
ality, France being a country of which
they had never heard ; and he is in
nowise ignorant of the fact that the
~vor(l Pilingi, analogous with the word
Frank in the Levant, is a generic term
ror Europeans. Our treatment of the
lirisoners taken in the late war greatly
impressed them. They descanted upon
the good food given themn, time careful
attention paid to their woumids the
wooden legs made for two injum~ed men,
and how, when released, sufficient
money to buy food for their journey
home was given themn. The cannon-
balls and bombs were a marvel to them.
Fire came down fromn Heaven, they
said, in big balls. Some of our men
ran up to one and it burst, killino
all near it. Your soldiers are like
45
Bird Foraging.
fish, exclaimed one, they can swim
under the water. Our fairness in
tra(le is also commented upon in a very
complimentary way. Unfortunately the
wily Chinaman takes advantage of this.
I heard from the Lhassa chiefs, and
many Tibetans on the road, that there
was at Ta-chien-lu a shop kept by En-
glish merchants. When I arrived in
this town I hunted up the shop, to find
the goods English but the shopmen
Chinese, passing themselves off as my
countrymen. When will genuine En-
glish merchants be able to trade openly
with this people, and from India direct?
It is a strange fact that at the close
of the nineteenth century this country
of only partly civilized peol)le, and situ-
ated on the very borders of our great
Indian Empire, seemingly (lefles inter-
course with all Europeans, and closes
its frontiers to Western travellers and
merchants alike. That its powerful
neighbor to the east pulls the wires,
little or no doubt can be held. A com-
bination of nations, the exercise of a
little firmness, and without shedding a
drop of blood, Tibet, now so inaccessi-
ble, would be opened up and a time of
security and prosperity heralded for its
inhabitants, the absence of which they
now but with toomuch justice deplore.
My servant shortly ago nawely re-
marked to me, My country is greater
than yours ! I, a little Tibetan, have
been through your great dependencies,
In(lia and Canada; I have travelled all
over Great Britain, and, when I return
home, shall have been round the world.
Your countrymen cannot even enter
my country. Are they not ashamed of
this ? ANNIE R. TAYLOR.
NOTE. Since the above was written the Sikkim-
Tibet convention has been signed, which will
enable traders to meet at Yatung on the Tibetan
side of the frontier. British subjects are to be
allowed to reside at this place after May 1st, and
trade is to be unrestricted, except in regard to cer-
tain specified articles, for five years. A. R. T.
From The Coruhill Magazine.
BIRD FORAGING.
THE chief object in a birds life
seems to be the getting of food. I
blush to have to say this of the bean
tiful creatures whose soaring flight,
sweet song, brave jouracyings, endue
their lives with fanciful emotion whea
we watch them from the artists or the
poets point of view ; but it is, alas,.
too true, aild in an ornithologists rec-
ord must be confessed the birds, for
all their aspirations, are subject to the
mun(lane consideration of ways andi
means. Tile pressing necessity of
knowing where the next meal is to
come from is ever upon them. Very
few are as provident even as the rooks
who, on rare occasions, do lay by a.
store of acorns under the leaves in the
woo(l, yet only so seldom as just to
prove tlle rule of the thriftlessness of
birds. But though they do not hus-
l)aild any of the wild harvests so bonn-
tifully prepared for their needs, the
birds are not altogether improvident..
Although the next meal has to be got-
ten each time the need for it is felt,
the birds exercise some prevision and
know where, each in its season, the
necessary foods may be sought. This
in itself is a sciellee illvolving a (Ic-
tailed knowledge of the flora and fauna
of many lands, and of the fly-lines
which safely carry winged creatures
far over land and sea. How the birds
learn it all is a mystery; but so great
is the importance of this branch of
knowledge and so wide the rainifica-
tions which it involves, that it is llO~
wonder little heads can carry little else
of thought. Grubs, worms, insects,
larv~, rats, mice, frogs, lizards, fish,.
see(ls and nuts and berries, and ten-
der shoots of leaf and grass how,
when, and where these are the
things the sweet creatures with the
silver flute and the swishing wings are
tIlinkin~ of thou~ h they may look as
wise as tile old barix owls, as senti-
mental as tile nightingales, or as fan-
tastic as tile Ilarlequinading tits.
Such thoughts as these it is, when
winter battens (lo~vn tile stones with
layers of sheet ice, tixat prompt each
unit of tile myria(l host of Arctic birds.
tllat flock southward in the autumn to
seek fresh woo(1s an(l pastures new.
Food provision is the object for
46
Bird Foraging.
which birds periodically change their
dwelling-places. The sovereigns, the
bishops, the barons of old and medi~-
val tunes, WI] en they had exhausted
the resources of one estate, moved 01]
to another. This was the reason of
the constant journeylugs of our ances-
tors in the days gone by wl]en each
district provided for its own needs.
The fashion, among birds, still prevails.
Hence tl]e great waves of bird life con-
stantly ebbing and flowing l]igll up in
the ocean of air; hence the regular mi-
grations so wonderful in the distances
and dangers little birds compass in
their long flights over thousands of
miles ; hence the fitful fittings whicl],
on a smaller scale disIiI]~uish even the
birds that are classified as stationary
species.
There is no food at all left for the
birds in the higher arctic regiol]s in
winter ; plaT]ts, fish, insects are killed
or buried in the ice and snow; the vast
hordes of lemmings, little creatures
near akin to the voles that have made
such ravages on the sheep farms of
southern Scotland of late years, leave
these high latitudes ; there is nothing
left even for birds of prey.
In the summer wild luxuriance of
forest, field, and fen, shoals of fish in
the great rivers and the deep blue sea,
swarms of insects fiyil]g in dense clouds
over fjeld an(1 fjord and steppe, and
birds in teeming multitudes sea birds,
river birds, sand birds, lull-loving birds,
wood-haunting birds, field birds, birds
big and birds little, myriad hosts of
birds. In the winter frozen seas, ice-
bound rivers, iron hills, snow-clad for-
ests, snowy fields, no fish, no insects,
no seeds, no berries, no worms visible
even to sharp bird eyes, therefore no
birds.
4r
ate climates are affected by the sea-
sonal cl]anges, though in less degree,.
indirectly through the influence of cold.
and heat upon their food su~)plies
ratl]er than by effect of cold U1)O~ their
well-protected bodies. A coat of mail
is not to be con]pared to a coat of
feathers for safety so far as a birds~
life is concerned. Layer upon layer of
down and feathers can witl]stand~
almost any amount of water or any
degree of cold ; in proof of this, see
how the delicate ten], after wintering
in con]paratively mild weather ,go back.
to the ice-floes of tl]e Polar Sea am]d lay
their eggs on the bare ice. For t~vo or
three weeks the tender breast of the
sea-swallow is pressed against a cold
block of ice ! Again, as another ex--
ample of the iI]fluence of food rather~
than climate in governing bird actions,.
take the colony of beccaticos at Worth-
ing. The beccafico is a Mediterranean.
bird common on the southern sl]ores of
Spain and Italy, in the Grecian Islands,
Sicily and Malta, and on the northern
shores of Africa. Forn]erly it was
quite unknown in the British Isles, but.
some years ago a large orchard of fig
trees was planted near Brighton and:
the beccaficos have discovered the fact
and come over to share the spoil.
Doubtless the nightingales told them
the story of English figs and showed
tl]em the way ; be this as it may, the
little birds from the warm shores of
the Mediterranean bid fair to become
established as naturalized British sub- -
jects. It is possible that the circum-
scribed fly-line of the nightingale nuighut -
be accounted for by the absence of
some favorite insects in the lands be-.
yond that western boundary which it.
so persistently delimits. It is certain.
that temperature alone cannot account
In the countries bordering on tle for the fact that nightingales are found
Polar Seas, where the cl]anging sea- on the eastern side of a line drawn
sons bring alternately the two extremes through Exeter and York, and contin-
of dearth and plenty, birds are more ned considerably further north and
numerous in the short summer than south, wl]ile tl]rougl]out its entire
anywhere else all the world over, and length tl]e west of this frontier is for-
in winter absent altogether. All are bidden ground.
migrants there by force of circum- The countries bordering upon the
stance. Arctic circle are extreme examples of
In like manner the birds of temper- the influence of food supply upon ml-
48
gration. It is not less interesting to
trace it where more partial causes pro-
duce less impartial results.
