The Living age ... / Volume 207, Issue 2675
65-128
LITTELLS LIYING AGE.
Sixth Series,
Volume VIII. -~
I.
11.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
No. 2675. October 12, 1895. { From Beginning,
CONTENTS.
Tun PASSING OF THE MONK,.
A MASTER OF DECEIT. By Jan Mac-
laren
THE STORY OF STAMBOULOFF s FALL.
By Edward Dicey
THE OLD ONE-HORNED STAG,
LION HUNTING BEYOND THE HAUD.
By H. C. Lowther
WHEN WE WERE BOYS. Part V.,
Quarterly Review,
Blackwoods Magazine,
Fortnightly Review,.
Macmillans Magazine,
Nineteenth Century,.
Macmillan a Magazine,
RECONCILED
RECOLLECTIONS OF A PIANO,
POET H V.
66 FORGIVE,
b6
06
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Single copies of the LIVING AGE, 18 cents.
67
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91
100
105
123
66
RECONCILED.
WE parted where the shadows crept
Along the valley, damp and chill,
And low the wailing breezes swept
Around the solitary hill;
And Love was beaten back by Pride
With angry word and bitter speech,
Till, pausing where the paths divide,
We turned in silence, each from each.
Have we been happy? Was the thing
We strove for really worth the strife?
What gifts could Scorn and Anger bring
Save broken vows and severed life?
Oh, sweet blue eyes with trouble dim!
Oh, tender glance, half frank, half shy!
Loves cup runs over at the brim,
And shall we lightly put it by?
Dear, lay thine hand in mine once more,
In perfect trust of heart and mind;
Turn to the happier days before,
Leave we the darker hours behind.
From Lifes dark past new hopes are born,
The jarring discords slowly cease;
And through an ever-brightening morn
Sweet Love walks hand in hand with
Peace.
Chambers Journal. R. S. W.
RECOLLECTIONS OF A PIANO.
CHIFFONIER, your memorys failing
You are older than I am.
In the days long past bewailing,
You held gingerbread and jam,
Almonds, oranges, and spices,
All as good as they could be;
Tiny plates with quaint devices
For the childrens Sunday tea.
Chiffonier, of all your treasures,
You retain no mouldy crumb,
And Ive lost my sweet old measures,
And my keys are chiefly dumb;
Yet, when many memories mingle,
Sometimes, in the dead of night,
With a faint, unearthly jingle,
I awaken in aifright.
Voices lost to mortal hearing
Murmur softly in the gloom.
There are childrens faces peering
From the shadows of the room;
And I feel my faded curtain
Softly lifted. Who are these?
No chord sounds, yet I am certain
There are fingers on my keys
They for whom a tall wax candle
In each polished sconce was set
Singing Purcell, Bach, and Handel,
Many a stately, staid duet.
They were tenor and soprano;
Pleasantly their voices rang
No one but the old piano
Can remember what they sang!
Winter seems an earlier comer,
Yet some days of warmth we win;
Through the window, in the summer,
Looks the white Cape jessamine.
Ilas the old plant ever spoken
Of the sprays that once were laid
On my shining cover oaken
And she found them when she played?
On the lawn I still look over
Where a footstep seldom falls
There were joyous cries of Rover!
There were clashing croquet-balls.
Dull and deaf the chiffonier is,
And he sleeps the whole day long;
But the old piano wearies
For the laughter and the song.
I am battered, I am dusty,
And my silk is dark with mould;
No one rubs my sconces rusty,
Tarnished now that shone like gold!
The last breath of life is dwindling
From my numb and voiceless keys.
They may break me up for kindling
Just as quickly as they please.
Longmans Magazine. MAY KENDALL.
FORGIVE.
WAIT not the morrow, but forgive me
now;
Who knows what fate to-morrows dawn
may bring?
Let us not part with shadow on thy brow,
With my heart hungering.
Wait not the morrow, but entwine thy
hand
In mine, with sweet forgiveness full and
free.
Of all lifes joys I only understand
This joy of loving thee.
Perhaps some day I may redeem the wrong,
Repair the fault I know not when or
how.
0, dearest, do not wait it may be long-
Only forgive me now.
Academy. ARTHUR L. SALMON.
Reconciled, etc.
The Passing of the 3lonk.
67
From The Quarterly Review, thing more about a vanished order, on
THE PASSING OF THE MONK. whose memory rests a sombre cloud of
A GREAT wrong has been done, ignominy. Among these causes may
knowingly or unknowingly, to the be cited the fasL-growing popularity of
memory of a multitude of men who, our great cathedrals as centres of
with rare exceptions, according to their religious life and human activity. It
lights, seem on the whole to have done is well known that some of these cathe-
their duty well and faithfully. The drals were the abbey churches of once
monastic orders, who in the latter years famous monasteries. Could these mon-
of King Henry VJJJ.s reign were sup- asteries, of which the well-loved cathe-
pressed and whose goods were confis- dm1 was the living centre, have been
cated, suffered the loss of all that in the home of men sunk in sloth and
their lives made life beautiful ; a few of steeped in nameless vice? Another
their leading men were put to death as cause is the awakening of religious
traitors and felons ; the great majority, art, which finds in the ancient abbeys
simply ejected from their ancient the noblest examples of religious archi--
houses, wandered forth landless, home- tecture, the truest form of religious.
less, hopeless, well-nigh penniless. symbolism. To take one conspicuous.
And this was not all ; their very mem- instance, the craft of stained-glass.
ory was stained with obloquy, and sue- painters, which in late years has made
cessive generations of Englishmen such notable advance, seeks and finds
have been taught to regard them as so in the splendid remains of the scarred.
vile that their doom was richly de- though still glowing windows of the
served, cathedrals and abbeys, the best school~
Several centuries have passed since from which to study, the fairest ideals
the monk was forcibly ejected from his at which to aim. Last but not least
home, and until recent years he has recent study has stirred up among
found no defender chivalrous enough Englishmen a suspicion that injustice
to speak a word in his defence. His has been done to men who in their day
guilt has been assumed as proved; and played a noble part in English history.
the story of his supposed wrong-doing, It is indisputable that the reign of
and of the punishment which followed Henry VII., and the last half of the
his sin, took its place among the cre- fifteenth century, found the monasteries
denda taught to every English boy and of England sensibly weakened. The
girl. numbers of religious were dimin
It is something more than a feeling ished by at least a third ; in many
for a romantic past which has revived houses scarcely half their proper num-
an interest in the ancient religions ber were maintained. This great nu-
houses which once played so great a merical weakness was due in large
part in the story of England. Several measure to the desolating sicknesses of
causes may be said to have contributed the preceding centnry. The Black
to this newly awakened curiosity, if we Death of 13491361 had carried off,
give it no nobler term, to learn some- roughly speaking, nearly half the
1 ~, Obedientiary Rolls of S. Swithuns, Win- religions~ in the country. No mon-
chester. By the Very Rev. Dr. Kitchin, Dean of astery could be said to have recovered
Durham. London, 1892. from the calamity; aI)d when the
2. Winchester cathedral Records: A Consuetu-
dinary of the Fourteenth Century. By Dr. Kitchin. spoilers hand was stretched forth to
London, 1886. l)lunder, no house, large or small,
3. Henry the Eighth and the English Monas- was found with its proper complement
teries. By Francis Aidan Gasquet. Two vols. of professed monks. This sudden re-
London, 1890.
4. The Last Abbot of Glastonbury and his Corn- moval, too, of so many of the best
panions. By Francis Aidan Gasquet. London, and most devoted, must, as it has been
1895.
5. An Account of the Priory of St. Peter and ~ well pleaded, have broken the con-
Paul, Bath. By the Rev. W. Hunt, M.A. Lou- tinuity of the best traditions of eccle
don, 1893. siastical usage and teachino
0~
68 The Passing of the Monk.
But a yet deeper source of weakness commission issued by Pope Innocent
in the doomed orders must be sought VIII. Froude makes much of it in
and found in the totally changed condi- two of his more famous works, in his
tions of human life brought about Short Studies on Great Subjects,
largely by the invention of printing, and in his History of England.
The monk no longer possessed the No picture, he says, left us by
monopoly of knowledge ; the printing- Henry V4II.s visitors, surpasses, even
press took away from the cloister much if it equals, this description of a great
of its occupation. The education of monastery. It contains open charges
the world ceased to be in the hands of of the most flagrant immorality and
the monk. Bishop Stubbs speaks of disgracefule excesses, together with
the incurable uselessness of the mo- grave references to simony, waste,
nastic orders in the time of Wolsey; carelessness, gross neglect of duties,
and though this expression may be and other shameful disorders. After
exaggerated, no fair-minded English- quoting this tremendous indictment at
man can deny that considerable truth great length, Frou de proceeds to give
underlies the sweeping assertion. A us, in the following words~ the result
reformation, a complete recasting of of Mortons investigation We nee(l
the monastic system, a revision of the not, writes our historian~ describe
monks work and office, was needed ; further this overwhelming document
and this necessity the clear-sighted it pursues its way through mire and
ministers of Henry VII. and his son filth to its most lame and impotent con-
(Morton and Wolsey) saw, though they elusion. After all this, the abbot was
were unable, for various reasons, in not deposed ; he was invited merely to
their day of power to carry out the reconsider his doings, and, if possible,
change. amend them. Nor was St. Albans
There is no question but that in the only abbey so accused before Mor-
England, in the great upheaval which ton ; other important houses were sim-
followed the Wars of the Roses, the ilarly attacked, and in each case a
monasteries with their vast wealth simple reprimand was considered to be
were viewed in many quarters with an adequate punishment.
dislike and envy. A feeling that they Now, supposing that Morton bad
were not doing the work which was been satisfied that even one-tenth of
naturally expected from men who pos- the tremendous charges had been
sessed such great means was general, proved, is it credible that such a man
and it was shared by many thoughtful as the all-powerful minister of such a
and earnest souls, men who by no king as Henry VII. an almost abso-
means can be classed with the needy lute monarch, dogged in his determi-
and the greedy, who had risen to nation to do his duty to his country
power in the new state of things which would have passed them by, and suf-
succeeded the suicide of feudalism. fered such a state of things to exist in
Grave accusations largely false, but important religious centres like St. Al-
still indicative of the direction of public bans? It must be remembered that
opinion were listened to by serious Morton was no ordinary man. A dis-
statesmen of the character of Cardinal tinguished lawyer, an able financier, of
Morton, Henry VII.s illustrious mm- stainless character, he was the minister
ister. of the great and, on the whole, benefi
One of the most formidable accusa- cent reign of Henry VII., retaining the
tions ever levelled against the religious great seal as long as he lived. The
houses before the Reformation, is con- conclusion, then, seems irresistible.
tamed in the well-known letter of, Car- The cardinal archbishop and his inns-
dinal Morton to the abbot of the great ter, Henry VII., while evidently con-
monastery of St. Albans, written in the sidering the necessity of changes in the
year 1489. This letter preceded a for- life-work of the accused orders as im-
mal visitation of the abbey under a minent, still looked upon the graver
The Passing of the Monk.
accusations preferred against the Ab-
bey of St. Albans and other important
monasteries as absolutely unproved.
Thus one of the most serious of the pre-
Reformation charges levelled against
the moral character of the religious
houses, and one upon which the ac-
cusers of the monks lay the greatest
stress, fails under examination~
Time went on ; Morton and his
i~oya1 master were gathered to their
fathers, and Wolsey and Henry VIII.
reigned in their room. The urgent
necessity for a great monastic reform
grew yearly more pressing. Wolseys
plan for a partial reform or recasting
was connected with the establishment
of colleges and places of education.
his fall interrupted his projects; but,
as Bishop Stubbs reminds us, the prog-
ress the great minister had made in
his partly developed scheme opened
King Henry VIII.s eyes to a new pos-
sibility.
It is difficult to credit Henry VIII.
with any lofty motives in the matter of
the suppression of the monasteries.
As a statesman of no ordinary capacity,
trained by his great minister, Wolsey,
he could not help seeing that much of
the monks work was done ; and he,
probably in the first instance, satisfied
his conscience by purposing to employ
the larger portion of the revenues he
proposed to confiscate, for urgent State
purposes, such as national defence;
for more practical religious objects,
such as founding new bishoprics; for
education, such as the establishment
of colleges and schools. These things
Wolsey dreamed of in his day of
~ But the pitiful allotment for
those objects that the king eventually
made of the vast property which fell
into his hands from the plundered
houses, compels us to see in the whole
business only a miserable example of
greed. Even the poor excuses for the
gre at robbery made in the days of the
earlier confiscations, when he charged
the dispossessed monks with nameless
crimes and shameless profligacy, were
all silently dropped as time went on,
and the confiscation of all the greater
houses and their vast revenues was
69
carried out by the imperious sovereign
with scarcely an effort to throw the
flimsiest veil of pretended justice over
his act.
But the accusations made in the first
instance against the lesser monasteries,
and upon which the act of Parliament
legalizing the suppression of the smaller
religious houses was based, have never
been forgotten; they have even been
grossly exaggerated as time went on,
and have served to blacken perma-
nently the characters of all the reli-
gious who suffered such grievous
wrongs at the hands of Henry VIII.
The wickedness of the monk and nun
of the Middle Ages became one of the
articles of common belief among the
English-speaking peoples.
It was time that this error should be
corrected, and that, even while we
recognize some of the good which in
the long run has resulted from the de-
structive deed, we should do tardy
justice to the dispossessed monastic
orders. It was only fair now that
the real story is better known that
we should teach our children to look
on the large majority of these hapless
men and women as victims deserving
our pity and respect, rather than as
guilty culprits who met with a righteous
doom.
The edifice of all the subsequent def-
amation of the character of the reli-
gious of the English monasteries is
really built upon the evidence of three
sets of documents. The first is the so-
called Black Book ; this has com-
pletely disappeared. The second,
which we still possess in manuscript,
consists of reports comperta as they
are called made by the official coin-
missioners of Cromwell on one hun-
dred and twenty houses, mostly situate
in the province of York, and on twenty-
four houses nearly all in the diocese of
Norwich. The third consists of certain
letters written by the commissioners
(or visitors) to Cromwell.
The Black Book is supposed to
have been the document which con~
tamed the reports of Cromwells vis-
itors or commissioners on the state of
the monasteries, from which a digest
The Passing oj the Monk.
was apparently read to Parliament
(1536). After hearing this paper read,
the debate followed which resulted in
the act for the suppression of the
smaller religious houses, i.e., of those
houses whose income did not exceed
20W. per annum (roughly in our present
money, 2,0001. per annum).
Now the first mention of the Black
Book occurs in a paper written in
the time of Queen Elizabeth. This
was shewed in Parliament, and the
villainies made known and allowed.
The paper in which these words occur
is supposed to have been written for
the information of Elizabeth. If this
Black Book ever existed and was
presented to Parliament, it must have
disappeared not long after it had been
used. According to the common opin-
ion, the Anglo-Romanists destroyed it
in the reign of Mary, but this is abso-
lutely unproven. Burnet, without any
evidence to support him, suggests this
explanation; and Froude adopts the
suggestion of Burnet in the following
clear-cut statement: Bonner was di-
rected by Queen Mary to destroy all
discoverable copies of it, and his work
was fatally well executed. But our
brilliant if somewhat fanciful historian
omits to give us any proof that his
assertion respecting its destruction is
founded on fact. Canon Dixon, com-
menting upon the story of the disap-
pearance of this mysterious writing,
says on the high authority of Mr.
Brewer There is no trace of wan-
ton or designed destruction among the
records.
The comperta and the letters of the
visitors or commissioners therefore
supply the only evidence of the alleged
enormities of the dwellers in the mon-
asteries. The comperta, no doubt, are
very damaging to the character of the
monastic houses; but they are, to say
the least, singular statements upon
which to base so terrible an accusation.
Canon Dixon thus describes them : -
sons whom it contained, ranged under sev-
eral almost invariable classifications : some
as thieves, some appear as suspected of
treason, some are enrolled as guilty of
unnatural crimes; others as incontineiit,
incestuous, or adulterers. . . . There was~
no distinction made between one house
and another. . . . Of the innocent there
was no classification, nor was it possible to
discover the proportion which they bore to
the guilty, since the total number of in-
habitants was never given.
The letters of the visitors are totally
different from these rigid cut and
dried comperta. They, as Canon
Dixon tells us, are vivacious or
solemn, according to the temper of the
writer ; they abound in anecdotes, yet
they seldom mention any monk by
name, much less give lists of them.
The question presses, whence come
the lists of names which the comperta
exhibit? There is a wide belief that
the monasteries made numerous con-
fessions, and that it was in consequence
of these confessions that they were de-
stroyed. Now if such confessions
could ever have been produced, they
would have settled the question of de-
pravity at once; but they never have
been produced. King Henry VIII.
refers to them in his Answer to the
Rebels Articles of Doncaster; but
he refrained from publishing them,
and no trace of them exists. One
notable confession alone we possess,
that of the monastery of St. Andrew,
Northampton, which contains an ac-
knowledgment of voluptuous living.
This (again to quote Canon Dixon),
which was made under amusingly
suspicious circumstances, has been
printed more than once by historians
with the insinuation that there were
more of the kind, but that one speci
men would be enough. Unfortu-
nately for the argument, no more of
such documents are forthcoming.
Of the character of the Parliament
which gave Henry the lesser monas-
They follow a very rigid and a very sum- teries, Bishop Stubbs writes: Henry
~nary way of describing their [the monks] had clearly got a Parliament on which
guilt; in them all the method is the same. lie could depend. Hallam, speaking
The name of the house is given first, and of the obsequiousness and venality of
under it follows a list of the religious per- Lords and Commons in this reign,
70
The Passing of the Monk.
says: Both Houses of Parliament
yielded to every mandate of Henrys
imperious will; they bent with every
breath of his capricious humor; they
were responsible for the sanguinary
statutes, for the tyranny which they
sanctioned by law, and for that which
they permitted without law.
It is from Bishop Latimer, appar-
ently an ey& witness of the scene, that
historians have taken their well-known
description of the thrill of horror
with which the Parliament heard the
kings description of the iniquities of
abbots, monks, and nuns ; but the
words of bitter irony with which the
good bishop qualified his description of
the thrill of horror are not so well
known. When their enormities,
wrote Latimer, were first read in
the Parliament house, they were so
great and abominable that there was
nothing but down with them; but
within a while after the same abbots
were, made bishops, for the saving of their
pensions.
Nor does it seem by any way certain
that even that Parliament upon
which Henry could depend that
Parliament which yielded to every
mandate of henrys imperious will, and
bent with every breath of his capricious
humor, in spite of the thrill of hor-
ror with which it listened to Henrys
description of monkish enormities
was really convinced of the truth of the
kings descriptions; for Sir Henry
Spelman, who, as Mr. Gasquet tells us,
no doubt gave the traditional account
of the matter, says :
It is true the Parliament gave them [the
lesser houses] to him, but so unwillingly
(as I have heard), that when the bill had
stuck long in the Lower House and could
get no passage, he commanded the Com-
mons to attend him in the forenoon in his
gallery, where he let them wait till late in
the afternoon; and then coming out of his
chamber, walking a turn or two among
them and looking angrily on them, first on
one side and then on the other, at last, I
hear, saith he, that my bill will not
pass, but I will have it pass, or I will have
some of your heads, and without any
other rhetoric or persuasion returned to
his chamber. Enough was said, the bill
passed, and all was given him as he de-
sired.
The bill in due course became law,
and three hundred and seventy-six of
the smaller religious houses, their
churches and their property, became
the kings ; thirty-one of these Henry
refounded, only to be confiscated again
in the course of the next four or five
years. Thus this high-handed deed of
wholesale spoliation was carried into
effect, covered, it is true, by the high-
est legal sanction. Roughly speaking,
some nine or ten thousand persons
were turned adrift, with few exceptions
almost destitute, and had to begin the
world anew, as the result of the sup-
pression of the smaller religious houses.
In the preamble to the famous act of
Parliament of 1536, suppressing the
three-hundred and seventy-six smaller
monasteries, we come upon the follow-
ing remarkable words, which deserve
careful consideration :
The Kings most royal Majesty, being
supreme head on earth under God of the
Church of England, daily studying and
devising the increase, advancement, and
exaltation of true doctrine and virtue in
the said Church, to the only glory and
honor of God, and the total extirping and
destruction of vice and sin, having knowl-
edge that the premises be true, as well by
the accompts of his late visitations as by
sundry credible informations ; considering
also that divers great and solemn monas-
teries of this realm, wherein (thanks be to
God!) religion is right well kept and ob-
served, be destitute of such full number of
religious persons as they ought and may
keep, hath thought good, etc.
Thus, in the one formal document
which legalizes a comparatively small
portion of the great confiscation which
was based upon some sort of evidence,
we find an admission, couched in grave
and measured language, that there
were great and solemn monasteries in the
realm, wherein religion was right well
kept. For these, Parliament thanked
God. The only semblance of fault-
finding in the case of these great and
solemn monasteries appears to be
that they were not quite full ! in
other ~~ords, these houses did not con-
71
72
tam their normal number of religious
persons (the decrease in the number of
religious after the Black Death of
the fourteenth century has been already
noticed) ; and yet within five years
all these great and solemn houses, with-
out exception, were swel)t into the
spoilers net ; the dwellers in them
driven out ; their lands appropriated by
the king; their most cherished pos-
sessions confiscated ; very many of
their stately minsters, abbeys, churches
desecrated, ruined, destroyed, posi-
tively for the sake of the lead which
covered their roofs ; their holy vessels
converted to strange uses ; their sacred
vestments prostituted to unworthy pur-
poses ; their priceless libraries scat-
tered, tossed heedlessly aside. Never
was so reckless a ruin accomplished
never so vast a robbery consummated
with the flimsy veil of a subsequent
Parliamentary sanction.
For, although no act, as in the case
of the smaller houses, legalized this
far more important confiscation, a
retrospective edict by the kings direc-
tion was prepared and introduced by
Lord Audley in 1539, which threw over
the destruction of the great monas-
teries, where religion was right well
kept, the shield of the law. Freely,
voluntarily, under no manner of con-
straint, exaction, or compulsion, so
runs the utterly mendacious act of
Parliament, which serves to whitewash
the tremendous deed of spoliation,
have many abbeys, priories, friaries,
hospitals, and other religious houses
resigned themselves, their lands, their
property, their rights, into the hands
of the king, since the twenty-seventh
year of his reign [A.D. 1536, date of the
Small Houses Suppression Act]. Let
the king and his heirs possess these
houses forever.
Nor was this shameless act merely
retrospective in its provision ; it ar-
ranged for similar future deeds of con-
fiscation thus Other religious houses
may happen in future to be suppressed,
dissolved, renounced, relinquished, for-
feited, given up, or otherwise to come
into the kings hands ; let him enjoy
them. Two more years were needed
The Passing of the Monk.
to complete the work when this act
was passed. Before 1541 was run out,
all was over, and the last of the En-
glish monasteries had passed into the
hands of King Henry VIII.
What now had been the past history
of these great orders ? Dean Kitchin
no passionate admirer of monasti-
cism dwells upon their influence on
the world around them, in the pattein
which a religious house (he was writing
of a Benedictine community) afforded
for the organization of home and public
life generally.
Administrative completeness, such as
reigned within the convent walls, was not
to be found elsewhere; in no other place
do we find so exact a subdivision o~ labor,
so placid a sequence of routine. Even the
kings court, in comparison, was but
slightly organized; the feudal lord, who
was in some ways the nearest parallel, lived
careless and profuse, and his castle was a
scene of rough, ill-ordered plenty, secured
by no very scrupulous means. The civic
communities had as yet but little of the
common life, and administered few estates.
On the other hand, the strong organization
of the religious houses, the subdivision of
responsibility, the custom of demanding
and carefully auditing the yearly accounts
of the officers, combined to make monas-
teries patterns after which a better order
slowly came into being. They had no
need to take part in the fighting which ab-
sorbed and destroyed the well-being of the
lay world; within their walls peace reigned;
from their stately churches ever rose the
sound of prayer and praise; their gates
were open to the pilgrim and traveller;
hospitality and brotherly kindness softened
in many ways the harsh incidence of feudal
custom.
A monastery to take chance in-
stances such as the Priory of St.
Peter at Bath, or the Abbey of St.
Mary at Tewkesbury, was highly es-
teemed by the people of the district
where the religious house was situated,
some of whom were benefactors or
descendants of benefactors of the
house, nor was the influence of such
a monastery confined to a few fain-
ilies ; the power of its example and its
teaching was felt and acknowledged far
beyond the boundaries of its immediate
neighborhood.
The Passing of the Monk.
in the earlier Middle Ages it was the
monks who taught Europe to practise
ao~riculture, not to despise it; and to
the end of their existence in England,
they were ever among the best farmers
and the most indulgent landlords. In
commerce it is not too much to say
that the monastic societies ~vere in a
way forerunners of modern trade.
Dean Kitchin, in his monograph on the
Charter of Edward III. for the St.
Giles Fair, speaks of the many stran-
gers from various parts of England,
and even from distant foreign lands,
coming to this renowned fair, and pur-
chasing silver or jewels or spices from
the famed St. Swithuns stalls belong-
in g to the great Winchester monastery,
whose monks had more than one estab-
lished shop in the fair, where they
dealt in wines and stuffs as well as
in spices and groceries, and in this
way contributed not a little to the
creation of the vast commerce of our
country. In the early years of the
fourteenth century we know that there
were no fewer than one hundred and
eigl ~ty religions houses in England
xvhich supplied the Florentine and
Flemish markets with wool.
in art, during the Middle Ages, the
Benedictines and the other orders
were prominent, not only as the chief
patrons of architecture, painting, sculp-
ture, music, and embroidery, but as
contributing from their ranks probably
the majority of the number of En-
glish artists. The stately and magnifi-
cent abbeys and churches, and the
beautiful buildings which clustered
round them, were mostly built for the
monks; they were probably lar~ely
designed by gifted members of their
order; they were certainly commenced
and completed under their immediate
direction. Works such as the Chapel
of Kings, Cambridge, the Great Tower
of Gloucester, the Bell Tower of Eves-
ham, the Lady Chapel of Gloucester,
carried out in the last century of their
existence, show that to the end neither
the hand nor brain of the monk artist
had lost its cunning.
We possess a curious and interest-
ing memoir, the Rites of Durham.