England in winter is a land of plenty
compared with the stricken home of
bird refugees from the far north. Our
inland waters are seldom frozen over,
our seas never, and upOn their hospi-
table shores large flocks of sea and
water fowl that have journeyed from
the Liakofs, Nova Zembla, and Spitz-
bergen, from dreary wastes beside the
Obi, the Petchora, and the Dvina, from
all the lone interminable coasts of
Scandinavia, Russia, Siberia, find sanc-
tuary and food. On the shores of
islands like Malta, that are composed
entirely of hard rock and where the
sea-bottom is rocky for some miles also,
there is not that teeming insect life
that we find so abundantly on our sea
borders ; few birds dwell on such
shores. All round the British Isles,
on the contrary, the formation is very
varied, and long stretches of sand,
thick layers of mud, deep beds of earth,
alternate with rock beaches, where
easily disintegrating sandstone, soft
gault, and stiff clay crop up among the
harder formations. I wonder if the
birds know anything of geology. Each
plant that bears fruit for them, each
grub in the ploughed fields, knows its
own particular kinds of earth as well
as the tiny creatures on the seashores,
and refuses to colonize in any others
a plover might as well look for wire-
worms in rich leaf-mould, or a thrush
seek for the berries of the wayfaring
tree in a Middlesex lane, as a sand-
piper hope to find good cheer in the
bay where St. Pauls shipmates cast
four anchors out of the stern, fearing
lest they should have fallen upon
rocks. So much at least the birds
know, and when they come in lovely
flocks to winter on our river estuaries,
oozy mud-banks, and golden sands, it
is in full expectation of the feast that
awaits them. Tiny fish, small molluscs
and crustace~, sand-eels, mud-worms,
shrimps, larv~, saudhoys, all manner
of marine insects swarm on our beaches
in winter as in summer. Delicate san-
derlings, godwits, turustones, icug
Bird Foraging.
legged stilts, plump ringed plovers,
waders many, oyster-catchers quaint,
ugly hooded crows, gulls and tern and
(lucks are not slow to take advantage
of the fact. To the seas that wash our
shores waters kept teml)ere(l by the
gentle office of the Gulf Stream, and
by the rule of the road which orders
that the currents of warm water from
the south shall flo~v on the surface,
while the cold streams from the ~ orth
Pole must travel deep below come
fleets of true seafarers. These fisheries
are open all the year round, and Arctic
gulls and skuas, divers, auks, puffins,
razorbills, kitti~vakes, tern, ga n nets,
cormorants, come over and join our
fishing birds.
Inland, too, we have stores of bird
food in winter. Very seldom indeed is
the ground so hard frozen that the
rooks and the thrushes cannot probe it
with their long bills and find here a
worm and there a grub, and there the
larva of some bright butterfly. And
there are always the beautiful wild
fruits ; the harvests of wild orchards
that grow free for the birds English
berries, red, white, and blue. The
berry-bearing plants of our woods and
hedges are most bountiful. Good old-
fashioned hedges, where the hips and
haws redden high up and the brambles
trail over, and sloe and privet and elder
grow thick, affoid many a feast to the
field birds, and foster the bird-life that
is so essential to the wellbeing of the
farmers crops. The value of these
beautiful 01(1 hedges is scarcely appre-
ciate(l as it should be in these days of
high farming. In the first l)lace, they
afford protection to the crops from the
wind. Have you ever noticed how
thick and strong the grass grows in a
hayfield to the leeward of a brave
hedge ? For an acre or more all along
the line that is something more than a
boundary, the crop is twice as heavy
as out in the middle of the mead. The
unbroken screen of greenery has shel-
tered it. This is the moral of Ihat tale
of a wayfaring man who caught cold
by sleeping in a field with the gate
open. And in cherishing the birds,
hedges do still better service real
Bird Foraging. 49
hbdges, long thickets of flower and grant singers. Many of them, like the
l~af, of crimson berry and matted swallows, eat only such things as they
thorn. In the spring the birds nest can catch in tlieii~ swift flight open
there birds that must catch destruc- mouthed through the air ; these are
tive insects by the hundred to proVi(le few and far jetween in the raw and
food for the hedgerow nestlings ; in cold atmosl)here of winter here. Svift
the autumn for the berries the birds and sw~dlow, nightingale and cuckoo,
come, and gladly stay to eat the insqcts warbler, wheatear, wiuchat, blackcap,
that are harbored there. Even in win- wryneck, flycatcher all the merry
ter there are plenty of insects for bIrds troupe of strolling singers, must follow
in England. Spiders under the dead the sun an(l the creatures that dance
Jeaves and broken boughs, beetles at in the sunbeams to lands that are sunny
the foot of the wall where the black in winter.
birds are catching snails and breaking The movements of the birds that
their shells on a big stone, but the ber- come and of the birds that go in spring
ries are spread more lavishly than all and autumn are prompted by the abun~
else for the birds winter faring. Ver- dance or the scarcity of certain kinds
mihion beads on the rowan-trees, these of food among the varied store our land
are all eaten up first, and sometimes affords. The nomadic wanderings of
most improvidently early are they fin- our resident birds are also fora4no
ished ; then the elder berries and the expeditions. Only in the spring and
hips nn(l haws ; but plenty still are left the early summer are any birds able to
for harder times. Coral pink corymbs find the food they require in one par-
on the wayfaring tree wherever chalk ticular neighborhood. Then insect life
downs undulate in softly distant waves; abounds, and round about the nesting-
ivy and mistletoe berries in the woods, place enough and to spare is to be
some always left till the early spring found both for the busy parent birds
privet and yew; bilberry and wliortle- and the insatiable chicks and squabs.
berry on the hills for the game But in the autumn and winter there is,
birds ; and many more, like the square strictly speaking, no such thing as a
berries of the skewer tree, little known stationary population of birds in any
except to the birds and the gipsies. place. Then all turn gipsies, and
Little wonder that the birds from a hither and thither wend their restless
land of famine come to winter here. way, eluding the famine of a frost
Fieldfares, redwings, brain blings, bunt- here, the dearth of a snowstorm there,
ings, larks, siskins, finches, starlings, or the buffeting of storm winds, by
thrushes, blackbirds, robins, wrens, continually moving on.
tits, redstarts, pigeons, crows, game The first of these wanderings takes
i)irds come to divide the spoil with our place when the corn-fields ripen their
resident species. golden store, and flocks of birds go
But there are some birds that depend thither to steal or to glean. Sparrows
almost entirely for their means of sub- from the cities, finches from the copses,
sistence upon the light-winged sum- pigeons from the woods, travel for
mer flies that love the sunshine. These many miles to spend a season in the
the economy of our cold season does harvest-fields, and gather there in hun-
not provide for. The tree-creepers and dreds of thousands. Later these tray-
the tits, insectivorous in their propen- elling companies visit all the low-lying
sities, are content to seek food in the fields, the water meadows and marshy
crevices of bark up and down the lands, where there is always an abun-
branches of old trees, in the cracks of dance of small creatures. As the day
walls, in and out among the stones and lengthens and the cold strengthens
bficks of old buildings, peering, l)rob- these journeys all tend in one direction
ing, pecking at the creatures that have to the south, and especially to those
thought to get safely through the cold southern counties that lie to the ~vest-
weather by hiding. Not so our mi- ward. All through the winter there
LIVING AGE. VOL. II. 56
50
are twice as many robins in the south-
ern half of England as in the summer,
and iii the northern counties but few
are to be seen. This any one may
observe in his own garden ; twice as
many tits an(l wrens, and blackbirds
and thrushes, and chaffinches, too,
even without taking count of those
that have come from over the seas.
These wandering flocks of birds may
be seen passing through various dis-
tricts. One day in the fields a great
concourse of thrushes, the next not
one to be seen ; one week on the hill-
side numberless larks, and the next
they are gone as surely as the migra-
tory wheatears. Often these passing
flocks of home birds precede cold
weather. The birds are great weather
prophets, and people who are much out
of doors shepherds, sailors, garden-
ers know by experience that their
fittings presage a change of wind and
weather; for the birds do not wait to
be overtaken by famine they exer-
cise prevision. Often some time before
col(l weather sets in over the counties
farther north, the fields and lanes and
the cliffs by the sea in Devonshire and
Cornwall are crowded with birds.
Such multitudes of rooks and starlings,
and thrushes and finches, and all small
fowl~ go down to the West Country in
winter weather. And why? Because
there is always an abundance of bird
food in the soft and balmy weather
that proclaims open house and an open
winter there.
No little bird need fold its win~s and
idly face starvation ; no little bird need
sit on a tree-top and smile at grief.
Some few are found dead from ~o1d
and starvation each year, it is true;
but among all the hundreds of millions
of birds that survive these are only
exceptions that prove the rule. Often
they are old birds. Perhaps, after long
years of restless going to and fro, their
wings are weary, and their hearts have
failed them at the thought of more
travelling, for the life of a bird is a
very Odyssey of Wanderings.
Cromwells Veterans ~n Flanders.
From Macmillans Magazine.
cROMWELLS VETERANS iN FLANDERS.
IN a former paper a brief account
was given of the great (lesiga con-
ceived by Cromwell against Spain al-
most immediately upon his accession to
the Protectorate, and of the opening
attack on the Spanish West Indies.t
The operations were planned, as be-
came the gmeatest naval power in
Europe, to be carried on principally at
sea; and while one fleet was busy in
the West Indies, a second was cruis-
ing off the Spanish coast. The latter,
after months of weary waiting, at last
reaped its reward in Blakes great vic-
tory an(I capture of the Spanish plate-
fleet at Teneriffe on the 20th of April,
1657. But meanwhile Cromwells ag-
gression had driven Spain to take to
her heart all his bitterest enemies, and
chief among these the exiled King
Charles the Second. The Protector~
then began to look for an ally, as the
war seemed likely to be carried on
nearer home. lie had already (9th
September, 1655) concluded a treaty
with France, and he now (March, 1657,.
N.S.) expanded this treaty into an
offensive and defensive alliance. It so
fell out that the fatuous Red-coats.
made their first appearance on the
continent of Europe side by side with
the French, and under supreme corn
mand of the great Marshal Turenne.
Of the protracted negotiations which
preceded the conclusion of this alliance
nothing need be said, except that they
were conducted by William Lockhart,
who had been himself somiwtimne an
ensign in the French army, had after-.
wards fought on the losing side at Pres-
ton, afl(l soon after taken service with
the victorious Cromwell. What diffi-
culty he had to gain his treaty, point
by point, from the trickery of Mazarin,.
how he outraged his Scotch conscience
by going to a royal ball on a Sunday
sooner than risk failure, and how ulti-
mately he achieved success, all this
must remain buried in the recesses of
Thurloes State papers. The terms of
the treaty stipulated that the French
1 LIvIEG AGE, No.2591,.p.539.
Cromwells Veterans in Flanders.
should provide twenty thousand men,
an(l the Protector six thousand as well
as a sufficient fleet. The l)Ian of cam-
paign, as set down on paper, was the
reduction of the three coast towns of
Mardyck, Dunkirk, and Gravelines;
whereof the two first, when captured,
were to be made over to England and
the third to be retained by France.
Cromwells object, of course, was to
secure a naval station from which he
could check any attempt of the Stuarts
UI)OU England from the Spanish Neth-
erlands. Mazarins object was to get
all that lie could from his English allies
for his own ends, Cond~ being still un-
tamed. Of the six thousand Enolish
soldiers, three thousand were actually
pai(l by France ; but the whole were
commanded by English officers and
reckoned to be the Lord Protectors
forces. Moreover, the English fleet
was an important factor, not only for
its co-operation by sea but also for the
transport of supplies. As a matter of
fact the idea of an attack on Punkirk
was much disliked by Turenne; to in-
vest Punkirk without the previous cap-
ture of Nieuport, Fumes, and Bergues,
was, as one of his officers said, to be
1)esiege(l while conducting a sicoc But
Cromwell had made up his mind that it
could and should be done ; and eventu-
ally, as shall be seen, it was done.
All through the spring of 1657 the
English journals are full of the little
army. The force, though composed
mainly of veterans, was redrafted, so
to speak, into six regiments, known, as
usual, by the names of their colonels.
The process began in April, and on the
first day of May one-half of each regi-
ment marched to Dover and thence
took ship to St. Johns Bay, seven
miles from Boulogne. A fortnight
later the remainder of the force was
embarked, and two days after them
followed the officer in command of the
expedition. This was Commissary-
General Sir John Reynolds, the Pro-
tectors brother-in-law, sometime officer
in the Ironsides, and, under the New
Model, captain in Lieutenant-General
Cromwells regiment of horse. His
major - general was Thomas Morgan,
51
known chiefly for his good service
in restoring order in Scotland nuder
Monks vice-royalty. He there gained
the affectionate name of the little
colonel, and was a cavalry officer of a
stamp best explained by his orders for
the conduct of a cavalry charge, that
not a man should fire till he came
within a horses length of the enemy,
and then to throw their pistols in their
faces and so to fall in with the sword
(sic).
The arrival of the six thousand, all,
as we are expressly told, in new red
coats, created some sensation in France.
Ambassador Lockhart went down to
review them, and solemnly welcomed
each company to France ; while the
men on their side receivedi him with
acclamations, throwing up their caps
and prayed for his Highness. They
were cried up by all that saw them
for the bravest men that ever were
seen in the French service, and their
reputation was so great that the court
of France made a journey on purpose
to inspect them. Never were English
soldiers made so much of. They took
precedence of all the French regi-
ments except the two old regiments of
guards ; the court itself moved out
of Montrenil to make room for them
when they marched thither ; the king
sent the captain of his guards to wel-
come them; and Cardinal Mazarin
sent wine, beer, and provisions to the
officers, and made the town provide
them with cheap tents, so that a tent
fit for a captain, we are told, might be
had for some ten shillings. In fact,
there was no end to the compliments
and civility. At the same time there
were some small drawbacks. The pay
of the privates was fivepence a day
(more than twice as much as the ordi-
nary French rate) and rations in lieu
of twopence more ; but the sl)ecie came
in very slowly an(l was of short weight;
and the men did not like the French
ammunitionbread. Still, in spite
of all the flattery on one hand, and bad
money and bad food on the other, the
men behaved very well. We can lie
in towns [Abbeville, for instance] four
days without one complaint, wrote
52 Cromwells Veterans in Flanders.
Reynolds at this time, contrasting the ing and shrugging], Major-General Nor-
discipline of his own men with that of gan was much troubled, leaped upon the
the French, which, however, lie con- point, and called out fifty to take up the
temptuously admits to be good enouah spades, pickaxes, and fascines and follow
for France. him. But so it happened that all in the
The design that underlay all this approaches leaped out after him; the en-
emy in the mean time firing as fast as they
l)landishment soon became apparent. could Major-General Morgan (conceiving
Although Dunkirk lies to the north his loss in bringing them again to their
and seaward of Boulogne, the march of approaches would be greater than in carry-
the army was to the south and east oi ing them forward) passed over a channel of
landward. Having got hold of their water on which there was a bridge and a.
six thousand men, Turenne and Ma- turnpike ; and the soldiers crying out Fall
zarin threw the treaty to the winds, on, fall on, he fell upon the counter-
and set about the siege of Cambrai, scarp, beat the enemy from it and [from]
concenti-ating all forces towards that three redoubts. Which caused them to
point. Unluckily for them, Condd got capitulate and, the next morning, to sur-
wind of the design, threw himself by a render the town. (A Relation of Sir
Thomas Morgans Progress in France;
sudden dash into the town with four 1698 Harlelan Misc. III. 340. See note
thousand horse, and upset the whole at
plan of campaign. Turenne then de- end.)
tached a force to besiege Montm~di
still further to the east, and eventually
went thither himself, taking the En-
glish with him in spite of all Lock-
harts remonstrances. At last, after
the capitulation of Montm~di (July
28th), Turenne entered Spanish terri-
tory an(l besieged St. Venant. And
here, for the first time, the Red-coats
came into prominence, in their own
peculiar fashion.
Turenne had invested the town on
the east side, and Morgan (Reynolds
being on the sick-list) with his English
and a brigade of French horse under
Count Schombei-g, on the west. In
due time it fell to the English to re-
lieve Schomberg in the trenches, and
accordingly Morgan marched in eight
hundred of his men.
The English at that time being strangers
in approaches, Major-General Morgan in-
structed the officers and soldiers to take
their places by fifties that thereby they
might relieve the point to carry on the
approaches every hour. - . . In the evening
Count Schomberg with six noblemen came
upon the point to see how Major-General
Morgan carried on his approaches; but
there happened a little confusion by the
soldiers intermingling themselves in the
approaches, so as there was never an entire
fifty to be called to the point. Count
Schomberg and his noblemen taking notice
thereof [probably not without some grimac
In this characteristic, haphazard fash-
ion did the Red-coats, on the 26th of
August, 1657, make their first appear-
ance on the Franco-Spanish frontiem-, a
fitting l)relu(Ie to many subsequent
actions. The engagement, acci(Ie1~t
though it was, gai ned them a gi-eat
reputation, for it extricated Tui-enne
from a difficulty. It enabled him to
raise the siege of Ardres which was
threatened by the Spaniards, and com-
forted him for the loss on the previous
day of the whole of the baggage.
But by this time the season was far
spent, ailil Cromwells patience thor-
ougl)ly exhausted. He had not gone
to the expense of furnishing his con-
tingent to do Mazarins work and cap-
ture inland towns, and he would have
no more of it. He wrote an angi-y let-
ter to Lockhart, tearing Mazarins ex-
cuses and new proposals to shreds.
To talk, lie said, of giving inland gaL-ri-
sons as cautions for future action,
an(l of what would be done next cain
paign was parcels of wor(ls for
children. Delay woul(l only give the
Spaniards time to gather reinforce-
ments; and as to the lateness of the
season, I desire you to let the car-
dinal know that the English have had
good experience in winter expedi-
tions. For the New Model army
fought all through the winter of 16456,
entering Cornwall over the high ground
Cromwells Veterans in Flanders.
to the extreme north-west of Devon-
shire in February.