73
The Rites have been accurately
described as a document containing a
connected account of life in a great mo-
nastic community at the very moment
of its dissolution ; as being certainly
the work of a man who had personal
information and who had seen what he
describes. In this little plain record
of about one hundred pages, again and
again we come upon allusions to the
innumerable art treasures contained in
the stately church: every window in
the vast building was evidently filled
with brilliant jewelled glass, such as
no following age has succeeded in im-
itating; every wall was bright with
frescoes ; its many altars were rich
with sumptuous embroideries; its sto-
ried shrines were adorned with cun-
ning work in gold and silver, in brass
and iron ; its treasury was filled with
costly plate, its guest-chamber with
rich and beautiful furniture; its sacred
vestments were marvels of skill and
taste. What we know of Durham in
its palmy days is true of many another
great monastic abbey church of the
Middle Ages. In England for some
four or five hundred years the monk
was the great artist, as well as the
great patron of art.
The obligations of our country for
several hundred years to the monastic
orders in the matter of education and
literature, in the production and multi-
plication of books, if not of so con-
spicuous a nature as in the case of art,
still are by no means to be forgotten by
the historian of the work of the monks.
In some of the great houses where the
cloisters are more or less preserved,
a long row of carrells or little study
chambers can still be seen. In
Gloucester these are specially remark-
able ; in the South Cloister-walk some
twenty of them are absolutely perfect;
they remain as they were on the day
of the dissolution of the monastery,
save that the desks and seats have
vanished ; the very closets where the
books in more immediate use were
kept, can still be seen. In these little
closets or carrells, during several
hours of the day, the monks sat and
read or wrote. A library was also a
The Passing of the Monk.
part of every considerable house ; this
was under the care of one of the chief
obedientiaries of the monastery. In
some houses a special scriptorium 01
writing-room was set apart for the use
of the monks who were employed in
copying the manuscripts. Many an
artistic monk, Dean Kitchin tells us,
constantly spent the best part of a life-
lime bending over a single important
manuscript, copying it, and minutely
illuminating the precious and beautiful
volume. Not a few of these books so
copied were lent to the clergy and
others outside the monastery who cared
for these things.
A monastic library did not merely
contain books bearing upon theology
and sacred Scripture ; medical and
philosophical works, classics, histories,
etc., were carefully treasured up by
the monks. Some of these books were
richly bound, and splendid with illumi-
nations in gold and various colors.
The Durham Rites speak of a great
store of ancient manuscripts possessed
by the house to help the monks in their
study. The Rites go on to say how
the store inclUded
the old auncient written Doctors of the
Church, as other profane authors, with
divers other holie mens wourks, so that
every one dyd studye what Doctor pleased
them best, havinge the Librairie at all
times to go and studye in, besydes their
carrells.
From the same Rites we learn
that in the dormitory each monk had a
little chamber to himself with a win-
(low, or a bit of a window, and in the
win(low a desk for books, so that he
could study, if he pleased, in the hours
spent in the dormitory. Special di-
rections were given that the monks and
novices were not to be disturbed in
their carrells while they were
studying.
In their care for education, in days
when all training for the young, save
in arms and field sports, was compara-
tively little thought of, the record of the
monastic orders is an honorable one.
Besides maintaining a song school,
the more important houses regularly
trained their novices in other learning;
and again, to use the words of the
Durham Rites,
yf the Maister dyd see that any of them
weare apte to lernynge and dyd applie his
booke, and had a pregnant wyt withall,
then the Maister dyd lett the Prior have
intelligence. Then streighteway after, he
was sent to Oxford to school.
Other people too sent their sons to the
monks for education, which was some-
times given freely and sometimes paid
for.
Mention has been made of Oxford.
The Durham College, besides the
pupils sent up from the abbey, ad-
mitted regular students. A purely
monastic college, as early as A.D. 1283,
was founded in Oxford for thirteen
monks of St. Peters Abbey, Glouces-
ter. This, before the end of the thir-
teenth century, developed into a great
Benedictine house of learning, and a
long list of abbeys united together to
maintain this Benedictine college at
Oxford, which flourished until the
Reformation.
Nor were the nunneries behindhand
in the work of education in the rough
and comparatively unlettered Middle
Ages. Mr. Gasquet, quoting from con-
temporary records, writes as follows
Here (lie is speaking of a Wiltshire
convent) the young maids were
brought up and learned needlework,
the art of confectionery, surgery, etc.
Passing from the question of the
enormous and beneficent influence ex-
ercised by the monastic orders in a
country like England during the Mid-
dle Ages, it will be well to (Iraw a
picture of the life lived in a great mon-
astery such as Gloucester or Win-
chester or Durham. First of all, any
idea of a solitary life lived for the most
part in separate cells, like the Carthu-
sian ideal now carried out at the Grande
Chartreuse and in the other houses of
their order, must be put aside. In a
I Benedictine (the principal and by far
the most influential of the orders) mon-
astery, the life was intensely social.
The brothers worshipped together in
the church, they took counsel together
74
in the chapter-house, they studied to-
gether in the cloister, they ate together
in the refectory, they slept in one great
dormitory. The vast size of these
refectories and dormitories may be
clearly traced at Gloucester and other
places.
Under the lord abbot, as at Glouces-
ter or Evesham, or the lord prior, as at
Winchester or Durham, were gathered
a group of officers or obedientiaries by
whom the monks, their many depend-
ants and tenants, were ruled ; the
whole constituting a well-ordered com-
munity which, to use Dean Kitchins
words,
on the one side kept up a perpetual protest
against the rude vices of the age, and on
the other side showed to the king, nobles,
prelates, and burghers the pattern of an
organization for the conduct of life and
business which could hardly have been
found elsewhere in mediieval times.
By the abbots side stood the first,
second, and third priors, the lieutenants
of the abbot, and ready at once to step
into his place should the chief be at
any time incapacitated from exercising
a general supervision over the whole
community. After these dignified offi-
cers came a group specially attached to
the great church or abbey. The sacrist
had charge generally of the innumer-
able services ; everything that bore
upon their order and dignity was re-
ferred to him. This great official often
had the care of the library, and acted
as chancellor of the society, and wrote
the letters which had to be sent out.
After him came the precentor, who ar-
ranged the elaborate music and singing,
which formed so large a part of the
many services. He presided over the
singers, arranged the processions, and
exercised, under the abbot and the
prior, the chief authority in church.
In some houses the offices of sacrist
and precentor were combined.
The circa was an official especially
charged with the discipline of the ser-
vices. His little stone desk, near the
entrance of the choir, is still to be seen
near the north gate of the choir of
Gloucester. There, in the night hours
or in the deep dawn of the early morn-
75
ing, he would stand, and carefully
watch who was absent from the com-
pany, and would report the truant to
the full chapter on the following day;
and when all were assembled in the
gorgeous choir, the same officer went
his rounds, with his little lamp gleam-
ing in the dimly lighted church, to see
if any weary brother had fallen asleep,
and to rouse him up again to take his
share in the perpetual nightly round of
prayer and praise.
The custos operum or master of the
works ranks the last of these great
obedientiaries. His was no light duty,
the watching over the constant repairs
needed in these vast hives called inon-
asteries, which clustered round the
abbey. In Jocelyn de Brakelondas
delicious gossipy Chronicle of Bury
St. Edmunds, the ruined state into
which many of the abbey buildings had
fallen during the careless reign of
Abbot Hugo, in the reign of King
John, was severely commented on.
The monk was a restless artist, an
indefatigable architect, and loved to be
ever decorating his home with new,
beautiful, sometimes fantastic work.
Our cathedrals and abbeys, in the ex-
quisite confusion of style of architec-
ture which they present, tell us how
successive generations of monks
planned, designed, and carried out new
works. They never wearied in their
efforts to make their beautiful churches
more beautiful ; over all this the custos
operurn was supreme. We, who after
long centuries are content to admire,
and faintly to copy what our fathers
have done in abbeys and cathedral
buildings,owe a large debt to many an
unknown, unrecorded custos operum.
The next group of monastic officials
is a more homely one. The first in
order was the receiver or treasurer. He
had the duty of receiving and account-
ing for the rents of the abbey farms.
His office in later days, when from
various causes the religions houses
grew poorer, must often have been an
onerous, if not a painful one, and on
him fell the perpetual strain to make
ends meet, while sadly insufficient re~
sources were at his command.
The Passing of the Monk.
burial in the cemetery hard by, to lie
among the brethren gone before.
The infirmarian usually possessed a
knowledge of medicine and surgery.
This knowledge was not uncommon
among the Benedictines. Every mo-
nastic library contained books on these
subjects, and not a few among the
more famous mnedheval physicians be-
longed to this order.
The master of the novices was chosen
for his skill in and love for teaching.
The guest-master had the charge of vis-
itors, an important (lepartment in many
of the greater houses. Hospitality to
travellers was a distinguish ing feature,
and the remains of the great guest-
halls we still possess tell us how
carefully and even lavishly this was
provided for. At Durham several of
the large prebendal houses have been
arranged out of the apartments and
other offices belonging to the guests
hall.
Entertainment [says the Rites of Dur-
ham,] was given to all staits, both noble,
gentle, and what degree soever that came
thether as strangers, ther interteynment
not being inferior to any place in Ingland,
both for the goodness of their diets, the
sweete and daintie furniture of ther lodg-
ings, and generally all things necessarie
for traveillers.
The Passing of the Monk.
The obedientiary with the quaint
title of hordarian shared, with the re-
fectorarian and cellarer, the labor no
small one of providing for the bodily
needs of the numerous company who
dwelt in a great house. Certain es-
tates belonging to the monastery were
set aside for this purpose. These were
administered by the hordarian, who
derived his somewhat barbarous title
from his duties. He was set over the
hoard, or the supplies of food re-
quired for the refectory. The diet of
the monks varied in different houses.
IDean Kitehin, after careful examina-
tion of diet rolls, does not consider that
the religious on the whole fared
amiss. There is, however, no doubt
but in many, perhaps in the majority
of houses, there was a wearying same-
ness in the food provided, which was
often rough and coarse. It must be
borne in mind that most of the brethren
were not drawn from the poor labor-
ing folk, but rather from the upper
middle class. An examination of the
diet rolls shows that condiments such
as mustard were freely used, especially
on the many fast days. It would ap-
pear that the tasteless and somewhat
indigestible fish diet became often re-
pugnant.
Among the other notable obedientia-
ries, the Thftrmarian occupies a prom- Another well-known obedientiarv in
inent position. Tender care for the a great monastery, the camerarius
sick and ailing especially distinguished (chamberlain), must not be forgotten.
the Benedictines. Their infirmaries He had the charge of all the furniture
were usually spacious, and not unfre- of the (lormitory and refectory, and of
quently were richly ornamented. The the various chambers and halls of the
ruins of the gracefnl arches, still grace- monastery ; and when the vast size
ful after even a clumsy attempt at and complex arrangements of a large
restoration, of the infirmary of the Benedictine house are borne in mind,
Benedictine house of Gloucester, tes- it will be seen that the duties of this
tify to the former existence of stately officer were no light ones, and required
buildings erected for the sick monk, constant skill and forethought to pre-
This hospital, which adjoined the clois- serve the necessary decency and clean-
ter, the sick shared with the aged liness and customary dignity, without
brothers whose waning strength was exceeding the sum of money set apart
insufficient to enable them to take part for this purpose an amount which
in the austere life and many services of gradually decreased in well-nigh all the
the house. In this building, in slow, religious houses as time went on.
tranquil decay, or in the little sunny There were a number of subordinate
garden attached to it, they spent their officials, such as cooks, door-keepers,
last days, without cares and without gardeners, and the like, who need not
fears, till they were carried out to be specially described. Indeed the
76
The Passing of the Monk.
policy of the great monastic orders was
raFher to multiply offices, with a view
of providing the brethren with occupa-
tions which would give them an inter-
est in the well-being of their order,
and in the prosperity and discipline of
their own particular house.
The foregoing sketch of course refers
to the organization of one of the more
important Benedictine communities,
such as Gloucester or Durham; but,
with necessary modifications, it applies
to the general government of even the
smaller communities.
But the centre of a monastery was
the church or abbey. Mr. Hunt, in
his Account of the Priory of St. Peter
and St. Paul at Bath, gives the follow-
ing r~sum~ of the daily service of a
Benedictine house :
In all seasons alike the monks rose from
their beds at midnight, and went into a
cold church think how terribly cold it
must have been in the depth of winter I
and there went through a service, or rather
two services, Matins and Lauds, which
were mostly sung, and lasted about an
hour and a half. They then crept back to
bed again. At 7 A.M. they again assembled
in their church for Prime, and at its close
there was a short meeting in the Chapter-
house for the ordinary business of the
house, and specially its discipline. After
that, one of the monks in priests orders
would, in his turn, celebrate Our Ladys
Mass, while others would be reading or
talking in the cloister. At 9 A.M. came
Tierce, which was followed by High Mass
and Sext. Dinner time was, in the four-
teenth century probably 11 or 11.30, and
during the meal some lesson would be read
aloud. After dinner came Nones; and
while most of the monks were engaged in
that service, the Conversi, or lay-brethren,
and the monks who had in their turn
served the others at dinner, sat down to
their meal. Then came a short time set
apart, if desired, for sleep, which was fol-
lowed by active employment of different
kinds, by study or recreation. Vespers
were sung at 3 P.M. Supper was at six,
and was followed by a reading from some
book of edification. At 7.30 came Coin-
pline, and then at eight the brethren went
to the dormitory to sleep until they were
roused for Matins. It was in the intervals
of these stated duties that the officers of a
Benedictine house transacted its manifold
business, and the other brethren studied in
the carrells or wrote and illuminated in
the Scriptorium.
Up to the period of the dissolution of
the monasteries, A.D. 15361541, with
little change, this had been the unvary-
ing use of the large majority of the
religious houses in England. Prayer
and praise to Almighty God in their
church or abbey had been the principal
object of their lives dating from the
reforms of Lanfranc for well-nigh
five hundred years.
In the Durham Rites we read
how before the high altar were three
marvellous faire silver basons hung in
chaines of silver ; these contained
great wax candles, which did burne
continually both day and night, in
token that the house was always
watchinge to God. Many and vari-
ous are the estimates which men make
as to the efficacy of prayer in changing
or modifying Gods purposes towards
men; few will, however, be found to
deny the moral beauty of this concep-
tion, which was the common heritage
of all the monastic orders. The ideal
of every monastery was the ideal typi-
fied by the Durham ever-burning lights:
The house was always watchinge to
God. The well-known collects and
prayers enshrined in the solemn lit-
urgy of the Church of England, are, in
large measure, the prayers and collects
prayed and sung for so many centu-
ries, by day and by night, in the one
thousand abbeys and chapels of the
monks; they were thus forever in-
terceding for all sorts and conditions
of men.
But, besides the perpetual prayer for
others, a peculiar spiritual fellowship
existed between the religious of
the same order, and was indeed often
extended to those of other orders.
Mr. Hunt (An Account of the Priory
of St. Peter and St. Paul at Bath)
gives us a remarkable illustration of
this fellowship in the bond for prayer
made between the Priory of Bath and
six other Benedictine convents, as far
back as A.D. 1077, in which the parties
agreed to pray for one another and
their brethren, and to be loyal to th&
77
78
king and queen with one heart and one
soul. It will be observed, adds Mr.
Hunt, that two of the abbots were of
the conquering race, and their union
with their English brethren is pleasant
to contemplate.
When a monk died, a messenger was
despatched to all the religious coin-
inunities from which prayers were due,
and indeed to many others, with a
mortuary roll, having at the head an
announcement of the death and a short
account of the deceased. Each com-
munity acknowledged receiving the roll
by writing upon it a promise of prayer
for the soul of the departed, and, as a
rule, a request for similar prayers for
their deceased brethren and benefac-
tors was added. The benefits of thcse
prayers seem to have been granted to
a large number of benefactors and
others. Nor was this privilege by any
means confined to the great and
wealthy; a very small, even a nominal
payment, such as a pound of wax,
seems to have qualified a man or
woman to be received, if otherwise
fitting, into the number of fratres
or sororcs of the convent. Those
so admitted knew that the divine sacri-
fice was daily offered for them in the
church of the monastery, and that
prayer was continually made for them
while they lived, and that after death
the welfare of their souls would be the
subject of special intercession. The
historian of the Bath Monastery goes
on to say, that whatever our religious
opinions may be, we can hardly fail to
see something beautiful in this tie be-
tween the outside world and the con-
vent; the (laily common life, often
rough and hard, thus enriched and
softened by spiritual sympathy and
love.
To Lanfrane, the friend of William
the Conqueror, the first Norman arch-
bishop, the great monastic reformer of
the eleventh century, the kindler of
light and force among the Norman
clergy, is owing in great measure the
plan of life which with certain intet
ruptions, occasioned as different houses
fell away for a season from their ideal,
was led in that vast network of reli
The Passina of the Monk.
gious communities which covered En-
gland from 1070 to 1fl41. It was a
noble as well as an enduring concep-
tion. The principles of monasticism
in the England of the last half of the
eleventh century, as taught by Lan-
franc and his great pupil and successor
Anseim, are well summed up by Dean
Church
The hard, stern sa3culum (age) was un-
manageable and uncontrollable. Those
who believed in Christs teaching might be
honest in leaving the wild tumult without,
and, by adopting the monastic profession,
secure ports of refuge and shelter, where
men might find the religion which the con-
ditions of active society seem to exclude.
A man who wanted to be active in the
world had little choice but to be a soldier; a
man who wanted to serve God with all his
heart had little choice but to be a monk.
The governing thought of monastic life was
that it was a warfare militia, and the
monastery a camp or barrack. There was
continual drill and exercise, fixed times,
appointed tasks, hard fare, stern punish-
ment ; watchfulness was to be incessant,
obedience prompt and absolute. Monas-
teries were to be places where the search
after peace and light and purity, and the
conquest of evil, were made the objects of
human life.
The life of a monk was a hard and
austere one at best; it was sweetened
and beautified with few of those luxu-
ries men are ever accustomed to asso-
ciate with even moderate comfort and
happiness. The diet as we have seen
was, if plentiful, gel~eralIy coarse and
unvarying, and the fasts frequent and
rigorous; and in a damp and chilly
climate like that of England, the monk
must have often suffered acutely from
cold. There were few fires kept up in
any monastery. For the monks, save
in the common room or in the refec-
tory at snow time, there was no fire.
The common room or house is de-
scribed in the Rites of Durham as
havimv a fyre keapt iu yt all winter,
for the mounckes to cume and warme
them at, being allowed no fyre but
that only. We are expressly told in
the same Rites, they were allowed
no fyre in the dormitory. We meet
with constant notices respecting warm
The Passing of the Monk.
clothing, furs, etc., so chill was the
atmosphere of the great church, the
refectory, and the dormitory. Any one
who has had experience of the cold,
damp carrells of the famous mon-
astery of Gloucester, where the cloister
was no doubt glazed as it is now, can-
not help wondering how study could
have been ever carried on under such
circumstances. Yet in most cloisters,
as at Westminster, there was positively
no glazing; the monks, as they sat or
~valked, were exposed to the winds and
damp.
The recreations of the monk were
few aud monotonous; the chief of them
was perhaps the pacing up and down
the little walks of the narrow limits of
the cloister garth and garden, or ceme-
tery, during certain hours of the day,
where even such gossipy talk as Joce-
lyn de Brakelonda tells us of in his
quaint Memoirs of the House of S.
Edmund at Bury, in the days of King
John, was sternly checked by that
obedientiary the circa as he moved
about among the brethren at recre-
ation. There was a bowling-green for
the novices, which the professed monks
seemed to have used at times. These
novices and the other schoolboy pupils
in the house have left the traces of
their games ; on the stone benches of
the Gloucester cloisters, where we
know these boys were taught, and
where they spent a portion of their
lives, are playboards not obscurely
marked in the stones. These game-
boards for Fox and Geese, Nine
Mens Morris, In and Out, and
other games, are found in other con-
ventual buildings at Westminster, Nor-
wich, Salisbury, Durham, etc. Other
vestiges of unlawful recreations of the
more youthful dwellers in a monastery,
such as cutting and carving the stones
with letters and other devices, are oc-
casionally found ; for instance, half-
way up the winding stair of the great
tower at Gloucester, there is a rough
little figure in the perfect dress of a
burgher of the time of the Wars of
the Roses, evidently the secret work of
a youthful amateur carver in stone.
In some monasteries the monk was
79
allowed to l)055C55 and to amuse him-
self with strange pet animals, such as
apes, peacocks, falcons, and even tame
bears; and St. Swithuns Consuetudi-
nary tells us that the cellarer had the
special care of these animalia a di-
versis fratribus per multa tempora ac-
quisita.
Much has been said and written con-
cerning the evil example set by the
monastic orders in matters of health
and cleanliness, and there is no doubt
but that in the eleventh and twelfth
centuries, if not later, an ostentatious
neglect in these matters characterized
the dwellers in monasteries. The
scene which followed the martyrdom of
Thomas k Becket has been often
quoted, when beneath the stately trap-
pings of the murdered prelate were
discovered the garments of a Benedic-
tine, and beneath these, an inner cov-
ering of a rough hair-cloth, which
swarmed with vermin; boiling over
with them, as one account describes
the sight, like water in a simmering
caldron. The passage in Archbishop
Lanfrancs Decrees (eleventh century),
which orders the chamberlain of the
house to change the hay in the monks
pallets once a~year, and once a year to
clean out the dormitory, throws a
strong light upon the state of a monas-
tery in the days of the Norman kings.
What must have been the general con-
dition of a great chamber in which
thirty, forty, or even many more monks,
slept for a year on the same hay?
Another act given by Lanfrauc pre-
scribes one bath a year just before
Christmas day. This strange neglect
of the body, however, appears to have
been based upon two considerations:
the one, that disregard of the perish-
able body was an acceptable service;
the other, that dirt, however unwhole-
some in itself, was regarded as a great
preservative against cold.
But, as the Middle Ages advanced, a
very different rule of life was gradually
adopted in the matter of cleanliness.
In the fourteenth century the Con-
suetudines in Refectorio of the
important house of St. Swithun at
Winchester especially charges the prior
The Passing of the Monk.
with the care of strewing the refectory
with new rush mats seven times in the
year, three in winter and four in sum-
mer. These rush mats, Dean Kitchin
tells us, formed a considerable item in
the monastic life. They were often
woven by the monks themselves, who
slept under them or on them, prayed
~n them, sat on them, and lay on them
when dying. They were harder than
the straw litter and more wholesome.
The same Consuetudinary tells us how
one of the chamberlains duties was to
renew the canvas cloths on the refec-
tory table from time to time, and to
Vrovide napkins to wipe the cups of
silver and of wood; provision is also
made for cleaning out the hall by the
Vorter.
In the Durham Rites, that
accurate picture of a great religious
house just before the dissolution, we
read of a
fair Almerie (close to the refectory door),
joyned in the wall; all the forepart of the
Almerie was carved work, for to give ayre
-to the towels, and there was a door in the
forepart of the Almerie, and every mounche
had a key for the said Almerie, wherein
Aid hinge clean towels for the mounches to
Arye their hands on when they washed and
went to dinner.
The almerie hard by the refectory
door, with the iron hinge of the door
and the keautifully carved open work
-above to let in the air to dry the towels,
is still to be seen in the Gloucester
-cloister opposite the lavatory, only
-slightly injured by time and the horses
-of a troop of Cromwells soldiers which
were stabled there!
The Durham Rites describe the
~ fair layer or conduit for the mounchs
to wash their hands and faces at, coy-
ered with lead, and all of marble, hay-
Aug many little conditts or spouts of
-brasse, with xxiiii. cockes of brasse.
This washing, probably in the four-
teeuth century, became part of the
monastic discipline, for the Rites
clene towels. The place where this
call bell hung is still to be seen in
the Gloucester cloister. The same
Rites too provide for an obedien-
tiary of the house seeing to the scru-
pulous cleanliness of the geste
chamber, where all the table
clothes, table napkings, and all the
naprie within the chamber, as sheetes
and pillowes, were to be kept sweate
and deane.
A study on the monastic life, which
in its day so powerfully influenced our
country on the whole for good, and
which, we are intensely convinced,
trained up many earnest and devout
souls, would be incomplete and one-
si(led if no notice were taken of the
more obvious faults which accompanied
the system, and of some of the evil
consequences to the outer world.
The idea which has already been
(lwelt upon as the ground idea of men
like Lanfrauc and Anselm that
earnest men could best fulfil Gcds pur-
pose by leaving the unmanageable and
uncontrollable world to follow its own
way, and by securing for themselves
ports of refuge and shelter out of its
wild tumult, was arrived at by
ignoring the solemn prayer of the
founder of Christianity I pray not
that Thou shouldest take them out of
the world, but that Thou shouldest keep
them from the evil. The natural re-
sult of this selfish as it now seems to
thoughtful men purpose was to beget
a spirit of stern exclusiveness among
the religious. This at once showed
itself in the architecture of those splen-
did and matchless homes of prayer,
which the spirit of devotion and enthu-
siasm for godliness, undoubtedly exist-
ing among the monastic bodies, guided
them to erect and adorn. In every
great church and abbey the choir was
looked upon as the most sacred part of
the church this was beautified and
cared for with an especial care, and was
rigidly reserved for the monk ; from
tell us how a bell hung near the con- this sacred choir every one who was
-ditt door to give warning at a leaven of not a brother was excluded. In not a
-the clock for the mounchs to cumme, few of the monastic churches, such as
-wash, and dyne, having their closetts in the lordly Abbey of Evesham, the
-~or almeries kept always with swete and nave as well as the choir was closed to
~8o
like Passing of the Monk.
the outer world, and another and less
important church was erected close by
for worshippers who belonged not to
the charmed circle of professed monks.
When the day of destruction arrived,
the mass of the people cared little or
nothing about the ruin of a building
from which they had been always ex-
eluded. The notion sank deeply into
the heart of the monk that the object
of his dedication to the religious life
was to secure his own salvation, with
little reference to the spiritual needs of
the world outside.
Self-centred, having few interests outside
those cloistered walls where they proposed
to pass their lives, under the shadow of
which they hoped to die, they regarded
themselves as a chosen band, they believed
themselves to be moving heavenwards as a
company and all together ; the whole notion
underlying their existence was that of each
helping the others within the narrow limits
of the community.