This letter had its effect. Early in
September Turenne began to move
towar(ls the. coast; and Reynolds sum-
moned Montague, who commanded the
fleet in the Downs, to move up and
take his share in the operations.
Shortly after Reynolds pai(l a flying
visit~ to Whitehall, with the result that
on the twenty-second a reinforcement
of two thousand old soldiers was em-
barked at Deptford and the Tower to
fill up the gaps made by sickness and
the sword. On the twenty-third Rey-
nolds returned to his post and on the
twenty-ninth Mardyck was invested.
The siege lasted but four days; for the
place was weak, and our soldiers again
distinguished themselves. They took
the wooden fort, which struck the poor
Spaniards into a panic fear and made
them surrender immediately. This
en(le(l the campaign of 1657. The
French indeed made an attempt on
Gravelines, but were foiled by the
simple expedient of opening the
sluices; and Turenne thought an at-
tack on Dunkirk impracticable.
Mardyck, pursuant to treaty, was
made over to the English, half of
whom, together with four hundred
French lent by Turenne, were left to
garrison that and Bourbourg, a little to
the east. In this duty, together with
that of repairing the fortifications, the
English forces did not show so well.
The English who were at Mardyck,
wrote Turenne, kept very bad guards
there. It is not credible how very
much the English are startled at the
labor which they undergo ; they cannot
bear it in any wise. The Spaniards
took advantage of these failings to as-
sault the place on the 22nd of October
with five thousand men, but were re-
pulsed with a loss of four hundred after
an engagement lasting six hours, an
action creditable to the garrison, con
sisting as it did of but thirteen hundred
men. After this the English seem to
have been more careful, as a particu-
larly cunning old officer, General Monk,
hoped that they would be. There was
no further assault, as far as can be
gathered, though frequent alarms; in-
deed so many that, according to one
acconnt, Morgan never went out of
his clothes the whole winter., except
to change his shirt. Nevertliele~s
the mortality in the garrison was ap-
palling. At the beginning of Decem-
ber the men were dying at the rate of
ten or twelve a day, and once the num-
ber was as high as fifty. Want of
beds, firing, and other accommoda-
tions, wrote Reynolds, will soon
reduce these regiments to be like the
French at the end of a campaign.
Still Cromwell would not at first per-
mit the three regiments in winter quar-
ters to be brought up to Mardyck to
reinforce the garrison, and Reynoldss
last letter to him was to press this
point. Early in December Reynolds
and one of his colonels sailed for En-
(Aand to try what they could do at
Whitehall in person. They were never
seen again, their vessels having been
lost in a great storm, as it was sup-
pose(l, on the Goodwin Sands. Thus
by the end of the first year the English
had lost their commander, and nearly
if not quite four thousand out of six
thousand men; so that wheti both
armies finally retired to their winter
quarters in January, 1658, the six full
regiments were reduced to four of half
their original strength. Lockhart suc
cee(Ie(l Reynolds in command.
The winter of 16578, a very severe
one by all accounts, was gradually
worn through, and the time came for
the officers (who seem generally to
have left the troops to take care of
themselves in winter quarters) to re-
pair once more to their posts. Four
thousand recruits were supplied for the
English on one side, and some hun-
dreds of Irish for James, Duke of
York, on the other. The garrison of
Mardyck shook itself up, for we learn
that by March the new fortifications
were in a gallant posture. At the
same time discipline had grown rather
lax. The French complained bitterly
of the insolency of the English sol
diers ; an(l when Lockhart l)aid a visit
of inspection in May, lie made a most
distressing discovery. I find not one
53
Cromwells Veterans in Flanders.
minister here, and out of charity have
sent for my chaplain from Calais ; the
soldiers need much to be both dehorted
from evil and exhorted to do good. If
you xviii send over three ministers,
they may very well serve the six regi-
ments. Perhaps Uncle Tobys was
not the first English army that swore
terribly in Flanders.
Morgan had opened the campaign of
1658 by the capture of two Spanish
redoubts on the canal between Mar-
dyck and Dunkirk on the 31st of
March ; but it was not till May 4th
that Turenne left his quarters at
Aruiens, reaching iDunkirk after a very
difficult march on the fifteenth. On the
sixteenth the investment was begun,
and on the twenty-fourth the trenches
were opened; the English being on
the south or Mardyek side, the French
on the north. On the twenty-seventh
the Spanish made a sortie against the
English, which was vigorously re-
pulsed. The action, wrote Lockhart,
passed for a handsome one in the
report of the Freneh, who are not over
apt to flatter us, and Turenne himself
acknowledged that les Anglais y
firent fort bien. The English lost but
few killed and one hundred and twenty
wounded in this affair, which was only
the prelude to a greater.
On the 2nd of June the Spanish
army, fifteen thousan(l strong, nuder
Don John of Austria, Cond~, the Mar-
quis Caracena, and James, Duke of
York, drew down to within a mile of
Turennes headquarters with the evi-
dent intention of attacking the besie~
ers lines. Turenne at once resolved 1
to give him battle, and intimated to
Lockhart late in the afternoon that the
English must march next morning.
At 6 A.M. therefore they marched off
with Lockhart at their head in his
coach, having six miles to traverse be-
fore they reached their position. It is
difficult to discover whether the En-
glish were under Lockharts command
or Morgans in the action which fol-
lowed ; one account being that the
1 This is Bussy Rabutins account; the English
story is that Morgan went on his knees to Turenne
to beg him to fight. Han. Misc. IlL 340.
former (who, as general, had a regi-
ment of his own) came up to Morgan
with awilite cap on his head, and said
You see tile condition I am in; I am
not able to give you any assistance on
this day ; you are the older so1(licr,
and the greatest part of the work of
tIlls day must lie on your soldiers.
Whereat, it is sai(l, the soldiers smiled,
as perhaps they reasonably might. As
Lockhart mentions that he was suffer-
ing from a violent attack of stone, and
gives a very vague account of the bat-
tie, I am inclined to think that Morgan
did most of the work.
Turennes order of battle was of the
mathematically precise type that l)le-
vailed in those days. In the first line
were thirteen troops of cavalry (say a
hundred to a trool)) 011 the right, thir-
teen troops Oil the left, and eleven bat-
talions of infantry (five hundred to a
battalion) in the centre ; in the second
line, ten troops on the right, nine troops
Oil the left, seven battalions in the cen-
tre. Four troops of gendarmes xvere
posted between the two lines of infan-
try, and four more were held in ic-
serve. Tile xvhole force was reckoned
at nine thousand foot and six thousand
horse. TIle English were posted at
the extreme left of the infantry, four
battalions in the first line and three in
the second. But these battalions from
tileir number were evidently much
stronger than those of the French, for
tiley formed of themselves the com-
plete left wing of tile infantry. In this
order the army advanced, dressing by
tile rigilt; and Morgan gave particular
orders tilat wilen the Frenell halted
tile English silould keep an even front
witil tIleill. But when the French
came to ilait, it so hiaI)pene(l that the
English pressed upon their leading offi-
cers, so that they came up within silot
of tIle enemy ; but when tiley saw that
Major-General Morgan was in a pas-
sion, they put themselves to a stand ;
in otiler words tlley halted, Major-
General Morgan when in a passion
being not a man to be trifled with.
Then came one of those strange
scenes, suell as Marryat has related for
us of the Swiss nlercenaries at tile
64
Cromwells Veterans in Flanders.
siege of Rosas. The opposing Spanish
troops were mainly compose(l of En-
glishmen, and the two hostile forces
were so near that they exchanged
greetings ; one asking Is such an
officer in your arm? another Is
such a soldier in yours? and so forth.
Major-General Morgan endured this
friendship for a little while, and then
came up to the centre of the bodies
and asked How long that friendship
would continue ? and told them fur-
tlier, that for anything they knew they
would be cutting one anothers throats
within a minute of an hour. The
whole brigade answered Their friend-
ship woul(l continue no longer than he
pleased. Then Major-General Mm-
~an bade them tell the enemy, No
more friendship ; prepare your buff
ioats and scarfs, for we will be with
you sooner than you expect us.
(HarI. Misc. toe cit.)
Im in e(lia.tely afterwards the Spanish
regiment fired a volley, and Morgan at
once despatched his adjutant-general
for orders ; but as his messenger did
not return, and lie could observe the
Spaniards improving their dispositions,
lie decided to attack at once. The
enemy was posted on a sandy hill, and
had thrown up a breastwork before
them, so that they were likely to make
a desperate resistance ; indeed, Lock-
hart admits that lie despaired at first
sight of dislodging them. Morgan,
however, formed his first line of half
of the White regiment (Lockharts,
though Lockhart did not lead it), four
hnn(lre(l firelocks and half of the Blue
regiment, the two former to attack in
front, the latter in flank.1 The re-
mainder of his force was ordered not
to move till the Spanish right wing was
sh6cked off its ground ; Morgan
promising to return to them if lie
were not knocked on the head.
On therefore the forlorn advanced
to the assault, muskets an~l pikes and
firelocks, English against English
while the French on the right remained
011 their own ground. Details of the
1 All the English regiments were, it must be
remembered, in scarlet; the distinction of color
refers to the facings.
attack are wanting, but Lockhart de-
scribes it as the hottest dispute that lie
ever saw. All that is certain is that
the Spanish right wing was shocked off
its ground, and that the White regi-
ment lost every one of its officers,
except Lockhart himself, killed or
wounded. For a moment the Spanish
cavalry got among the Engljsh attack-
ing line ; Bussy Habutin indeed says
that but for tile counter-attack of the
French cavalry, the English for all
their hardiesse would have suffered still
more severely ; but Morgan, not being
knocked on the head, brought up his
second line, and the Spanish right
wing of infantry turned ali(I fled, the
English musketeers as usual plying
them with the butt. Meanwhile the
Freiich on the right had not stirred,
and Bussy Rabutin, in comnmaiid of the
cavalry on the extreme right, only be-
gan to move on learning from a passing
horseman that the left had done its
work. Indeed the battle was already
over. Tile alllbitious Morgan deployed
his English against the whole line of
Spanish infantry, which, seeiiig its
right air eady (hispersed, wheeled about
and retired. So that nothing was left
but the pursuit, wherein ~ve are told
that Lockhart reappeared without
his white cap on his head, very brisk,
and troubled with neither gravel nor
stone, which may or may iiot be true.
Lockhart complains that the pursuit
was not properly pressed by the
Freiicb, but the victory was complete
enough for its purpose. The English
gained great credit for their gallantry,
as they deserved ; for the success of
the (lay, though Turenne, to the great
illdignation of Whitehall, would not
admit it, ~vas principally (itie to them.
That it should have been so was of
course no fault of Turenne, for it
is clear that the English blundered
into their preiimtuie attacJ~ at Dunkirk
Dunes,2 just as they did many years
later at Fontenoy and Minden.
Dunkirk fell on the 12tl~ of Juiie,
and Lockhart was placed in possession.
Being reinforced by two old re0imeiits
It was at this action that Cond6 told the Duke
of York that he was going to see a battle lost.
55
56
from England he kept but two of the
original six with him ; releasing the
remaining four for field service un-
der Morgans colnman(l with Turenne.
Bergues, Dixmuyde, Menine, and
Oudenarde fell in quick sUccession, au(1
on the 2nd of September Turenne
opened the siege of Ypres, the last
great operation of the campaign and
the last in which we hear of special
distinction on the part of the Red coats.
Unfortunately we have no longer the
journal of Bussy Rabutin whereby to
check our best account of the proceed-
ings, and the newspapers also fail to
give dctails of any great value ; so we
are driven to take the pamphleteers
account for what it is worth.
It would appear then that some
few days after the trenches had been
opened Turenne obtained certain in-
formation from a spy that Cond~ and
Don John of Austria were iiarching
with eleven thousand foot and four
thousand horse to relieve the town,
and were already within three leagues
of it. He accordingly ordered Morgan
to keep the whole of his force under
arms all night. Morgan replied that
if he (lid keep the army three nights to
that hard shift they would not care
who did knock them on the head. The
Prince of Coud~ and Don John of Atis-
tria were great captains ; and they
might dodge with Marshal Turenne to
fatigue his army. As an alternative,
though a desperate one, Morgan sug-
gested immediate assault on the coun
terscarp ; on which Turenne joined
his hands and ejaculated, Did ever my
master the king of France or the king
of Spain attempt a counterscarp upon
an assault, where there were three
half moons covered with cannon and
the ramparts of the town playing
point blank upon the counterscarp.
Eventually, however, it was decided
that the assault should be delivered by
three different parties, two French an(l
one English, each of six hundred men
and fifty pioneers, and that the time
should be just after sunset.
Uromwells Veterans in Flwtders.
pioneers~ and the major-general [Morgan
himself] and a colonel at the head of the
two battalions [each three hundred strong];
and he ordered each man . . . ti take up a
long faseine upon his musket. Then, upon
signal given, the major-general did order
the two batealions, when they came within
six score [paces] of the stockados,. to slip
tlieir fascines and fall on . . . When the
pioneers came in sight of the stockados
they slipped the fascines down and fell on
the major-general and the two battalions
were close to them; and when the soldiers
began to lay their hands on the stockados
they tore them down for the length of six
score and leaped pehl-ruell into the counter-
scarp among the enemy. Abundance of
the enemy were drowned in the moat, and
many taken prisoners, with two German
princes; and the counterscarp was cleared.
The French were in their approaches all
this time. Then the English fell on upon
the half-moons, and immediately the Red-
coats were on the top of them throwing the
enemy into the moat and turning the can-
non upon the town. Thus the two half-
moons were speedily taken. After the
manning of the half-moons he did rally afi
the English with intention to lodge them
upon the counterscnrp, that he might be
free of the enemys shot next morning
and they left the other half-moon for Mar-
shal Turenne s party, which [the half-
moon] was even before their approaches.
Then the French fell upon the other half-
moon, but were beaten off. The major-
general considered that that half-moon
would gall him in the daytime, and there-
fore did speak to the officers and soldiers
that it was best to give them a little help.
The Red-coats answered, Shall we fall on
in order or happy-go-lucky? The ml~jor-
general said, In the name of God, at it
happy-go-lucky ; and immediately the
Red-coats fell on, and were on the top of it,
knocking the enemy down and casting
them into the moat. When this work was
done the major-general lodged the English
on the counterscarp. (llarl. Misc.)
Next morning the Spaniards beat a
parley an(l were allowed to march out
with the honors of war ; with one
piece of cannon, colois flying, bullet mi
mouth, and match lighted at both ends~
according to the reigning practice ot
The major-general made the English war; and Ypres received a Fren~h
stand to their arms and divided them into garrison. The capture of Comine fob
bodies; a captain at the head of the lowed before the end of September;
Market-Day in an Italian Country Town.
and in spite of the inclemency of the
season, the French pushed on to within
three leagues of Brussels itself. But
with the capture of Ypres the most
brilliant work of the English contin-
gent was done. In November it moved
into winter quarters ; and on the
twenty-fifth of that month Morgan
was knighted at Whitehall by Richard
Groin well. For the great Protector
had died on the 3rd of September while
the siege of Ypres was in progress, antl
much lla(l died with him. We hear all
through the winter of 16589 of nothing
but complaints from the unhappy garri-
son of Dunkirk ; of men illlodged, ill
fed, and unpaid, and fortifications going
to pieces for want of money. Early
next year too (1659) the Croinwells fell,
so that a new oath to a new govern-
ment had to be sworn, which of course
meant anxiety for commanding officers.
A suspension of arms between France
and Spain followed in May; and in
June commissioners from the English
Committee of Safety came over at last
to rej)ort on the condition of Dunkirk
which, however, they could not do
without going out of their way to insult
the t~vo 01(1 colonels in command. In
August the House of Commons re-
solved to recall Morgans fatuous regi-
ments from Flanders ; and the last that
we hear of them is their embarkation
at Dunkirk for England. This, I am
sorry to say, was by no means a credit-
able episode. The garrison to be left
behind was weak in numbers and in
heart ; but the officers of the regiments
embarked managed to carry off two
hundred men that did not belong to
them, furnishing them with disguises
for the i)nrpose. Further the senior
colonel, not content with this, informed
the chiefs of the garrison that he had
private instructions to acquaint theta
withal, that there were ten thousand
men shipped somewhere, designed for
Dunkirk, a piece of chaff that the
poor men confessed that they had not
skill to understand.
And here we take leave of the six
thousand, the immortal six thousand as
they were termed in the admiring lan-
guage of their own day. In a sense
57
they deserve immortality, could. any~
one give it them, for making so credit-
able a beginning for the Red-coats oii
the Continent. The garrison too haa
a claim to be remembered as the first
English troops that were ever quar-
tered in barracks, the Spaniards having
left some ready built iii Dunkirk. But
for the most part the memory of their
achievements has passed away. The
famous Protectorate army was dis-
banded in October, 1660, and two years
later IDunkirk was sold to the French.
so that men could feel little pleasure in
recalling the names either of the one o~~
the other. Lastly the lapse of another
fifty years saw another and more fa-
mous army in Flanders, that which i~
bound up with the immortal names of
John, Duke of Marlborough, Captain
Tobias Shandy, and Corporal Tritmi.