On the other hand, their religion had
hardly any outward tendency; they had no
vocation to save the outer world. The
monks hardly realized that those outside
were their brethren, hungry and naked,
full of needs and sufferings; the provision
for their stately church, their community,
their administration, made them hard and
unfeeling towards others; and this was
fostered and aggravated by their own firm
belief that they were, in a sense, especially
Gods elect, the heirs of safety here and of
salvation hereafter.
This was the deliberate opinion of
Dean Kitchin, one of the most thought-
ful of our modern scholars in monastic
lore, and this opinion is shared by
other students of our tune ; and though
perhaps in the above-quoted words it
is somewhat exaggerated and unduly
pressed, their estimate contains much
truth, and the downfall of monasticism
in England is no doubt very largely
due to the undoubted existence of this
stern spirit of exclusiveness. The
monk, notwithstanding his splendid
record of service done to religion, to
urt, to letters, and indeed to well-nigh
everything that made life beautiful and
desirable in a nation, had failed in the
ilong run to find the key to the peoples
LIVING AGE. VOL. VIII. 370
81
hearts ; and when he fell, at the bid-
ding of a tyrannical and unscrupulous
king, the victim of a false and unjust
cry, his fate was almost unpitied and
well-nigh unnoticed.
Monastic Christianity finds its most
complete expression in that small man-
ual of devotion put out in the fifteenth
century, known as The Imitation of
Christ. Its boundless popularity re-
minds us, said Dean Milinan, that it
supplies some imperious want in the
Christianity of mankind; but, like
monasticism, of which it is the perfect
exponent,
it is absolutely and entirely selfish in its
aims as in its acts ; its sole, single, exclu-
sive object is the purification, the elevation
of the individual soul, of the man abso-
lutely isolated from his kind, with no fears,
no hopes, no sympathies of our common
nature; he has absolutely withdrawn him-
self, not only from the cares, the sins, the
trials, but from the duties, the moral and
religious fate of the world.
The Dean of St. Pauls summary of
the spirit of the famous Manual in
connection with the aims of monasti-
cisin is remarkable; and although
some who love the book may be pained
by Milmans words, they are worth
pondering over.
It was the knowledge of this fatal
error which suggested to Dominic and
Francis and their companions, in the
early years of the thirteenth century,
the idea of founding the Mendicant
Orders. The acknowledged aim of the
Dominican and Franciscan friar was
to spread abroad those glad tidings
which the Benedictine chose mainly to
confine within the walls of his own
religious house. Their primary ob-
ject, different from the Benedictine
ideal, was not the salvation of the in-
dividual monk, but the salvation of
others through him. The rapid
growth of the popularity of the friars is
a sufficient indication that in some re-
spects at least they had found the key
to the hearts of the people; nor is it
too much to say that the coming of
the friars put off the downfall of
monasticism in England for two cen-
turies.
82
Another grave accusation levelled at
the Benedictines charges them with
neglecting the churches on their broad
lands and allowing them to be but im-
perfectly and inadequately served by
inferior members of their own com-
munity, or by illiterate and poorly paid
priests appointed by them. This sub-
ject has as yet never been thoroughly
investigated, but the language used by
some of our modern writers in their
review of this charge is inexcusable,
and unwarranted by the facts of the
case, so far as they are known. Mr.
hunt, in his lucid and interesting ac-
count of the Priory of Bath, speaks of
these churches on the monastic and
other lands, thus
The system of appropriation of revenues
which properly belonged to certain churches
grew to its full extent by degrees, and was
a general abuse. It was much ameliorated
by the ordination of vicarages, by which in
each case a fixed portion of the revenues of
his church was secured to the parish priest,
the remainder being allotted to the monas-
tery.
That men of an inferior calibre belong-
ing to the house or elsewhere were
generally appointed to these benefices,
seems a baseless assertion. It will be
remembered, for instance, in the well-
known Memoirs of Jocelyn de Brake-
londa, how desirous the monk
Sampson, one of the ablest of the
brethren of the great monastery of
St. Edmund at Bury, was to obtain the
living of Woolpit, which belonged to
his house. The charge if properly
substantiated, a grave oneof appoint-
ing inferior and ill-qualified persons to
cures of souls, most likely grew out of
the state of things which followed the
ravages of the Black Death.
Some steps had been taken by Par-
liament to mitigate the abuses which
undoubtedly existed in the matter of
parish churches belonging to the mon-
asteries in the reigns of Richard II.
and Henry IV. But they proved in-
effectual. In 1529 Convocation ordered
that the abuses of monastic appropria-
tions should be investigated and
amended. The great confiscation,
however, rudely interrupted this and
many another project of well-con-
sidered reform of undoubted abuses,
and the lands and goods of the monas-
tic orders were seized by men from
whose minds, to use Canon Dixons
words,
nothing was further than to restore the
appropriations; and the incumbents of
monastic and other benefices, instead of
being better off, found themselves (after
the great confiscation) sunk in a penury
which grew greater with every successive
generation.
To many a thinker, perhaps to the
majority, in the sixteenth century, the
work of the monasteries seemed fin-
ished. Be this how it may, through
the long, dark period of the Middle
Ages, these monastic foundations had
rendered incalculable service to Chris-
tianity and to civilization. If, as many
think, it were well their work being
done that in the sixteenth century
they should disappear and give place
to others, it is only common justice to
lift off the veil of undeserved obloquy
with which the authors of their down-
fall, for their own mean purposes, have
disfigured their memory.
The accusations against the moral
character of the monk were made in
order that men might welcome the
dissolution of the monasteries. But
the charges were for the most part
baseless. The evidence of the visitors
of Henry VIII. breaks down when
carefully examined. The visitors
themselves were men of far from un-
blemished character. Their testimony,
such as it was, only applied to a very
small proportion of the houses accused.
The so-called Confessions~~ they pro-
duced were infinitesimally few in num-
ber, and bore unmistakable signs of
being simply cut-and-dried documents.
The usual stock stories of the iniquity
of monks and nuns were clearly pieces
of slanderous gossip, and even King
Henrys summary in the preamble to
the act of 1536 bore testimony in the
strongest terms to the pure state of
many great and solemn monas-
teries, all of which, without exception,
shared in the common ruin.
Nothing to justify the traditional
The Passing of the Monk.
The Passing of the Monk.
opinions appears in the results of the
visitation of the houses. Mr. Gasquet
estimates the number of religious
of both sexes who were expelled from
the houses as roughly eight thousand
persons, besides probably more than
ten times that number of people who
were their dependants, or otherwise
obtained their livelihood in the service
of the religious houses. In the com-
perta and letters scarcely two hundred
and fifty monks and nuns are named as
guilty of incontinence ; of these two
hundred and fifty, one-third, he tells
us, can be identified as having received
pensions, which surely even Burnet
would consider as disproving the
charges in their regard. This would
leave less than one hundred and
seventy out of eight thousand, tainted
by being accused of grave offences
against morality by the royal visitors
but being accused by such interested
parties as the visitors undoubtedly
were, is a very different thing from
being convicted of guilt. No wit-
nesses ever seem to have been pro-
duced, nor in any case do the monks
appear to have been allowed to answer
to the charges brought against them.
As regards the nuns, Mr. Gasquet
tells us that only some twenty-seven in
all were charged with vice, and of
these twenty-seven, seventeen are
known to have been afterwards pen-
sioned ; and that further, in the whole
visitation, extending over thirteen
counties, the visitors only report that
some fifty monks and two nuns were
(lesirous to abandon the religions life.
Dean Kitchin, in his exhaustive
introduction to the Obedientiary
Rolls of Winchester, considers that
while in that great house the reputa-
tion for learning which it acquired in
earlier days unfortunately faded away
as time went on, the moral character
of the body seems to have been con-
sistently high ; and again, later, he
repeats that even slander had re-
spected that venerable house, and the
records carefully searched out reveal
nothing that can be turned to its
serious discredit ; and in his final
summary, this writer, whom no one
83
will accuse of an undue partiality for
the monastic system speaks of
interested and truthiess persons who, in
the Reformation time and in later days,
have thought to honor God by blackening
wholesale the monastic character. Deo
per mendacium gratificari is still far too
often the guiding line of many a polemic
who tries to win his battle by flinging dirt
in the faces of his opponents.
A glance at a few of the strict dis-
ciplinary rules of the famous Priory of
Durham, which we find in the
Rites already quoted, will form a
fitting close to this little study on the
monasteries of England at the era of
their final dissolution.
No woman was ever permitted to
come within the body of the church
but more than this, in section xviii. we
read
Yf any woman chaunced to come within
the abel gaits or within any presynckt of
the house, yf she had bene sene but her
length within any place of the saide house,
she was taken and sett fast and punished,
to gyve example to all others for doning
the like.
In section xliii., treating of the dom-
ter (dormitory), we read how every
monk had in that
faire large house called the dorter, a little
chamber of wainscott to himself; every
little chamber was partitioned of, and the
novices had also little chambers, each sep-
arate; and in the dorter [dormitory] every
night was there a privy serche by the Sup~
prior, who did caule at every mounches
chamber (by their names) to se good order
kept, that none should be wanting (as also
that there were no disorders amongst
them); also the said Suppriors chamber
was the first in the dorter for seing of good
order keapt.
The doors of the house were rigorously
locked, and the keys placed in the
charge of a responsible officer. Sec-
tion xliii. contains the foliowino .
All the dures both of the seller, the
frater, the dorter, and the cloisters were
locked at evin, at vi. of the clocke, and the
keys delivered to the Supprior untyl vii. of
the clocke the next morninge.
A rigid watch was kept at night by one
of the chief obedientiaries.
84
The Supprior s chamber was over the
dorter dour, to the intent to heare that
none should stir or go forth.
And his office was to goe every nighte as
a privy watch before mydnyght and after
mydnyght to every mounches chamber and
to caule at his chamber dour upon him by
his name, to se that none of them should
be lacking or stolen furth.
If a monk were found guilty of any
grave moral offence, the punishment
was exceedingly severe. Underneath
the Master of the Fermyres [infirm-
ary] chamber was a strong prison called
the Lynghouse, which was ordained for
all such as were greate offenders. The
guilty monk was to be immured in this
dungeon for the space of one hole
year in cheynes. No one was to have
access to this dungeon save the master
of the infirmary, who did let downe
their meate thorongh a trap door on
a corde, being a great distance from
them. It would be interesting to
know if offenders often emerged alive
from this living death.
Some think that the dissolution of
the monasteries inflicted a terrible blow
on the social state of England ; others
are of opinion that the work of the
orders was done when the six-
teenth century dawned. Neither view
prevents us from lamenting the irrepa-
rable mischief which the rough and
covetous hands of the spoilers worked,
when they pulled down the mighty
edifice of monasticism. Still less does
either oppose our doing a tardy justice
to the memory of an army of toilers
for God, on the whole guiltless of the
grave charges brought against them
charges, as we have seen, largely man-
ufactured for the purpose of providing
an excuse for their spohiation.
People of all ranks acquiesced in
spiritless fashion in the great act
of confiscation. Popular indignation
showed itself, here and there, in armed
risings or angry murmurs. But these
manifestations of feeling were v cry
far from being the voice of England as
a nation, and they soon died down
again ; the monk had disappeared, and
only a few cared very much. Even
those who still resent with most bitter-
ness the irreparable losses brought
about by the spoliation, who feel most
intensely the wrong done to the mem-
ory of a crowd of earnest, God-fearing
men, cannot help acknowledging that
England as a nation, if it did not ap-
plaud, at least calmly accepted the act
of its imperious master and his servant
Cromwell. Thus the monk passed
but no change, however far-reaching
in its consequences, like that brought
about by the printing-press, no na-
tional upheaval, like that which closed
the period known as the Middle Ages,
can ever obliterate or even dull the
memory of the splendor of the work
done by the monastic orders.
From Biackwoods Magazine.
A MASTER OF DECEIT.
WHEN Jamie Sontar dropped into
the smithy one spring evening with an
impracticable padlock, and mentioned
casually that he was going to London
next day, the assembled neighbors lost
power of speech.
Did ye say London, Jamie?
Ilillocks was understood to have shown
great presence of mind in unparalleled
circumstances ; an are ye in yir
senses ?
As sune as ye recover yir strength,
Smith, said Jamie, taking no notice
of fatuous questions, ahl be obleeged
gin ye wud turn the key in this lock.
Its a wee dour tae manage ; a hevna
used ma bag sin a gaed tae the saut
water saxteen year past.
Did ye ever hear the like? and
the smith looked round the. circle for
support, refusing to treat Jamies de-
mand as an ordinary matter of busi-
ness.
What are ye glowerin at me for as
if a wes a fairhie ? and Jamie affected
anger ; lies a Drumtochty man no as
muckle riclit tac see the metropolis o
the country as ither fouk, gin lie can
pay his fare up an doon ?
Ave been wantin tae see the
Tooer o London, whar mony a lord
lies 1)airted wi his heid, an Westmins-
ter Abbey, whar the michty dead are
A .Miaster of Deceit.
A Miaster of Deceit.
Jyin, an the looses o Parliament,
whar they haver a hale nicht through,
an the streets, whar the soond o feet
never ceases.
The fact is, and Jainie tasted the
situation to the full, am anxious tae
improve ma mind, na gin ye speak me
fair all maybe gie the Glen a lecture
in the schule-hoose in the winter-time,
wi a magic-lantern, ye ken.
The neighbors regarded him with
horror, and, after he had departed,
united their wisdom to solve the mys-
tery.
Jamies by himsel in the Glen,
summed up ilillocks, an hes a wy
o his am. Ma thocht is that he juist
took a notion o seem London, an noo
that weve contered [opposed] him,
Jamie ill go, gin it cost him ten
notes.
On his way home Jamie gave Janet
Grant a cry, who was sitting very lone-
some and sad-like before the door of
her little cottage.
lloo are ye, Janet? the smell o
springs in the air, an the buds are
burstia bonnie. Yeill no hae heard
that am aff tae London the morrow,
juist for a ploy, ye ken, tae see the
wonders.
As Janet only stared at him, Jamie
offered explanations in atonement for
his foolishness.
Ye see ave aye lied an ambeetion
tae see the big warld that lies ootside
oor bit Glen, for its far-awa soon lies
been often in ma ear. Ave savit a
note or twa, an all get a glimpse afore
a dee.
Its a Providence, an naethin less
than an answer tae prayer, broke in
Janet, in great agitation; here hey
I been murnin that a cudna get tae
London masel, an that a kent nae-
body there, till ma heart was weary in
ma briest.
Naethin is sairer, Jamie, than tae
ken that ane ye luve is lyin ill amang
strangers, wi naebody o her bluid tae
speak a couthy word tae her, puir
lassie, or gie her a drink. A wes
juist seem her lyin ahane at the top of
the big lioose, an wushin she wes
WiS a in the Glen.
85
Posty said something aboot Lily
bein a wee sober, Jamie remarked,
with much composure, as if the matter
had just come to his memory ; an
noo a~ mind ye expeckit her hame for
a holiday laist August. She wadna
be wantin tae traivel sae far north,
am jalonsin.
Traivel! cried Janet; naebody
cares for a lang road gin it brings us
hame; an Lily wes coontin she would
come up wi the Druintochty fouk on
the first Friday o laist August. A
wes cheanin up the place for a month
tae haet snod, but she didna come, an
am fearin shieill no be here again ;a
lied a feelin frae the beginnin a wud
never see Lily again.
Her letter cam on a Thursday after-
noon when I was beginnin tae air the
sheets for her bed, an when Posty
gave it, I got a turn. Lilys no
comm ; sit (loon, a said.
Scarlet fever hes broken oot amang
the bairns in the family, an she thochit
it her duty tae stay and help, for the
hoose wes fu o nurses, an the cair-
ryin wes by ordinar.
It wes a sacrifice, said Jamie.
Lily never eneuch cared for hersel
the wark wud tell on her, all war-
rant.
Ma opeenion is that shes never
got the better o that month, an,
Jamie, a hevna hikit her letters a~ win-
ter. Its little she says aboot hiersel,
but shes lied a hoast [cough] for sax
months, an a gither her breaths
failin.
Jamie, a hevna said it tae a livin
soul, but ave lied a warnin no lan~er
back than laist nicht. Lilys deem,
an it wes London at hes killed her.
Yeill gac tae see her, Jamie ; ye
aye were a gude friend tae Lily, an
she likit ye wed. Write hoo she is,
an bring her back wi you gin she can
traivel, that a may see her again, if it
be the Lords wull.
Dinna be feared o that, Janet;
all no come back withioot Lily, and
Jamies air of resolution was some con-
solation.
Before he left, Jamie visited a shel-
tered nook in Tochty woods, and when
A .Miaster of Deceit.
he inquired for Lily Grant next day at
the door of a London West-End house,
there was a bunch of fresh primroses
in his hand.
Disna live here noo, did ye say?
then what hae ye dune lvi Lily? a
mann get tae the boddom o this, and
Jamie passed into the hall, the majes-
tic personage at the door having no
strength left to resist.
Tell yir mistress this ineenut that
a freend hes come frae Drumtochty tae
ask news o Lily Grant, an wull wait
till he gets them, and Jamies per-
sonality was so irresistible that the
personage counselled an immediate
audience.
Grants father, I suppose? began
Lilys mistress, with suspicions fluency.
No? Ah, then, son~e relative, no
doubt? how good of you to call, and so
convenient, too, for I wanted to see
some of her family. She was an ex-
cellent servant, and so nice in the
house; the others were quite devoted
to her. But I never thought her
strong. Dont you think London is
trying to country girls ?
Jamie did not offer any opinion.
One of the children caught that
horrid scarlet fever, and in the begin-
ning of August, of all times, when we
were going down to Scotland. Some
of the servants had left, and the child
had to be nursed here; there was lots
of work, and it fell on Grant.
She was going at that very time to
her home Drum something or other;
or was it Ben? its always the one or
the other when it isnt Mac.
IDrumtochty is the name o Lilys
hame, an her auld grandmither wes
lookin for her aifter three years ser-
vice.
Quite so; and thats just what I
said to her. Take your holiday,
Grant, and well worry on somehow,
but she wouldnt go. We thought it
so pretty of her, for servants are gen-
erally so selfish ; and she really did
wonderfully, as much as three women,
do you know ?
If it wudna hurry ye, wud ye tell
me her address in London?
but I felt you would like to hear all
about her, for we had a great idea of
Grant. It was a cold it began with,
and one day I heard her coughing, and
told her she must positively see a doc-
tor; but Grant was very obstinate at
times, and she never went.
Its possible that she didna ken
ane. An what cam o her cough?
It was too dreadful, and they ought
not to have taken me to the room. I
could not sleep all night. Grant had
broken a blood-vessel, and they thought
she was dying.
Is Lily deid? demanded Jamie.
Oh no; how could you fancy such
a thing? But our doctor said it was a
very bad case, and that she could not
live above a week. We were desolated
to part with her, but of course she
could not remain I mean, we
knew she would receive more atten-
tion in a hospital. So you under-
stand
A dae, broke in Jamie, fine
Lily ~vorkit for you an yir bairns in a
time o need till a the strength she
broclit wi her wes gane, an then,
when she wes like tae dee, ye turned
her oot as ye wudna hae dune wi ane
o yir horses. Yeve a graund hoose
an~ cairry a high held, but yere a puir
meeserable cratur, no worthy tae be
compared wi the lass ye hey dune tae
deith.
You have no right but Ja
mie s eyes went through her and she
fell away ; she can have her wages
for two months.
No one penny o yir siller wull she
touch beyond her lawful due ; gie me
the name o the hospital, an all tak
care o oor puir lass masel.
When Jamie was told at the hospital
that Lily had been taken away again
in the ambulance next day to the house
of the visiting physician, his wrath had
no restraint.
Is there nae place in this ceety
whar a freendless lassie can rest till she
gacs tae her laist hame? and Jamie
set off for the physician, refusing to
hear any explanation.
Hey a an appointment wi Sir An-
Of course ; Im coining to that, dra? Yes, a hey, an for this verra
86
A .Miaster of Deceit.
ineenut. So again he got access, for
the virile strength that was in him.
We have done all we could for her,
but she has only a day to live, said
Sir Andrew, a little man, with the
manner of a great heart; she will be
glad to see you, for the lassie has been
wearying for a sight of some kent
face.
Yere Scotch, said Jamie, as they
~vent np-stairs, softening and begin-
ning to suspect that he might be mis-
taken about things for once in his life;
hoo did ye bring Lily tae yir am
hoose?
Never mind that just now, said
Sir Andrew. Wait till I prepare Lily
for your coming, and Jamie owned
the sudden tone of authority.
One of your old friends has come
to see you, Lily Jamie noted how
gentle and caressing was the voice
but you must not speak above a whis-
per nor excite yourself. Just step into
the next room, ~
Jamie, and a flush of joy came
over the pale, thin face, that he would
hardly have recognized, this is gude
o ye tae come sae far, a wes
wantin tae see a Drumtochty face
afore a Then the tears choked
her words.
Ou aye, began Jamie, with delib-
emation. You see a wes up lookin
aifter some o IDrumsheughs fat cattle
that he sent aff tae the London mar-
ket, so of course a cudna be here with-
oot giein ye a cry.
It wes a pioy tae find ye, juist like
hide-an-seek, but, ma certes, ye hey got
a fine hame at laist, and Jamie ap-
praised the dainty bed, the soft carpet,
the little table with ice and fruit and
flowers, at their untold value of kind-
ness.
Div ye no ken, Jamie, that am
But Lily still found the words
hard to say at three-and-twenty.
Ye mean that ye lievna been takin
care o yirsel, an a~ can see that
niasel, but he was looking every-
where except at Lily, who was waiting
to catch his eye. Yeill need to
gither yir strength again an come back
wi me tae Drumntochty.
87
Ye ken whar thae floors grew,
Lily, and Jamie hastily produced his
primroses ; a thocht ye micht like a
sicht 0 them.
Doon ablow the Lodge in the
Tochty woods whar the river taks a
turn an the sun is sliinin bonnie
noo an a birk stands abune the bank
an dips intae the water.
The verra place, a couthy corner
whar the first primroses come oot.
Ye hevna forgot the auld Glen, Lily.
Dinna greet, lassie, or Sir Andra ill be
angry. Ye may be sure lieill dae a
he can for ye.
He hes, Jamie, an mair than a
can tell ; a wud like Grannie an a
the fouk tae ken hoo ave been treated
as if a wes a leddy, an his am
blude.
When they laid me in the bed at
the hospital, an a githered thatit
wudna be lang, an a wfu longin cam
intae ma hert for a quiet place tae
dee in.
It was a graund airy room, an
everybody wes kind, an a lied athing
ye cud wish for, but it gied against
ma nature tae wi a thae strangers
in the room; oor hooses are wee, but
theyre oor am.
Jamie nodded; he appreciated the
horror of dying in a public place.
Sir Andra cam roond an heard the
accoont, an lie saw me greetin a
cudna help it, Jamie an he read ma
name at the tap o the bed.
Youre from my country, he said,
but he didna need tae tell me, for a
caught the soond in his voice, an ma
hiert warmed; dont be cast down,
Lily; a coontit it kind tae use ma
name; weill do all we can for you.
A ken am deem, a said, an
am no feared, but a canna thole the
thiocht o slippin awa in a hospital ; it
wud hae been different at hame.
Yeill no want a hame here,
Lily ;it wes braid Scotch noo, an it
never soonded sne sweet; an, Jamie
here the whisper was so how, Jamie
had to bend his head a saw the
tears in his een.
Rest a wee, Lily ; am followin;
sae lie took ye tae his am hoose an pit
88
ye in the best room, an theyve waitit
on ye as if ye were his am dochter;
ye dinna need tae speak; a wudna
say but Sir Andra micht be a Christian
o the auld kind, a mean, I was a
stranger, an d ye took Me in.
Jainie, whispered Lily, before he
left, theres juist ae thing hurtin
me a wee ; its the wy ma mistress
lies treated me. A tried tae be
faithfu, though maybe a didna answer
the bells sae quick the mist sax months,
an a thocht she micht hae peetied
a lone cratur mair.
Its no that a hey ony cause o
complaint aboot wages or keel) a
wes twice raised, Jamie, an lied
athing a needed, an ain no hurt
aboot being carried tae the hospital, for
there were five stairs tae ma room, an
it wudna hae been handy tae wait
on me.
Na, na, Jamie, am no onreason-
able, buta houpit she wud hae come
tae see me or sent a bit word ; gin
a bodys sober [weak] like me, ye like
tae be remembered; it minds you
o the luve o God, Jamie, and Lily
turned her face away. A wes
prayin tae see a IDrumtochty face aince
mair, an ave gotten that, an gin ma
mistress lied juist said, Yeve dune as
weel as ye cud, a wudna ask mair.
Ye liaet then, Lily, said Jamie,
taking an instant resolution, for ave
been tae see yir mistress, an a wes
fair ashamed the wy she spoke aboot
ye, being Drumtochty masel, an no
wantin tae show l)ride.
As sures am here, she cudna find
words for her tliochts o ye ; it wes
naetliin but yir faithfulness an yir
~ude wark, hoo abody liket ye an hoo
gratefu she wes to you. A wes that
affeckit that a lied tae leave.
What wud ye say, wumman, gin
yon graund lady hes been twice a-day at
the hospital speirin for you, kerridge
an a, mind ye ; but ye ken theyre
terribly busy in thae places, an canna
aye get time tae cairrv the messages.
But thats no a, for the glow on
Lilys face was kindling Jamies in-
spiration, and he saw no use for econ-
omy in a good work. What think ye
A Miaster of Deceit.
o this for a luck-penny? twenty pund
exact, an a in goud ; it looks bonnie
glintin in the liclit, and Jamie
emptied on the table the store of sov-
ereigns he had brought from Muirtown
bank without shame.
The mistress surely never sent
that tae me ? Lily whispered.
Maybe a pickit it up on the street
they think a~va in the country the very
streets are goud here. Give her this
from us all, were her verra words,
said Jamie, whose conscience had
abandoned the unequal struggle with
his heart. Tell her that shes to
get whatever she likes with it, and to
go down to her home for a long holi-
day.
Did ye thank her, Jamie ? Kae
man hes a better tongue.
Ma tongue never servit me better;
saIl, ye wud hae been astonished gin
ye lied herd me, with the emphasis of
one who stood at last on the rock of
truth.
Am rael content noo, Lily said,
but a canna speak mair, an ave
something tac say thatill no keep till
the morn, and Jamie promised to re-
turn that evening.