J. W. FORTESCUE.
NOTE. The pamphlet, A Relation of Sir
Thomas Morgans Progress in France, is said in.
the advertisement to have been drawn up by Mor-
gan himself at a friends desire, and to have been.
confirmed by him paragraph by paragraph when.
read over to him. Originally designed for publica~
tion in James the Seconds reign, it was held over-
for obvious reasons, and printed in 1698 in refuta-
tion of Bussy Rabutins memoirs (1696) and the
memoirs of Ludlow. Some of the interviews
therein recounted between Turenne and Morgan,
and the excessive partiality shown for the English
require that portions of it should be received with
caution; but on the other hand the account of th~
capture of St. Venant is borne out by the contem-
porary relations in the newspapers, and the broad
lines of the action at Bunkirk are confirmed by
Lockharts letters, Bussy Rabutin, and other
authorities. Hence I have not hesitated to folloW
it in the details of actual fighting.
From Chambers Journal.
MARKET-DAY IN AN ITALIAN COUNTRY
TOWN.
BELLIJNO is a small town in \Teuetma,,
at tIle foot of tile Italian Dolomites..
It stands on a steep promontory, formed2
by the rusll of the great torrent-river
Piave, as it sweeps ,roundthe. lesser
hills on its first issuing from tile rocky,
gorges of Cadore. Being only .- four
hours by train from Venjee, it is aii
easily accessible place of refuge from
the snitry heat of the lagoons. Th~
cool blue of the mountains varied
.58
here and there with a touch of snow on
the higher peaks and the rich green
of the well-cultivated and fruitful coun-
try, refresh the eyes and repose the
brain, tired and aching with the glare
of sunshine reflected from red brick
churches and white marble palaces.
We arrived late in the evening, and
at once went out to explore the town.
All was silent and dark. We went
through an ancient gateway, and
threaded cautiously the roughly paved,
win(hing streets, for the wide, project-
ing eaves of the lofty, massive houses
shut away from us even the faint light
that came from the stars. The dark-
ness seeme(1 to be made only the more
profound by the feeble glow of an 01(1
petroleum lamp slung out, here and
there, at the end of a long iron arm.
Not a ray of light shone from door or
window, and not a creature was to be
seen or heard, though it was not yet
nine oclock. We began to think ~ve
had dropped into a city of the dead.
Once, indeed, through the open door of
a church, and by the light of a flicker-
ing taper, we discerned an indistinct
figure bending before a shrine ; but
that, we agreed, might be a ghost ; so
we returned to our hotel the bright
and comfortable Albergo delle Alpi,
wondering wherever the five thousand
inhabitants of Belluno could be!
Next morning all was changed. The
cheerful notes of the Bersaglieri s
trumpets roused us early from our
slumbers, and told us they were al-
ready back from their morning march.
Then the hum of voices an(l the tramp
of feet called us to our window ; and
we saw group after group of peasants
trooping down from the neighboring
hills, bringing to the town their cattle
and their farm produce, for it was
market-day in Belluno. There were
merry parties of country-women, with
their stout l)lue or black dresses set off
by snowy white sleeves and gay col-
ored aprons, and with pretty kerchiefs
thrown tent-wise over the array of sil-
ver pins which framed their faces,
thns shading the sun from their eyes.
Some trundled handcarts laden with
sacks of maize, or poultry and butter;
Market-Day Th~ an Italian Country Town.
and occasionally amongst the cheeses
an(h the eggs sat ti ie old granny, less fit
thaii she once was to make the whole
journey on foot. Others carried on
their shoulders the graceful corba the
basket of. this part of the country
full of fruit and vegetables ; whilst the
husbands and brothers drove along the
sheep an(l oxen.
All this commotion made us anxious
to see Belluno alive in the morning
after having seen it dead at night ; so
we hastened to follow the crowd.
Going down the narrow lane that leads
from our hotel, we came out from
un(ler overhanging houses, supported
on Gothic stone brackets, into the Cam-
pitello, the chief business centre of the
town. It is a long and spacious piazza,
once the exercising-ground of the garmi-
son, in the old warring days when Bel-
luno boasted of a castle and walls ; and
it forms, so to say, the base of the tri-
angle on which stands the old town.
Some traces of the walls can yet be
seen, though they have been built up
into houses ; and the two great double
gateways, Porta Dohia and Porta
Dante, with their massive wooden and
iron-clamped doors, still give access to
the older part of Belluno. These form
the south side of the Campitello
whilst along the whole extent of its
northern side are large houses with
handsome l)orticoes of all styles of
architecture Gothic, Lombardic, and
Renaissance. Though the houses above
them are the most commonplace of
modern ones, these columns and cap-
itals are very old, since, being solid
blocks of stone, they have stood firm
when everything else in Belluno was
shaken to l)ieces by frequent and disas-
trous earthquakes.
Here, in this big piazza, all the miss-
ing inhabitants of I3clluno seemed to
be congregated. It was a brilliant
sight, as the morning sun streamed
(iowa on the busy throng. Long rows
of stalls and booths filled up one end of
the square, and all manner of market-
carts were ranged along the walls. The
bright-colored stuffs and shawls with
which the stalls were stocked vied in
hue with the costumes of the peasants
who crowde(l round them. Behind
these stalls spaces had been marke(1
out on the ground, and here were set
in order the goods of many a travelling
merchant. One bad set out his un-
folded dress stuffs in little heaps, so
that his square of ground looked as if a
crop of tulips had just been mown and
made up into haycocks, but whIch
clian~ed in color as the stuffs were sold
off. Next this was a green field of
pottery. There were earthen ware pots
an(l dishes of every conceivable shape,
each of them characteristic. Some way
on was a great array of tin and iron im-
plements and pipkins, which the peas-
ants carry off in numbers to replace the
handsome bronze three-legged j)otS in-
herited from their forebears, and which
are being rapidly transferred to the
halls an(l (Irawing-rooms of England
and America. Next, a great pile of
crimson and yellow attracted our atten-
tion and that of the crowd. A seller of
wondlerfully colored blankets and coun-
terpanes had draped his cart with them,
and, (Iressed in a gaudy coat, was sell-
ing them by auction. Beginning at a
high price, he came down to such a low
one that one was surprised how all
did not go off. Such cheap-jacks are
always more or less amusing all the
world over, but there was something
extra funny in this one, from the ear-
nestness he put into his face, and the
vi~or with which he expatiated on the
qualities of his goods. This blanket
is the largest ever made ; it can cover
you and your wife, your grandmother,
the children, the donkey, the dog, and
the cat. Another, he declared, was
so soft and thick that he who had
the troubles of a Job would find them
all melt away under its warmth. This
would certainly have sold for four
francs, if its twin one had not gone off
for two and a half!
Whilst all this was going on under
the blaze of the sun, life was no less
busy in the deep shade of the l)orticoes.
Here are to be found the chief shops
of the place; but to-day, as if fear-
ing that the outside attractions might
divert attention from them, they had
pushed out temporary counters into
59
the arches in front, with a tempting
display of things to suit mountain
taste ; and linen and lace, mens suits,
and fanciful gaiters, hung like curtains
from the apex of the arches. In one
portico waved long streamers of green
Alpine caps or broadbrimmed straw
hats for the men, all threaded on a
string like a gigantic daisy chain ; and
festoons of gay ribbons to bind them
with floated from the spiral leaves of
the old carved capitals ; whilst from
the stall below rose columns of the flat,
black felt hats ~vorn by the women of
the Austrian valleys, which they raise
from their heads like men, when sa-
luting you, and take off when they go
into church. Under another arch were
piles of the gorgeous umbrellas so (lear
to Italian country people, and without
which they are miever seenolive
green, saffron, orange, bright blue, and
crimson, and all with rainbows round
their edges. Three consecutive arches
were filled with a long array of books,
the most modern of which must have
dated from the days of our grandpar-
ents youth, all except an English book
on childrens illnesses and a bad French
novel. Farther on, a silversmiths stall
was thronged by young women anxious
to invest their latest savings, or the
price of their own particular lamb just
sold, in another fantastic-headed, long
silver pin to enlarge the circle of shin-
ing silver with which they love to
cro~vn themselves. In another portico
~ve were claimed as old friends by a
merchant from Pieve di Cadore, whose
stall was a very museum, where, be-
sides the ordinary things a Belluno
shop supplies, he had fancy glass from
Venice, Russia-leather bags from Vi-
enna, and needles and cotton from
England. We were amused to be sa-
luted by him with the familiar Pieve
phrase, Staga pulita? (Are you
clean ?), which to new ears sounds a
little strange, but which is only the
mountain phrase for Are you well?
A break in the porticoes now made
us turn our attention to what was
going on at the south side of the Cam-
pitello, and making our way through
the crowd, we found ourselves in the
Market-Day in an Italian Country Town.
60
busiest part of the cattl& market. In
the shade of the houses and of the
big gates were ranged, in two long
rows, hundreds of pretty grey. and dun-
coIore(l oxen, chained, side by side, to
long ropes flxe(l to staves in the ground.