Jamie waited in the hall till the last
of the famous physicians patients had
gone ; then lie went in and said,
When a entered this hioose ma
liert wes sair, for a thocht a defence-
less lassie lied been ill-used in her
straits, an noo a wud like to apolo-
geeze for ma hot words. Yeve dune
a gude work the day thats no for the
like o me to speak aboot, but itill hae
its reward frae the Father o the
fatherless.
Toots man what nonsense is this
youre talking? said Sir Andrew
you dont understand the situation.
The fact is, I wanted to study Lilys
case, and it was handier to have her in
my house. Just medical selfishness,
you know.
A micht hae thochit o that, and
the intelligence in Jamnies eye was s~
sympathetic that Sir Andrew quniled
before it. We hey a doctor in oor
pairisli thats juist yir marra [equal],
aye practeesin on the sick fouk, an
A Miaster of Deceit.
for lookin aifter himsel he passes be-
lief.
Juist Weelum MacLure ower
again, Jainie meditated, as he went
along the street. London or Drum-
tochty, great physeecian or puir coun-
try doctor, theres no ane o them tae
mend anither for doonricht gudeness.
Theres nacbody ill hae a chance wi
them at the latter end ; an for lecin
tac, a believe Sir Andra wud beat
Weelum himsel.
When Jamie returned, Lily had ar-
ranged her store of gold in little heaps,
and began at once to give directions.
Ye maun pay ma debts first, ye
ken, Jamie; a cudna leave, thinkin
that a wes awin a penny tae onybody.
Grannie aye brocht us up tae live sae
that we cud look abody in the face,
and exceptin Chairlie
Twal shilling tae the shoemaker,
an honest, well-dacin man; mony a
time hes telt me aboot John Wesley;
and a poond tae the dressmaker; its
no a for masel ; there was anither
Scotch lassie, but that disna inaitter.
Cud ye pay thac accoonts the nicht, for
the dressmaker ill be needin her
money? It wes ma tribble hindered
me ; a started ae day, an the catch in
ma side a hed tae come back.
Noo theres ma kirk, an we
maunna forget it, for ave been raci
happy there ; ma sittin wes due the
beginnin o the month, and a aye gied
ten shillings tae the missions ; an,
Jamie, they were speakin o pre-
sentin the minister wi some bit token
o respect aifter hem twenty-five years
here. Pit me doon for a poond no
ma name, ye ken; that wud be for-
ward ; juist A gratefu servant-lass.
Yeill get some bonnie handker-
chief or siclike for the nurse ; it wudna
dae tae offer her siller; an dinna for-
get the hoosemaid, for shes lied a sair
trachie wi me. As for Sir Andra,
naething can py him.
Heres five pund, and yeill giet
tae Grannie; she kens wha its for;
itill juist feenish the debt
Ye can baud yir tongue, Jamie.
Wull ye write a line tae Chairlie, an
say that a wes thinkin o him at
89
the end, an expectin him tae be a.
credit tae his fouk some day; an
Jamie, gin lie ever come back in his
richt mind tae the Glen, ycihl no be
hard on him like ye wes laist time.
Chairlie ill no want a freend gin a~
be leevin, Lily; is that a ? for yere
tirin yersel.
Theres ae thing mair, but ain
dootin its no richt o me tae waste
Grannies siller ont, for a wantit tae
leave her somethin wiselike ; but oh,
Jamie, ave taken a longin tae lie in
Drumtochty kirkyaird wi ma mitlier
an Grannie.
A ken its a notion, but a dinna
like thae cemeteries wi their gravel
roadies, an their big monuments, an
the croods o careless fouk, an the
hooses pressin on them fine every
si(le.
A promised, Janet, broke in
Jamie, that a wud bring ye liame,
an all keep ma word, Lily; gin it be
Gods wull tae tak yir soul tae himsel,
yir body ill be laid wi yir am fouk,
and Jamie left hurriedly.
Next morning Sir Andrew and the
minister were standing by Lilys bed-
side, and only looked at him when he
joined them.
Jamie, thank ye a, ower gude
tae a servant-lass, tell them at
hiarne.
Each man bade her good-bye, and
the minister said certain words which
shah not be written.
Thae weary stairs, and she
breathed heavily for a time ; then with
a sigh of relief, Am comm
Lily l~as reached thelanding,
said Sir Andrew, and as they went
down-stairs no man would have looked
at his neighbors face for a ransom.
A wrote that verra nicht tae
Drumsheugh, Jamie explained to our
guard between the Junction and Kil-
drummie; an am no sure but heihl
be doon himsel wi a neebur or twa
juist tae gie Lily a respectable funeral,
for she lies une man o her blude tae
come.
Div ye see onything, Robert?
Jamie was in a fever of anxiety;
the Kihdrummie hearse stands heich
90 A ililiaster of Deceit.
an it sud be there, besides the mourn-
ers.
Kildrummie platforms black, cried
Robert from the footboard ; theill be
twal gin there be a man ; ye stick by
ane anither weal up the WY; its no
often a servant is brocht hame for
beerial ; a dinna mind a case sin the
line opened.
While they went through Kildruin-
mie, Jamie walked alone behind the
hearse as chief mourner, with a jeal-
ously regulated space of three feet
between him and the neighbors ; but
as soon as the pine woods had swal-
lowed up the procession, he dropped
behind, and was once more approach-
able.
Yeve hed a thne ot, said Hil-
locks, treating Jamie as an ordinary
man again ; wha wud hae thocht this
wes tae be the end o yir London
jaunt ? SaIl, and Hillocks felt himself
unable to grapple with the situation.
This is juist naethin, with vague
allusion to the arrival by railway and
the Kildrummie hearse ; no worth
inentionin xvi the beginnin o the
beerial at the itlier end, and Jamie
chose Whinnies box, out of three
offered, to brace him for descriptive
narrative.
Ye mann understand began Ja-
mie, knowing that he had at least four
miles before it would be necessary for
him to resume his position of solitary
dignity, that as sune as Lily turned
ill she wes taken tae the hioose o a
great London doctor, an Sir Andra
~vaited on her himself ; theres maybe
no anither o his patients withoot a
title ; a herd him speak o a duchess
ae day;
When it ~ves a ower, puir lassie, if
they didna fecht tae py for the beerial.
The minister threipit wi me that he
lied a fund at his kirk for sic objects,
a sonsy man wi a face that pit ye in
mind o hiame to look at it, but a
saw through his fund ; its fearsome
hoo Scotch folk ill lee tae cover gude
deeds.
Div ye think lie wud hae pyd it
oot o his am pocket? interrupted
Hillocks.
Na, na, a said tae the minister,
for ilillocks was beneath notice, ye
mann lat her mistress bear the berrial
twenty pund, as am on this road,
she gied ; a faithfu servant, shes tae
want for nothing; it wes handsome,
an ill be maist comfortin tae Janet.
Ye saw the coffin for yersels, and
Jamie now gave himself to details
the London hearse lied gless sides
and twa horses, then a mourning-coach
wi the minister and me ; but thats
the least ot. What think ye cam
next?
Some o the neeburs walkin may-
be, suggested Whinnie.
XValkin, repeated Jamie, with
much bitterness, as of one who (le-
spaired of Drumtochty, and saw no use
in wasting his breath ; just so ; yeve
hed mair rain here than in England.
Never mind Whinnie, Jamie,
intervened Drumshieugli ; we maun
hiae the rest o the funeral ; wes there
another coach ?
What wud ye say, and Jamie
spoke with much solemnity, tac a
private kerridge, an mair than ane ?
Ay, ye may look, allowing himself
some freedom of recollection. Sir
Andras was next tae the coach, wi
the blinds drawn doon, and aifter it an
elders frae her kirk. He heard o Lily
through the minister, an naethin wud
sateesfy him but tae dae her sic honor
as lie cud.
Gaein roond the corners o the
streets a cuhdna help it, neeburs
a juist took a ghisk oot at the window,
an when a saw the bankers horses
wi the silver harness, a wushed ye bed
been there ; sic respect tae a Druni-
tochty lass.
Ye saw the lilies on the coffin,
wound up Jamie, doing his best to
maintain a chastened tone. Did ye
catch the writin
In remembrance of Lily Grant,
Who did her duty.
Sir Andras am hand; an Lily got nae
mnair than her due.
When Jamie parted with Drum-
sheugh on the way home, and turned
down the road to Janets cottage, to
The Story of Stctmbouloffs Fall.
give her the lilies and a full account of
her lassie, Drumsheugh watched him
till he disappeared.
Thirty pund wes what he drew frae
the Muirtown bank oot o his savings,
for the clerk telt me himsel, an une-
body jalouses the trick. Its the dcv-
crest thing Jamie ever did, an ane o
the best ave seen in iDrumtochty.
IAN MACLAREN.
From The Fortnightiy Review.
THE STORY OF STAMBOULOFFS FALL.
IT was my fortune to reside in Sofia
during the last months of the Stain-
bouloff ministry. It was my fortune
also to be in intimate relations with
various personages who were either
actors or interested spectators in the
drama of Bulgarian politics. The fate
of the Stambouloff administration, or,
more correctly speaking, of its great
chief for in those days Stambouloff
and his ministry were almost equiv-
alent terms formed the one absorb-
ing topic of interest at the time ; and,
therefore, given the relations of which I
speak, I was kept informed of every
stage in the strange tragi-co medy which
preceded the downfall of the so-called
Bismarck of Bulgaria. I left Sofia on
the eve of his enforced resignation.
Of the events which followed I know
comparatively little. As to the actual
circumstances of his assassination I
know nothing beyond what I have
learnt from the newspaper reports, and
I have not the power, even if I had the
wish, to express any opinion as to the
immediate causes of that atrocious
crime. But I think a recital of the
events which preceded the fall of the
Stambouloff government may throw a
certain amount of light on the personal
causes which led first to the premiers
deposition from his quasi-dictatorship,
and ultimately to his untimely and
cruel death. During the period to
which I refer there happened to be no
representative of the English press at
Sofia. The story, therefore, of the last
days of the Stambouloff regime is, I
fancy, very little known to the British
public, and may, in view of subsequent
events, be worth recital.
I reached Sofia a few days after the
birth of the infant prince who is now
the heir-apparent to the Bulgarian
throne. This event, strangely enough,
impaired the supremacy which Stain-
bouloff had hitherto enjoyed, by lead-
ing to an antagonism of policy between
himself and Prince Ferdinand. As the
key to the whole subsequent series of
events is to be found in the rupture
which occurred between the prince and
the premier, it is necessary to dwell
somewhat at length on the starting-
point of their quarrel. Up to the birth
of his son and heir Prince Ferdinand
had little independent hold and,
what is even more important, knew
that he had no such hold on the sym-
l)athies of his subjects. In the earlier
years of his reign he labored under va-
rious disadvantages, for many of which
he was not responsible. He was a for-
eigner, and all fom~eigners are unpop-
ular in Bulgaria. He was a Catholic,
and all Catholics are viewed with dis-
trust by the Bulgarian priesthood, which
forms one of the most powerful ele-
ments in the principality, as in all com-
munities belonging to the Eastern rite.
He was ignorant of the country and the
language, and could only communicate
with his people through his ministers.
He had succeeded a singularly popular
sovereign in the person of the hero of
Slievnitza, and had succeeded under
circumstances which through no fault
of his own, were not calculated to in-
crease his popularity; and, more than
all, he was notand never can be
the kind of personage to enlist the sym-
pathies of the people of the Peasant
State. Indeed, up to the period in
question, his chief, if not his only, hold
on his subjects was that he was be-
lieved to be the safeguard of their
national independence, while the main
ground for this belief lay in the fact
that he was the nominee of Stain-
bouloff, and was supposed to enjoy the
full confidence of his nominator. With
the birth of a son his position became
materially altered. One of the dom-
inant characteristics of the Bulgarian
91
92
nationality consists of a profound pride
in a more or less mythical past, and a
still more profound faith in a more
or less problematical future. The fact
that for the first time for many cen-
turies a Bulgarian prince had been
born on Bulgarian soil, bearing the
name of the national hero of Bulgarian
legend, seemed to the mind of the Bul-
garian peasantry a certain sign and
symbol of the restoration of the ancient
Bulgarian empire. Residents utterly
unconnected with the court declared to
me that they had never witnessed such
a display of enthusiasm amidst a singu-
larly undemonstrative people as that
which greeted the news of Prince Bo-
riss birth. From that time Prince
Ferdinand felt with some amount of
justice that his title to the throne rested
on grounds independent of Stambon-
loffs support and favor.
Very shortly after my arrival at Sofia
I had an interview with Stambouloff at
his own house. On this occasion he
spoke to me very frankly, as was his
wont, about his political position. He
assured me that, personally, he should
be very glad to retire from office, firstly
on account of his health, which gave
him uneasiness, secondly, on account
of his private affairs, which suffered
from his inability to give them the at-
tention they required. At the time I
thought these phrases were the mere
commonplaces every minister in all
countries and on all occasions is apt to
employ when there is any talk of his
resignation ; but later events have
caused me to think they were spoken
with more sincerity than I then sup-
posed. However, he admitted that for
the time being he had no idea of quit-
ting office. His presence at the head
of affairs he considered necessary to
the maintenance of Bulgarian inde-
pendence, and he was willing to remain
in office so long as he enjoyed the ap-
proval of the country and the confi-
dence of the prince. So soon as one of
these supports failed him, he was will-
ing and glad to resign; but upto the
present he had the country on his side,
and he had every reason to believe that
the prince approved of his policy. Of
The Story of Stamboulojjs Fall.
course it is impossible for me to say
how far the confidence thus expressed
was genuine, or was assumed for a pur-
pose. But I am inclined to think that
the premiers belief in his own per-
sonal popularity was absolutely sincere.
From all I could learn, I have no
doubt that in so far as there is any
genuine public opinion in Bulgaria,
that opinion was then, and probably is
still, in favor of Stambouloffs policy.
A country in which the Bulgarian
atrocities atrocities, it should never
be forgotten, committed in the main by
Bulgarians upon Bulgarianswere a
possibility cannot be judged by our
English ideas. Nations amongst whom
the rule of force has prevailed for cen-
turies, do not develop a sudden love for
legality or a sudden horror of oppres-
sion. Even if the stories of his de-
tractors were true to the letter, which
they certainly were not, and even if
Stambouloff, when putting down all
opposition, as he certainly did, with an
iron hand, had disregarded not only
legality, but humanity in punishing
those who rebelled against his author-
ity, his action would only have been
condemned by the victims of his arbi-
trary rule, and would have commended
itself to the great majority of his fel-
low-countrymen. A strong ruler is
not only feared, but respected, and
even liked, in all Oriental countries;
and Bulgaria is, and for years to come
must remain, an Oriental country in
sentiment. Added to this, Stambouloff
was completely in sympathy with the
Bulgarian people. He shared their
ideas, their aspirations, their preju-
dices, and knew how to speak to them
after their own fashion. Simple in
his tastes and mode of life, accessible
to everybody, good-natured and friendly
to all, except to those who thwarted
his will, he was an ideal ruler of a
half-civilized comnn]unity of small peas-
ant farmers. The only error I think
he committed in his estimate of his
fellow-countrymens feelings towards
himself was that he underrated their
Oriental readiness to side with the
strongest, to obey servilely whoever
may be in power.
The Story of Stambouloffs Pail. 93
I think also, though I am not equally try. This may have been the result
confident as to this, that Stambouloff of the egotism which forms the domi-
was sincere in his expression of con- nant feature of Prince Ferdinands
fidence in Prince Ferdinand. There character, but certainly if I had known
were many reasons why this confidence nothing previously of the history of
might have seemed well-merited. Not Bulgaria, and of the events which had
only did the prince owe his throne to occurred since the abdication of his
the ex-regent, but the success which predecessor, I should have supposed
had attended his reign was by common from the princes remarks that the
consent due to his prime minister, and policy of the State had been conceived
his prime minister alone. Stambouloff and dictated by himself with the as-
had seen too much of the world, and sistance, doubtless, of his prime minis-
especially of the Bulgarian world, to ter, to whose ability he paid a fitting,
believe implicitly in the potency of though by no means enthusiastic com-
human gratitude, otherwise than ac- pliment. It struck me also as curious
cording to the well - known cynical at the time that while speaking very
definition as a hope of favors to bitterly about the personal animosity
come. The chief ground of his reli- displayed by the then czar, he went out
ance upon the princes support was a of his way to assure me of his gratitude
conviction that he was absolutely in- towards Russia, and his deep sense of
dispensable to his royal master, and the services she had rendered his
that his royal master knew him to be adopted country. The impression left
indispensable. The extraordinary vital- on my mind by the prince was not that
ity of the man, his consciousness of of a man with any great original abil-
being, in intelligence, energy, and ity, but of a man very quick in appro-
courage a head and shoulders above his printing the ideas of others, possessing
fellows, combined with his natural in- considerable insight into human char-
souciance of character, led him to un- acter, especially in its lower and less
derrate his opponents. I do not think, worthy aspects, and capable, notwith-
judging from the terms he used in standing his seeming frivolousness, of
sj)eaking of the prince, that he gave pursuing his own ends with pertinacity
his Highness credit for the application and adroitness. The French word
with which he had mastered the Bulga- maim, for which there is no exact En-
nan language, and had studied Bulga- glish equivalent, appeared to me the
nan politics, that he appreciated the best description of his undoubted clev-
umbrage which his own masterful poi- erness, and I felt convince(l that if his
icy and his personal manner had given ministers regarded him, whether for
to his sovereign, or that he realized good or bad, as a quantit4 n~giig~abie in
the fact that Prince Ferdinand was Bulgarian politics they were commit-
anxious to escape from leading-strings, ting a mistake which might be attended
and to become in fact, as well as in with serious consequences.
name, the ruler of Bulgaria. The love Looking back upon the past by the
~f court pomp, pageantry, and etiquette light of subsequent events I cannot
which distinguishes Prince Ferdinand doubt that at the time of which I speak
was so alien to Stambouloffs nature the prince had already conceived the
that it was difficult for him to imagine notion of getting rid of the virtual
that a prince with whom this love tutelage in which he was kept by Stain-
seemed to be a ruling passion should bouloff. Perhaps it would be more
also entertain any serious political am- accurate to say that the prince had
bitions. already foreseen the possibility of con-
On the occasion of my first audience tingencies arising under which the
the prince seemed unaccountably anx- interests of himself and his dynasty
ions to impress upon me, as a foreign might prove inconsistent with the re-
visitor, the importance of the part he tention of Stambouloff as his prime
played in the government of the coun- minister. At the interview to which I
94
refer the prince, amongst other mat-
ters, dwelt strongly upon the impor-
tance of his formal recognition by the
European powers in the interest of
Bulgaria and of the peace of Europe.
Only a short time before Stambouloff
and Grekoff, the then minister of for-
eign affairs, had assured me that far
from desiring the recognition of the
prince they had taken no steps to
secure this recognition and should re-
gard its accordance, in so far as Russia
was concerned, as a national calamity.
If once, they asserted, the czar agreed
to accept Prince Ferdinand as the
legitimate sovereign of the principal-
ity, Bulgaria would lose and not gain.
The couutry could get on very well
without recognition, while the one
practical result of Russias acknowledg-
ing her legal status would be the ap-
pointment of a Russian minister at the
capital, and of Russian consuls in every
town, and both legation and consulates
would necessarily become centres of
disaffection and intrigue against the
established order of things. Naturally
the ministers were anxious in speaking
to me to put the best face on public
affairs. But I learnt at the time, from
persons more intimately acquainted
with their ideas than a stranger could
possibly be, that in their opinion the
return of Russian representatives to
Bulgaria would endanger the personal
safety of all public men, who in com-
mon with themselves, were opposed to
Russian intervention in the affairs of
Bulgaria. This divergence of policy
between the prince an(l the premier,
two men who were hardly capable of
understanding each others point of
view, was certain, sooner or later, to
lead to an open rupture.
I am anxious, in what I have to say
on this subject, to do justice to both
sides, and therefore I think it only fair
to add that Prince Ferdinands intense
desire for official recognition was not
so unreasonable or so childish as it is
often alleged to have been. To a man
fond of state, vain of his personal posi-
tion, and morbidly susceptible as to his
own dignity, the constant slights and
rebuffs which his non-recognition en-
The Story of Stambouloffs Fall.
tailed were more galling than they
would have been to common mortals.
But, apart from this, a less sensitive
prince might well have considered that
not only his own prospects, but those of
his dynasty, were seriously imperilled
by the reluctance of his ministers to
take any steps to force on his recogni-
tion. There is a story told that in the
latter days of the temporal power a fer-
vent Catholic visitor to the Vatican,
who observed that the pope was much
depressed, tendered the remark that it
must be a consolation to his Holiness
to reflect that the barque of St. Peter
could never make shipwreck. The
answer of Pio Nino was, La barca, no,
ma ilpescatore, si. A similar reflection
must often, I think, have presented
itself to Prince Ferdinands mind. It
was all very true, as his ministers as-
sured him, that recognition or no rec-
ognition, the safety of Bulgaria was
assured, but how about himself and his
dynasty? So long as he was not ac-
cepted abroad by the powers as the
lawful sovereign of Bulgaria, it was
always possible, or even probable, that
his deposition might be demanded as
an essential condition of any settle-
meat; and if such a demand were
made lie was too shrewd a man to im-
agine that his loyal subjects would
hesitate about throwing him over, sup-
posing it suited their interests.
Given the character of Prince Ferdi-
nand, it is probable enough that the
manifest reluctance of his ministers
to press for his recognition may have
excited suspicions in his mind that they
were really intriguing against himself
and his dynasty. It is certain that
there were persons about the court
who were ready to suggest this suspi-
cion to him, even if it had not already
presented itself to his mind. He was
assured from many quarters, from
some honestly, from others with delib-
erate deceit, that Stambouloffs person-
ality and Stambouloffs anti-Russian
policy were the real obstacles to his
recognition ; that if lie could only get
rid of Stambouloff in such a manner as
to gratify Russian susceptibilities, the
czar would withdraw all personal oppo
The Story of Stambouloffs Fall.
sition, and that then his own recogni-
tion as sovereign of Bulgaria would
follow as a matter of course. These
assurances were too much in accord-
ance with his personal ambitions and
prejudices not to meet with ready ac-
ceptance. Thus, if I am right, the
resolution of Ferdinand to part com-
pany with Stambouloff was formed
upon arid largely in consequence of
the birth of Prince Boris, and the
resolution thus formed was carried out
with a persistency and power of dissim-
ulation for which the princes ministers
were not prepared.
The birth of the infant prince was
followed by the long and alarming ill-
ness of his mother, the princess Marie
of Parma. The death of his wife at
this crisis would have materially im-
paired the princes hold on the Bulga-
rian people. So long, therefore, as her
recovery seemed doubtful, no active
steps could be taken towards forcing
on a ministerial crisis. Moreover, per-
sonal anxiety as to his wifes health
doubtless occupied Prince Ferdinands
mind to the exclusion of other cares.
Be this as it may, during the weeks
which followed the princesss confine-
ment Ferdinand held studiously aloof
from all public affairs. He interfered
very little, if at all, with his ministers,
and they often found it difficult to ob-
tain interviews with him on formal
matters of business for which his sig-
nature was required. At last, towards
the middle of March, the princess was
sufficiently recovered to be removed
from Sofia, and in accordance with the
doctors advice it was determined to
take her to the neighborhood of Vi-
enna. She was accompanied by her
husband, and in his absence Stain-
bouloff, as usual, was appointed regent.
At this time the Bulgarian govern-
ment was confronted by a very embar-
rassing controversy, which might easily
have led, and indeed was expected to
lead, to a ministerial crisis. Without
any apparent reason or motive, the
sultan had suddenly issued a decree to
the effect that the Bulgarian schools in
Macedonia niust be placed under the
ownership of some specified person,
95
not under that of any corporation or
community. It would take far too long
to enter into the rights and wrongs of
this vexed question. It is enough to
say that with or without justice, this
decree was regarded as a deliberate
attack on the Bulgarian nationality.
The Macedonian question is not in
reality a struggle on the part of the
Christian population to get rid of the
rule of Islam, but a conflict between
the Bulgarian, Greek, and Servian na-
tionalities in Macedonia, as to which
of them shall establish its claim to the
reversion of Macedonia, when, as may
happen at any time, it is emancipated
from Turkish domination. The schools
under the old system were in the hands
of the Bulgarian clergy, and were ad-
mittedly employed as agencies for
strengthening, extending, and consol-
idating the Bulgarian nationality move-
ment in Macedonia. The decree to
which I allude was believed to have
been issued at the request of the Greeks
of the Phanar, supported, as usual, by
Russian influence, and its supposed
object was to favor the Greek nation-
ality in Macedonia, to the detriment of
the Bulgarian. In consequence there
was a general outcry throughout the
principality, calling on the government
to intervene actively on behalf of the
Macedonian Bulgarians, even if this
intervention should lead to an open
rupture with the suzerain power.
This popular outcry placed the then
ministry in a position of extreme diffi-
culty. The whole policy of Stambon-
loff was based upon the necessity of
maintaining friendly relations with
Turkey, as a guarantee against Russian
a~ression; but friendly relations were
an impossibility unless the obnoxious
decree was repealed. In Bulgaria, as
in all other Christian provinces of the
Ottoman Empire, it is extremely diffi-
cult, especially for a foreigner, to say
how far any agitation against Turkey
is real or fictitious, a home product or
an artificial movement of foreign
growth. All I can say is that there
was in Bulgaria, during the spring of
last year, all the outward indications
of a strong popular agitation. Public
96 The Story of Stambouloffs Fall.
meetings were held in all the large would be best promoted by cordial and
towns ; re solutions were passed pro- loyal co-operation with the suzerain
testing against the alleged persecution power. As I write I can hear once
of the Macedonian Bulgarians ; sub- more the cheers in response to this
scriptions were raised or, at any rate, declaration cheers which were given
promised on their behalf, bands of by the mob within a few steps of the
volunteers were enlisted ; and in the very spot where little more than a year
papers, especially in those of the Oppo- later the speaker was literally hacked
sition, the government was called upon to death.
to mass troops upon the Macedonian It may render the course of events
frontier, so as to be ready to invade the more intelligible to state here that the
province in case Turkey should persist arrangement with the sultan was con-
in upholding the school decree. I can- cluded in Prince Ferdinands absence,
not doubt that this agitation, though I and without his direct sanction. The
believe it to have been based upon a prince at that time was with his wife at
genuine national sentiment, was also Ebenthal, near Vienna. The reason
stimulated by Stambouloffs political why, according to Stambouloffs state-
and personal opponents. zuent, the arrangement was not submit-
The expectations of Stambouloffs ted to him, before its formal ratification,
fall on the Macedonian school question, was as follows The arrangement had
which were confidently entertained at to be accepted at once if at all. In all
the time, especially in court circles, negotiations with the Ottoman govern-
were defeated by the ability of the ment, especially under a sultan so
premier. I believe, if the tine history capricious and so irresolute as Abdul
of this curious episode is ever made Hamid, delays are dangerous. Every
known, it will be found that Stambou- hour which intervened between his
loff encouraged the agitation till it had Majestys offer and its acceptance in-
reached dimensions which enabled him creased the risk of influences hostile to
to intimate to the sultan that lie could Bulgaria being brought into play at
not undertake to keep the movement Constantinople to upset the conclusion
for intervention under controh, unless of the compact. The arrangement was
concessions were made at Constanti- not one which could be safely commu-
nophe. In his representations to the nicated by telegraph, and to have sent
Porte he was, as lie himself assured a messenger to the prince must have
me, warmly supported by Sir Philip necessitated a delay of at least a conple
Currie, who hind only just entered on of days. The arrangement was so
his post of British ambassador at Stain- manifestly advantageous to Bulgaria
boul. The sultan grew frightened at that it was impossible to suppose the
the storm he had raised, and resolved prince would object to its conclusion
to give way. Not only was the decree and, therefore, Stambonloff took upon
whichi had given such umbrage withi- himself, as regent, to accept it with-
drawn, but permission was granted to ont previous reference to the sovereign.
estabhislk two Greek Bulgarian bishop- The explanation, whether sincere or
rics in Macedonia, thereby giving in- not, seems plausible in itsehf. Bnt thie
creased authority to the Bulgarian fact that so important an agreement
clergy, and increased encouragement to had been conchuded without his ap-
the Bulgarian nationality propaganda. provah, and concluded in such a way
In fact, Stambouhoff, in stead of being that the whole credit of its conclusion
defeated had triumphed all along thie devohved on thie premier, rankled in
line, as thie champion and vindicator of Prince Ferdinands mind, and later on
Bulgarian rights in Macedonia. Mass furnished one of the chief pretexts for
meetings were held in his honor ; and, Stambouloffs dismissal.
in the speech which he delivered at The first attempt to oust Stambouloff
Sofia to a torchlight procession, lie de- on the Macedonian schools question,
.elared that the interests of Bulgaria and to replace him by a minister more
acceptable to Russia, ha(1 resulted in
increasing his authority. It was neces-
sary to find some new ground of attack,
an(l that ground was supplied by an
unforeseen accident. Indeed, the only
possible reason for doubtino this beino
the result of chance lies in the fact
that the accident in question occurred
at a moment and in a manner which
seemed especially chosen to secure the
purposes of the anti - Stambouloff
party. The Stambouloff ministry with
the exceptions of M. Grekoff, the min-
ister of foreign affairs, and M. Sala-
bascheff, the minister of finance, might
not unfairly be described as composed
of itenis. One of the least con-
spicuous of these items was M. Savoff,
the ministcr of war, best known as the
husband of a wife who was not only
better looking than the run of Soflote
ladies, but, having been educated
abroad, was also better dressed and
more used to society. During the
princes absence the regent received
a letter from M. Savoff tendering his
resignation on the ground that lie
could not sit in the same council with
M. Slavkoff, the minister of public
works, who, as lie alleged, had been
ulI(luly intimate with his wife. Stain-
bouloff refused to accept the resigna-
tion, first, because the charge, whether
true or false, seemed to rest on mere
suspicion ; secondly, because it was
obviously undesirable to have any re-
constitution of the ministry while the
prince was away in Austria. Shortly
afterwards Savoff changed or rather
extended his charge, an(l accused al-
most all his other colleagues, and Stain-
bouloff in particular, of having carried
on intrigues with his wife. Gradually
the charge narrowed into a distinct
allegation that Stambouloff was the
chief, if not the sole betrayer of his
con fi(lelice. The common impression
at Sofia was that Savoff was out of his
niiiid. He consulted the ecclesiastical
courts, about obtaining a divorce from
his wife, and was assured by them that
the evidence lie could produce was
utterly insufficient to justify an appli-
cation for the cancelment of his
marriage. Yet, in spite of this, he
LIVING AGE. VOL. YIII. ~71
97
persisted in accusing Stambouloff, and
when the latter asked for evidence of
the charge he retorted by challenging
him to fight a duel. Indeed, towards
the end his almost insane jealousy
seemed to have culniinated in an un-
reasoning desire to avenge himself on
Stambouloff. The matter was placed
in the hands of seconds, who unani-
mously decided that Savoff could show
no cause whatever for demanding satis-
faction from the premier. The report
prevalent at Sofia was that Savoff had
been made a tool of by Stanibouloffs
personal enemies to force the latter
into a duel, in which the chances
would have been decidedly on the side
of his assailant.
Meanwhile the Opposition papers had
taken up the charge, and attacked
Stambouloff with a violence which is
unintelligible to the inhabitants of
more educated and civilized communi-
ties. I do not think, from what I
could observe, that the standard of
morality as to the relations between
the sexes is at all higher in Bulgaria
than it is elsewhere. But the hiareni
view of women is still very prevalent
in Bulgaria; and though a Bulgarian
Benedict might coniniit any number
of offences against his marriage vows
without being the worse thought of
by his fellow-countrymen, lie would
undoubtedly be condemned by social
opinion if he hind an intrigue with the
wife of a friend and colleague. Any-
how, the press hostile to Stambouloff
kept on declaring that a man whose
moral character rested under so grave
a charge could not t~emain the head of
the government; and this crusade
against the minister was vigorously
supported by papers supposed to repre-
sent the views of the court.
Immediately on the princes return
to Sofia Stainbouloff asked his Highness
to investigate the charge against him,
and at the same time gave in his
written resignation, requesting the
prince to use it if lie saw cause to con-
sider that the accusation, whether true
or false, was supported by such evi-
dence as to render hii~ continuance in
office undesirable in the pubhid interest.
The Story of Stambouioft~s Pall.
98 The Story of Stambouloffs Fall.
Savoff was called upon to assign par- dent or otherwise, his Highness did
ticulars as to the places and dates of not return the letter in which Stain-
the occasions on which the alleged bouloff had tendered his resignation.
offence had been committed, and in It so happened that I had an appoint-
reply stated two occasions on which, inent with Prince Ferdinand very
during his own absence from the capi- shortly after his interview with Stain-
tal, Stambouloff, as he alleged, had bouloff. Two things struck me at the
passed the night at Sofia with his wife. time. The first was that he utterly
Thereupon Stambouloff was able to ignored some casual remark made in
prove that on one of the two evenings the course of our conversation about
named lie had been the princes guest the ability of the premier, a subject on
at his seaside palace outside at Yarna ; which previously lie lost no opportu-
on the second occasion he had been nity of dilating. The second was that
present at a public banquet in Philip- he dwelt with extreme bitterness on a
popolis, so that the particular accusa- statement which had appeared in a
tions specified by Savoff were clearly London paper to the effect that lie had
shown to be baseless. Moreover, with been refused permission to attend the
regard to the general charge Stain- family conclave at Coburg in honor of
bouloff, if I was rightly informed, used the Princess Alixs betrothal to the
the same language in speaking to the then czarewitch. The prince after a
prince which lie employed in discussing long absence had only recently re-
the matter with other persons. lie turned to Sofia, and there was no idea
stated that whatever his personal char- that his return was only temporary.
acter might be lie was about the only There was no reason whatever why he
individual in the country who was ab- should have informed me of his in-
solutely incapacitated from carrying on tended movements, but certainly his
a secret intrigue. It was known to tone of conversation conveyed to me
everybody that since M. Beltelieff, the impression that lie had returned
while walking by his side, had been to his capital for good. On the morn-
assassinated by mistake for himself, he ing after my reception I learnt to my
had never quitted his house without an surprise that the prince had quitted
escort of soldiers. To use his own Sofia to rejoin his wife at Ebenthal.
words one caii do many things, but On mentioning this news to one of
one cannot keep a secret assignation the chief members of the corps dipho-
when accompanied by a troop of matique at Sofia, lie assured me I
mounted soldiery. I can say from must be mistaken, as an hour or two
my own observation that Stambouhoff before Stamnbouloff had made an ap-
never came to the club without being pointmnent for him to call upon the
attended by an armed escort, though prince in the course of the day. It
the club was iiot five minutes walk turned out, however, that the news was
from his house; that the escort re- correct, and the only interpretation I
mained on duty inside and outside the can offer is that the prince had quitted
club as long as lie stopped there ; and Sofia without letting his ministers know
that whemi there was a late sitting they till after his departure was an accom-
slept in the passages of the building to phishied fact. It is supposed at the
be ready to accompany him home in time that this hasty journey was due
the early hours of the morning, to the receipt of alarming news about
The prince, as I heard at the time, the health of the princess, but in as far
expressed himself completely satisfied as I could learn later, no such intelhi-
with Stamnbouloffs exculpation, and gence had been received.
recommended the dismissal of Savoff I may also here call attention to an-
as the best solution of the imbroglio. other incident, which shows how the
The premier agreed to act upon the desire to seek reconciliation with Rus-
advice, and considered the matter was sia at any price had impressed itself
now at an end. But whether by acci- on Prince Ferdinands mind. Some
months before, the metropolitan, Arch-
bishop Clement, had preached a ser-
mon in the cathedral of Tirnova, in
which he had attacked the prince in
the most violent terms. For this ser-
mon lie was indicted for using treason-
able language, and was sentenced by
the civil tribunals to a period of im-
prisonment, though in consideration of
his exalted office lie was allowed to
serve his term of imprisonment in a
monastery. An appeal was made
against this sentence on the ground
that the metropolitans offence, if com-
mitted at all, was committed in his
capacity as a priest, and must, there-
fore, be judged by the Synod of the
Church, hot by the civil tribunal. The
appeal finally came last spring before
the Supreme Court at Sofia, and was
dismissed by that on the ground that
treasonable language was equally an
offence against the civil power, whether
it was committed by a layman or by a
priest. Within a short time of the ap-
l)eal being dismissed, Archbishop Clem-
ent was pardoned, at, I have reason to
believe, the direct instance of Prince
Ferdinand. It is this Clement who has
recently been to Russia as the leader
of the Russophil party, and who is now
sh)oken of as the future prime minister
of the prince.
Without laying any undue stress on
these incidents, I think there can be no
reasonable doubt that Prince Ferdinand
had made up his mind to get rid of
Stambouhoff as soon as lie could find a
decent excuse for doing so, and that he
had so determined because lie believed
or had been led to believe that by so
doing he would remove the chief obsta-
cle to his recognition by Russia, as a
prince de jure as well as de facto. My
impression is, that Stambouhoff consich-
ered the whole matter at an end. The
friend to whom lie narrated the conver-
sation I have recited above, and who
repeated its purport to me a few hours
later, told me that he had asked Stain-
bouloff whether the letter tendering
his resignation had been returned.
No, Stambouloff answered, I
never thought of asking for it, but the
letter is of no consequence now as the
99
prince and I quite understand each
other.
I quitted Bulgaria within a few days
of the interview to which I have re-
ferred. Very shortly before I left I
met Stambouloff at the Union Club in
Sofia. He was in high spirits about
the success of his negotiations ivithi the
Porte and spoke very cordially of the
assistance lie hind received from the
British representatives in Turkey in
bringing the sultan to reason. Oving
to the absence of the prince, the Easter
holidays, and the removal of all in
mediate political difficulties, thiere wash
very little doing at this period at the
h)ublic offices; and day after day I used:
to see Stambouloff driving out into thie
country, on the shooting expeditions to~
which lie was passionately devoted,
and at which lie was usually accompa-
m]ied by some of his fellow-ministers
and invariably escorted by a troop Qf
mounted sohdiers.
After I hind left, I can onhy speak
as to thie course of events from the
reports of the newspapers and from
letters I received from friends at Sofia,
who were in a position to know what
was passing. I gather that the attacks
upon Stambouhoff in the papers which
were understood to be the organs of
the court. were not only continued but
displayed increased animosity. The re-
lations between the prince and the pre-
mier becanie more and more straimied,
and within a month of my quitting
Sofia, his Highness suddenly announced
that he hind accepted Stambouhoffs
resignatiomi, which he held in his
hands, amid had instructed M. Stoiloff
to form a ministry. Stanibouloff was,
I believe, taken by surprise. As the
prince held his letter of resignation, lie
could not make a formal grievance of
his dismissal ; nor, I gathier, was lie
inclined to do so. It was the firm con-
viction, not only of himself but of his
friemids, that no government was possi-
ble in the face of his opposition, and
that the ultimate upshot of thie crisis
which Prince Ferdinand hind brought
about must be his own early return to
office with renewed and increased
authority.
The Story of Stambouloffs Fall.
100
Unfortunately all these calculations
were based on the supposition that the
ex-premier would be allowed a free
field of political action. I do not sup-
pose, or still less suggest, that when
Stambouloff was thrown overboard
either the prince or his new ministers
contemplated the necessity of resorting
to violent measures in order to hinder
the deposed minister from fighting his
way back to power. All I surmise is
that as they began to realize the
chances of Stambouloffs return to
office they began to realize also the
necessity of clipping his wings. One
step led to another.
The personal and political enemies
of Stambouloff were not satisfied with
his downfall, but clamored for his dis-
grace and punishment; and both the
prince and his ministers, though they
must have known that the charges
brought against the ex-premier were
false, still acquiesced iii these charges
being brought, as they conceived that
by so acquiescing they might ensure
their own safety. Stambouloff, it must
justly be admitted, damaged his own
case by his invectives against Prince
Ferdinand. His own administration,
it must also be owned, had furnished
examples of high-handed and arbitrary
nction, which his assailants could plead
in defence of the treatment they dealt
out to their defeated antagonist.
victis is the motto of all Oriental gov-
ernment; and Bulgaria in her in-
stincts, her ideas, and her traditions has
still much of the Oriental character.
There is an Arab proverb, that the wise
man dances before the monkey as long
as lie rides on horseback. If you add
to this proverb the corollary that the
wise man kicks the monkey as soon as
he is thrown off horseback, you have a
compendium of all Oriental statecraft.
I do not, therefore, consider that the
Bulgarian ministers or the Bulgarian
people ought to be judged by a Western
standud for their conduct towards the
statesman to whom the principality
owes its independence.
A similar excuse, however, can
hardly be pleaded in mitigation of
Prince Ferdinands behavior towards
the minister to whom lie was so deeply
indebted. To assert that his highness
instigated or even contemplated the
persecution to which Stambouloff fell a
victim, would be an act of injustice.
On the other hand, it is impossible to
deny that Prince Ferdinand tacitly
sanctioned a persecution which he
must have known was cruel and un-
just, and which lie ought to have
known might be attended with fatal
consequences to its victim. The ex-
planation of his con(luct is,--! believe,
to be found in the fact that he was led
to believe by the Russophil party in
Bulgaria, which was mainly composed
of Stambouloffs personal enemies, that
to sever himself from Stanibouloff was
the essential condition of his recogni-
tion by the czar. He stood aside,
therefore, when Stambouloff implored
his intercession to save him froni his
enemies. This refusal to risk his own
prospects of reconciliation with St.
Petersburg, in order to save the minis-
ter who had served him so faithfully
and so long, was, according to the well-
known saying, worse than a crime, a
blunder; and for bluiiders of this
kind there is no place left for repent
ance. EDWARD DICEY.
From Macmillans Magazine.
THE OLD ONE-HORNED STAG.
HE ~vas (Iropped, as we reckon, early
in the month of June, about the year
1874, probably in some quiet retreat
under the oak coppice of Homer Wood,
or it may have been in some shady
coinbe full of grass and fern on Bren-
don Common. Who shall presume,
unless by rare chance lie may have
assisted at the ceremony, to name the
day and place of birth of a wild red
deer? Yet if the knowledge of the
ways of deer be not vain, and all ex-
perience of teeth and head and slot be
not at fault, our conjecture will not
lead us very far from the truth. So he
came into the world a do~vny-haired,
white-spotted little red-deer calf, with
four rather long legs and two rather
large ears, and looked about him with
The Old One-Horned Stag.
two great beautiful eyes, and saw his
heritage of Exmoor before him, fold
upon fold of grass and heather with the
shadows of the clouds coursing over it,
bounded on the one hand by the blue
sky and on the other. by the blue sea.
A peaceful, happy world it must have
seemed to him in those early months,
singularly full for the moment of heed-
less young creatures like himself.
Now he would see an old vixen with
her cubs around her playing merrily, as
only fox-cubs can play, and hunting
distracted beetles among the stones
now a sober old grey hen, much cum-
bered with the cares of maternity,
watching anxiously over her brood of
little poults ; now a bloodthirsty old
weasel with two couple of young wea-
sels behind her, all hurrying forward
with little short legs and long, lithe bod-
ies on the line of some hapless rabbit,
and speaking joyfully to the scent as
they ran. Sometimes, when walking
leisurely among the burning stones on
the sunny combe side, his dam would
stop and swerve and stamp, and lay
back her ears and look fierce, and he
would see the old mother viper open
her hideous wicked jaws, and the little
vipers rush down her throat to their
haven of refuge. Nay, even when she
took him with her to the brown peat
stream the trout-fry dashed away from
the shallows before him, and he could
watch them scurrying from stone to
stone, half in fright and half in play.
For all the world was young in those
days, and all the young, except the
trout, seemed to have a kind mother to
look after them.
So passed the long, bright midsum-
mer days. The sun came up over
Dunkery, and the light flew away on
the wings of the morning along the
Severn Sea to the Atlantic, and the
warm wind sang through the waving
grass and the stiff stubborn heather,
and made the music of the moor. And
the calf grew and waxed stronger and
began to see others of his kind, other
hinds like his own loving dam, with
other calves like unto himself. And
with these calves he could play, frisk-
ing and gambolling and pretending to
101
fight; nor could he fail to note that
some would submit to him at once,
while others would butt and push and
worry with great enjoyment. Now
and again he would see a huge old stag,
his head half grown and the velvet
black with flies, stamping and twitch-
ing and wincing under his tiny torment-
ors, in piteous anxiety for the safety
of the young, tender horn. And our
calf, too, whisked his little ears and
tossed his little head with great dignity,
and stretched himself lazily when he
rose from his bed as he had seen the
old stags do; for he, too, meant to
grow into a great stag one day, and it
is always good to be of the male sex.
Then his attention would be distracted
by a shrill whistle overhead, and he
would be aware of a pair of curlews
sailing high in air, with their long bills
cut clear against the blue sky, remind-
ing him of the herons that he had seen
in Badgworthy Water. Then another
bird would cross his view, a little speck
with wings that fluttered and paused
and fluttered and paused; and he won-
dered why the old grey hen, with
whom he had been on most friendly
terms, now cut him dead, having no
eyes but for the speck above her, while
the poults hid themselves away in ab-
ject terror.
One day he was startled from his
play by an unusually sharp bleat from
his mother, who came galloping in
haste to meet him, and kept watching
a mass of something white that was
moving over the heather across the
combe a mile away. Never had he
seen her so much disturbed ; and he
felt uneasy too, though he hardly knew
why, and as they moved upward
towards them his nostrils caught a new
strange scent which some instinct
within him bade him take note of. The
mass kept closely and compactly to-
gether until it reached the spot where
he remembered to have passed in the
morning, and then he saw a man on a
horse gallop forward, and faintly heard
a shrill yelp that made his dam quiver
all over. She was doubly thoughtful
and affectionate for the rest of the day,
and that night they travelled further
like Old One-Horned Stag.
102
than they had ever travelled yet, away
to the south and west, and found a
resting-place where few even of their
own kind ever visited them. But
there were thoughtful heads among the
moving white mass of hounds also.
Fisherman and Reveller and Nemesis
and other grey-muzzled veterans were
rejoicing that those tiresome, idiotic
puppies had at last learned to follow
the pack without being coupled to
them ; and Chorister, still smarting
under the lash, was bewailing his hard
lot and wondering why, now that he
was entering upon his second season,
he could not be allowed a free hand.
He had been hunting hinds strenuously
all the winter; why should he now be
punished for feathering on the stale
line of a hind and calf?
So the summer wore on, and August
came in with bursts of westerly wind
and mist and rain. And the water
sank rustling into the turf and dripped
from the ragged edges of the peat
basin in a rich brown clear stream.
The trout felt it and rejoiced, and the
salmon rushed up from the sea into the
Lyn; but the hind and her calf rested
peacefully in the shade of the oak cop-
pice, and when they moved lie watched
her rear up to pluck some dainty piece
of ivy or the red berries of the moun-
tain-ash, and nuzzled at the fragments
between her lips and pretended to en-
joy them immensely. But one fine
day, very early in the morning, just
when they were settling down to be
comfortable for the day, there came
the sound of many hounds raising a
terrible clamor, and they rose and
moved up from the covert to the open.
And after a time out came one of the
fox-cubs that they had known on the
moor, his tongue lolling and his back
crooked, as though lie began to tire.
He went up as if he would have gone
away over the moor, but presently
stopped and flounced back with desper-
ation into the covert; and the hind
trotted gently away, anxious but not
alarmed. They are not after us, my
son, she gave the calf to understand;
and presently out came the hounds
furiously on the line of the cub and
flashed over the scent for fifty yards.
Then the clamor died away and they
spread out in all directions; and two
wild puppies, catching the line of the
hind and calf, lifted up their voices and
began to run on. The rest had cast
back, and, recovering the line of the
cub, disappeared with a chorus into the
oak coppice; but the two puppies, re-
joicing in a stronger scent, ran on, and
hind and calf fled before them. The
calfs poor little legs were beginning to
weary when lie found himself poked
down quick as thought into a tuft of
fern by his dams nose. Lie there,
my son, till I come back to you, was
her order; and there he lay, helpless
and alone.
Closer and closer came the puppies,
loudly throwing their foolish tongues,
and thinking themselves immensely
clever ; but they missed his hiding-
place and passed beyond him, though
he did not know that his dani had
waited for them on purpose to lead
them after herself. Presently came
the brushing of a horses hoots through
the heather, and a mounted man gal-
loped almost on to the top of him.
He saw the horse swerve and heard
the mans exclamation of surprise, but
he lay still as he hind been bidden.
Then the dull drum of hoofs died
away, and after a time a melancholy
yelping, such as he had once heard
before, was borne to his ears, and lie
again perceived the approach of horses.
Then there was a noise of human
voices. Where did you say she hind
left her calf, Tom ? Straight afore
you, sir, about ten landyard on, where
you see the veearn. Then two horses
came closer, and a girls voice said
What a little duck I I wish I could
take him home. And a mans voice
answered: His mother will come and
take him home presently, and the
sooner we are gone the better she will
be pleased. So the girl took a last
regretful look, and they rode down into
the covert; and in the silence that fol-
lowed he heard a roar of baying, and
the shrill notes of a horn and hahhooing
from the valley, but lie did not know
that it meant that the cub was dead,
The Old One-Horned Stag.
The Old One-Horned Stag.
and that the man who had so nearly
galloped on to him was even then fas-
tening the ghastly mask to his saddle.
Before very long, though it seemed
very long to him, his dam came back
and rejoiced over him. She was drip-
ping all over, having taken a good bath
at the end of her run ; and she led him
quietly off for a little way over the
heather, and then down a steep hillside
among stunted gorse and hot, loose
stones. No scent here, my son,
was the lesson that she wished to
teach, and he learned it once for all.
Then, when they reached the water at
the foot of the hill, she led him down
the shallow for a little way, and jumped
out on to the bank and followed it for a
few yards ; and then she jumped in
again and went up stream till they
came to a comfortable, shady spot; and
there they left the water and lay down
together. On that night they did not
return to their former place, but trav-
elled till they came to the cliffs over-
hanging the sea, and made their home
in the coverts there. But the place
that they liked best was a large plan-
tation of Scotch firs, so closely cropped
by the wind and the salt that they ran
along the ground almost like ivy.
One morning late in September, long
after they had settled down for the
day, they heard continuous and increas-
ing trampling of hoofs on the road half
a mile above them, and a great chat-
tering of human voices. It lasted for
a long time, but they lay quite still,
though the hind was evidently uneasy.
Then they heard hounds speak in the
covert below them, and there was a
shrill halloo and much blowing of
horns ; and presently there was a great
clatter of branches close to them, and
up came a huge old stag with his mouth
wide open and his head thrown back.
He jerked his head impatiently for-
ward, as if to say Be off at once,
and the hind jumped up in terror and
the calf after her; and as they went
they saw the old stag lie down in their
place with his horns thrown back on
his shoulders and his chin tight against
the ground. But they had no time to
lose, for the hounds were coming
103
closer, and presently the hind led the
calf on to a path, for his little legs could
not keep up with hers in the tangle of
the plantation, and there they ran on
till they heard a horse trotting down
the path towards them. Then they
turned into the covert and lay down
but the man hastened on along the
path, looking hard at the ground, and
meeting the hounds stopped them at
once. What is it, Arthur? said a
mans voice. Hind and calf, sir,
said the man who had stopped the
hounds, and then he blew a note on
his horn and went away with the
hounds, just three couple of them, at
his heels.
Hind and calf? said a girls
voice, the same that they had once
heard before; I thought we were
hunting a stag. We certainly found
one. Just so, answered the man,
whose voice also was not strange;
but the stag has turned up the hind
and calf to be hunted instead of him.
Do they often do that? said the girl.
Its the commonest of all their
tricks, as youll know when you have
hunted them a little longer. The ywill
turn out any deer that is weaker than
themselves to take their place. And
a hind is always weaker, I suppose ?
continued the girl. Naturally, for
she is only about three-quarters of the
size of a big stag. Dear me, said
the girl, then the stags make the
hinds do all their dirty work for them.
I really had thought better of them.
Stags are very like men, it seems, she
added with a little sigh. Yes ,they
are incomparably superior to the
hinds, said the man gravely. More
strength, more beauty, and more
brains. I (lont began the
girl hotly, but the man held up his
hand and said, Hark I what have
they found now? Then the cry of
hounds rose up again, and presently
a horniess deer passed close to them,
flying like an arrow from the bow.