Though small, they looked strong and
generally well cared for, and many had
marks on their backs, showing they had
already changed hands. At a cattle-
market one would naturally expect
some noise and bustle, but we were
hardly prepared for what we found
here. In all directions what appeared
to be free fights were going on. Surely
malefactors were being caught in the
act, and volunteers were lugging them
off to justice but then, why so many?
Here was a strong young fellow who
had a shrivelled-up 01(1 maii by the
collar, and was dragging him off into
the 01(1 town by the Dante Gate, whilst
the old man struggled to free himself,
and clutched at post, and rope, and
gatepost, in his efforts at resistance.
On another side the case was reversed,
and a tall, thin, wiry 01(1 peasant had a
stout youth of twenty by the arm, and
was In ~gin g him along by main force,
while the youth let himself be dragged
on like a log. Next came a stout man
and his prisoner, who in this case
walked along resolutely, as if in des-
peration, with an expression of resig-
nation on his face, as he, too was
swallowed up ~by the Porta Dante.
Sometimes the captured one would
shake himself loose and dart away
among the crowd, the other man rush-
ing to try to catch him again. It was
very mysterious ; so, profiting by a lull,
we, too, went through the gateway,
imud there we found them all, captives
and captors, seated at tables in various
osterias, with cups of wine and five-
franc pieces before them, discussing
the wine and their business in the most
friendly manner.
As we listened to their talk, the inys-
terv was solved. The captured were
those who had cattle to sell, and the
captors were agents employed to make
the bargain. This is how business is
done a farmer requiring a pair of
o~ieii takes stock of the animals pres
Market-Day in an Italian Country Town.
cut, and points out to a mediatore, or
agent, those that suit him, and, hands.
over to him a five7franc piece. The
mediatore then seeks the owner, and
learns the price, whieh is too, high, ~nd
offers one,whieh ja too low ; then tries.
to make him take the five-franc bit
as earnest-money, the acceptance of
which would mean he was rea(ly to
come to terms. And now it is that the
fight begins. The agent seizes the
mans right hand and tries to force the
money into it. The man plunges his
fist into his pocket and defends it there
with the other ; or be holds it above
his head ; or he spreads out his hand,
setting his muscles like iron rods, while
the other presses the money against
the palm and tries to close the fingers
over it ; or lie tries to elude it alto-
gether by running away. The ear-
nest-money once accepted, then begins
another fight to bring the buyer face to
face with the seller, who is waiting
quietly for him in the ~vine-shop. I
remarked to a mediatore, as he stood
puffing and panting midway in one
of the struggles, that it seemed hard
work ; but lie said, laughing: 11
mestiere ~ cosV (This is the custom of
our trade).
Going farther along the Campitello,
we found that oxen had given place to
sheep, which were standing in semicir-
cular groups near the wall. Two long
ropes, knotted together every twelve or
fourteen inches, were fastened by their
ends to the wall, and into the loops
formed between the knots were placed
the heads of the sheep, so that the
loops were loose when the sheep were
quiet, but tightened if they tried to get
away. On carts and barrows, ranged
in front of their sheep, sat the owners,
in every instance looking as if they had
no possible interest in their (lisposal.
here the same mediatorial fights were
going on ; and we saw that the earnest-
money for a single sheep was a fianc,
and that the price of a fine one was
only about eight-an d-fourp ence. We
watched one pretty girl, the owner of
two fat lambs, whom the mediatore
was evidentlytrying to come over by
gentler means than those we have de
Market-Day in an Italian Country Town.
scribed, for lie whispered in her ear
and as lie was a goo(l-looking fellow,
this no (loubt conduced to his success.
7. 7
for the earnest-money was accepted,
.an(l the bargain was struck on the spot,
without the usual adjournment to the
wineshop.
A young country-man to whom we
spoke told us that an extra good pair
of oxen can be had for from thirty to
forty-eight pounds, the ordinary price
being about twenty-four. Though not
so large as those seen in the plains,
they have more work in them, as they
live all the summer at liberty in the
high, bracing, mountain air. A mihch
cow can be had for about seventy francs
(~2 16s.) and upwards ; while a calf
costs from twenty to forty francs.
These last, how ever, are sold by weight,
which accounted for the various weigh-
ing-machines that we had noticed in
some of the lower-floor rooms of the
houses in whose shade we were stand-
the rest of the town, by the terrible
earthquake of 1873. On the walls of.
the present building are the names of
the l3ellunese l)atliots who were killed
fighting for the freedom of their coun-
try. The Di~iomo itself is an ugly
building, replacing an interesting
Gothic one.
We now entered the busy Mezza-
terra, the main street which runs from
the Porta Doitia to the point of the tri-
an(4e where a third gate leads down
to the river. Here the porticoes were
thronged with market women with
their stalls and baskets. Huge piles.
of peaches and sweet , green melons
tempted us at every step, as did the
delicious, though tiny, pears of this.
country. Knives, scissors, pruning-
hooks, and scythes were mixed up with
boots and clogs and walking-sticks
and a boy, with a ridiculous, high-
pointed straw hat, blew a brazen
trumpet at us, and presented us with
in g. Our peasant friend also said that wlietstones for our sickles. As we
though, of course, some people bought
and sold without the intervention of an
age mit, it was far better for peasants,
coming in from distant villages, to em-
~)loy them, for they were acquainted
with the state of the market, and knew
the fluctuations in l)rices. E poi,
lie said, son tutti genti onestissimi
(Besides, they are all the honestest of
people). None had ever been known
to wrong his employer. Indeed,
lie added, every one is honest here.
We may bring our goods to the market-
place over night and leave them there
unprotected, and not a cabbage or an
apple will be taken. This agreed
with what we already knew of these
mountaineers, for we have found
amongst them a simpler religious faith
and purer morals than in other parts of
Italy.
Leaving the Campitello, we passed
through the Piazza del Duomo, round
which stand some interesting and beau-
tiful buildings, such as the bishops
palace, the palace of the podesths who
governed the province for Venice, and
the Municipio, rebuilt with the mate-
rials of the lovely Gothic palace of the
Consighie dei Kobihi, destroyed, like all
went up the street towar(hs Porta
Doina, a man with a big stall covered
with cheeses drew our attention to a
heap of some mysterious things, black,
rough, and mouldy, which looked like
clods of dry black mud from a stagnant
pool, and smelt as sweet. The man
was surprised we would not buy one,
assuring us it was a great delicacy
ricotto, or curd cheese, made from
goats milk. Preferring to leave this
delicacy for mountain palates, we
passed on, picking our way across
the small piazza outside Porta Dofna,
which was strewn with toys, stockings,
wooden clogs, and tiny barrels for
drinking-water. Under the gateway
was a row of picturesque girls with
corbas of blaeberries, but as they only
offered about an eggcupful for a pa-
lanca, or a penny, we thought they
knew how to improve the occasion
of the passing by of English people.
But we had to hasten home, for the
clarions of the Bersaghieri were sound-
ing midday ; our lunch was still to be
eaten ; and Colombo, our coachman,
was waiting, with his horse and carros-
sefla, to carry us off to cooler and
higher regions amongst the majestic
61
62
peaks and the deep valleys of the Dol-
omite Alps.
From All The Year Round.
THE ABDUCTION OF A KING.
THE abduction of Stanislaus Augus-
tus, king of Poland, in the very mi(lst
of Warsaw, llis own capital, was prob-
ably as audacious an exploit as any
body of conspirators ever conceived or
accomplished. Perhaps I should say
nearly accomplished, since at the
last moment the king effected his es-
cape, but in its earlier stages the at-
teml)t was completely successful. The
instigators of the offence were the
confederated Polish nobles, who had
never recognized Stanislaus as lawfully
elected ; and, not without reason,
looked upon him as the mere tool of
Russian tyranny.
The man who planned the details of
the abduction was the celebrated Polish
patriot, Pulaski. He it was who en-
gaged a body of forty adventurers to
carry it out under the leadership of
three daring men, Lukowski, Strawin-
ski, and Kosiuski, whom he had won
over, amId who had sworn to deliver up
to him the king, dead or alive.
Making their way by stealthy jour-
neys from Czitscliokow, in Great Po-
land, they entered Warsaw, on the
second of November, without having
been discovered. They were disguised
as peasants in charge of carts loaded
with hay, under which were concealed
their saddles, weapons, and ordinary
dress.
They did not all penetrate into the
heart of the city ; some remained at
tile gates. Tile others, on the follow-
ing evening, collected, xv ith due precan-
tions, in the Street of the Capucins
for they calculated, from information
receive(l, that the king would pass
that way on returning to his palace at
the accustomed hour.
And so it happened.
Between nine and ten oclock, leav-
ing the resi(lence of his uncle, Prince
Czartoriski, to whom he had been pay-
ing a visit, the king drove into tile trap
The Abduction of a King.
prepared for him. His escort did not.
excee(l some fifteen or sixteen grooms
amId troopers, and all aidedecamp rod&
with Ilim in ilis carriage.
Suddenly a number of well-armed
men sl)ral~g out of tile darkness, and
surroun(led both the carriage and its.
escort, ordering tile coacllman to pull
up. Before he could obey a shower of
bullets clattered about tile vehicle, and
struck (Iowa an equerry wIlo had posted
himself on the doorstep to defend his
master. Tile escort had fled at the first
shot ; even tile ai(le-decamp was gone
the king was all alone. It was a pitch-
(lark night, and he atteml)ted to profit
by the (larkuess ; but before he Ilad
taken half-a-dozen steps, a rou~~h hand
clutelled Ibid of his hair. We have
you now, cried the man who had
stopl)ed him ; your hour is come
and a pistol was discharged so close to
his face that lIe afterwards said he
could feel the llent of the flame. At
the same time a sal)re stroke was aimed
at his head, and cut through his ilat and
hair to his skull. Meanwhile the con-
spirators had remounted their horses ;,
two of tilem seize(l his collar and
(lra.~oed him on between tilem, whil&
they rode at full gallop, five hundred~
paces througll the streets of Warsaw.
The alarm had by this time been
given in both the palace and the city
The guards Ilastened to the scene of
tile outrage, but discovered only the
kings hat, soaked in blood. It was at~
once concluded that he had been killed,.
and his dead body carried off by the
mur(lerers ; the city was filled with all
kinds of dreadful rumors.
Tile king was soon breathless and cx-
Ilausted with tile cruel treatment to
whiell lIe had been subjected. He was.
unable to stan(l, an(l his captors were
,. to mount him on llorseback.
They then proceeded at a still more
rapid pace~ On reaching the city gate
they found it closed, so tllat the only
means of escape was by leaping the
(litch. They did not hesitate. The
king was of course compelled to follow
Illeir example. He pushed ilis llorse
forward, but he fell in tile middle. A
secon(l attempt, a secoIld failure; and.
The Abduction of a King.
the poor animal broke his leg. Stanis-
JaUS was dragged out covered with mud
and greatly disordered ; another horse
was provided, and the desperate ride
resumed. But not before they had re-
lieved him of all his valuables, leaving
only his handkerchief and tablets.
Even Lukowski shared in the plunder,
snatching the ribbon of the kings
black eagle, with the diamond cross
attached to it.
Most of the conspirators now dis-
perse(I ; no doubt in order to warn
their chiefs of the captives approach.
Only seven remained, under the com-
mand of Kosiuski. The night had
grown so heavy that they had lost their
bearings~ and knew not where they
were. Moreover, their horses were
spent with fatigue, and would not
budge a step further. The party were
compelled to alight, and forced the
king to do the samethough he had
but one boot, the other having stuck in
the mud of the city ditch.
For some time they continued to
wander about the fields, unable to dis-
cover any regular road, or to get out
of the neighborhood of Warsaw. At
length they remounted King Stanis-
Inns, two of them holding him up in the
sa(ldle with their hands, while a third
led the horse by the bridle. Thus they
stumbled on, until the king, perceiving
that they had struck into a path which
led to a village called Burskow, warned
them that some Russian soldiers were
stationed there, who would probably
attempt his rescue. Strange advice,
von will say, for the king to have given
to his abductors; but it was really dic-
tated by consummate prudence, lie
was reasonably afraid that on seeing
the Russian guard the conspirators
might. have killed him and taken to
flight; whereas by informing them of
the danger to which they were exposing
themselves, he to some extent gained
their confidence. And, as a matter
of fact, thenceforward they treated
him with greater lenity.. Finding him-
self unable to endure any longer the
painful posture they had forced upon
him, he begged them to provide him
with a boot and another horse. To
63.
this they assented; and then resumed
their journey over the pathless tracts,.
frequently retracing their course with-
out knowing it, until they finally found
themselves in the wood of Bielany, not.
more than a leflgue from Warsaw.
Meanwhile the capital was a scene
of consternation and perplexity. The
guar(ls were afraid that if they pressed
the pursuit of the captors, the latter, in
their rage, might put the king to death
under cover of the darkness. On the
other hand, by delaying, they gave
them time to convey their victim to
some secure retreat, whence it ,niaht.
not be possible to rescue him. At last,.
several nobles mounted their horses
and followed up the traces of the con
spirators until they reached the point
where the king had crossed the (litch.
There they picked up his pelisse,.
which the king had lost in the scuffle,
and as it was blood-spotted and shot
torn, it confirmed them in their belief
that the king was no more.
Stanislaus and his captors were still
wan(lering in the wood of Bielany,
when they were suddenly alarmed by
the sounds of a Russian patrol. After
holding a short conference together
four of them disappeared, leaving
Kosinski and two others with the king.
A quarter of an hour later they came
upon a second Russian guard, and the
two men fled, so that the king was
alone with Kosiuski. Both had aban-
doned their horses and were on foot.
Exhausted by all he had undergone,
Stanislaus begged his guardian to halt
and allow him a few minutes repose.
The Pole refused, and threatened him
with his drawn sword, but at the same
time told him they would find a vehicle
waiting for them on the threshold of
the wood. They continued their tramp
until they found themselves at the
gate of the convent of Bielany. Ko-
siuski was here so agitated by his
thoughts that the king perceived his
disorder, and having remarked that
they had strayed from the road in quite
a different direction, added I see
that you do not know where to go.
Let me seek shelter in the convent,
64 The Abduction of a King.
and do you provide for your oWn millers hard by, he immediately turned
safety. No, replied Kosiuski, I his steps in that (lilection. Kosiuski
have sworn. knocked at the door. There was no
They continued their journeyings reply. Then he broke a Window-pane,
until they arrived at Mariemont, a and demanded that shelter ShoUl(l be
small l)alace belonging to the house of given to a ~entl h~d been
eman who
Saxony, whichis not more than half a ill-used by thieves ; but the miller,
league from Warsaw. Kosinski showe(l thinking they were robbers, refused to
some satisfaction on finding out where open, and for more than half an hour
he was ; and the king having again persisted in the refusal. Eventually
asked for a few. minutes rest, he con the king approached, and speaking
seated. While they reclined together through the broken casement, endeav
on the ground, the king employed the ored to in(luce the miller to receive
brief interval in endeavoring to pro- them. If we ~vere thieves, said he,
pitiate his conductor, and l)ersua(le him we could as easily- have broken the
to assist, or at least permit, his escape. whole window as a single l)ane. This
He represented to him the criminality l)ithy argument convince(l the miller
of his conduct in undertaking t.o kill he opened the door and received the
his sovereigu~ and the invalidity of an king.
oath taken for such a purpose. Ko- The latter immediately wrote in
sinski listened attentively, and at last French the following note to General
showed some signs of remorse. But Cou6r, colonel of his foot guards
if, lie said, consenting to save your By a kind of miracle I have escaped
life, I reconduct you to Warsaw, what from my assassins, and am now at
will be the consequence ? I shall be the little mill of Mariemont. Come as
arrested and put to death. soon as may be to convey me from
This reflection plunged him anew here. I am wounded, but not badly.
into uncertainty and embarrassment. The king experienced some (hifficulty
I give you my word, said the king, in finding a messenger to take the billet
that no ill shall befall you ; but if to Warsaw ; but at length succeeded.
you doubt the fulfilment of my prom- Withiout a minutes delay Cou~r re-
ise, escape while there is yet time. I l)ilired to the mill, followed by a detach-
can find my way towards some place of ment of guards. On arriving there he
safety, and I will certainly point out to found the king sound asleep on the
any who might wish to pursue you a ground, covered by the millers cloak.
route directly opposite to that taken by The reader can imagine alh that ensued
you. Kosinski could no longer resist. the surprise of the miller and his
Throwing himself at the kings feet he family when they (liscovered whom
implored his forgiveness, and swore to they had treated with such scant cour-
protect him against every enemny, add- tesy; the delight of the king at the
ing that he would trust wholly to his happy ending of his night of l)eril ; the
generosity. The king repeated his rejoicings in Warsaw when the citizens
promise that no harm should come to welcomed back their sovereign. Alls
him. Thinking it prudent not the less well that ends well, and so ended this
to gain some asylum without delay, strange story of the abduction of a
and remembering that there was a king.
GERMAN FORESTS. Of the whole sur- The most thickly wooded districts in Ger-
face of Germany, over one-fourth is covered many are Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (in the
by forests. About 52 per cent. of these Thiuringian Wald), where 44 per cent. of
forests are, according to the Forst- und the country is covered with trees. Olden-
Jagdkalender of Dr. Judeich, the head burg has the least wood viz., only 9 pei~
of the Forestry Department, government cent, of its surface, and Prussia has about
forests, and 48 per cent. private property. 23 per cent. of woodland.