There I said the girl triumphantly,
that was a hind. Do you mean to
tell me that she is not twice as hand-
some and graceful as a heavy, lumber-
ing 01(1 stag? Far more graceful,
The Old One-Itorned Stag.
no doubt. said the man dryly; but it
happened to be a young male deer, as
you might have judged by his neck
and action, and I am going to stop the
tufters from him, and he drew up his
reins in his hand, for he had dis-
mounted. lies much nicer than the
old stag, anyhow, persisted the girl,
with a touch of temper. Stags can-
not be very like men, said the man
bitterly, as he swung himself into the
saddle, if the young ones are much
nicer than the old; but hinds are very
like women, for it is well known that
they prefer the old ones. And he
looked at her rather sadly for a mo-
ment, l)efore starting off abruptly at a
gallop. l3ut I dont, said the girl,
stretching out her hand as if to stop
him. I dont, she repeated, gallop-
ing after him at the top of her horses
speed ; and the voices died away.
But the hind and the calf lay still
though they could hear men and
hounds still wandering through the
great covert, hunting for their lost
stag. Then after a time there was
another loud halloo which told them
that lie was afoot again, and when
another half-hour was past there was
a great clamor in the road above
them, and all the horses seemed to be
galloping to one spot. Then the hub-
bub died away aiid all was silent; the
old stag had been forced into the open
at last, and was flying for his life over
the heather. And prcsently the hind
rose and led the calf out of the covert
and on to the open moor, and, when
they had crossed one valley and
reached the top of the hill above, they
could see a long line of horses, cover-
ing two or three miles, hastening on
with what speed they could muster
in the vain hope of catching the
hounds. There they lay down in peace
for two hours, and as the sun began to
sink they saw the hounds, far away,
and very close together, and they
seeme(l to have a great deal to say to
each other. The pair drew nearer,
and they heard the girl say Hes
not so very old, and youll admit that
hes very nice ; but how you can have
thought that I really cared for him
And the man looked about
him, rather foolishly but very happy
ap~)arently, and changed the conversa-
tion by saying, Look ! theres a hind
and calf. And she said, I believe
you are a great deal fonder of the deer
than you are of me ; and so they
passed on. And later on came a loose
horse, all covered ~vith mire, with one
stirrup missing from his saddle. And
first he went down to the water to
(Irink, and then lie lay down and rolled
over and over till the girths parted
with a crack and left the saddle on the
ground ; then he got up, hung up one
hind leg in the rein and kicked himself
free, and then lie lay down once more
and rubbed his cheeks against the
heather till lie had forced the bridle
off his head, and at last, apparently
quite comfortable, lie began to graze.
And some time after hini came a man,
also covered all over with mire, trali)p-
ing wearily through the heather in
breeches and boots, with his spurs in
his hand ; and he stumbled over ~
tussock of grass and nearly fell on his
nose. And they heard him curse the
moor as a place abandoned of Provi-
dence and wish that lie had never set
eyes on it ; and then lie, too, passed
on, and so closed an eventful day.
After another week or so, as October
came in, the stillness of the night was
broken by hideous roars, at first in a
few places only, but soon froni all
sides, and all the deer in the forest
seemed to be incurably restless. The
great stags seemed never to cease bell-
ing except when they were cooling
themselves in the water or taking a
returning quietly home ; and very mud bath, and if two of them met they
weary the horses that were with them fought furiously. Their necks were
seemed to be. Then they heard voices swelled and their bodies tucked up, so
much closer to them, and the hind that they looked very different from
started to her feet. It was the man the sleek, fat creatures that had beeti
and the girl that they had seen in the seen in the coverts in the summer.
morning; thiey were riding quite alone And one would form a little band of
104
The Old One-Horned Stag.
hinds to himself and drive them about
like sheep, and another, perhaps some
impudent three-year-old, would try to
steal one of them away till the old stag
caine down upon him in all his wrath
and drove him to fly for his life. The
calf felt very much afraid of the old
stags at this time, but his mother took
care to kcep him out of their way.
After two or three weeks of this
troubled life, the deer seemed to agree
to live in peace again, and they drew
together in great herds, so that some-
times there would be two or three
score of them on Dunkery alone.
And now the autumn gales set in and
blew furiously from the Atlantic over
the moor; and the calf gre~v stronger
and stronger, and noted with pride
that the white spots which had dotted
his summer coat had disappeared, and
that he was now a veritable red deer.
Week after week he lay with his dam
in the warm sheltered coinbes of Dun-
kery, and listened to the gale hunting
the scud overhead, and the water roar-
ing down from the bog to the sea. On
very rough days there was always
plenty of company in these combes, for
a fox would often come in and make
himself comfortable therein, and occa-
sionally a hare, and all seemed to be
equally fond of the place. But there
was little rest, for the hounds ran over
Dunkery from all parts of the moor
regularly week after week, and many a
time the hind and calf were forced to
fly before them, sometimes alone and
sometimes with others. And they had
narrow escapes, too, for they were
hard pressed more than once, and at
last in January there came a day when
they were forced to l)art from each
other, and run their own ways. Worse
than that, the pack divided after them,
and some of the old hounds, knowing
that a calf was more easily tired than a
hind, chased him their haidest. He
ran gallantly for more than half an
hPur ii and about the large wooded
valleys, but the scent was good and
the pace so great that he dared not
pause for a drink and a splash in the
water ; and though he beat up one I This is a literal fact; the two were found in
little stream for a few yards he soon the position described.
left it, for he heard the hounds close
to him. Then he made a final effort,
and climbing up one hillside and down
another, sank the hill to the water be-
low and lay down in despair. But
chance was kind to him ; for just as
the hounds were casting down the
water after him, a man viewed ilila
in the stream, and tile hounds wer&
stopped and laid 011 to another line.
Then the men came back and stood
over him, and one said: The pack is
all over the place; hadnt we better
stow the little beggar away some-
where, or theyll kill him yet ? And
the other said, Hold my horse, and
ill go in after him. And he did go
in after llim, but the calf was not s~
beat but that Ile scrambled up and
made his escape down the water and
into a hedge-trough, where he lay like
a stone. All that day hounds were
running round and round the great~
woods, and deer after deer, stags and
hinds, came down the same water with
a few hounds after them, until at last,
as it grew dark, a tired man on a tired
horse rode slowly up the valley blow-
ing long notes on a horn and picking
up couple after couple of the weary
l)ack. But when night came on there
was still a stray puppy mooning up
and down tile valley, howling dismally
from time to time that he was lost and
did not know his way home, until
at length he licked himself dry, and
came sniffing along the hedge-trough
where the calf lay to look for a warm
bed. And when he reached the calf
ile just stepped down and curled up
alongside him ; and the two kept each
other warm for the night.1
Next day his damn found him, an(1
she too seemed stiff and tired as
though she had travelled far and fast
on the previous day. They ran to-
gether many times before the hounds
ere the hunting-season ceased; but all
thii~s come to an end, and at last, in
March, the coverts were quiet and they
could enjoy a peaceful life once mnore.
Then the sun gathered strength and
tile tilorns began to sprout and the
105
106
mountain-ash to flower, and the woods
were carpete(l with wild hyacinth and
primrose ; and a little later the ash-
boughs, laid along the hedgerows
round the skirt of the moor, began to
throw out buds, and every young male
deer came to eat them, greedy for the
delicacy. The calf saw some new
sights also that spring, the grey hens in
the centre of the ring, and the black-
cock dancing solemnly round them to
show what desirable mates they were.
And at the last he felt a new sensation,
a pain in his forehead, which became
remarkably tender in one spot, and
eventually threw out a single little
knob of dark grey velvet on the near
side. All the other yearlings that he
saw had two, and he felt himself ill-
used in having but one ; but there the
matter was, and not to be helped.
He still remained with his dam
through that summer, and as she had
no calf that year he had her still to him-
self; and by the time the winter was
come he felt strong enough to lead the
hounds a long dance before they should
run up to him. But the day at last
came when they were parted forever.
It was a mild grey November morning,
and they were lying with half-a-dozen
more of the herd in some dry grass
tufts in the boggy ground of Brendon
Common, when the hounds came up to
find them, and two couple of tufters
catching view raced after them as he
had never known them race before.
lie went away in company with his dani
and kept to her for two miles or more,
though a man who was waiting for
them tried hard to gallop in between
them ; but at last the hounds drove
them so hard that they lost all thought
of each other and turned away in
(lifferent directions. He galloped like
the wind by the way that she had
showed him towards the cliffs, and,
when he came to the water, ran down
and up as she had taught him; but
he dared not linger long, and climbing
~l) with all haste to the covert, star-
tling the woodcocks out of their day-
dreams, never paused till he reached
the stunted oaks above the sea. Then
he stopped, and, finding all quiet, en-
The Old One-Horned Stag.
joyed a drink and a splash in a little
stream, and lay down determined to go
straight to the sea if lie were troubled
again. But the hind made for Dun-
kery, and soon the whole pack was after
her, flying at the top of their speed.
She found four stags together at the
hill, but they drove her away, and she
toiled on alone, black with sweat; then
her beautiful neck began to droop and
her feet to falter, and presently she
sank the lull for Homer Water, which
she never left again alive. But the
yearling knew nothing of all this ; he
knew only that lie never saw her
again, and he did not care, for now he
had grown a horn and could take care
of himself.
Then another spring came round,
and the little horn on his forehead
dropped off ; it was rather painful, but
the pain was soon over ; and in its
stead there grew up a slender sl)ire
with two points, brow and trey, upon
it. A great to-do lie made when the
horn was full grown and the time came
for fraying off the velvet ; lie chose a
young ash-tree, and went round and
round it rubbing and burnishing till he
fairly cut all the bark off, and left the
tree to die. But it was a great disad-
vantage to have but one horn, for all
the deer that had two made a point
of bullying him whenever they met
him. They turned him out and made
him run for them again and again, and
in October, when he thought of chioos-
ing a wife, they drove him off with
ease. Next year things were just the
same. He was too young to be hunted,
but lie was constantly obliged to run
for others, until at last he grew so cun-
ning, in baffling the hounds and in
hiding himself from other decr, that it
was a hard matter for either to find
him. When October came lie did not
stay long to fight with the others, but
stole away a single hind from the herd
as his companion, and took her away to
the distant covert where he had lived
as a calf. Still regularly as October
came round he went back to Dunkery
for the winter and joined the herd
there.
And as the years passed on lie grew
The Old One-Horned Stag.
into a great stag. He never bore more
than a single horn, and that never very
big nor heavy, but he was none the less
a fine deer and could hold his own with
the young ones at any rate. He was
cunning too, and could hide himself
away so that no hound could find him,
in odd edges in the cliff, or in some
patch of gorse so thick that no hound
would face it. And he never walked
into his lair, but stood at a distance and
hurled himself into it with one great
bound so as to leave no scent behind
him, and lay like a stone. So for sea-
son after season he escaped all trouble
from the hounds. And as time went
on he discovered how to take advan-
tage of his one horn; for one day when
he was shoving head to head with all
his might against another stag, he
slipped aside and gave his enemy such
a thrust in the flank that the other was
glad to run away limping and bleeding
and fairly beat. And then he threw
up his head and belied loudly in tri-
umph.
It was not until he was fully eight
years old that he found the pack after
him again. It was in October, the last
(lay of the season, that they found him,
and a long chase lie led them. For,
starting from the foot of Dunkery lie
made straight for the distant home of
his calfliood, fourteen niiles away. The
hounds did not get away very close to
him, and lie felt as if lie could run on
forever, old as he was. So away lie
went over grass and heather eight
miles, before he dreamed of touching
the water, and, rising up refreshed
after a short bath, cantered on in the
teeth of the westerly breeze confident
as ever. As lie ivent he caught the
wind of a herd of hinds lying on the
common, and ran straight into the mid-
dle of them ; and up they rose, hinds
with calves in terrible alarm, wondering
what was going to happen. Then the
hounds came up to them and scattered
iii all directions after the hinds, while
lie xvent on chuckling to himself, and
having reached his refuge lay in the
water till he felt quite cool and fresh,
and curled up for the night as comfort-
able as could be.
Another year passed; October caine
again, arid again he was in Dunkery
among the herd. He went down to
the fields to feed, and came back to a
little brake on the hillside, a favorite
place with all deer, and known as
Sweetworthy, the sweet meadow; lie
walked quietly up to a patch of gorse,
jumped into the middle of it and lay
down to sleep. Nor was lie conscious
of the presence, a little before dawn, of
a man who came creeping up to wind-
ward of him and note(l the slot of his
great feet leading into the brake but
not out of it. The hounds canie to
Cloutshiam, straight across the valley
from him, at eleven oclock, and a
nuniber of people to meet them, for it
was the last day of the stag-hunting
season. And the man who had crept
round the brake went apart with the
master, and said very quietly: In
Sweetworthy, my lord a good stag.
Im so sure that I would make a bet to
find him myself. And the other said,
Thats good, Miles. And presently
the pair of them rode across the valley
with the hiuntsman and two couple of
hounds.
The one-horned stag heard them
coming, but lie only lay the closer.
The hounds were laid on to the line by
which lie hind passed five or six hours
before arid hunted it slowly towards
him, nearer, nearer, till at last they
caine right up to his bed, and bayed
with fierce triumph as lie juniped up
before them. He made three bounds
through the gorse thicket and came
right upon a man who yelled tally-ho!
in his face arid blew his horn so fiercely
that he waited no longer but dashed
down the steep wooded combe and
over Cloutsham Ball to the valley that
leads to the forest. And as lie reached
the bottom lie heard the whole pack
upon his trail and knew that the worst
had come. Two miles he galloped
straight up the valley to its head, the
hounds flying after him and a hundred
horsemen in their wake, and then lie
climbed gallantly up the head of the
combe, topped the bank above it, and
pointed straight over the open moor
for tIre distant home of his cahfhood.
107
108
He felt the cool wind in his face and
ran gallantly on ; but the hounds were
close behind hini, and lie could gain
little on them. On and on he galloped,
not daring to linger to soil in the cool
brown stream till he left the heather
for the grass of the forest. Then for
the first time lie ran up the small
thread of water, but lie had been in it
only a very few minutes when the
hounds came over the hill, aud he knew
that he must fly once more. On they
came to the water without faltering
there were not a dozen horsemen with
them nowflung down to the water
and cast themselves upward. Then at
last their pace slackened for a moment,
but presently Telegram ran slowly up
the bank, holding the line truly though
it was still weak from water, and Fore-
man pressed forward to hold it with
him. And then they opened their
mouths and spoke, and the one-horned
stag heard them, and his heart died
within him.
Still he toiled gallantly on over the
yellow grass of the North Forest,
breasting the long ascent to southward
that lay between him and his refuge.
Could he only reach the top, lie would
be able to hold his own yet; but strug-
gle as he might the hounds gained on
him, till just short of the top he turned
back in despair, for they were hardly
out of view. Wheeling on the line like
a squadron of drilled horse, they raced
down the slope as they had raced up
it; and the old hounds came bounding
to the front, for they knew that the
end was at hand. Two miles they
raced to the water at the bottom, and
there the deer stood before them.
Then they raised an exulting cry, and
with one rush they swept him off his
legs, and his head sank down below the
water; but before they could harm him
further the knife did its work, and the
brown stream ran foul and reddened
with his blood.
The one horn still hangs in a Devon-
shire home among the heads of Ex-
moor deer that died in the year of
Waterloo; and those that see it look
learnedly at the skull and discourse at
length on the strange chance that left
its growth imperfect. But there are a
few that forget all else in the memory
of that race over the moor, and ask if
they will ever enjoy a better fifty-five
minutes than the death-chase of the
Old One-Horned Stag.
From The Nineteenth Century.
LION HUNTING BEYOND THE HAUD.
BEING a member of the profession
of arms, I though t myself very lucky
when I last year found myself entitled
to sufficient leave to make it worth
while going abroad in search of sport.
A brother officer being in the same
enviable position, we decided to join
forces, and to go foreign together
to some spot where sport and econ-
omy could simultaneously be practised.
Various localities, from the Zambesi to
the Pamirs, came under consideration,
but in the end we decided to take
tickets for Aden and to try our luck in
Somahiland.
I will not presume too much on any
ones geographical knowledge, but will
say at once that the country in ques-
tion occupies the most easterly corner
of Africa, and adjoins Abyssinia.
Those who examine a German map
will find that the sphere of British in-
fluence is depicted as being very small
indeed ; while those who look at an
English map will notice a correspond-
ing decrease of French, Italian, and
German influence, as represented by
the dabs of various colors which are
spread about the chart of this barren
promontory.
We will leave the account of the
journey to Aden to the guide-books,
and will commence with our arrival at
that cheerless rock. The welcome of
the assistant resident there (why should
any one want assistance to reside any-
where?) was not encouraging, being
as follows Ohm, youre here, are
you? We were just going to wire to
the Foreign Office to stop you. I dont
know where you can go, the country is
shot out. Cheerful, this ! But our
discouragement was not com menr mirate
with the poor prospect lie afforded us
Lion Hunting Beyond the Haud.
Lion Hunting Beyond the Haud.
and, seeing we were bent on going,
this gentleman afforded us every assist-
ance in his power. After two days at
Aden my companion, whom I will call
V., went over to Berberab, from which
place we had decided to go up country,
for the purpose of buying camels and
other necessaries, an(l of engaging
men. I spent a boresome fortnight at
Aden, awaiting the cargo boat with our
stores, ammunition, an(l guns. At last
she arrived, the goods were transhipped
to the Tuna, a little tub plying from
Aden to the Somali coast, I got on
board a proceeding materially alter-
ing her draught and off we went.
Reaching Berberah on a Thursday
evening, we passed one night there
under the roof of the political resi-
dent, whose hospitality to sportsmen is
unending; hustled about all the follow-
ing morning from sunrise, arranging
loads, and by ten oclock were on the
move for the interior.
At this point it would not be out of
place to give some slight description
of the personnel of our expedition, as
well as the manner in which a large
kafala, or caravan, progresses
through the country. First in impor-
tance came Hadj Achmed Warsama,
our interpreter and head man, a tall,
slight fellow of about thirty-five years
of age with close-shaven head and im-
mense mouth disclosing a row of
gleaming white teeth ; a great man in
the estimation of all the others, having
three times made the journey to Mecca
and having a fourth trip in prospect.
He had been fifteen years in the En-
glish navy as interpreter, and had
accompanied Admiral Hewitt on his
mission to Abyssinia. His long spell
of British service gave him, of course,
an excellent command of the English
tongue, though perhaps his expressions
sometimes savOre(l rather of the focsle.
His authority over the camel men was
complete, and those who have had to
deal with colored races well know how
greatly a powerful lieutenant adds to
the pleasure of an expedition of this
kind. To any one who may undertake
a journey of similar character to ours
I would say: spare no expense to get
a good head man ; they are hard to
find and require high wages ; but, for
our part, we never had reason to regret
one single anna of the large wages
and backsheesh we paid to Hadj
Achmed. Next perhaps in importance
comes Deria Ali, our swarthy chef; a
little wizened-up old fellow, much
given to complaining of, and quarrel-
ling with, the other members of the
outfit, but, on the other hand, a first-
class jungle cook. He had seen a good
deal of the world, having visited Mel-
bourne and other places in Australia;
not finding them to his liking, how-
ever, lie had returned to his native
jungle. His wardrobe was, like Sam
Wellers knowledge of London, ex-
tensive and peculiar ; one day lie
would appear wearing a tarhoosli, two
yards of calico, and a spear; the next
day very tight trousers and an old
military overcoat; another day an an-
cient and porous mackintosh, of which
lie said, Him cost me five pounds at
Melbourne. On the march his duty
was to drive the sheep ; poor, white,
fat-tailed things, they got so used to
marching that after a few days they
needed no driving, and would follow
like dogs, getting gradually killed off
day by day till they were all gone, and
a fresh lot had to be bought to fill their
place. It was necessary to take sheep
with us in order to keep the l)ot sup-
plied when our time was devoted ex-
clusively to the pursuit of lions. On
such occasions it would have been fatal
to sport to discharge a rifle in order to
supply ourselves with food. One
sheep marched with us for about two
hundred and forty miles, his day of
execution having been postponed to
the very last because we had become
so mutually attached; when lie was
killed he was barely eatable I
V. and I hind each our two shilkaris,
who always accompanied us. We were
very fortunate in securing some of the
best in the country, Nur Farah, who
was with V., and Aden Ateyn, who
was my head shiikari, being particularly
well known. The latter was a little
bullet-headed fellow of about five feet
four in height, broad-shouldered and
109
110
sturdy, with a remarkable faculty for
going up hill at a steady run with no
apparent inconvenience to himself.
Brave as the lion it is his profession to
pursue, he often erred on the side of
impetuosity and rashness, but withal
he was a wonderful tracker and stalker
and fully conversant with the habits of
all game. His chief drawback was his
religious mania, for I can call it nothing
else, which sometimes drove him into
fits similar to those of the howling
dervishes at Cairo ; of this, however,
we managed to cure him in a short
time ; we told him that he would have
to pay for any damage done to or by
the camels if they stampeded in conse-
quence of his antics, and finally threat-
ened him with immediate discharge if
he had another fit. He did not. Geleh
flared, my second shikari, was almost
as good a hunter as his superiora
tall, slight boy of about nineteen, quite
indefatigable and most willing. He
had had some experience of Europeans
when travelling with Captain Swayne,
R.E., and I think I am right in saying
that in his company he had visited
Harar. He could not speak ten words
of English, but had a slight knowledge
of the Harari language.
The camel men, fourteen of whom
we armed with Snider carbines, were
all engaged for us by Captain Abud at
Berberah, and a better set of fellows I
never wish to see ; willing and cheerful
to a degree, they took all the hardships
they had to undergo as part of the days
work. Occasional discontent, arising
out of nothing, was invariably sup-
pressed as easily as it arose ; we always
followed the plan of carefully investi-
gating every matter of the kind that
was brought before us and doing justice
to the utmost of our power. Many
people, in dealing with a Somali, take
it for granted that he is not telling the
truth ; true, the chances are against it,
but he is such a child that he will con-
vict himself of untruth in the first mo-
ment and be the first to laugh at it
himself. Burton, in his First Foot-
steps in East Africa, well describes
the rapid flight of the Somali temper
from one extreme to the other, and it
Lion Hunting Beyond the Haud.
is indeed astonishing to see the man
at whose childishness you have smiled
one day capable of the most horrible
cruelties the next. The Somalis are a
peculiar race, in that they have no
written language, no musical instru-
ments, little or no filial affection, and
rarely any gratitude. Their insensibil-
ity to pain is remarkable. I have seen
Aden smiling and chewing tobacco,
whilst Geleh burnt little holes in his
back with a red-hot stick. Fear of
death is an unknown quantity among
them.
I must not omit to mention Aden
Muhammid, V.s syce ; he was a great
character and an excellent boy; he
never seemed to tire, and was always
ready to do every one elses work be-
sides his own. One feat of his de-
serves especial remark. We had found
a lioness in an open plain about six
miles wide, and fearing we should lose
her in the bushes, we sent Aden off for
a pony to round her up till we could
get there. He got the pony and gal-
loped off, armcd only with a little
throwing spear, over ground honey-
combed with holes (one of which gave
him a heavy fall), and headed off the
lioness ; time after time he brought her
to bay under a bush, and time after
time she charged, and he was obliged
to gallop for his life till he had dis-
tanced her; at last we got up to where
he was, and the lioness was secured.
This appears to me to be an act of as
high courage as one can look for in any
one, white or black. Only once did we
have to reprimand him, and then his
offence tended towards the ludicrous.
It was as follows: As V. and I were
walking along some distance behind
the kafala we saw an old man, near a
village, crying and raising a great com-
motion; off we went to inquire what
was the matter, and found that Master
Aden and Bulaleh, my own syce, had
stolen the old mans sword from him
and gone off with it. Of course resti-
tution was made, and the two syces
were put on guard for a whole night
as punishment, regardless of their
protests. They took it very good-
humoredly, but paid us out by waking
Lion Hunting Beyond the Haud.
us every hour or two through the night
to tell us they had heard a lion in the
neighborhood. Which they had not.
To return to our kafala. The camel
loads were of a very varied nature,
nothing being procurable in the interior
but a little meat and milk, and that
only during the rains; so we had to
carry with us everything that we were
likely to need. The men were rationed
with a pound of rice, half that amount
of dates, and two ounces of ghee per
maii per diem. As they numbered
twenty -five and we carried rations for
a hundred days, it will be seen that
this item alone represented a consider-
able amount of transport. A Somali
camel carries a load of about two hun-
dred pounds, but that amount varies
greatly with the size, condition, and
age of the animal, and with the work
he has lately done and is expected to
do. It is a good rough computation to
say that one camel carries rations suffi-
cient for twenty-five men for eight
days. Seven camels were devoted to
the transport of water; some carried
casks containing twenty-six gallons
each, one on each side, the very best
possible way of carrying water on
camel-back ; while others were loaded
~vith hams, as the native water
vessels are called. They are woven of
the inner bark of a tree and grass, and
are saturated in ghee to make them
watertight. They are of the shape of
a short, fat cigar, one end being remov-
able and forming a cup. The whole is
enclosed in a cage of strong twigs, to
which the ropes are made fast, which
lash it on to the back of the camel.
Our own private stores were packed in
fifty-pound boxes, a selection of goods
being put in each, so that only one, or
two at most, were in use at a time.
This plan I can strongly recommend to
other travellers, as the trouble and an-
noyance of having to open box after
box to find some necessary article is
very great, besides which damage is
done to the boxes by constant opening
and nailing up, and in the hurry arti-
cles are not properly repacked, thus
getting broken or spoilt. One camel
carried our tent (in two packages) and
111
our clothes and books (in two kit bags).
Ammunition, spare rifles, calico for
presents and barter, tobacco for the
same purpose, together with a few
tools and spare rope, pretty well com-
plete the list of our niat~riel.
The manner in which a load is fixed
on a camel is not unworthy of descrip-
tion. The Somal has no saddle for his
camel, but uses in its place a thick pad
of mats, barns, which on camping
he uses as a roof and walls for his lint,
hanging them over curved sticks after
the manner of gipsy huts in England.
The soft hflru forming the padding
next the camels skin lie uses as a
couch. The camel having been made
to lie down, after much grunting and
roaring on his part, he is securely knee-
haltered by passing the halter under
each knee and over his neck, on the
top of which it is tied. The soft h& ru
is themi put on his back, covering all but
his head and tail, and the front part
folded back to make a double thickness
over the withers and hump. (The
hump of the Somali camel, by the way,
is not nearly such a marked feature as
that of the Arabian camel.) On this
are placed the remainder of the lihrus
to the extent of from six to nine thick-
nesses of mat. The loading rope, a
long, double-plaited grass rope, is then
put on so as to form a complete har-
ness, consisting of breast-plate, double
girth, and crupper, but never passing
over the back, the harness being lifted
up as much as possible so as to leave
the spine clear after the manner of an
ordinary English saddle. The load
having first been carefully balanced, it
is then secured by lashing it to the
loading rope. This adjustment of loads
is a most important consideration in
the marching of a kafala; for, if it is
not properly attended to, loads will roll
off, or shift backwards and forwards,
or, worse still, the camel will get a sore
back and be rendered unfit for work,
necessitating the division of his load
amongst other camels.
Our loads being all properly divided
and adjusted, we will march off. As
each camel man gets his two camels
loaded up lie ties the halter of one Qf
112
L~o~t Hunting Beyond the Haud.
~hein to the tail of the other, whose written home Potage tabloide, tont~
halter he in turn ties to any unoccupied nedos de Koodoo a loignon. Pain.
tail he can see ; a fairly fast, steady Confiture. Caf~. Vms. Whiskey.
camel is chosen to lead, and, as soon Eau alkaline. Very soon after sunset
as the whole of the kafala is strung to- the temperature begins to fall, and at
gether, the order is given to march off. such a rapid rate that by seven oclock
For the first mile or so the camel men we are generally glad to put on our
stay by their respective charges to see thickest coats and sometimes to wrap
that the loads are travelling all right; rugs round us.
when satisfied that this is the casethey Some of those evenings in the junzle
gather into knots in front, in rear, or are among my pleasantest recollections.
on the flanks and indulge in chaff, What greater pleasure than coming in
songs of sorts, and occasional prayer, from a successful hunt to find that
the latter entailing a run of a mile or ones companion has had his share of
so to catch the caravan up again. If in sport, and, over the post-prandini
a district whose friendliness is doubted, coffee, to mutually recite ones expe-
a careful watch is of course kept while riences of the (lay? The (larkness suc-
on the march, and no straggling ceeding the fall of day is just giving
allowed. The shikaris, as a rule, way to the bright light of the rising
formed the advanced guard, while the moon, whose rapidly widening silver
ponies and syces brought up the rear. edge we see through the tops of the
If the ponies are allowed to get in front mimosa jungle. The circle of fires in
the whole rate of marching will be re- the zareba throws a ruddy glow on the
tarded, as a Somali pony only walks picturesque figures of the men grouped
two miles an hour when loose, a about them at their meal or preparing
camels ordinary pace being half a mile for rest. In the far distance we hear
per hour more. the howl of the hyena or the gruff bark
The usual days work when on the of the questing lion. His majesty may
march was as follows B~veit at three, perhaps be inclined to visit us later in
a cup of coffee and biscuit, camp struck, the evening; very well, we will give
loaded up and off at four, steady march- him a royal reception. Achmed, tell
ing till ten or thereabouts, when we Aden to put the 10-bore and half-a-
would find the shadiest spot we could, dozen cartridges by my bed! Eight
amid halt for from four to five hours, oclock time to turn in. Wheres
during which time we had breakfast, my revolver? Ah ! here it is. I will
wrote up diaries, took any necessary put it under the i~illow as usual for
astronomical observations. About two fear of accidents. Good-night!
and a half hours more marching in the Night! and we are soon asleep to a
afternoon brought us to the nights brief lullaby from the sentry, who never
camping ground towards five oclock. ceases singing throughout his watch;
Then there was a thorn zarcba to be asleep, but not a heavy slumber; any
made, dinner to be prepared, beds put unusual noise, and we shall both be
out, perhaps a little doctoring to be wide awake, having woken up su(ldenly
done, and sometimes time to read a without a movement, unless it be that
1)00k for a few minutes before dark. of a hand to a weapon; wide awake, to
At sundown Achmed called the faithful (Irop off again the moment we are sat-
to prayers, and such as felt like it isfied that all is well. It is a wonder-
attended; during the Ramadan indeed ful faculty of the human mind which
there were very few absentees, but at enables it to adapt its sleep to circum-
other times the attendance was smaller, stances; at home we lay our heads
As soon as the men had done their down and sheep till shouted at by a ser-
prayers our dinner was served by the vant who has banged about the room
butler, Jama Agg Elhi, a capital for ten minutes previously; go to the
boy whom we picked up in Aden. I jungle or the prairie, and our sheep is
quote the carte du jour from a letter set on a hair-trigger, we wake ten
Lion Hunting Beyond the Ilaud.
times in the night and ten times we are
asleep again within half a minute,
having made sure all is right. As the
uight advances we are glad to pull the
waterproof sheets over us, sometimes
Tright over our heads, to keep off the
heavy dew, which otherwise would soak
us to the skin. Long before daylight
Jaina would be called by the sentry
(whose clock was a star), and in his
turn go and wake V. with the remark,
I think so, sir, it half past three.
V., drawing his watch our only
chronometer from under his pillow,
would check the accuracy of Jamas
assertion with the aid of a match, and,
if his statement held watcr, would
order a start. My own watch, a cheap
one, broke down very soon after enter-
ing the Haud, so we had to rely entirely
on V.s timepiece, an excellent lever
watch, for our observations. On one
occasion the sentry must have dropped
off to sleep for a moment and woken
up again to find the stars obscured by
clouds. Thinking apparently that he
had had a prolonged nap, he woke
Jama, who addressed to V. his usual
matutinal salutation of I think so,
sim~, it half past three. Imagine my
companions feelings when he found,
on consulting his watch, that it was
only just midnight
It was wonderful to observe the
celerity with which our camp was
pitched or broken. About half an hour
sufficed to see a thorn zareba built, and
every one comfortably settled down
after arrival at a fresh camp, while
forty-five minutes from the ejaculation
by either Oi. us of the mystic word
Wars6kahaiy6Ji (what it means the
writer has not a notion, but its action
never failed), not a vestige would re-
main to mark the spot when men,
camels, and horses had lately lived,
moved, and had their being.
In appearance the Somal has the ad-
vantage of most colored an(l of many
white races. He is as a rule tall, slight,
and well set up, with well-formed limbs
covered with a ruddy brown skin, the
texture of which would excite envy in
the heart of many a European beauty.
The features have, as a rule, nothing
LIVING AGE. VOL. VIII. 372
ii3
in common with the coarse negro type
which prevails in Kubia and the Sou-
dan, but rather incline towards the
Semitic type. Thick lips are the ex-
ception, not the rule, and a broad, flat
nose is also a rarity. The hair, when
the head is not clean shaved, is allowed
to grow straight out from the head in
every direction, giving a very wild ap-
pearance to the owner; among the Esa
and Gadabursi tribes the hair seems to
be softer, and hangs down to the nape
of the neck in long, closely curled ring-
lets. The women throughout the coun-
try have the hair enclosed in a dark
blue fillet, a difference in the disposi-
tion of the latter distinguishing be-
tween a married and an unmarried
woman.
The first fourteen days were of little
interest except to ourselves, steady
travelling, at about twenty miles per
diem, being the rule. We knew it was
no good stopping short of Hargaisa, as
the coast range has been shot out dur-
ing the last three or four years ; and
our best chance of sport seemed to be
to cross the Haud (not Hand as
recently described in the Field), a
waterless plateau extending for three
hundred miles east and west, and being
about one hundred miles wide. Ac-
cordingly, after a short delay at Har-
gaisa to obtain extra camels, for water,
and to make arrangements with the
local sheikh about keeping any letters
that might be forwarded to us, we set
out on our five waterless days march.
On two successive mornings we found
numerous lion tracks on the path, and
in one case found traces of a lion hav-
ing been driven from his morning meal
of oryx by our approach; not being
provided for delay beyond the neces-
sary five days, we did not molest them
at the time, but noted their positions
for future guidance. A lion, if undis-
turbed, will work the same district for
months at a time, leaving it every six
to ten days to go for water, according
to the weather and the amount he has
eaten. The writer had the good for~
tune a fortnight later to be able to fo1~
low exactly the movements of a troop
of five lions and lionesses for seven
Lion Hunting Beyond the Haud.
days, during which time they never left
a radius of ten miles ; perhaps this
may be accounted for by the fact that
he missed them consistently for three
of those days and on the seventh
killed one ; the remaining four de-
voured all that was mortal of their
poor friend that night, and were no
more seen.
The Haud was crossed without any
staving in of water-casks or other mis-
adventure such as generally happens to
novices, and the morning of the fifth
day saw us in Milmil. A two days
halt brought me good luck in the shape
of a greater koodoo, that splendid,
spiral-horned antelope so well depicted
in Mr. Selouss recent book. This was
the second one I had got since starting,
in each case a lucky shot on the top of
a lucky find having brought about the
desired result. One very seldom gets a
sl)ecilnen without a lot of climbing
over the most rugged hills imaginable.
Captain Swayne, in his report on the
antelope of Somaliland, says A fort-
nights hard climbing is amply repaid
by a good pair of horns. (The pres-
ent writer, never having been a feather-
weight, is better on the flat than on
the hill.) The first place where we
really settled down to business was
Awhre, twenty-five miles east of Mil-
mil, a slight cup in a plateau where
sufficient water collects to provide for
a small number of people throughout
the dry season. Lion and rhino tracks
on the way there, coupled with a visit
from two lions the same night, augured
well for sport.
As soon as it was light, the morning
after our arrival, we were off together
on the tracks of the larger of the two
lions whose tracks we had found. V.
took the right, I the left, two of the
shikaris keeping on the track itself in
the centre. Three hours steady track-
Ing brought us to some grass about ten
feet in height, and quite impossible to
see far through. The surrounding
country was mimosa forest, a distant
view in any direction being impossi-
ble. As we were making our way cau-
tiously along I heard a shot from V.,
followed by a most awful moaning roar
about twenty yar(ls away ; my shikari
Aden and I were round like a flash, at
the ready position, standing, as we
expected trouble, but two more shots
and the succeeding silence assured us
of V.s success. As we moved round
to where he was standing, close to a
splendid old black-maned lion, the
syces and shikaris were just commenc-
ing the song of triumph which is al-
ways sung when a male lion has been
bagged. There was extra rejoicing
over the death of this one, as he had
been a well-known man-eater, thirty
five (call it ten!) deaths being laid at
his door, in addition to being the first
lion of the trip. On the way home I
was successful in bagging a fine bull
oryx, which fell to the first shot from
my little single 450 Express, making
me more pleased than ever with the
weapon which had come to hand only
three days before our departure.
The next day is worthy of record.
According to custom we had started off
in oj)posite directions from camp as
soon as the sun appeared. I had al-
most given up hope of sport, my
shikaris and I having walked about ten
miles without a vestige of a lion track,
when we came on quite fresh signs of
two biggish lions that had been hunt-
ing oryx; the tracks were so fresh that
we knew we could not be far behind
them, and exercised consequent can.
tion. Through all the intricacies of
their hunting prowl we followed them;
now and again one could see where one
of them had made a spring at an oryx
and missed, or where the oryx had
taken fright and bolted off. At last the
place where they had rested in the
morning was reached, and from there
the tracks went straight away for about
five miles, through a light thorn jungle
interspersed with patches of high
grass. I thought they must have es-
caped us, and was inclining to despair
when Geleh, my second shikari, who
was in front, suddenly stopped and
bobbed down ; I naturally did the
same, took my double 10-bore from
him, and looked cautiously up over the
top of the thorn-bush in front. We
were at the edge of an open grass glade
114
Lion Hunting Beyond the Haud.
about a hundred yards wide, bounded
by mimosa-trees and high grass. We
were concealed by the bush in front of
us, which was of just sufficient height
to enable me to fire over its fiat top.
Beyond it I could discern the yellow
forms of the two lionesses, for such
they proved to be, lying flat on their
left sides, their hind feet pointing
straight towards us, not forty yards dis-
tant. They were absolutely unaware
of our presence, and lay as if dead.
Had the day not been cloudy they
would doubtless, according to their
habit, have been sleeping in the jun-
gle ; on this occasion the rare event of
an overcast sky had tempted them into
the open to their own destruction and
the ultimate advantage of the writer.
As the two great cats lay there, fast
asleep, I could not help waiting a
moment before firing, as I felt sure
they would not wake now, the wind
being the other way ; and it is not
given to many people to see lions in
their native state in this l)eaceful con-
dition. I suspect, however, that the
moments delay was not quite so long
as it seemed, but it was long enough
for me to see that the further one was
a lioness ; thinking, therefore, that the
nearer one, whose head I could not
see, was a lion, I fired, aiming for a
spot just behind the elbow ; as I did
so the other one looked up over her
shoulder and almost simultaneously got
the contents of the left barrel in the
neck, killing her at once. The first
one fired at which proved also to be
a lioness still moved ; but Geleb,
thinking her vitality less than it really
was, strolled up to her, putting the
butt of my Winchester on her head;
as lie did so she seized it in her mouth,
nearly perforating it with her teeth,
thereby giving him such a respect for
dead (!) lions that he was ever after-
wards most cautious in dealing with
them. I had to give her a shot from
the 450 Express before it was con-
sidered politic to commence skinning
the other one which lay close by.
This operation was not a long one, and
the pelts and skulls were soon made up
in bundles ready to pack on a pony.
115
The latter was very averse to this
operation, and was only brought to
reason by having his nostrils rubbed
with a piece of the flesh of one of the
lions. To the load was added a con-
siderable amount of the inside fat, a
perquisite of the shikaris ; this is
melted and bottled by them, and after~
wards sold for a considerable price to
native doctors on the coast and at
Aden. It is highly valued by them
for its supposed medicinal qualities,
being rubbed into those who suffer
from rheumatism and fever.
On reaching camp that evening we
found that V. had got a tremendous
female rhino with a fine front horn..
His shikaris too had had a scare; tort
as they were dancing on the body of~
the supposed defunct pachyderm, she
had given a grunt, and looked round t~
see what was up. I believe their
activity in regaining their rifles was.
marvellous.
It was in the neighborhood of Aware
that the writer caught sight of some
Bebbo Tag or Clarkes gazelle,
one of the rarest of East African ante-
lope, only having been shot for the
tirst time about four years ago. A few~
days later, having no further ~port~
we moved two journeys nortli-west~
into the Haud, to Doa-ahleh, the spot
where we had seen the tracks on our
journey south. A weeks stay here
increased our tale of lions by one each
a week to be l)assed over by the
writer as lightly as possible. For four
days lie tracked from dawn to after-
noon with always the same result, a
galloping shot with 10-bore and a miss
over the top constituting the usual
finale to the proceedings. The fifth (lay
saw the heavy rifle relegated to close
work, its place for moving shots being
taken by the little ~450 Express, with
which in his hands the writer did not
lose a single lion.
A description of a certain mornings
work will show how easily a good
chance may be missed by a novice
through ignorance of the sport. V.
and I had been for some hours on the
track of a band of lions numbering
five, besides what Nur Farahi called
Lion Hunting Beyond the Haud.
the two small boys (two cubs). At
last we came to the fresh trace of
where something had been dragged
into a patch of high grass, the tracks
being so fresh as to leave little doubt
that the lions were concealed in it,
and probably busy feeding. Instead of
going right round the thicket, as we
should have done, our shikaris insisted
on our walking straight down a slight
opening into the centre of it. The re-
sult of this move was that we walked
almost on to the lions as they were
devouring a dead oryx. I saw a
lioness creeping through the bush ten
yards ahead of us, and fired through
the branches with no perceptible re-
sult. Almost at the same instant an-
other lioness rose up under a tree
rather further away, and started
towards us, looking very nasty; before
her head was fairly lowered V., who
had dropped on one knee, fired, strik-
ing her in the region of the shoulder.
She spun round and round half-a-dozen
times like a top, and we lost sight of
her. Aden and I dashed forward after
a fine male lion he had caught sight
of, an(l followed it up for some hours,
but without success, the ground being
hard and unfavorable for tracking.
We made out that his tracks turned in
the direction of the place where lie had
been found, and then we lost him.
V. had had no better luck with his
wounded lioness, the blood trail having
ceased after a short while, making
tracking impossible. Disconsolately
we turned our steps campwards, after
a short halt for rest and abuse of our
luck. Passing a patch of grass a few
hundred yards from where we had
rested, it was thought advisable to
spread and walk through it in line.
The moment we entered it Nur Farah
spied a yellow object creeping along
close to him. He shouted to V., who
fired at close range at the object,
scarcely knowing what it was; the
first shot, which failed to touch it,
startled it, and off went the beast with
huge bounds over the grass tussocks,
showing it to be the lion I had been
after all the morning. He must have
circled round after we had given him
up, and probably intended to return to
the meal from which we had disturbed
him. We pursued him for a short dis-
tance, but we could see by the tracks
that his gallop never flagged at all, and
we soon abandoned the chase. Had
we not then beeii such green hands at
the game the mornings bag would
probably have been three lions at least,
instead of nil. The first mistake was
in blundering into the grass where we
found them, instead of giving the
matter a few moments consideration,
during which they would probably
have revealed their actual position, by
the noise made in crunching bones.
The second was tearing in after our
shots instead of waiting for another
chance which, with so many lions in
the covert, would probably have offered
itself. The third was to start off at
once in pursuit of a lion disturbed
whilst feeding. A lion, after its first
bolt away from the hunter, generally
stops after a little while to see if lie is
being pursued ; if lie has left food be-
hind him, the probability is that he
will return cautiously to finish it; if
not, lie will walk gently on to his desti-
iiation. If, on the other hand, lie sees
among the trunks of the mimosa bushes
two or three pairs of legs rapidly ad-
vancing in his direction, lie will break
into a canter, followed by a steady jog-
trot, and will probably not stop before
sundown. With a very big heavy lion
the case is rather (lifferent, as, having
more to carry, he is much affected by
the heat, and it is usually possible, on
good tracking ground, to walk him
down. In the case in point we ought
to have lain behind a bush near the
bones of the oryx, when our patience
would almost certainly have been ic-
warded by a shot.
In this neighborhood we succeeded
in adding a young lion and a lioness to
the bag. The latter fell to V.s rifle
by a curious shot. The bullet broke
the neck, and the fore quarters of the
lioness subsided with the head under-
neath, the hind quarters remaining
raised as though the beast were kneel-
ing down; after half a minute she
rolled over on her side, stone dead.
116
Lion. Hunting Beyond the Haud.
My young lion gave me some excite-
ment. He also was struck in the neck,
just above the spine, the bullet passing
completely through ; when he caught
sight of us coming into the clearing
where he lay, he endeavored, though
half ~)aralyzed, to make a rush at us.
It was with the greatest difficulty that
I could restrain the shikaris from let-
ting drive at him, I myself administer-
ing the coup de grace behind the ear at
a distance of about fifteen yards. It is
curious how invisible a lion is in the
jungle so long as he keeps still. In
this instance I had looked straight at
my lion through the bushes, as he sat
up on his hind quarters, and thought
he was the dead trunk of a tree. His
back was towards us, and it was not
till he turned his head that I realized
what he was. The natives told us that
the color of the skin of both rhinoceros
and lion varies with the color of the
soil. Our own short experience quite
bore this out, the lions killed on dark
soil having a much bluer tinge than
those which we had secured on the red
ground.
As we intended striking ~vest from
here, we now paid off Sheikli Muhamn-
mi(l, son of Sheikh Elmi, the head man
of Milmil, who had been with us ever
since our arrival at the latter place,
three weeks in all. He was a most
obliging little man and an excellent
guide. If he had a fault, it was his
proclivity for saying his prayers at in-
convenient moments. He amused us
very much when it came to giving him
the money. We first had an interview
with him, to see with what amount he
would be pleased. Twenty-four rupees
~vas fixed on as a sum with which he
would be amply satisfied. He then
begged to be paid sixteen rupees in his
brothers presence, in order that the
latter should believe it to be the whole
sum, as he would be sure to demand a
share ; the remaining money was to
be paid him secretly after dark. This
artfulness on the part of what Achmed
described as De mos religiones man
was rather quaint. We had some little
trouble in getting away from Dagha-
boor, owing to the unwillingness of the
117
sheikh to let us have a guide. This
was due to the fact that he and his
family were being rationed by our
l)eople, and were naturally loth to cut
off their free supplies by their own
action.
One morning, while deliberating
about our future movements, a native
came in with khabar (news) of a lion
track close by. We started off at once
together to follow it up. Aden and
Geleh were leading the way, each car-
rying a rifle, when suddenly I saw
themu put the rifles down against some
bushes, and fly at one another. They
were on the ground in a moment, tear-
ing and hitting at each other. Nur
Faiah seized one, I the other, and we
dragged them apart, while they panted
and cursed with rage. A summary
court-martial and inquiry was held,
when we found that the whole thing
had arisen from my having told Geleh
that the rifles were not as clean as they
should be. He had told Aden that it
was his, Adens, fault. The latter had
replied that it was none of his busi-
ness. Thence they had drifted into
mutual recriminations, embracing one
anothers relations, appearance, and
habits. It ~vas something to be thank-
ful for that they had not used the rifles.
The end of it was that V. and I changed
shikaris for the day, and threatened
the combatants with discharge in the
event of a recurrence of the fracas.
Justice having been dispensed, we
started off on the lion track, V. taking
the right, I the left. The course taken
by the lion favored me throughout,
bending steadily in my direction.
Aden excelled himself in tracking on
this occasion, following an almost in-
visible trail at a rate of about four and
a half miles an hour. After two hours
tracking, he motioned to me to go very
quietly, at the same time slipping off
his sandals and hanging them over his
arm. The track led into a mass of
tufts of thorn and grass jungle divided
by narrow paths, along which one
could walk without hindrance. We
were quietly slipping along in Indian
file, Aden leading, when he suddenly
stopped and pointed to the left front.
118
I looked out between the thorn stems
to a clearing fifty yards distant, but
saw nothing. The next moment he
seized me by the arm, and then pointed
to a spot in the high grass close to us,
at the same time bringing his rifle to
his shoulder. As he did so I saw lying
in the grass a magnificent male lion;
he appeared to be almost at our feet.
As I caught sight of him, he had just
woken up, and was turning his head to
look at us over his shoulder as he lay
on his left side. I fired at once, the
bullet striking just beneath the eye.
A second afterwards Aden fired also,
to my annoyance ; but perhaps he was
justified by circumstances. His bullet
struck the lion in the right flank rather
behind the heart. We deemed another
shot necessary, and I let him have it
from in front, firing at his open mouth,
which was about all I could see from
my position. The bullet unluckily
broke some of his teeth, which were
very fine ones, afterwards passing into
the roof of the mouth, through the
brain, and out at the neck. The first
shot had likewise nenetrated and
lodged in the brain.
A shady march of two days in a
north-westerly direction up the Tug
Djerad brought us to Goderali, just
within the borders of Abyssinia. The
journey was uneventful, the country
being devoid of both game and people.
We saw old traces of natives, it is true,
but they had been driven away or killed
by the rapidly encroaching Abyssinians,
leaving only their empty huts and za-
rebas. From the hill on the side of
which we pitched our camp a marvel-
Ions view was obtainable. To the
north, the black forest of the Hand
stretched as far as the eye could reach,
broken only by three small hills, well-
known landmarks. To the south and
west rolled the mountains of Harar.
The range on which we stood, and
which bounded the Hand for miles, was
a low, stone-covered stretch of round-
topped hills flanked by thick mimosa
jungle, filled with rhinoceros. Wher-
ever we ~vent we found traces of them,
their feeding-ground being apparently
restricted to a very small area. Never
Lwn Hunting Beyond the Ilaud.
having been hunted, they probably
found no reason to leave such excellent
pasture, and during the first four days
of our stay at Goderali there was a herd
of rhino feeding within ten miles of
camp.
The honey-bird, of which we saw
several during the trip, is well worthy
of mention as a natural curiosity. It is
a little grey, common-looking bird about
the size of a thrush. It first forces it-
self upon the notice of the traveller by
flying across his path, uttering a shrill,
unlovely cry. It will then sit on a
neighboring tree, still calling and wait-
ing for him to follow. By short, rapid
flights the bird will lead its guest on
and on, till after a while the traveller
notices that the bird has stopped its
onward course, and is hanging about
among a certain half-dozen trees.
These being visited one after another
and carefully examined, the search will
be rewarded by finding a nest of bees
in one of them. The probability is that
there will be honey in it, but I have
known the bird mistaken, It is a mat-
ter of honor with the natives to set
aside a good portion of honey for the
bird. Although this action of the
honey-bird is an established fact of
natural history, it is none the less un-
accountable, and it would be interesting
to know whether he ever tries to entice
quadrupeds also to assist him in obtain-
ing his much-loved honey.
Our first days sport at Goderali was
unfortunate, as far as I was concerned.
As usual, Y. and I started from camp
in almost opposite directions ; very
soon I came on rhino tracks, and fol-
lowed them, he on a lion track which
he also followed. The tracks must
have converged, for, as I was creeping
up to get a shot at one of the four rhino
that we had been tracking, we heard
the report of his rifle at a distance of
about half a mile. Off went the rhino
with us after them. Soon they stopped,
and I fired a long side shot at the head
of the biggest one who was standing
half behind a tree. In ignorance I
fired too far forward and lodged the
bullet in the mass of bone which sup-
ports the horn. The beast staggered,
Lion Hunting Beyond the Haud. 119
but galloped off in a cloud of dust, fol- could only be done by leaving a couple
lowed by Geleh and myself. (Aden of men on ponies, with rifles, to drive
was down with fever and was absorb- les mis~rables back and prevent them
ing antipyrine in camp.) coming on for some time after the de-
Another shot as he stood under a tree parture of the kafala; even then they
was fruitless, and after a pursuit of would sometimes arrive late at night
eight miles we gave it up, reaching after we had camped, having followed
camp just before sundown, to find that as soon as the rear-guard started to re-
my companion had got a lioness. She join us.
must have been the only one in the We soon quitted our old trail, inclin-
l)lace, as we never saw the track of ing northwards over and along the
another in the neighborhood of Gode- range of hills where Goderali stands.
rali. We found tracks of greater and lesser
For an account of the next days koodoo, but saw none of either species.
sport I cannot do better than quote One midday halt afforded us an inter-
verbatim from my diary. esting half-hour examining the leaf
Aden looked very ill from fever, but he and stick insects which were crawling
came with me. Passed endless rhino tracks about; they were most curious, the
pointing south-east, but left them all, as resemblance to dead leaves and stalks
they led towards V.s ground. Five miles of grass being in many cases perfect.
from camp a low whistle from camel-man Unfortunately entomology had had no
Mohammed, who was with the pony fifty l)lace in the curriculum of our early
yards in rear, called our attention to a big studies, so we could only observe these
she-rhinoceros two hundred yards away to extraordinary insects in a very amateur
the right front. We stood motionless, and ~Tay.
she came straight towards us, sniffing the When we got down again to the
air, having evidently winded the pony. border of the Haud, we found ourselves
She stopped forty yards away, looking in in a fine game country. Besides lion
our direction, then wheeled off suddenly and rhinoceros there were awnl (0.
and bolted. I got in a shot with the 10-
bore in the front part of the brain, which Soemmeringii), gerenook, dik-dik (Na-
bowled her over, and gave her another as notragus Saltii), dhera (G. Pelze~ni),
she lay, to make certain. Went on three bustard, and many kinds of birds.
hours more, but did nothing. Aden Ateya The awal gave us a lot of sport, and
had a near shave of being struck by a snake their meat was very acceptable to the
a yard long, and as thick as the calf of few villages we passed. They are not
my leg. He speared it, whereupon it bit as a rule very difficult to approach, as
itself. they generally feed on plains studded
Several elephant tracks some months with bushes, the easiest kind of stalk-
01(1 showed that during the rainy season ing ground. One peculiarity, which
they frequent this locality. We also we soon found out and took advantage
found the skeleton of one killed by na- of, is that when disturbed while feed-
tives about six months previously. ing in the neighborhood of a kafala on
The beggars who follov a European the march, they nearly always gallop
caravan from place to place are a great straight past the leading camel. If
pest. It is next to impossible to get one of the guns places himself at the
ri(l of them, and they sit outside the head of the caravan while the other
zareba after dark and howl until they goes in pursuit, the probability is that
gain admission. Where water was the former gets the easier chance.
plentiful and there was no fear of ra- When killing meat for some natives
tions running short we never interfered one day, I in this manner got three
with them, they were such wretched- beasts out of a herd of awal that gal-
looking objects ; but where there was loped past, with five shots from a little
any doubt about the sufficiency of food, ~32O Marlin repeater which I usually
out of fairness to our o~vn men we carried when on the march. The
always tried to keep them away. It dhera are pretty little things, but most
hon Hunting Beyond tk~ Ilaud.
difficult to get near, besides affording a
diminutive target. The lump of loose
skin on the nose gives the head a very
curious appearance.
At a place called Kuri Deli, twenty
miles from Fiambiro, we found that
heavy rain had fallen a few days pre-
viously ; the young grass was conse-
quently growing rapidly, and a pond a
hundred yards long had formed in
a neighboring watercourse. As the
camels had had very hard work for the
previous fortnight we decided to give
them a few days in which to recuper-
ate, and we built a zareba not far from
the water. We met t~vo Somali rhi-
noceros hunters armed with bows and
arrows, one of them carrying, in addi-
tion, a colored cotton umbrella with
which he seemed delighted. We
wished them good luck, and they
replied that if they killed a rhino the
Habersheeny (Abyssinians) were sure
to take the horns, this being their in-
variable custom.
The news that a lion had killed a
donkey the previous night justified us
in our selection of a resting-place, and
we at once ordered zarebas to be con-
structed for occupation the same even-
lug one near the water, the other
near the village five miles away. The
first night spent in them addcd nothing
to the bag, but the following evening
was more successful. 1 quote from my
diary
which it nearly cut off. On looking out
again, after reloading, I was greeted with a
roar, and gave the now deceased donkey
the first barrel through the nose, thinking
in the darkness that he was the lion; the
contents of the left barrel broke the shoul-
der of the latter as he sprung at the loop-
hole, and he went past us to some bushes
near by, where we heard him moving about
and growling and groaning till morning.
At daylight we followed his tracks for a
quarter of a mile, when we came on him,
as we thought, dead. He quickly con-
vinced us of the contrary by jumping up
and making off. A shot from the 10-bore
bowled him over, but he required two more
shots from the ~450 to settle him. His
tracks showed us that he had been and sat
down within twenty yards of our camp the
night before, but only the ponies had no-
ticed his presence.
Rain having already fallen in places,
water was abundant, and a few flowers
were forcing their way out. Amongst
others we noticed three sorts of con-
volvulus, a kind of bouvadia, and a
giant jasmine; a week later we found a
beautiful cluster of sweet-smelling lilies
growing on stems about six inches
long ; beyond these we scarcely ever
saw a flower at all.
It was interesting to observe the
effect of the rain on insect life ; masses
of ants of all sizes, ant-lions, beetles
and other insects sprang into existence~
and made their presence evident in
various ways. The large black ants
were l)usy cutting the wings off swarms
Built a second zareba near the water, a of May flies that the rain had beaten
mile from V.s and close to our camp. A down and were dragging the bodies
heavy shower fell just before and after
Geleh and myself arrived there, but a into holes. Huge spiders were enter
waterproof sheet which we had luckily ing into combat with other ants with
taken kept us dry. I dropped off to sleep varying success, and at one place we
at once, having spent the previous night came on a flock of birds feeding on a
out; probably Geleh soon afterwards fol- swarm of great black and yellow locusts
lowed suit, as lie was sleeping soundly which could hardly fly. It is a curious
when I was woken at about midnight by fact which we l)roved by experinwnt,
the donkey stamping about in evident that, if the leading ant of an army of
terror. A crash, followed by a sound of ants on the move be killed, the remain-
sniffing, brought me up on my knees in a (icr on
moment, rifle in hand; and as I looked reaching the spot where their
quietly out of the loop-hole i saw against leaders trail ceases, will turn about,
the sky the outline of an immense lions and go back to their startingpoint~
head two yards from me. I fired at once, The size of the ants may be realized
and thought I had settled him; but the when one considers that the larger
shot was aimed too high, entering the fore- species are able to carry a date-ston&
head and passing out by the ear, the top of single-handed.
120
Lion Hunting Beyond the Haud.
Leaving the ilarawa valley we
worked northwards in search of ele-
phant, but found none ; the country
was very mountainous and rocky, one
pass in particular being barely passable
for the camels. One of our ponies was
overcome by my riding him for a
couple of hours one day ; and the next
morning, when asked to go up hill
with an empty saddle, he, to use the
native expression, sat down and
died. The Somali pony is useless for
a heavy man at any time, and, when
food and water are scarce, a caravan is
better without any ponies at all ; they
are constantly stopping and sitting
down, when either the caravan has to
wait or one or two men must be left
behind to bring them on in the cool of
the evening. We found the track of
an elephant one morning and followed
it more or less for three days, at the
end of which time we lost it; the
bleaching skeletons of several ele-
phants showed us where another En-
glish party had met them; and we
passed close to the spot where an An-
glo-Indian had two months previously
come across a herd while he was
marching and had killed seven. He
only got one lion though, so we stifled
our jealousy.
Only three weeks now remained to
us before we were due at Berberah, so
we decided to go out into the middle of
the ilaud and try to pick up another
lion or two. Leaving our main body
at Hargaisa, where we heard of Lord
IDelameres mauling by a lion, we
marched out with small loads and all
the water-casks a two days~ journey
into the Hand, to a place called Arror.
The writer was suffering from the ill
effects of a draught of bad water taken
a week previously, and was obliged to
stay in bed for the first four days,
which time V. spent in pursuit of a
fine old lion who evidently belonged to
the neighborhood. On the fifth day
his perseverance was rewarded by get-
ting him after a hot days .tracking.
The next day I was out again, though
very weak, and, after several hours
tracking, traced two lions into a patch
of grass. Aden and I slipped round to
121
the far side and got on an ant-heap ; two
of the men followed the tracks in and
nearly stepped on the lionesses fast
asleep ; they rushed out past me, and I
shot the first one through the apex of
the heart as she galloped past, killing
her after she had gone twenty yards
the other I missed with the 1O-bore~
having foolishly changed rifles after the
first shot.
The second day after this we were
on the march, heading for home, and
were about a mile ahead of the cara-
van as it crossed the Banki Arror, a
treeless plain six miles in width. We
came on the track of the lioness I had
missed, and a few moments later up she
jumped from a depression and made
off across the plain. Of our pursuit of
her and Aden Muhammids pluck I
wrote in a previous paragraph, so I
will take up the narrative at the l)oint
where lie on a pony had rounded her
up under a bush. By previous agree-
ment V. was to have first shot, but our
six.mile run in the blazing sun had un-
steadied us, and it was almost impossi-
ble to point a rifle within a foot of the
mark aimed at ; he fired though, and,
as far as we know, missed ; the lioness
dashed off, but was stopped in a mo-
ment by Aden on the pony ; she
crouched under another bush in sight
of me, lying broadside on, and I fired,
striking her in the shoulder ; the shot
had only the effect of making her
crouch still lower, and to begin a low
growling and switching of her tail from
side to side. Again I fired, this time
aiming at the head ; my unsteadiness
spoilt my aim, and the bullet cut a
neat hole in the tip of the ear, but did
not other~vise injure her; the next mo-
ment she swung round and charged me
while I was loading, V. putting a bullet
in her shoulder as she rushed past him,
but without result. I could not get the
cartridge in soon enough to fire during
her rush, so endeavored to take a step
to my right to avoid the spring I ex-
pected. As I did so I felt myself held
right in the lionesss path by a small
thorn-bush which reached about to my
waist, and the toothed arms of which
held me in a close embrace. I thought
122 Lion Hunting Beyond the Haud.
I was done for, and my relief knew no him careful, and he did not go up to
bounds when she suddenly swerved to the beast till he was quite sure o~ its
her right and passed behind me. In a demise.
moment I tore myself clear and turne(l Poor 0-clchs wound gave us some
round to find that the lioness had little anxiety, as lie had the bad taste,
seized Geleh by the wrist, and that he after three days of time writers doctor-
was stru~li to
~ rig thrust her off with ino to insist on being attended by a
the rifle which he held in both hands. local leech, through the instrumnen-
They were not more than three yards tality of whom lie nearly lost his arm.
from me, but I dared not fire for her He completely recovered soon after
heart, as she was so close to the man our return to Berberahi, and was made
in fact it looked in the dust-cloud they quite happy by a considerable apphica-
had raise(l as if they were wrestling. tion of palm-oil.
Her back was towards nie, so I fired at Our tinie was now rapidly drawing to
the spine about the loins, and she fell a close, and our sport was pmacticahly
instantaneously, gave one quiver, and at ami end. We had still to go to liar-
was dead. The shiot had been a fortu- gaisa to pick up the remnainder of our
nate one, the little 450 bullet having caravan, pack up our rifles, and hurry
completely broken her backbone. back to the coast. When we ~ot to
After she was (Iea(1 things became if Hargaisa we heard the sad news timat a
anything more lively than before, as poor woman, who hi ad attached herself
Aden and Nur Farahi began bombard- to us two months before, hind beemi
ing her from opposite sides in the most lost when out gathering firewood.
reckless way, to the immuinent danger Whietlier she had been taken by a lion
of every one except the lioness, which or whether she hind met some of her
they did not hit, own tribe and joined them we never
We examined Geheks hand and knew ; let us hope the latter was the
found three holes in his wrist, made by case, but the formiier event is the
three of the canine teeth of the lion- more probable. She was a wonderful
ess ; though bleeding profusely, the worker and did more duty about camp
wounds did not appear serious, so I than any two men as with Red In-
bandaged them with one hiandkerchmief, dians, the Somali woman always does
made a sling of another, and, as soon the greater shrnre of any work that has
as the skin and head were ready, put to be done.
him on a pony and set out on our six- We muade our adiens to Shieikh Mut-
tee n-mile march to camp. For five tahi and to his blind son-in-law, who
miles all ~vent well, then an artery in rules the place in the absence of time
the neighborhood of one of the wounds shmeikhm, loaded up the now sorry-look-
broke, and the bleeding became very ing camnels, and turned our backs with
difficult to stop. I put a tourniquet on muany regrets on the country where we
the upper arm, but Geleh seemed un- had enjoyed so many days of sport.
able to stand the pain of it, and as soon The march from Hargaisa to the coast
as I valked on lie always loosened it takes, as a rule, about four and a half
ali(l the trouble began afresh. It was days. We believe we established a
only by walking behind with a rifle and record for time distance, as with
rhireatenimig hmini that lie was got home tired camiiels and full loads we covered
at all. We had to halt several times on time distance in four hours over three
the way, ammd it was more (hiffleult after days I The first three days we did
each halt to get him started again, twenty-five miles each day, that dis-
During one of these halts we heard tance being time most we ever covered
several shots in tIme distamice, the numii in a day. The last nighit Oh tIme road
ber making us rather anxious ; it after- we sent up our few rockets, whmiehi we
wards appeared that V. had found two hind carried all time way in case of
lions and had wounded one of them, Imecessity. They created a great sensa-
but our mornings accident had made tion, not only in our own camp, but
When we were Boys.
also in that of some natives whom we
met the next morning, and who were
much relieved to find that the mani-
festations were not due to superhuman
agency.
We sighted Berberah at daylight,
and now was my chance to pay out
Aden Ateya for the way he had run
me up hills three months before. A
pony had fallen and crushed my bare
knee against a stone, rousing my ire,
which had to find an escape some-
where; so I took it out in walking
Master Aden off his legs in the last
eight miles into Berberah. Both V.
and I were in the best of health and
condition and it was with some sorrow
that we doffed our rags, and, under
the hospitable roof of Captain Abud,
the British resident, returned to clean
clothes and civilization.
The sale of our camels and ponies
occupied the bulk of the afternoon, the
auction being conducted in the town
square by a public auctioneer, each bid
being called both in Arabic and Somali.
The camels fetched about half what we
gave for them, and with this price we
were well satisfied. The stores only
fetched about one-fourth of the cost
price, so we gave most of them away
as backsheesh to our followers.
One day we spent paying off our men,
with all of whom we parted on the best
of terms; we stowed our trophies in
bales and boxes, and the following
morning left for Aden and home.
H. C. LOWTHER.
From Macmillans Magazine.
WHEN WE WERE BOYS.
V.
WHEN we were boys, the farthest
horizon from the windows, to our
childish eyes, was a stretch of rolling
blue hills at ten miles or so of distance.
Blue they were generally, but often in
that moist western county shrouded
with the sweeping curtains of the rain-
storms which rolled up under grey
skies from the Atlantic; sometimes,
when the sun shone with an unwonted
treacherous brightness, painted dis
123
tinetly enough in the colors of the sea-
sons. When the distant hills stood
forth thus clearly, with fine-cut outlines
an(l colors of Pre-Raphaelite hue, they
would tell us, Tile hills look too close,
we shall have lain.~~
It was generally a safe prophecy.
We tried to draw better augury from
the laugh of the green woodpecker who
spent much of his time pecking away
in tile rough, tussocky lawn which
sloped down from the house towards
the arable land below. We believed
that tile green woodpecker knew
whether it was going to rain;but we
did not believe that the human people
about us knew. We had often found
them wrong, but the green woodpecker
we had never found wrong. We had
often thought that the intonation of his
laugh had said rain, and rain had not
come ; but we kilew that it must have
been we who were at fault, and that in
our stupidity we had failed to under-
stand him. We were certain that tile
woodpecker intended to tell us about
the weather, for Joe said so, and we
did not think that any one was his
equal for general knowledge. Joe was
by a few years our senior, and we be-
lieved in him as unreservedly as in the
woodpecker. It appeared to us that
lie knew everything, everything, that
is, whicll was knowledge in our eyes.
By birtil he did not belong to our
county but to Cornwall, whence he had
come up, along the North Cornish
coast, in a succession of carriers cars.
He used to tell us wonderful stories of
the people whom he had met on his
journey ; folk who lived on the cliff-
side facing tile sea, and never had
any communication witil a town save
througil tile medium of the weekly
carrier; a folk sufficing to themselves.
We ilave often wondered since whether
tilese stories of his were quite true,
but have never had the opportunity of
testing them; at the time we accepted
them as absolutely above suspicion.
But, once arrived from this momentous
journey, Joes experiences had been
no more extended than our own. He
could tell us nothing of what was be-
yond the line of blue hills which pre
When we were Boys.
sented themselves to us as the edge of
the world. How we longed to get to
the top of them an(l to peep over! We
never doubted for an instant that
what we should see from them would
be a vision utterly new and unlike any-
thing of which the world within them
gave examples; and it was the one gap
in Joes knowledge which seemed to
put him into touch with our own
finitely informed humanity, that he
was ignorant of this world beyond.
More than that he seemed strangely
incurious about it, as it struck us,
evincing an indifferent attitude which
inspired us with mixed feelings ; for
whereas we reverenced it as betoken-
ing an extended experience which
nothing could astonish, we also criti-
cised it severely as showing a deficiency
of imaginative power. Joe thought
that beyond those hills we should see
just another world a succession of
hill and dale and hedgero~v very like
that in which we lived. It was the
sole point on which his judgment ap-
peared to us open to criticism.
On going out of our front door you
found yourself on a broad circle of
gravel slightly sloping down to the
lawn on which the woodpecker was so
often pecking. In rainy weather the
water used to run down and collect in
a little pooi at the junction of the
(~raveh and the grass, and here, so soon
as it collected, used to come a water-
wagtail to hunt for insects. We often
used to lay plans for the destruction of
this wagtail, but he was always too
clever for us. In point of fact lie did
not give us a fair chance. The width
of the gravelled stretch was twenty
yards or so, without a blade of cover.
From the windows of the house the
,little puddle was within practical cata-
pult range, but then the windows were
rarely open in rainy weather and in dry
weather the wagtail was not there.
lie was off instantly, with his dipping
flight and squeaky note, on the slight-
est sound of the most cautiously opened
window. It is true that there were
two doors to the front entrance the
house door proper, and the door of a
plants and that the outer, or porch
door, was sometimes left open, even
while it rained, for the benefit of these
exotics but the inner (loor never
openc(l without a considerable noise,
~mnd the wagtaih was always alive to it.
After a certain age we ceased to try to
molest him. Attempts at stalking him
had failed so often that we grew weary
of them and used to sally forth, even
when fully armed with catapult or
cross-bow, regardless of the wagtail
who would fly up to the roof of the
house and wait there till we had disap-
peared. He was safe from us there,
even if we could still see him, for it
was a three-storied house, and rever-
ence for the windows had been severely
instilled into us.
Probably, of all the common birds,
wagtails are those which least often
fall to the weapons or snares of a boy;
they are so very quick and wary and,
though bold enough, generally frequent
places where there is little cover and
where they are likely to see before they
are seen. Their black and white plu-
mage blends well with wet stones and
glancing water. Joe said that the
right name for the water-wagtail was
the dishwasher, a name under
which lie is always known iii Devon-
shire. It is not hard to guess its deri-
vation ; he is always running about on
the edges of streams and places where
the cottagers are likely to be washing
their dishes.
From the circular gravelled stretch
gravelled drives led off in two direc-
tions one towards the left which bent
upwards to the entrance gate, past the
stables and the little house in which
Joe lived with his father the coach-
man, and the other, towards the right,
past the croquet-lawn, l)ast an orchard,
bending in a wide circle to embrace the
rough lawn beloved of the woodpecker.
It completed its circle, and the embrace
of the lawn, at a point very little be-
low the stables. Below the lawn, as
we have said, was an arabIc field, and
on either side of this field tIme gravelled
drive joined a rough macadamized road
leading on the right through a series of
porch under glass, in which were gates to the main road, and 01) tIme left
124
When we were Boys. 125
to a footway along the banks of a little had a shot through the gate-bars; and
stream which prattled through glen then, if the missile were a stone, it as
and marshes down to a broad tidal often as not rattled with a clang on the
river. The sea was only at two miles gate or the paling, and the uprising of
distance, though not within sight of the the cloud of sparrows was accompanied
house. by a hysterical outburst of porcine
This path to the left of the arable consternation and a scamper which
field, as one looked from the house, led recalled the Scriptural miracle. More-
also to certain pastures which sloped over, if the stone evaded the timbers
down towards the stream ; and up this and flew home to the heart of the pigs
path, in the evening time, the cows place it remained there, a testimony to
were driven for the milking, to take our misdeeds, an occasion of wrath to
their place in the lin-hay, as we, in the under-gardener who had charge of
the Devonshire parlance, called the the pigs and objected to stone-throw-
cowshed. Joes abode, where he lived ing which might injure one of his
with his father and mother, was above cherished ones. The catapult was the
this ha-hay, and the access to it was by better weapon, and it told no tale.
a flight of stone steps leading from the But, after all, it more often happened
stable-yard. On the opposite side of that the appearance of a little head
the yard were the stalls and loose boxes round the corner was the signal for the
for the horses, and the harness-room, uprising of the cloud before a shot was
The north side of the yard had a pump- fired. At the back of the pigs place
house and wood-house. The third side the hedge was crowned with elms of
of the little quadrangle was open, and moderate height. In these the cloud
a cartway led round to the back of the would settle clamorously and pause to
stables, where were the finest of our reconnoitre. There was a chance for
preserves. For, first of all, there was a shot or two then, but it was always
the pigs place, enclosed by the wall of an open question if it were not better
the stables, by a boundary hedge, and, policy to steal forward yet a pace or
on two sides, by paling. In the corner two in case of some greedy laggard
was the sty, tenanted by pigs in num- having stayed behind among the pigs,
bers varying as they were killed off or who would give us a better shot than
replenished ; but the sty door was al- any of those in the hedgerow. Often
ways open an(l its occupants spent most we would steal forward with this hope
of their royal leisure either in grouting in view, tantalized the while by the
among all the beautiful refuse of sta- chirps of definite faiewehl coining sue-
bles, garden, or lin-hay which was in- cessively from the elms as one after
differently tossed into their charming another the sparrows took their de-
place, or in lying prone, in the glorious parture, only to find that after all no
sunlight, on the kindly germinating loiterer had stayed. Then we cursed
heat of the manure heap. fate by all our childish gods and re-
It is impossible to think of a better pented us sorely that we had not taken
occasion for the high beating of little the chance which lay before our hands.
hearts than that which was offered by Or again, if we tried the other venture
the stealthy, cat-like approach, round and assanlted the elms with all our bat
the corner of two outbuildings of the teries, it seemed as if it must then
stables, to get a shot, with stone or always happen that a bird would rise
catapult, at the little cloud of sparrows from the very spot on which we might
which invariably flew up from con- with most advantage have assailed
testing their dinner with the pigs. It him. One could cry with vexation
was seldom that one had a shot on the now at the annoyance of it all.
~round. The sparrows learned the Generally, after the dispersion of
manoeuvre very quickly, and between the sparrows, there would yet be lert
us and them were the pahings and gate in the elms a chaffinch, uttering his
of th~ pig& place. Occasionally one sweetly monotonous note of protest,
126
and we could send a shot or pebble
from the catapults spattering among
the branches by him, till he, too, took
the hint to leave.
Oh, I say, that was a shave !
That was the invariable formula with
which we concluded the unavailing as-
sault. Once in a while, but so seldom
that invariable is not too strong an
epithet, we would fondly hug to our-
selves the belief that we had seen the
bird fall. Then we would climb
through the hedge, or, if it were sum-
iner time and the brambly defences
defied a breach ,go round by way of
the front gate and push ourselves into
the bushes of the great overgrown
hedgerow in search of our quarry,
knowing ~vell in our heart of hearts
that we should find nothing, yet saying
to one another again and again, to keep
hope warm, I know I hit him ; Im
certain I saw him fall.
When the flock of sparrows had gone
from the elms it was not to say that
they were lost to us. We knew where
they went to then, to a big elm-tree
at the back of the coach-house which
was close to the main house, some
fifty yards from the stables. Thither
we could follow them, but with no
good prospects of a shot. They had
no clinging affection for this elm-tree
they only occupied it as a post of
observation from which they could
drop down into a tiny little yard just
outside the kitchen, or fly over, be-
hind the house, to a matted thicket of
thorn and bramble which was beyond
the wash-house and was the corner
of the boundary-fence of the orchard.
Thither it did not well suit us to
follow them, unless for an extended
campaign in the orchard, for such
pursuit entailed going through the back
premises of the house (which was for-
bidden by Authority both above and
below stairs), or trespassing on land
which was not ours behind the house
(and w& had a respect, which we have
since wondered at, for the law of tres-
pass), or finally going round the front
of the house, a matter of some hundred
yards, and this did not seem good to
our invincible boyish laziness.
Our laziness we have since wondered
at quite as much as at our respect for
the law. The latter is fairly explica-
l)le, the terrors which surround any
breach of it are so indefinite to a boy;
he is so ignorant, so utterly unable to
measure the violence of the penalty
which old So,and-So, the farmer,
will exact on his hide if he be caught
red-handed. It is excellent that it
should be so. If a boy were to know
that old So-and-So would be looked
upon as a villain and a butcher too bad
to live if he were to give a trespassing
boy any but the mildest of castigations,
there would not be a field or coppice or
orchard that would not be black with
boys in the bird-nesting season. The
laziness is a won(ler beyond explana-
tion. Later in life, ~vith a covey of
partridges before one, one would walk
a quarter of a mile for each one of the
yards which seemed too long in those
days for the pursuit of the sparro~v-
covey; yet assuredly we were filled
with as much ardor then for a sparrow
as a partri(lge can inspire in us to-day.
Plato has written, with justice, that
of all wild beasts none is so savage as
a boy. He might have added that
none is so little known. This in-
vincible laziness which is so large a
factor in a boys character is hardly
recognized and never analyzed. It is
hard to recognize because it may co-
exist with the greatest keenness in
pursuit of an immediate object. It is
only when the object is at a distance
that the laziness shows itself ; but then
it shows itself in a degree which is
almost terrifying. A boy cannot be
made, of his free will, to choose the
greater good in the future in prefer-
ence to the present lesser good. He
may be induced to do so by motives
supplied by anothers will, but of his
own will never. It is only after lie
has come into his inheritance, in the
shape of an ability to apply his reason
to the moral problems of life, that he
begins to do this; and when he begins
to do this lie is no longer a boy but a
man. It is all of a piece, this, with his
laziness, analogous on the mental side
to the looseness ef limb in all young
When we were Boys.